The Throne is a Glorious Sepulcher

[aoife]

Timeframe: Morning
Date: May 17th
Place: Throne Room of the Elven Kingdom
Status: Closed to Nuala, Nuada (and Wink maybe?), Abe, Deadhead, Garret, Hellboy, and Frankie

Aoife Róisín had arrived in the long abandoned throne chamber in the bowels of the Elven Kingdom long before any other soul would even endeavor to get past the Butcher Guards. She was dressed in rich black robes that cascaded to just above the ground and were secured around her waist with a crimson sash. Her sleeves were large and billowy, and the fabric made not a single noise as the diplomat walked around the chamber. She wanted to make sure that she had not forgotten any details in the months that the place had stood abandoned. The success of this day relied on precision and efficiency. Aoife also wanted to take one last look at the symbolic throne that would soon be a relic of the past. Her cornsilk hair was draped over her shoulders like a lace curtain and one of her dark eyebrows arched as she looked upon the throne inlaid against the signs of industry, the signs of man.

With the death of King Balor upon that very throne months ago, the Elven Monarchy had died -- Or so Aoife believed. His children, the Prince Nuada and the Princess Nuala, were coming today to make the decision of which would take up their father's throne. If Aoife and her small group of loyal friends had their way, however, neither Prince nor Princess would ever again leave this place.

The time for the outdated monarchy was over. Aoife knew that she and the few other members of the elven elite that had enough reason to acknowledge that they needed no single person to govern them would burn what was left of the system that only held the elves back from reclaiming the world above, and from the ashes a new and stronger Elven Democracy would rise. Like a phoenic. Aoife's scarlet lips curled upward in a smile just as she heard the soft footfalls behind her.

"Aoife," She turned as a male elf stopped before her inclining his head. "They're coming."

Aoife raised her chin so that her head was held high. "You tell our friends that what they need is in the aforementioned spot. They know what to do." She paused, her dark eyebrows arching. "No one was fool enough to try and sneak anything past the Butcher guards, were they?"

"Of course not. And if they are, they are not meant for our cause." The male elf responded primly.

"Good." Aoife said. She and the male elf each headed to different sides of the chamber to take up their seat upon the benches that lined it. Aoife folded her hands in her lap. All she had to do was wait, and when the time came -- strike.

[olive]

[[[As promised I am adding a few (3) “red shirts” in the mix. Feel free to have them killed :3]]]

Nuala lead in silence. Against all recommendations, she had to show her strength and trust in her people. She knew she should have come alone, but the others were insistent on accompanying her. When she finally agreed to allow an entourage, she only imagined a few agents: Abe-- most certainly, Hellboy—a given. But the number who followed her made her nervous. Would the court believe that the number of outsiders she brought with her were necessary for her own protection. She knew how they spoke about her desertion—how they saw her recent living arrangements as betrayal. Now prepared to prove them wrong, she stepped from their Garbage-truck-chariot and smoothed the fabric of her black victorian coat over her hips[. As she waited for the others, she fiddled with the black covered buttons. She was in a near trance as she waited on deserted curb. She was near terrified, for it has been so long since she last stood in the throne room, witnessing her brother’s betrayal.

She became overly concerned with her appearance and checked that everything was in place. Her hair hung loose and straight about her shoulders, as was the common fashion. However, she was not dressed in the manner of a lady of the court—not entirely. Her dress was formal, though more suited to a male’s wardrobe. In fact, it looked as though she stole from her brother’s closet. A thin red sash acted as a belt, pinned in place against her side by the royal seal, no bigger than her hand. She breathed deeply and her fingers ran over the bracelet she wore the night she first met Abraham. She thought about those days when it all began, and asked her father for the strength to lead her people and meet whatever challenge her brother had in store for her.

As she took a few steps forward, her soft leather boots hardly made a sound.

“Princess, are you ready?” an agent, dressed in the usual suit and tie asked her, standing not far behind her. She nodded and moved forward, her hand resting on the hilt of a borrowed Katana. She knew it would need to be left behind before entering the room, but she felt comforted by it—somehow. She was prepared for a fight; had her brother’s heart at last reached her own, shrouding it with hate and anger? How would this all play out? To kill her brother would mean killing herself. She looked back at the others before moving on. She took her time, not feeling a need to rush the inevitable.

