You'd think that removing a serial-killing sidereal from the halls of the Last Refuge would provide Lyla with some much-needed rest.  Instead Lyla finds herself with dozens of loose ends, bruises, and dinner dates.  Hales at least is safely locked away in a Sanctuary-run prison ship just outside of the Last Refuge, joining other such luminaries as Set Beckons and H. H. Holmes.  They're building quite the menagerie.

You'd also think that Lyla would be immune to Sanctuary.  But nope.  They immediately quarantine her as well, for the prerequisite three days.  By the time she gets out she's stir-crazy, but her wounds have knitted up and she's pronounced clean of Abyssal taint.  When she returns to her apartment she finds a letter stuck to the front door, wrapped in heavy parchment and with a big red seal on the front with a flame on top of it.

Exhausted and drained she'd hoped for some peace and quiet but not the type that Sanctuary forcefully offered to her. She could never rest properly when there, even if she frequented them rarely. Three days felt longer than necessary and her wounds weren't that bad to begin with...but its not like she would've argued against the Sanctuary on the spot.

Lyla heads back to her appartment anxious to get changed and wash-up in hopes it all waking her up. Well the letter works as a good wake up call. She groans and takes it with her indoors. This, was no doubt about it, somehow related to MA. No point in waiting she begins to open the letter while kicking her shoes off and removing other bits of clothing.

"Lets see how much of a mess you've gotten me..."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:29, Tue 20 Aug 2019.

She's only half right.  OK, maybe a quarter right.

Once opened she finds a long letter to her, made of positively beautiful and superbly done paper- rare on the Last Refuge.  The writing is perfect calligraphy, bright red ink that looks like it was printed on a computer instead of hand-written.  But she can tell at a glance this was painstakingly written for her.  A little card falls out onto the floor.

Lyla Raines,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and better spirits.  I am writing to express my thanks for the rescue from my imprisonment aboard the Pyongyang.  The food was poor and the company poorer, and it is with a great relief that I find myself released from an almost worse fate in Sanctuary.  I have now returned to my rightful place in the Flame Court as one of the Great Luminaries.

In my absence many things have gotten out of hand and so I must rectify them.  I am given to understand you placed another one of these items on my plate, the young Marc Antony.  After meeting the lad I have decided to hold his trial next week, immediately before the ball celebrating my return.

Enclosed is the subpoena to appear at the Flame Court trial and an invitation to the ball.  Please RSVP at your earliest convenience and return to a representative of the court.  I eagerly await your presence.

Once again, thank you.

Swan Dragon
Great Luminary, Flame Court
Censor of the South

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:25, Tue 20 Aug 2019.

An awkward "Umhh... escapes her lips when gawking at the letter, now half naked in her living room.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit!" she mumbles when it all sets in. A ball and a trial, wonder which one was the worse really. She was hardly prepared for this. She didn't see this coming and it made this all even worse.

She picks up the small card, RSVP card assumably? And places them all on a nearby counter. Then she just stares at them for a moment as if her brain could not process what had just occured. That silent moment passes too quickly and it still lravea her speechless. Oh boy was she not ready for this.

She reaches for her PDA and messages Sayeed:Hi. Sanctuary released me finally. Back in full physical health according to them. Sorry to not inform you earlier. The wine and hot tub would've been sorely needed instead of isolation. Btw got back home and had a surprise for me there. Invitation to MAs trial AND a ball. Would again appreciate a little help in both regards...or then I'll just appear as my inapproapriate self and hope that others approve of it as much as you. ;) In reality all she wanted to write wasHELP ME but she couldn't just let that tension and panic shine so brightly. Hopefully her friend would know how out of her comfortzone this all was.

Giving herself an annoyed facepalm, she heads for a swift shower while listening to a possible message sound from her PDA.

...oh wait. What where the dates...
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Fri 23 Aug 2019.

The small card comes with an envelope but is already out.  And, to her horror, it has an RSVP date-  RSVP 3 days before the ball.  Date enclosed.  Date:  4 days from now.  This was sent while she was getting checked into Sanctuary.

This letter has been stuck to her door for three days.

The RSVP card asks for her food preference (Chicken, Fish, Vegan).  She is asked to attend in "Proper attire" and that she shouldn't bring any other guests.  It is, apparently, Flame Court Only and she IS the guest.  Either that or Marc is her guest.  It seems to imply both.

She doesn't have to wait long.  She's barely got water on her body when Sayeed pings her back.

