Arranged (Subira)

[Hasre]

10 Day of Summer 512 AV

The Amphitheater of the North Wind was impressive building designed to be as much part of the show as the scenery or costumes. If you didn’t feel like you were coming to someplace special and different then you wouldn’t be as able to get into the mood of the performance. The amphitheater is always decorated for a performance, but today all the stops had been pulled out as it was opening night for a classical Semhu, one of the few that had survived the near destruction of the Eypharian culture during the Valterrian. As opening night the members of the Winds were making a special point to be in attendances. Most of the North wind, patrons of the arts would be in attendances. The merchants and other member of society had shown up early to going the best remaining seats since the members of the winds had already reserved the best seats.

Hasre arrived with his parents and some other members of the family as they were being carried by the house servants. One of the younger grandsons of the head of house, Hasre had the black hair so common in his family his skin was a golden bronze that said he was fair but spent time in Syna’s light. He was dressed in a comfortable cotton kilt that was died a green color in honor of his house, and a silver vest. Syna was still in the sky performances were usually done while there was still enough light to see by, but late enough that the heat wouldn’t kill the performers.

Slipping out of the litter that he had been carried in Hasre’s handsome face had a pleasant expression, it gave the impression of happiness, but it didn’t really solidify that impression. His family had arrived early enough to be to the performance on time, but not so early that they could really socialize. That was to be saved for the evening gathering after the show.

The family gathered together and walked with the other members of the North wind through the entrance and towards their waiting seats. Hasre smiled at his aunt as she paused to greet him and continued forward. He paused to speak with one scholars at the library. He was a paper order and Hasre always made a point of speaking with them. He was more than just a paper order; he tried to help understand his customers so that they received what the needed.

The conversation only last a moment before a trumpet announced the show would be starting. Hasre moved towards the entrance his family having already entered ahead of him.

[Subira]

The grandeur of the North Winds' amphitheater was almost entirely lost on Subira of the Souths as she morosely followed her family through the imposing golden doors and through the rows of seats, where dozens of enthusiastic theatergoers were already gathered in anticipation of the Semhu performance. Unlike many of the other nobles and Gilded, she and her family made their entrance on foot rather than being transported in litters carried by house slaves. It was a statement, as so many seemingly minor, unimportant gestures in Ahnatep were. No member of the Souths would be seen wallowing in a golden palanquin with silken canopies if they could walk or ride instead; after all, their slaves and servants had far better things to do than cart their lazy masters' arses about on their shoulders. They were strong and prosperous because they weren't afraid to work, and if anyone dared cast even a single patronizing glance in their direction because of it, they had to face Subira's mother Sitra's fierce, forbidding glare in return. Of course, just because they disdained this particular luxury didn't mean the Souths didn't indulge in any others. Subira's family arrived clad in delicate, fine-spun linen robes and sheaths of striped pale-green and soft-blue, tailored in a loose, sweeping style to permit the flow of air and keep off the sun's glare. It set off their warm olive skin pleasingly, and her father, mother, and siblings certainly looked quite fresh and elegant. Only Subira, trudging behind her mother's ramrod-straight back, kept tugging impatiently at her robe and trying to hitch up the hem before she trod on it, tripped, and fell flat on her face. She cared nothing for the theater or for this Semhu production. Subira had attended a few in the past and, while she found the singing and dancing impressive enough, they evoked nothing in her. They didn't make her feel anything in response; they didn't inspire her or take her out of herself, no more than would a pretty warbling tune from a songbird. Beauty, for her, was in the endless sapphire reaches of the sea and sky or in the logical, ordered harmony of a ship's flowing lines and the billow of her sail; these things made her experience awe and wonder. Semhu, in contrast, just made Subira fidget and start glancing toward the exits after about ten minutes. However, her mother Sitra loved the theater and his father loved to please her, so they were here now whether Subira desired it or not. The family made their way toward their seats in the shade close to the stage just as a trumpet blew its clarion cry, announcing the beginning of the show. Subira settled into the seat and gritted her teeth, willing herself to endure several hours of Semhu. As the performers entered the stage and the show unfolded, Subira's teeth clenched tighter and tighter as she realized this particular performance emphasized elaborate singing and gestures instead of the orating and acrobatic dancing that she marginally preferred. The singers' voices soared and boomed with the sudden changes in pitch and tempo that doubtless took years to perfect. The star of the show, the imperious-looking gold-dusted Rumati, seemed to be singing alarmingly often and poured so much impassioned, exaggerated emotion into her songs that Subira wondered how the woman didn't burst like an overripe melon with every powerful soprano note. After a few lengthy arias, Subira was fighting to keep from covering her ears. She looked furtively from side to side, wondering how anyone could enjoy another tragic lament in Rumati's wailing voice. To her relief, her father's face looked grim, as though he too had set himself to endure, and her brother and sister's eyelids were visibly drooping. At least I am not the only one, Subira told herself. Her mother Sitra's face, though, came as a surprise. Subira had expected her to be raptly drinking in every song, but instead her mother's eyes seemed to be wandering away toward the audience. Even stranger, her mother seemed to be muttering something under her breath. This, from the woman who had slapped her hand as a child for whispering to her siblings at the theater, piqued Subira's curiosity more than anything else. She craned her head to follow her mother's gaze as it meandered through the amphitheater. At last, it stopped at a group of richly dressed nobles that, from the green-and-silver colors of their clothing, appeared to be the North Winds. A small dart of shock froze Subira when she saw that not only was her mother staring in that direction, a dignified, older-looking man near the center of the North Winds was looking directly back at her mother. Surprise continued to well up inside her as Subira mutely watched the older man tilt his head toward the younger man beside him, a handsome, sun-bronzed, and six-armed fellow whose resemblance to the older man marked him clearly as his son. Then Subira's mother jerked her head toward Subira herself with equally subtle movements. To her horror, her mother and the older man exchanged brief nods of agreement. Before the two parents could observe her spying on their exchange, Subira hurriedly whipped her head around to face the stage once more. Those two were up to something, for sure; she wouldn't put it past her mother in the least. And it had to do with that young man sitting next to the North Winds man. This was going to be a long performance to sit through, and an even longer evening after that.

