First Sight: Sarai's View

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She doesn't dwell on her choice of jewelry. Everything laid out for her to choose from would offend someone and everything she does or wears is a message. She most often settles on that message being a threat. Earrings from the late king and a dress from her home. As Lalia drapes the heavy fabric of her gown on her, she already knows what her appearance will say to the nobility. 'I am the last queen of your dead king. I am not one of you. My son is your king.' "You look lovely," Lalia says, and reassuringly pats her shoulder as she moves Sarai's hair out of the way. "Thank God that I look it, because I certainly don't feel it," Sarai says, her shoulders sagging. She reaches for the cosmetics and Lalia hands them to her, turning to lean against the bed. "I don't see why you wouldn't. I mean this night is the beginning of you finally being able to rest. The kingdom, and the power, will now be solely in the hands of Aretas," "Have you lost your mind," Sarai snaps, and the easy atmosphere of the room evaporates in an instant. She couldn't believe that Lalia of all people, her dearest cousin, and ally who had foiled both poisonings and assassinations in the name of protecting Aretas, could say something so foolishly idealistic. Sarai stands abruptly, her hands gripping Lalia's shoulders. "This is the most dangerous time! More people will be at court than ever, and he hasn't been this tantalizing of a target since he was in the cradle. You know that many do not want his reign to succeed, Lalia!" Lalia brushes off Sarai's grip and frowns, her eyes radiating concern. "You have protected him. You have shielded him for his entire life," Lalia begins carefully. "Of course I have, you have as well—" Sarai interjects but Lalia holds up a hand to stop her. "You have also educated him, trained him, and you now have to trust him. Aretas is no fool. He will be a good king." Sarai, bites back words of lingering doubts, words of fear, and nods curtly. As she finishes getting ready, finishes applying the armor of a queen, she knows that the festivities surrounding Aretas' formal coronation do not mark the beginning of her rest, but instead herald new battles for her to fight. "Let's go collect my son. His subjects await him." [[Continue]]

Leone

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Thoughts from the feast

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She realized years ago that optimism did not suit her. When she and Lalia went to collect Aretas, he too was full of assurances. He urged her to trust him, but he didn't understand what he was asking, just like he couldn't understand his own worthiness to wear the crown. Sarai could count the people she trusted on one hand. And all of her trust came with conditions. She trusted people to work in their own self-interests. She could tolerate those whose best interests meant they were more likely to support her son, but anyone else was a threat. She could trust Aretas, but none of the people around him. Heavy doors open and her grip on her son's arm tightens. In the sea of faces, she sees the familiar glint in their eyes. They see an opportunity in her son and an obstacle in her existence. Good. Those that would think to exploit her son would find out how she's survived this long with no king to protect her. She looks for familiar faces, nobles that sit on the council, and anyone she might need to recognize later. Her eyes methodically sift through the crowd looking for threats and tools until they finally land on you. And you're looking directly at her. [[You quickly look down.|Look down]] [[You have the audacity to wink.|Wink]]