When they entered the industrial building, she stopped her approach. The Butcher guard would not be in sight just yet. They would have to wait to be ushered to the throne room. Though she knew this place well, protocol was still very important; she hoped her companions would follow it.

[garret]

Garret mentally ran over a few of the elven phrases and words he learned in the weeks heading up until this assignment. Apprehension stole into his stomach as he thought of the detail, in truth, it was simply ridiculous. They had to somehow convince the Elven court that first, they meant no harm, and then, that Nuala would be a better ruler than her brother. Nuala, an elf that has been living with humans--"betraying" the ideals of her people. His musing was cut short as the garbage-truck transport came to a jarring halt. Traveling with Red and Blue was sure to be eventful, but comfort wasn't exactly at the top of the list.

Garret clamped a hand down on his hat as the hangarlike door of the garbage truck opened, a wind blowing into the vehicle was threatening to whip the accessory off of his head. Fallen tree blossoms whirled around Garret as he climbed out of the truck, patting his pockets--checking for his vials of metal. A clinking sound cut through the silence as he confirmed their presence. Before Nuala's coterie departed from the BPRD, Garret was informed to leave all his weapons in the truck. Hopefully, the elves didn't have anything sophisticated enough to detect the presence of metal in his stomach, along with the potential to use them.

His padded loafers making soft swishing sounds as they connected with the concrete, Garret followed the princess into what seemed to be an old industrial building.

Something unexpected happened. The princess stopped moving abruptly after entering the building. Garret, more concerned with the scenery than the walking patterns of his charge, bumped into the slight woman's shoulder.

"I apologize, princess, I wasn't looking." He grinned sheepishly and brushed some nonexistent dust off of his coat sleeve. He mentally berated himself, he was here as a guard, and wasn't even looking at his protectee. Garret briefly considered walking forward of Nuala, to make sure the way was safe. Bad idea, if he remembered correctly, some guard or other would come to collect them and take their weaponry away anyway, so he assumed the way forward was safe. He acknowledged the three agents who accompanied Red, Blue, and himself, hoping to put them at ease. Garret had no clue why management wanted a few normal suits with them, after they got their weaponry taken away there wasn't much they could do to protect Nuala. After all, they were just normal people.

Then again, who was to say that the elves were that much different? Maybe Nuala wouldn't need protecting. Garret held onto that hope as they waited for the guard. Eventually, the silence got so oppressive that he had to break it somehow.

"Rather rude to make us wait like this, isn't it?"

[gyakusatsu]

Christoph Muller was accustomed to sleeping in the car and, sure enough, awoke with a start from the passenger seat when the garbage truck they rode in came to a halt. Had he any hair it would have been disheveled and his general countenance, though cadaverous, was still capable of expressing disoriented confusion.
After a few moments of ridiculous-looking, swift turns of the head, Muller finally remembered their destination and realized that it was time to get out of the truck seeing as they'd already arrived.
He shook off his sleep and seemed to creak as he sat up and started getting out of the car, moving in a way that made him resemble a man about 40 years older than he.
"Hnnnnn...
Looks like we're he-rrrrrrrrrrrr!"
He was suddenly cut off as his Bureau issued overcoat snagged on the car door, pulling him back off the curb and against the seat in a manner of grace only comparable to a flipped turtle.

He frantically pulled himself up and freed himself from the car door before brushing himself off and trotting after the others into building.

He wasn't used to wearing such heavy clothing but found the number of pockets much more convenient than keeping everything in his sleeves. Also, his robe had gotten so dirty, he could walk by Hellboy's room and outstink the litterboxes. He had figured it best not to offend the Elven Gentry with old laundry.

When he arrived in the building, everyone was just standing about waiting, this he was thankful for because he had a powerful inkling that Agatha had something to say...

About time you changed out of that filthy robe, German.
"Are you only ever capable of commenting on my laundry?"
The creatures here welcome you not, they crawl through the dark, behind walls, their hatred seethes...
"Well that's comforting..."

His heavy accent couldn't hide his unease. He knew that they'd have to come into the throne room unarmed so he'd left behind his dagger and gun, but even with the plethora of protective precautions he'd made, something made him nervous. Agatha seemed to be done with her foreboding flapping of the gums so he put er away and wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow that had begun to form, the large leather coat was also warmer than his customary robes.


