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Ailae shakes her head at the Valenar's reaction to her offer of her arm. Without turning she addresses the others, "well do follow us in, Mr. Woland the restaurant is your choice."
Ailae follows Shrike admiringly, once seated she whispers to him, "You're fitting into 'civilisation' really rather better than you might think. It can take years of practice to make waiters obey one like that. Don't worry though, it wear off easily.
Anyway," she speaks up, "I rather like the look of the Daskaran mushroom soup, then the thrakel seared swordfish steak, andnthen do you have any Silvermoor '87 for the wine?" She smiles sweetly at the waiter, suddenly the perfect House maiden.
Alestair follows the group in, taking in the conversation with a pleased, if a little vacant smile. He greets the doorman and the usher in passing, with the reserved familiarity that is always present between the staff of any establishment and it's more loyal customers, handing his coat, cane and hat to the latter along with a discreetly passed coin of gold. As the group follows the young man to their reserved table to the second floor and through the First Rose Room, a separate dining hall of green velvets, dark mahogany and deep crimson tapestries basking in the dim light of candles, he pauses to take in the scents. A moment passes, before with a nod to himself, he carries on to the table. Taking the role of the host, he waits for the others to be seated, and even goes as far as to hold pull back a chair for Ailae. As he seats himself, he discreetly acquires the butler's attention with merely making eye contact. A few whispered requests pass, and the through-starched looking elderly man relays the requests to the waiter standing by.
"As we are at the eve of a great undertaking, I thought it fitting to begin with a toast. I hope this is fine with everyone? I realize, though, that as we are to depart immediately after finishing, we may have to be careful when enjoying too much of the water of life, but I humbly request you allow me the pleasure of raising a glass to our good fortune."
As soon as he finishes, a waiter, holding high a tray of high-footed glasses of Fairhaven sparklewine. There is an exact six of the glasses, which are promptly and politely passed before each of the seated, despite Wrath being unable to partake. Standing up, Alestair holds the glass before him and gives a little speech.
"It is without doubt that we are before a mission of both great importance and great danger. Thus, I would wish to spend the modest time of this evening as a final moment of solace, getting to know my fine, new-found friends" - he nods slowly and lets his eyes pass over each of the people gathered - "without the least of worry before us. Let us forget business for this one moment, apart from this one little quote from soldiers of the ages past, given to the old emperor Karrn."
He pauses, obviously for dramatic license, before carrying on in a gravely serious tone.
"Hail, Emperor - from those about to die..."
He pauses yet again, dead serious, before adding in a very, very droll tone;
"... we don't want to."
His face splits to an impish grin, and he hoists his glass to eye level and slugs it down in one fluid motion.
Shrike listens throughout the toast and does crack a grin at the end. "Human culture always seems so much more...jovial," he comments, right before mumbling something of his own and slowly drinking only a little bit, as though carefully conserving for later.
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The Tenth Doctor and the TARDIS by Ceika.
Ailae smiles at Alestair, thanking him demurely as she takes the proffered seat and glass. "Here here." she says as she raises and sips from her glass of sparklewine. "Both an excellent wine and toast Mr. Woland.
As to joviality," she turns to Shrike, "I follow the early Phiarlan in this matter, Humans burn bright and quickly, your great grandparents may well have watched the rise of Galifar, mine saw the Last War begin. We do have to force our passions into something of a shorter timescale than your kin and kith." She sips at the sparklewine again, "Valenar culture seems passionate also however, the Aereni are the ones who might be said to have turned restraint into an art form."
"That is a good point," Shrike says. "As a child, I remember seeing caravans of great machinery travelling through Valenar in order to reach Cyre when the lightning rails were first being built." He shrugs. "It has only taken me a hundred years or so to ride one."
At the mention of the Aereni, he laughs. "Do I respect the Aerenal-brothers? Of course. Have I met one of the Deathless? Yes, a truly brilliant man. Have I been to an Aerenei party?" He takes another sip of wine. "Unfortunately, yes. Give me a Valenar funeral over an Aerenei wedding any day, as my uncle used to say."
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The Tenth Doctor and the TARDIS by Ceika.
Ailae bows her head to Shrike, "Well I hope you enjoy the Rail, my House's pride and joy. With it we knit Galifar together. Despite what the Lyrandar may try to tell you, Airships; wonderful though they are; will never have the potential of the Lightning rail."
At the mention of the Deathless she becomes even more animated however, "I've never met one of the deathless, tell me was it a councillor? As one in touch with the divine could you sense the Court's power through him?
Sorry not dinner conversation. I wrote my thesis on a comparison between the Path of Inspiration and the Undying Court, fascinating religions. Particularly given the idea that the Inspired have elven blood. Not that we can prove that of course."
"I would not be much of a Keeper if I was not willing to discuss my religion," Shrike says placidly, "but yes, I suppose that we ought to save such heady matters for another time. It is time to relax before this great undertaking, after all." He takes another measured sip of wine. "So, what else is there we might discuss?"
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The Tenth Doctor and the TARDIS by Ceika.
"Us." Ailae sips at her wine demurely after the strong statement. "Really, I mean, we know who we are and what we do, but we could be traveling to the ends of Eberron together. We should try to get to know each other.
Then again I saw the most increadible exhibition in Trolanport last month. An installation of pictures changing colour to reflect the mood of the crowd. Artist is one Alius Alyre Nezziech, I think he's going to bring Zil art back into the public eye."
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Re: When the Voice Whispers-IC Roleplay Thread