Is it defiance or just poorly thought-out curiosity? She doesn't like either. She narrows her eyes and looks at you. Your eyes widen slightly and you quickly lower them. Maybe you do know your place. Your bow, although rushed, isn't poorly done. But despite you having at least some knowledge of etiquette, you clearly did not belong here. She doesn't bother to look away from you, even when her son allows the guests to rise and addresses them. Instead, she commits your face to memory, searching it for any resemblance to any of the nobility she knows. A face she has never seen before, an unknown, and as far as she was concerned, every unknown is a threat until proven otherwise. She would not be fooled by those eyes of yours and your attempts to feign meekness. She does allow her attention to drift from you, instead focusing on the various nobles beginning to visit the table she and Aretas are sitting at. They greet him warmly and greet her with cold courtesy and begrudging respect. As they should. She listens to every word but maintains an overall demeanor of indifference. She knows that having the upper hand means that she can never let them know how much she hears or how much she knows. Perhaps all of it, paying off spies and listening in to politics, would soon become things of her past. After all, Aretas will be doing the listening and watching, he already knows how, but old habits die hard. Lady Yemoja approaches with Lady Laverna on her arm and Sarai allows the smile tugging at her lips to take over. "My King, we are honored to approach your presence," Lady Yemoja says, her etiquette impeccable, but those eyes of hers promising mischief. Lady Laverna follows suit and Sarai stands to greet them, arms outstretched. These girls were good. In a practical sense, they were good because they were loyal, their families were supportive of Aretas' rule and powerful enough for that to matter, and they acknowledged her authority over the inner court. Whenever Sarai justified the girls' presence around Aretas, these were always the reasons she came up with, but the truth, if she allowed herself to dwell on it, was that the girls reminded her of home and that she knew they were good friends to Aretas. "Girls, I'm so glad you've come," she says and winces slightly as she hugs them, irritated by how much she means it. She can feel the eyes of the nobility on her and this blatant display of favoritism and affection, but she doesn't make an effort to disguise it. Let them wonder where their families and daughters fall in relation to the crown's favor and let them sweat in an effort to curry it. "He looks very...king-like," Lady Yemoja whispers once they've sat at the table. "I know," Lady Laverna whispers back. "I can't believe that circlet can fit on that big head of his." She snorts at their brazen teasing and quietly enjoys the show as her son goes back and forth with them. "Sure, mock your king. I'm sure the elders of your family would approve," he says dryly and both Laverna and Yemoja look at each other before giggling. "We will be praised just for speaking to you!" Laverna says bluntly, before turning to Sarai. "Allow me to pour this for you, Queen Mother," she says, her voice like a soothing melody, and Sarai obliges, fighting the urge to listen to what Aretas and Lady Yemoja were discussing. "When did you arrive in the city?" She says, letting herself focus on Laverna. "I have been here for ten days, alongside my older sister," Sarai nods, but Laverna places a hand over hers and leans in to whisper, "Lady Yemoja has not visited me for seven of those ten days," Sarai set her cup down and raised a brow. "Oh? How odd." She said it easily but cut her eyes at Yemoja who was eagerly speaking to Aretas about something. She picks up her cup once more. "And do you know why that might be?" Lavera smiles gently and shakes her head. "Yemoja is not disloyal, but she may underestimate how troublesome something might be," At this, she chuckles. Laverna has been her other set of eyes in court for a long time, as has Yemoja, yet here Laverna is, both implicating and trying to vouch for her. "And what about you Laverna? Her planning must appear to be quite troublesome if you felt it warranted bringing it to my attention?" "It might cause—" Before she can finish her thought, a giddily oblivious Yemoja comes and collects Laverna with a quick bow. Sarai laughs with a shake of her head but slightly inclines her head toward her son. "Why such a speedy retreat?" "Yemoja wants to introduce me to someone I have already wanted to meet." her son chuckles, and Sarai can feel herself tense. Is this what Laverna was referring to? Would this person pose a threat to her son? She dwells in these thoughts as other nobles join the table, some of their words flattering and fawning, while others focus more on the issues faced by the kingdom. Aretas is so occupied speaking to them that he doesn't even have time to touch his food. With a frown, she waves over Lalia. "Could you prepare something for him at the end of all of this," she whispers in Lalia's ear. "My poor son hasn't even had the time to look at his food." Lalia nods, her eyes sympathetic, and quietly makes her exit from the table. Lalia turns her attention back to the table. "Lord Merikh!" Aretas calls out and Sarai turns to see who he's calling. If not for the obvious difference in age, Sarai would have sworn it was Lord Menandros Labaton. But as he approached she knew that he was neither him nor was he any of his sons. Had she missed something so crucial as another Labaton running around? Yemoja brings him to the table with a wide smile, and if his presence wasn't upsetting enough, the other person accompanying him, certainly was. [[You and those mannerless eyes.]]

