open audience;

[ironwood]

Characters: The Ironwood Emperor and anyone who came to speak with her!
Date: November 15th.
Location: The Palace of Landed Sky
Situation: The expected holding of an audience for any that care to speak with the Ironwood Emperor.
Warnings/Rating: N/A; to be updated if necessary

The hall is still and white, strung with softly glowing lanterns that are strung up high beyond reach. Outside, the sun is at its zenith, and it filters down through the cloudy glass roof to create a brilliant, nearly blinding ambiance.

The floor is marble, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ruby quartz. It catches the light, and casts strange patterns on the walls.

The Emperor is painting today, broad sweeps of colour across canvas. She's dressed very simply, with no ornamentation, and every once in a while she'll stop to wipe her brow with her arm, which has resulted in more than one smudge of paint on her cheek or forehead. She seems to be in a decent mood today, at least?

[Actionspam or prose are both acceptable!

Characters will only be admitted into the hall one by one, so there won't be anyone present for anyone else's conversations, and there won't be any 'mingling' in the chamber itself.

By popular demand, we will continue to allow mingling for those waiting for an audience in an antechamber. There is a thread header below to allow for that!]

Comments

[survival_isnt_living]

"Likewise." He returns the nod. "To business, then. Perhaps the matter of protecting the egg first?"

[ironwood]

"First of all, though I didn't want to say anything on the Network. There's a possibility that the 'eggs' have been planted by Malicant." She pauses, and then sighs, puts a hand to her forehead. "It's not one I'd like to entertain, as-- they could mean the hope and survival of this world. But it's a possibility. Would you still like to go ahead with your plan?"

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus grimaces. "I hardly know if I'm surprised or not," he sighs. "By planted, do you mean not the young turtles at all--or legitimately them, somehow left with traps attached?"

There's no hesitation or uncertainty in his voice or manner. He's just working through the possibilities.

[ironwood]

"I do not know. I have never seen an egg of this species, and I cannot reach Asti for confirmation of their validity. But I'm wary of anything that has a telepathic connection to the Foreigners. You must admit, it's a marvellously insidious way to corrupt the minds of those meant to protect this place."

She sighs, and traces her fingers over the drying paint. "I know your offer is sincere, but I might... suggest that you hold off until they're hatched. It shouldn't be long now."

[survival_isnt_living]

He gives her a quick, serious and inquisitive look. "You can't reach Asti about it?"

With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair. "Holding off's the most rational course, certainly. If the eggs really are infant turtles, is there any way the enemy can take advantage of the telepathic connections as they currently are?"

[ironwood]

Her mouth thins. "No. I haven't spoken to Asti for over a hundred years, I was quite surprised he'd reached out to you lot." It pains her, to think that her old friend is keeping her from his mind. He has his reasons, of course, but-- she isn't going to think about that.

"I don't know. I know Malicant can twist the mind, and if they are turtles, certainly they're vulnerable to that influence, but I thought increasing the strength of the barrier might help to protect them, as much as I could."

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus hums thoughtfully. If Asti hadn't been in contact, there must be some reason--the nearest association he can comprehend is, after all, of a High Lord and a Great Fury--though how one could be properly sentient he's not sure. Still, it seems close, and the implications of Asti's silence are both baffling and troubling.

With a sigh, he glances again at the painting without realizing he's done it. "How long would they be vulnerable? For that matter, would the connection leave their guardians more vulnerable or protect the eggs from outside influence? Or does the door simply swing both ways?"

[ironwood]

"Without ever having dealt with a child of this species, I can't say. The Great Turtles predate my race by billions of years, and we, you understand, are old." She sighs, and follows the line of his sight to the painting. She scarce wants to finish it now.

"But I can almost guarantee that at this age their minds are stronger than any telepath in any universe. I'm not sure what 'protection' you foreigners could offer them."