[AtLA/Tortall] Emperor Ozorne meets Firelord Ozaibeckyh2112January 21 2012, 23:59:38 UTC
The Carthaki court swelters in the summer-heat. Women soak their tunics in perfumed water and sit over air-vents. Varice serves fruit and Yamani-style fish, and the wine she pours for Emperor Ozorne is filmed over with magical ice. But it melts all too quickly, and the perfumed air is cooler than not but still not cool enough.
Soldiers die on the march, peasants die in the fields. It is too hot, the summer too long. No one can remember any summer like this before.
On the solstice, black-robed mages from the university tumble into the court. Most of them have stripped themselves to the waist, and sweat slicks their skin. They gabble excitedly, and it takes some time for the import of their words to sink into Ozorne's heat-slowed mind.
Like a dash of ice-water, he understands. "An immortal man?"
Yes! A stranger, come out of the south, Yamani in feature, eyes of molten gold, beard like a Carthaki emperor.
"Bring him to me."
***
The sun reaches its zenith when the black-robes bring the immortal to Ozorne. He is all they said and more - handsome, muscled like a Shang warrior, and arrogant. There is something too like contempt in his eyes as he looks about the court of Carthak's greatest emperor.
It grates Ozorne. "What is your name, immortal?"
The man cocks his head, looking at Ozorne curiously, but there is no sign of understanding.
"He doesn't seem to speak any languages of Tortall," one of the black-robes admits. "We don't understand it- every other immortal-"
"Enough." Ozorne's mouth curves into a smile as he looks at the strange immortal. Why should an emperor of immortals sully himself with the tongues of mortals? And why should he appear to anyone but the Emperor of Carthak?
*incredibly high-pitched squeal of delight* Oh, that was so lovely! The details to set the scene were fantastic, like fruit and Yamani-style fish, and the little interaction at the end gave me thrills. The only downside is that now I'm desperate for more.
Soldiers die on the march, peasants die in the fields. It is too hot, the summer too long. No one can remember any summer like this before.
On the solstice, black-robed mages from the university tumble into the court. Most of them have stripped themselves to the waist, and sweat slicks their skin. They gabble excitedly, and it takes some time for the import of their words to sink into Ozorne's heat-slowed mind.
Like a dash of ice-water, he understands. "An immortal man?"
Yes! A stranger, come out of the south, Yamani in feature, eyes of molten gold, beard like a Carthaki emperor.
"Bring him to me."
***
The sun reaches its zenith when the black-robes bring the immortal to Ozorne. He is all they said and more - handsome, muscled like a Shang warrior, and arrogant. There is something too like contempt in his eyes as he looks about the court of Carthak's greatest emperor.
It grates Ozorne. "What is your name, immortal?"
The man cocks his head, looking at Ozorne curiously, but there is no sign of understanding.
"He doesn't seem to speak any languages of Tortall," one of the black-robes admits. "We don't understand it- every other immortal-"
"Enough." Ozorne's mouth curves into a smile as he looks at the strange immortal. Why should an emperor of immortals sully himself with the tongues of mortals? And why should he appear to anyone but the Emperor of Carthak?
The immortal's smile curled to match his own.
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The only downside is that now I'm desperate for more.
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