"Rather rude to make us wait like this, isn't it?"
The man he'd never met before spoke up. He seemed far more confident and easygoing than Muller and it made the Necromancer seem all the more unprepared...

"Well I'd imagine that as despised as humans are here, making us wait mightn't be the extent of their rudeness."

[Abe Sapien]

It was an uncomfortably short ride, despite the hour long commute on the highway to reach their destination and he had spent it absolute silence. Abraham spent the better part counting the seams along his gloves, leaning with each pothole the driver ran over and reached out to steady a beaker of unknown blue liquid before returning to counting the stitches. The rest of his time was sending quiet glances at the princess, cherishing each little private moment despite being crammed inside a garbage truck. He would be her pillar of strength if she so needed it and he would be there for her, he promised her that. The subtle shift of the truck followed by the familiar jerk of stopping, told him they had arrived and the man was instantly on his feet.

The tall fishman weaved around his fellow agents, sliding around each one with ease and took a proper position behind the princess, nodding once at Garret as he took to her opposite side. He tugged once at his uniform at his waist, the leather cleaned and pressed, one that had never seen the outside of a closet and it creaked with newness when he moved. The traditional bureau belt rested snugly around his waist and he did indeed carry his firearm, knowing he would to give it up before entering the council room. Nuala had been most kind in prepping the entourage that followed her.

He was tense and hushed, rightly so as he had never stepped foot within the elven kingdom. And now they were literally following into the belly of the beast to return face to face with the man that nearly killed his brother, destroyed the earth and taken away the beautiful soul before him. Abraham stilled himself from making a sweep of the building with a open palm. There was no need to. The entire city block seemed to hum with magic, archaic whispers of long dead gods that clung to memories of old, refusing to rest peacefully. They were quite noisy if he let them, sighing softly in reproach at the footsteps of Man and eagerly awaiting the return of the fantastical. With a shift of his weight from one foot to the other, Abraham brushed his gloved hand against the princesses as if he accidentally brushed against her but the message was clear. I’m here.

[Hellboy]

There was a stench in the air. And it wasn't just because the interior of the garbage truck had been previously coated in giant scorpion entrails in the last mission the vehicle had been involved in and not all of it was scrubbed out. Hellboy could feel it as he checked his Samaritan, which he knew he couldn't take into the Elven Kingdom anyway. He did it regardless, snapping the gun open and closed in agitation again and again. Frankie glared at him from where she sat, but he continued, ignorant of her stares. Well, there always was Five Fingered Mary -- And his good ol' right hand had never let him down yet.

Red didn't like the entire situation. Liz's due date was drawing closer, and she could technically go into labor at any time. But that was personal, and if HB knew anything, it was that the job didn't much care about the agents' personal lives when there were monsters attacking. Of course, Nuada would be there, to claim his rights to the throne as well, and since Red had handed his ass to him months ago, so there was probably still some bad blood there. Hellboy knew if he ran into someone who had gotten the best of him, well... He'd get angry. And things didn't go to well when he got angry.

And lastly, the Bureau had sent an entire fricking army with Nuala, and that showed that they were scared. 'Course they were -- If Nuala was able to become Queen, an entire war could be avoided. If she could not -- Well, Hellboy could see a lot of long nights and early days in the Bureau's future.

The garbage truck ground to a halt and Hellboy snapped his Samaritan closed one last time. "Show time." He said to no one in particular, and he shoved the gun into his belt. Yeah, he couldn't enter the Elven Kingdom with the weapon, but he'd carry it for as long as he could. "Come on, kiddies, last one out is a rotten egg." Hellboy said, waving his arms in a circular motion as the three suits, the Elven Princess, the Fish-man, the Necromancer, the Metal Empath, the Immortal Woman, and the demon himself filed out. Man, it was crowded in there.

"Well I'd imagine that as despised as humans are here, making us wait mightn't be the extent of their rudeness."