Wondered where you were.  How's spiritual health?  Wine + hot tub still on the table to help with that.  Was wondering when you'd text about that letter.  Come on over, will be happy to discuss + brief.  I have your back.

The water cascades on her and she breathes a sigh of relax and relief, at least for that short moment. Sayeed's quick answer pulls her away from her solitude, and she resists the urge to dash and answer him. Instead she waits until she has the conditioner in her hair, before stepping out to see what was the verdict.

Well she wouldn't be inviting Marc over without consulting Sayeed first. Anything that had something to do with official and political events such as these were almost a complete myth to her. A myth that drove her in a small state of panic due to the possibility of fucking everything up.

Spiritually I guess I'm fine. I'm a poor judge of that. THOUGH A breather is always nice and sorely needed. Alcohol too to process this letter. So yes, I'll take on that offer. Given there is time...I'm apparently awfully late for this RSVP and event itself. I guess I should've done just like Daniel and somehow broken out of the facility to answer this. It means the world to me that I can count on you. Will head there after a shower, if that's alright.

Then she returns to rinse her hair while wondering what an earth is a proper attire. With her experience in regarding to Sayeed its something superbly formal or naked. If it was the latter, how on earth could she contain her cheeks from flushing. Having known Sayeed himself for the past ten years, and still she was like a blushing little girl with his confidence. Oh well, she'd just steel herself, steal some confidence from Kendall and pass it through with flying colours.

That being said, she cuts her shower short and leaves her hair towel dry, while finding something clean to wear before heading to Sayeeds.

Don't fret.  You still have a day to RSVP.  Four days until trial/ball.  You didn't know about all of this so no worries about breaking out to answer.  Consider:  who didn't tell Swan Dragon you're in Sanctuary?  Questions questions.  My door is open.  Address next text.

He gives his address, and it's some distance from her place in the Upperdecks.  She'd heard that the Elemental Courts tended to make their own towns near the Underdecks, where space was less of a premium and they could maintain the lifestyle they chose with little concern for messing with humans.

The town is called Torchhall, a bubble of well-organized apartments situated next to a God-enclave and a human town of factory workers named New Bourgainville.  By fast travel through the Grand Trunk it's 40 minutes, easy enough for her.  Apartment 58-C, up several stairs past a non-functioning elevator.  She gets some looks from the natives.  The fire elementals dazzle her in their diversity.  It used to be there were only a small handful, now they've somehow... radiated.  She doesn't recognize all the types anymore, though the Ifrit and Flame Ducks always stand out.  One of them has broad shoulders, a wasp-thin waist, and little blue flames erupting from his/her spine; it watches her pass with obvious distaste and displeasure.

There.  58-C.

Easier said than done. See you soon, she responds to Sayeed while tugging on clothes.

At this occasion apparently clean clothes meant a short dress in a shade of dark grey, accompanied by a cropped hoodie and military shoes. Guess Sayeed earned this dress given last time they saw, she was like a living wreck. Most of her other clothes were apparently currently dirty or ripped from somewhere. Guess she should stop going for work in plain clothes, since she had stuff that were more suitable for that. She leaves her other signature scarf to a pile of "to be fixed", and realizes her second similar scarf is still with 5DD and Enterprise... How smooth of her. Oh well.

His encouragement leaves her ponderous though. Who'd sabotage her. Or who'd want to sabotage the Exalts with severing some of their ties to the elementals. She'd never really identified any personal enemy or rival for herself unlike some of her peer. Or maybe she was just too blind to see it. These thought accompany her all the way to his apartment.

Only when she gets nearby does she wake up from her thoughts. Not because of the change in the scenery, but because she was given looks. She'd used to passing unnoticed, but non-humans usually ignored her inner talent unless she put some thought into it. The change is interesting, and somewhat comforting as it was always nice to see things flourish and succeed.  It was like seeing the immediate effect of the work they'd all put forward to manage without Earth.

Lyla doesn't return a look to any of them passing by, trying to mind her own business. Finally there, she gives his door a sturdy knock.

The door opens for Lyla.  Sayeed isn't there- it just opens, like he said.  The apartment inside isn't the typical drab affair within the Last Refuge.  Brick, wood, mosaics adorn a wide open space.  It reminds her quite heavily of Morocco, or at least what little she saw before she had to run out of the country with the Dead nipping at her heels.

Still, it's frigging huge.  Sayeed must've claimed several apartments and ripped out the walls, floors, and ceilings to set it up.  There is indeed a second floor, and an inset pool that steams with radiated heat.  In fact the whole place could use some air conditioning; by her estimation it's around 27°.  She can see a table set up with two glasses of red wine.  There's a door to what must be the kitchen; heat billows from there, something smells good.