Her reaction is that of immediate rage. How dare you, in front of everyone, wink at her like she was some starry-eyed tavern girl you were trying to pick up? Not only were you someone that she has never seen before, but you were also rude in a way she hasn't encountered in years. Her face falls into a scowl and she turns her entire body away from you, resting her chin in her hand and closing her eyes completely, her mind busy. What if it wasn't a lapse in etiquette, but instead a message of some sort? Were you trying to intimidate her or are you just a vulgar person? The more she thinks of your potential motivations, the more irritated she gets. A face she has never seen before, an unknown, and as far as she was concerned, an unknown that has already promised her with those crass eyes to cause her problems. Whether you meant to cow or seduce, she would not give you the satisfaction of either. She does allow her attention to drift from you, instead focusing on the various nobles beginning to visit the table she and Aretas are sitting at. They greet him warmly and greet her with cold courtesy and begrudging respect. As they should. She listens to every word but maintains an overall demeanor of indifference. She knows that having the upper hand means that she can never let them know how much she hears or how much she knows. Perhaps all of it, paying off spies and listening in to politics, would soon become things of her past. After all, Aretas will be doing the listening and watching, he already knows how, but old habits die hard. Lady Yemoja approaches with Lady Laverna on her arm and Sarai allows the smile tugging at her lips to take over. "My King, we are honored to approach your presence," Lady Yemoja says, her etiquette impeccable, but those eyes of hers promising mischief. Lady Laverna follows suit and Sarai stands to greet them, arms outstretched. These girls were good. In a practical sense, they were good because they were loyal, their families were supportive of Aretas' rule and powerful enough for that to matter, and they acknowledged her authority over the inner court. Whenever Sarai justified the girls' presence around Aretas, these were always the reasons she came up with, but the truth, if she allowed herself to dwell on it, was that the girls reminded her of home and that she knew they were good friends to Aretas. "Girls, I'm so glad you've come," she says and winces slightly as she hugs them, irritated by how much she means it. She can feel the eyes of the nobility on her and this blatant display of favoritism and affection, but she doesn't make an effort to disguise it. Let them wonder where their families and daughters fall in relation to the crown's favor and let them sweat in an effort to curry it. "He looks very...king-like," Lady Yemoja whispers once they've sat at the table. "I know," Lady Laverna whispers back. "I can't believe that circlet can fit on that big head of his." She snorts at their brazen teasing and quietly enjoys the show as her son goes back and forth with them. "Sure, mock your king. I'm sure the elders of your family would approve," he says dryly and both Laverna and Yemoja look at each other before giggling. "We will be praised just for speaking to you!" Laverna says bluntly, before turning to Sarai. "Allow me to pour this for you, Queen Mother," she says, her voice like a soothing melody, and Sarai obliges, fighting the urge to listen to what Aretas and Lady Yemoja were discussing. "When did you arrive in the city?" She says, letting herself focus on Laverna. "I have been here for ten days, alongside my older sister," Sarai nods, but Laverna places a hand over hers and leans in to whisper, "Lady Yemoja has not visited me for seven of those ten days," Sarai set her cup down and raised a brow. "Oh? How odd." She said it easily but cut her eyes at Yemoja who was eagerly speaking to Aretas about something. She picks up her cup once more. "And do you know why that might be?" Lavera smiles gently and shakes her head. "Yemoja is not disloyal, but she may underestimate how troublesome something might be," At this, she chuckles. Laverna has been her other set of eyes in court for a long time, as has Yemoja, yet here Laverna is, both implicating and trying to vouch for her. "And what about you Laverna? Her planning must appear to be quite troublesome if you felt it warranted bringing it to my attention?" "It might cause—" Before she can finish her thought, a giddily oblivious Yemoja comes and collects Laverna with a quick bow. Sarai laughs with a shake of her head but slightly inclines her head toward her son. "Why such a speedy retreat?" "Yemoja wants to introduce me to someone I have already wanted to meet." her son chuckles, and Sarai can feel herself tense. Is this what Laverna was referring to? Would this person pose a threat to her son? She dwells in these thoughts as other nobles join the table, some of their words flattering and fawning, while others focus more on the issues faced by the kingdom. Aretas is so occupied speaking to them that he doesn't even have time to touch his food. With a frown, she waves over Lalia. "Could you prepare something for him at the end of all of this," she whispers in Lalia's ear. "My poor son hasn't even had the time to look at his food." Lalia nods, her eyes sympathetic, and quietly makes her exit from the table. Lalia turns her attention back to the table. "Lord Merikh!" Aretas calls out and Sarai turns to see who he's calling. If not for the obvious difference in age, Sarai would have sworn it was Lord Menandros Labaton. But as he approached she knew that he was neither him nor was he any of his sons. Had she missed something so crucial as another Labaton running around? Yemoja brings him to the table with a wide smile, and if his presence wasn't upsetting enough, the other person accompanying him, certainly was. [[You and those mannerless eyes.]]

Sarai recognizes the glint of excitement in her son's eyes as he gestures for you and this 'Lord Merikh' to come closer. He must think that 'Lord Merikh' will be useful, but in him, she sees almost the same eyes as the man that is always looming over her and her son. And in yours, she sees something she dare not name. She doesn't miss the tight smile her son sends in the direction of several of the nobles sitting directly in front of them. Seeing them sweat is almost worth your unsettling presence in the Great Hall. At least she wasn't the only one feeling ill at ease. "When I received news of your capture of Tangur Fort, I was most pleased, however, the report was too vague for my liking. I wish to hear more of how you accomplished it." He says as the two of you sit down. Ah, so that is why Aretas is so interested. In this unknown son, Aretas sees an opportunity, and if that is what her son sees, then she will have to look for danger. She makes herself calm, still, quiet, idly swirling the drink in her cup as she listens to every word and every exchange. Lord Merikh seems earnest enough in regards to military affairs, but she cannot forgive him his face or his family name. She feels those eyes of yours on her again and it takes everything in her not to threaten to pluck them out of your head. You come in here, an unknown person, nameless, a walking threat, with eyes that dare to look at her as if you know her and— "I'm being rude! Lord Merikh, your companions?" Aretas asks, but Sarai has already vowed to herself that she will find out. A name has already been put to this face and soon a motive will be attached to your arrival. Your eyes flit to her again and her grip tightens on her cup. She will find out all there is to you, and you had better pray to any gods you serve that she doesn't take issue with anything she finds.