"I'd consider it a warm welcome that we've gone this far without being shot at. It's gonna be a good day, fellas." Hellboy replied to Deadhead's reply to Garret's comment. He kept his hand upon the Samaritan as the group approached a doorway, before which stood the Chamberlain and the sinister-looking Butcher Guards. Red could detect the tension in Abe, his Bureau brother. He clapped the fish-man on the back and said, "Don't sweat it, Abe. With some luck, you'll leave here the boyfriend of a Queen tonight." That was a big if, but hey, a man could dream, right?

"Your Highness!" The Chamberlain greeted in Ancient Gaelic upon seeing Princess Nuala. His fleshy face did not betray any hint of fear or surprise at the number of people with her. His spindly fingers reached toward the heavens as he bowed, his hands following the arc of his body down. "As you know, Your Highness, you must surrender any weapon before entering the council chambers." A shorter, younger creature of the same race as the Chamberlain stood nearby, ready to accept the proffered weapons.

"Take care of this, wouldja?" Hellboy asked, pulling the Samaritan and his several grenades from his belt and piling them into his arms. The mini-Chamberlain almost buckled under the weight, but he was able to hold his composure. Even though he no longer had his Samaritan, he still had dozens of charms and other trinkets in the pockets of his duster and in his belt that he could use. Maybe a Baby Ruth too, in case things got boring. He turned to the brunette woman who was lingering in the back. "Bones, you're staying out here, right?"

Frankie nodded. "Otherwise I'm sure we'll look like quite the parade going in with nine people."

Hellboy could respect someone being all business, but sometimes Frankie was just grating. "Zink, you stay out here with Bones." Hellboy commanded one of the suits. He turned to the others. "Your Highness, you lead. Abe next." He mostly wanted Abe to go second, because that would piss Nuada off nice and good to see him following so closely behind. "Then the rest of us. And you might have to remind me," Hellboy cracked his knuckles in his left hand. "That this is a negotiation. Just sayin'."

[olive]

Nuala was not expecting to be bumped into, so when Garret accidentally walked into her, she nearly leapt out of her skin. She turned to him, giving him a slightly disgruntled look. She struggled to maintain her composure, but as she felt Abraham’s hand on her shoulder, she relaxed and took a deep breath. She felt foolish for her reaction. All of these agents were here to support her, and she felt she should be more appreciative

"I apologize, princess, I wasn't looking." Sykes said

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Sykes” Nuala said gently, her voice carried like leaves in the wind. Silence dragged on, and Nuala desperately wished to ease the mind of her companions with light conversation, but no topic would draw their minds from any nervousness they hand.

"Rather rude to make us wait like this, isn't it?" Nuala had only just met Mr. Garret Sykes that day, and though she usually gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, his comments were not greatly appreciated by herself. Nuala was about to snap at him, when Mr. Muller and Hellboy did so for her.

"Well I'd imagine that as despised as humans are here, making us wait mightn't be the extent of their rudeness," said Muller.

“"I'd consider it a warm welcome that we've gone this far without being shot at. It's gonna be a good day, fellas." Nuala turned her entire body to face her companions as Hellboy’s booming voice echoed through the building. "Don't sweat it, Abe. With some luck, you'll leave here the boyfriend of a Queen tonight." Nuala blushed, avoiding Abraham’s eyes. She had not been ready to face what it would mean if she became Queen. Lose, and the human world would be at the mercy of Nuada’s wrath. Win and her time with Abraham would dwindle away.

“It is not to be rude,” she explained, bringing herself out of her embarrassment. “There is a great amount of protocol involved. As I mentioned earlier this evening, having Humans and outsiders into the throne room is not what the court is used to on a daily basis.”

“"Your Highness! As you know, Your Highness, you must surrender any weapon before entering the council chambers.” The familiar voice spouting Gaelic forced her to turn and smile.

“Chamberlain, It is so good to see you again, I wish it could be under happier circumstances.” She replied in the same language and released the sword from her side. She hesitated a moment before presenting it to him, her palms faced upwards; the sheathed weapon balanced across her delicate fingertips. Once it was released, her honest heart told her to remove the dagger hidden in her sash. It was a small blade, but respect for her people compelled her to relinquish it.

Hellboy soon took up the task of delegating who should be stationed where. This made Nuala’s demeanor sink. She worried how it would make her look to her people, if she took orders from Hellboy. When he finished Nuala took over.