"Be right with you, Lyla," Sayeed calls out to her, "Take a drink and relax."

Yeah, the hoodie had to go now that there seemed to be an utter lack of the cold hostility of the vast space surrounding them. She looks around with open curiousity, not hesitating at all when he tells her to relax.

"No need to hurry," she responds to him.

She kicks her shoes off rather quickly to manage better with the sudden warmth. It was nice seeing how other people had accomodated themselves to living on the ship. As ordered she takes the other wine glass and sips, sighing deeply as enjoying the taste of it.

It's spicy, sweet, with a hint of orange and cherry.  Good wine, especially by Last Refuge standards.  It's actually made of real grapes, a true rarity.

"Food is almost done.  Rice, some kofte, a little bit of bread... I hope it'll do."

She'd known exactly what to expect, but still Sayeeds choices managed to surprise her. Especially with the wine. It was that type of wine that should be kept in a locked glass cabinet waiting for the perfect moment, that was never going to happen. Like a treasure to be admired but never really to be used. And here she was, sipping away like it was an occasion of worthy such a wine.

"Don't be silly with the modesty. I expected none of this," she chuckles in response. "And I guess its no surprise that I haven't eaten, at least anything resembling real food, so I'm grateful."

"The perks of being the Fire Court's liaison to... far too many communities, as well as my connections with you, and a burgeoning political career."  Sayeed steps out, wearing some pretty comfortable, baggy dark clothing that looks a little worn.  It's the first time she's not seen him in anything particularly sharp.  He carries a pair of hot plates, steaming in the air- spicy and pungent.  He obviously belongs to the "use very spice in the cupboard" school of cooking.

He puts the plate down in front of her and sits across, taking the wine.

"To tell you the truth I've been saving it for when you got out of Sanctuary.  There's nothing like the best food you've got to make you forget that place has to exist."

"With that list, you deserve this. It's good to have a place to relax, and by the looks of it, you actually manage to do that...unlike a certain me. Its a lovely place you got. Makes me almost envious," she inclines to her surroundings as sitting down by the table. "And yes, any visit to Sanctuary is worth forgetting. If I wouldn't know otherwise, I'd suspect them being in cahoots with the Void."

Letting out a small chuckle, she rests her glass on the table for a moment.

"How are you?"

If she was to ask first, it'd take a bit longer before Sayeed would manage to turn the conversation to her..and the things she had in her mind, where not something she could access so quickly or without making the whole situation awkward. At least thats what she thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Fri 13 Sept 2019.

"You probably shouldn't be too envious.  We're actually in the Fire Court slums,"  Sayeed tells her with bemusement, "This isn't hot enough for most of the Fire Court, the prime territory is right near the forges and engines.  For most of us this is like an apartment in Antarctica.  And the human population also finds it intolerably hot.  The reason why my apartment is so big is because nobody wanted a bunch of apartments, so I took them and knocked out the walls and spent a few years making this."

He pours himself a generous glass.

"I imagine I'm very tired, if I'd let myself feel it.  Your ward hasn't made things much better.  He's got quite a mouth on him,"  He says as he takes a long drink, "And I still haven't been able to get my hands on any sand.  Just... imagine a little bit of red sand, right over there," He gestures to the pool, "Just enough to rest your feet in.  My home has been taken from me, but I can still carry a piece of it!"

"Its cozy nonetheless, no matter where it is located," she comments fiddling her bread.

"And here I thought I needed rest and a night off. I'm glad to be an excuse for you to have one as well," she sighs when he mentions MA. "I can imagine. I feel bad for that. That he is such a chore for you, when he should be my problem. I'm sorry for just dropping the whole thing in your arms. I did not have time to think it through properly when it occurred...I am meaning to talk with him now that I'm out."

She looks over at the pool, and takes one slightly larger and longer sip, before turning back to the discussion. "I prefer to think the home is where you decide to make it. I need to remember that sand part when out on a mission. If I'd happen to spy some in the vast void around us."

"You don't have to talk about this now if you don't want,"  He says about Marc, opting instead to focus on the other half of their conversation.

"Home is what you make of it.  That's why I'm trying to make this home.  I just doubt you'll be able to find Saharan sand out in the void,"  He smiles at her and takes a drink, "Smelling of creosote and spice, red in the right light... perhaps I'll make do by smashing up my own quartz, sprinkle in some cinnamon, and hope for the best.  And to think I'd actually say that I missed Vegas."