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By Fire's Light
Holly played her second song which caught some interest in some of the elves as she switched into the archaic elven dialect familiar with those high elves present. Those of the other races either enjoyed the music and had no idea of what she was saying or lost some interest as it seemed she was playing up it only for the elves. The heavy lady in lace sniffled a little as the language changed to one she couldn't understand which made her feel that the song was not being sung for her. Of course, it was hard to tell with elves. Oftentimes they wanted the other races to feel inferior at get-togethers of this caliber by asking their performers to sing songs or recite poems in their own old language to make the others feel uncouth and barbaric due to the musical lilting style of speech that was native of the elves. Soft conversations were sparked up by a few of the farther flung corners of the room who chose to politely whisper to their neighbors during Holly's song. She had gained a few elves in exchange for the back corners of the room. Who knew if it was an even exchange?

Melagor was amused as he paid attention to those nobles in the room without his eyes leaving Holly. His mouth was a straight line though his eyes sparkled solemnly. Arendinalla, unlike her son, was vastly bored by the song. While the thrown in language was... different, it could scarcely be called a professional song. The love song of a summer child was all it was and it was all a halfbreed girl child could understand during her finite lifetime. However, she disguised her boredom well using an indifferent face. Her eyes roamed from time to time, but she spent most of her time being judgemental about the length of the girl's ears.

As Holly's song ended, there was some applause. In this case, the applause seemed more subdued, but that was simply because the other races were less engaged and the elves as a whole did not supply loud clapping. Arendinalla's claps were as soft as two butterfly wings pressing together as her fingertips brushed against each other.

The steward bustled silently about the room, directing servants with a point or a gesture, refilling wine goblets and sending about hors d'oeuvres.


Really! We need to get back to...

The guard rolled his eyes and pushed Roderick further down the hall. The paladin stumbled yet maintained his feet.

Did you not feel it?

With a heavy sigh, Roderick found himself pushed again.

I have to get back there! You don't understand! There is evil magic afoot! His feet started to plant themselves as he walked, still being pushed along like some... peasant. It wouldn't be long before he felt the need to do something reckless...

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