“Thank you, Mr. Hellboy,” she bowed slightly and gave him a pained grin. “As a reminder, I will ask you not to speak in the halls, unless you have been addressed. My people are very particular about protocol, they will see you as nothing more than my guard. You know you are more than that, and I know you are more than that.” Nuala turned to Abraham and touched his arm lightly. “This is a hall of peace and diplomacy, not of violence.” She smiled to the group and turned to the Chamberlain, waiting in silence until all were ready, and they would be announced to the court. Her eyes glanced over the menacing row of Butcher Guards, and she wondered and dreaded when she would see her brother's face again.

[garret]

Garret removed his hat and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, messing up the dark brown locks even more than they were before. He sighed. These people are all so high-strung... The princess, especially, seemed to be doing a tightrope act of emotion over a boiling pit of lava, nearly snapping at him when he bumped into her. They just didn't get it. Every moment spent nervous, unsure of oneself, was a moment that could be spent vibrant and full of life. Garret just didn't see the point of worrying, and so, much like what he did with most things he didn't see the point of, he just didn't do it. If worst came to worst, he'd get some exercise, people might get banged up a bit, but these elves really weren't anything that they couldn't handle. He turned towards the princess, heretofor known in his head as Ms. Tightrope, as she started speaking.

“It is not to be rude,” the princess explained, “There is a great amount of protocol involved. As I mentioned earlier this evening, having Humans and outsiders into the throne room is not what the court is used to on a daily basis.”

Protocol, bluh. Garret had no use for such things, but he'd acquiesce for the sake of the mission. He flashed the princess his most apologetic grin.

"Just trying to lighten things up a bit, no use going into negotiations tounge-tied, got to loosen up the old gabbing muscle."

He would've gone on, but his speech was waylaid by the arrival of a sharply-dressed man that Garret assumed was the Chamberlain. He was correct. Watching Nuala and even Red give up their weapons without complaint, he decided that he'd have to toss his in the pile as well. One thing struck him, however. The elves spoke an extremely obscure dialect of ancient Gaelic. Garret filed that away in his head for use later, perhaps it would gain him the upper hand. Surprise was an excellent negotiating aid.

A miniature version of the official came up to Garret --What, am I not important enough for the big guy?-- palms extended, waiting expectantly for the suspected weapons. Garret handed over a few daggers to the man from his hip sheaths. And then a few more from the sleeves of his coat. And then two more from his boots, and one tied around his neck a la necklace. He shrugged.

"Can never be too careful, you know? Not a very safe part of the city to be walking around in, to be sure."

He started walking forward, and then remembered something. Garret handed the small man his two vials of metal flakes suspended in an alcohol solution.

"Be careful with those, they have a habit of popping legs and up and running away. Try not to break them."

He bowed slightly to the attendant and listened to Red as he delegated roles. Garret thanked whatever heavens there were that he was chosen to go inside with the main delegation, he couldn't stand waiting outside while something this big went down. A swift pat to his own stomach assured him that he still had more than enough metal in reserve if push came to shove. At least I've still got you guys, right?

"As a reminder, I will ask you not to speak in the halls, unless you have been addressed. My people are very particular about protocol, they will see you as nothing more than my guard. You know you are more than that, and I know you are more than that.”

At this, Garret put on his best serious face, the "no speaking" part would be hard on him, but not impossible. Anyway, he'd take the time in which he would be silent to check for escape routes and possible sources of Ironpulls/steelpushes, if in contradiction to what Nuala said, it was a hall of violence. From what he'd heard tell of her brother, it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest.

[gyakusatsu]

Muller had anticipated the weapons collection and had consciously left his only weapons behind. Granted, he normally worked without them and was perfectly comfortable not wielding an instrument of injury. When the smallish creature resembling who he took to be the Chamberlain approached him, he shrugged and opened his coat...

"I'm sorry my little friend but I have no weapons."

His accent was heavy even speaking English, a language he hoped the small being knew for he had no clue what the Chamberlain and Princess had just said to each other.

He continued after Hellboy, Agent Sykes, and the Princess only to stop abruptly and almost run into Hellboy's stone hand when Nuala announced their need for silence.
The Necromancer nodded, he'd never really been all that talkative anyhow and would find no issue in keeping his lips shut now, he just hoped Agatha wouldn't either.

He was also inclined to hope that the other agents wouldn't be right to have brought weapons. His only comfort came from his innumerable charms and the elven chalk he'd brought along in case things got hairy...

[Abe Sapien]

The large hand on his back nearly made him stumble a step and the slender man straightened, pulling back to his full height with his arms slightly splayed at his side. The bulky belt at his waist kept him from pinning his arms down and instead kept running the edges of his fingers along a pouch and tugged at it again to smooth invisible wrinkles in the dry suit. The heavy weight of the hand was reassuring, and he was grateful it was not the stone one as he was certain he would have gone flying. He nodded once, wordlessly and quelled the stirring within, focusing on the princess before Hellboy continued on.

"Don't sweat it, Abe. With some luck, you'll leave here the boyfriend of a Queen tonight."

Abraham stumbled over his words, flustered at the title his brother Red had given him but the Chamberlain saved him with a regal greeting of the group. A head mostly squareish shaped if it wasn’t for the rings of skin around his neck that looked as if his flesh had been pulled tightly back and shall eyes with distinct groves down the flat cheeks as if made by a thousand tears. Abe bowed his head and turned slightly, gesturing to his belt and the handgun tucked into the side. “He’s asking for all weapons to be given up.” He looked to the other agents, addressing them all in the off chance one didn’t speak Gaelic. Truth be told, he was still learning the ancient language himself; with a little help from Nuala, and hoped that he would get the chance to hear it more during the council.

He unclipped the handgun from his belt and double checked the safety before popping out the magazine and added it the growing pile the little creature struggled to hold. Abraham offered a hand to steady him before taking his spot slightly behind the princess. He had no other weapons and would have relinquished them all if he did. The belt was mostly empty, he had meticulously gone through each section in the off chance he had left behind a bullet casing or charm. There was a relic, a good luck one that Red had given him on a past mission and he never found the time to return it. It seemed fitting to keep it, though he didn’t truly believe in it. How lucky could a gold tooth ripped from the mouth of a priest, truly be? The rest were filled with simple first aid effects, a kit that he had broken up. He had hoped it wouldn’t be used this day.

The liquid blue eyes lingered on Nuala, straying to the golden hair that hung over a delicately pointed ear. He could feel the vibrations of her nerves and with a slow even breath, he quieted his spirit and focused on the strength within, even as his gloved hands wandered at his waist again. He felt the princess’s touch through the thick leather of his uniform and met her gaze tenderly, his mouth closing in his attempt to smile back. Of peace and diplomacy. Of violence. The simple word stirred memories from the earth and gutted metal frames of the old building, quiet tears of rust and dirt. Abraham swallowed and without looking at his fellow Bureau members, nodded at the princess. “We are ready.”

[Hellboy]

At Nuala's request and her stern reminder that the place of her people was for diplomacy, not violence, Hellboy's lips pressed together in a firm line. Oh. That was right. And this wasn't their show, it was Nuala's. Hellboy felt a glimmer of irritation, not at Nuala, but at the fact that she was right and he'd kind of bowled over her. "Sorry, Highness. I have trouble remembering that sometimes I'm not the one who knows everything." He offered a smile. "I'll try to not be my usual charming self and follow your lead. Sounds good?"

Hellboy watched Garret, a newer agent, give up his weapons, included two vials of metal flakes. That was right, he ate metal and took on its strength. Weird, but then again, what agent didn't have a weird quirk or power about them? The guy was also a talker -- something Hellboy liked, but at the same time, voices became grating after so long. So far, Hellboy still liked him -- and besides, it would be nice to have someone to keep things cool with Nuala. Hellboy had a feeling he was going to spend a lot of time being quiet today -- if he could help it.

He liked that the Bureau hadn't been ignorant enough to only send agents that needed weapons with Nuala. Deadhead didn't need them, Hellboy didn't need them, Abe could hold his own, and Frankie -- well, she was a walking food shredder from Hell.

With a look from Abe to Nuala, Red suddenly wondered how Liz was doing -- Tabby and some of the other agents had thrown them a baby shower a few days earlier. Was she still going through the gifts, making the thank you cards? Hellboy shook his head to free it of the thoughts -- they were distracting, his focus and attention needed to be on the present. And now that everyone was ready, Hellboy bowed his head to Nuala, taking mind to show her the respect that she deserved as Princess, and hopefully, Queen. "After you, Your Highness."

~~~

The doors of the throne room opened, and the elves that were now assembled on either side of the room turned to look as the Princess and those accompanying her entered. Aoife's breath caught in her throat -- She dared to bring a demon, some beast of the sea, and two humans to this sacred place?! Her dark eyes flickered to the elf she had spoken to earlier and he nodded grimly. Surely, surely the people would see this and rally to their cause... Even if it was after the fact.

Aoife, having been one of King Balor's most trusted diplomats, was granted the task of greeting both of the royal children, and to act as the impartial voice of the Elves. The second designation was going to be most important, especially after what was to happen today. Aoife rose from where she had sat and walked to greet Princess Nuala, restraining her disdain for her companions within her. "Your Highness," She bowed low, her corn-silk hair hanging around her face as a curtain. When she rose, she continued to speak with a common greeting and a smile. "The Earth's blessing upon you, Highness. We still await His Highness." She turned towards where the now empty throne sat before the huge metal furnace. On either side of the throne sat two stools for the royal children to sit upon, of they wished, while the matters were discussed. "Your people are ready for their new leader."

[King Nuada Silverlance]

From the darkness unholy golden eyes glowed amongst the façade of shadows that mirrored the ones that twisted in his mind. Of mocking lace and chains, they filled the empty corners, pushing toward the light of blue and gold in a swift rush of building chaos, daring himself to overwhelm the other half of his soul with madness and just as quickly, he let it fade away. He was aware of her. The moment she took her first breath from a tumbling dream, the brush through her silken hair catching the faintest tangle, the wavering of her soul. There he whispered with a curling smile of twisted strength, where only she could hear and never truly hide. He doesn’t let her see his frustration, only fury. A gentle flutter of hurricane force, desperate to overwhelm and take what was rightfully his.

The elven prince stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, splintering his face in two jagged lines and for a heartbeat, he’s not sure which side is his. It had not been the servants fault, the fae like creature apologizing from the very depths of it’s soul, bowing low until he nearly laid flat on the ground. It had been a blue sash. The color, the creature had said, would be flattering and regal. Only she wore blue, a hue purely for her flawless beauty. A color she loved, the color of his flesh. Nuada had heaved the golden emblem of his people at the mirror in righteous savagery and bellowed at the withering creature and the subtle green of his features faded into a stony grey, desperate to disappear into the floor. The prince sent the servant away with a weary raise of his hand ad turned to glance at the tinkering of broken mirror.

He wore clothing attuned to his honor, annoyed by the very fact he had to dress up to humor his council once more. A black frock coat with the flowing length falling just mid thigh over a even deeper hued tunic and trousers. Retrieving the royal seal emblem from the sprout of grass that had been thrown from the cracks of the flooring, he affixed it atop the traditional red sash at his waist. The thin darker edges of his hair hug lifelessly about his shoulders, a testament to his former life of a rogue. He refused another servant’s plead to brush it and banished the rest of them to leave him in silence. Deep red vambraces braced his forearms, infinite detail tooled as if by magic created shadows upon shadows of scenery along the leather. They were not new but rather never worn, kept by a foolish old elf who hoped for the peaceful return of a son.

Nuada turned from the mirror and left his quarters, moving quietly through the underground corridors to the council room. It was all too easy to step from the end of the hall near the throne where no one would be looking. Even as a young servant bowed deeply as he passed, he silenced her with a glance of his dark eyes and stood under the heavy shade of large pipes that spiderwebed above him. Heat from the furnace bathed him in a heavy warmth. The female elf Aoife, frightening beautiful and pale in the dark colors of her clothing spoke to his sister, greeting her respectfully and the folly procession that followed her. When she spoke of waiting, the prince stepped forward into a shaft of light that filtered from above.

“No need.” His voice was even and simple, speaking as if he would to a peasant begging for scraps and rested a hand on the edge of the throne, skimming the surface with his fingertips. She was there, threatening to fill his every sense until he was dizzy and he took somnolent interest in the faint hammer marks along the metal. He stood straighter and stepped away from the throne to the floor. There were no little golden leaves to fall, the trees were long dead and only had withered brown foliage to give. The prince glanced coolly at the towering demon, a flicker of his gaze that spoke of spilt blood and vengeance in a simple twist of the golden eyes. Then to the blue creature beside his beloved twin and the crescendo of violence was tangible in the tilt of his jaw. Unfortunately the humans accompanying the group were dutiful ignored; though their very presence seemed to upset many of the council, for the terrifying elegant being, the missing half of him.

He stared at her as if he meant to will her to him and found himself crossing the threshold of the throne room and stopped midway. Nuada rested his weight evenly across his hips, one hand on the edge of his sash and he brushed his thumb against the border of the royal seal emblem, the sharp edge threatening to spilt the ivory skin and he pressed carefully, enough to let both of them feel the delicate balance before drawing his thumb away, undamaged. Why did you come back? He doesn’t let her see his frustrated weary longing, only fury. “And I will give it to them.”

[aoife]

The voice of the Prince from behind made Aoife's hairs raise on the back of her neck. She appeared calm as she turned to face the Prince, immediately lowering into a mirrored bow of the one she had given Princess Nuala. "The Earth's blessing upon you, Your Highness." She raised, immediately calculating that, while Prince Nuada had not brought a retinue with him, he was still more dangerous than the Princess. She took a step back, motioning to the two stools. "If Your Highnesses would have a seat, we shall begin."

Whether they did or not, Aoife turned to those seated on either side, her voice ringing out. "We have gathered here today to decide the leadership of our once glorious kingdom. With the passing of King Balor, a hole has formed that will not easily be filled, even in the hands of his children." She gave a sidelong glance to Princess Nuala and Prince Nuada as she said these words. "But the responsibility must fall to someone." She paused in the middle of the room, staring expectantly at the two royal children.

[olive]

Nuala bowed her head in response to the greeting. As she was prepared to take a seat, a sense of darkness overwhelmed her. Her brother’s influence was ever-present in her mind, but always strengthened when they were close to each other. Why she had not sensed him sooner, must have been due to the uncertainty infesting her thoughts.

It was only his voice that signaled his presence to her. She saw her twin emerge from the darkness, and anger instantly filled her. Murderer she thought at him, her eyes narrowing as visions of their last meeting in this room filled her mind. Traitor. She felt the desire to take him by the throat; she began to feel her own fingers close around her wind pipe at the mere mental suggestion. She shifted her mind to the task at hand. She had to remember why she was here; to prevent her brother from seizing control of their kingdom. His thoughts brushed her mind and she instantly responded. I came back because I could not stand by and watch you corrupt our people. I refuse make this easy for you.

His words filled her with disdain. “Brother, I wish I could say I have missed your face, but it has been haunting me in my sleep. There was nothing to miss,” she said softly, well aware of the eyes fixed upon them. She nodded to Aoife and took a seat on the stool beside the throne.

“We have gathered here today to decide the leadership of our once glorious kingdom. With the passing of King Balor, a hole has formed that will not easily be filled, even in the hands of his children, but the responsibility must fall to someone."

Nuala stood and stepped forward, addressing the court in her mother tongue: “Esteemed courtiers, If I become Queen, I vow to uphold the ideals of King Balor, my father. I will uphold the peace. The human world is not our enemy.” She looked back to Abraham, her eyes filled with sadness. “I have spent time amongst the humans, for my own protection until we could meet today. I have learned from them, and I am confident in our ability to work with them, to uphold our truce. No more lives need be lost over our differences. I did not abandon you, my brothers and sisters. I left so I could return to prevent my Prince Nuada from usurping the throne after taking the life of our king.”

[gyakusatsu]

OOC: skipping Garret because he said to and it's been a month already...
and SHORT POST FTW! OTL
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Deadhead shifted uncomfortably in place. He didn't really know much Gaelic at all but he could tell the atmosphere was tense, and didn't care for it much. He soon found himself reflecting on his preference of the dead over the living for the sheer sake that they kept quiet, at least most of the time...

His gaze had found the floor at his feet as the elves spoke. He felt very uncomfortable being there, it was like every mind in the place was aggressively pushing them out the door...