[Hasre]

Hasre relaxed in his chair which was comfortable but not as nice as the ones at the North Wind residance, but that was only to be expected. Designed to allow for the many arms of the audiance the arm rest were spacious unlike chairs designed by other humanoid races. Two of his arms were resting on the chairs arms, while his body leaned back putting his weight on those arms. Another set were folded across his chest and the third set was raised so the hands where steppled in front of his face. His handsome face with it full eyebrow and intense dark blue eyes watched the stage. His eyes were lined with Kohl but his lashes were naturally long thenselves. His hair was actually close cut and didn't have any die, but the chain around his kneck indicated his rank. His clean shaved chin was resting on the thumbs of the two hands steppled in front of his face.

The show had been in full swing for a while now and so far Hasre was enjoying himself. He didn't consider himself much of an art lover, espeically compared to his brother Ifran. He had taken to learning the family business, and acadamia. He did enjoy the theater though as it was one of the few events that his family had attended together. So it was that he had developed and ear for music. He never tried to follow the story or to get into the scenry or costumes, he just enjoyed the signing. The harmoniess of it sank into his soul creating a southing sensation. He didn't really like any productions just the music.

Hasre was having trouble getting into this performance thought. It was a classic that he had seen before, written in the ancient history of there people he actually knew this story, but again it was the music that he cared for. His analytical mind kicked in as he shifted again trying to make himself more comfortable. He realized at this point that his father had been mildly agitated this evening. His blues eyes sifted to watch his father, clearly something was up. His father was subtle, and it wasn't uncommon for him to send singles to others while at events. Body language was as good as words. He watched his father for a moment his face indicating he was watching the show, when he notice his father jerk his head in Hasre's direction, and then he seemed to settle back in his chair. The young Eypharian moved his gaze in the direction his father indicated. His father had been looking among the members of the South Winds, he was able to narrow down based upon the looks of boredom among most of them. Only the mother seemed happy about something.

Hasre turned back to the show hopeing to enjoy the rest of it before he watched the more intracate dancing that would occure later in the evening. He knew something was up, but brewing about it would only ruin the night and make him less prepared for what ever was to come.

The show didn't get much more enjoyable. Hasre wasn't into it this evening anymore, and muttered about it as the performances ended. He didn't move from his seat as the other members of the audiance began to move out. The members of the Winds and the court were invited to attend a gathering afterwards.

Once enough people had left the North Winders joined the other nobles as they moved toward the open air courtyard. Syna was setting and the lamps being lit as Hasre and his family joined the growing crowd. Hasre didn't look at his father but could tell he was looking for someone.

[Subira]

By the time the performance had ended, Subira's feet had gone to sleep, despite her best efforts to curl and uncurl her toes within her turquoise-studded leather sandals, and even the cushions on the seats couldn't keep her buttocks from aching after sitting still for so long. She looked around furtively at the rapt theatergoers around her, wondering how they could sit in reverent stillness for so many hours. It was impossible to think that they could be listening to the protracted, exaggerated songs and arias. She couldn't keep her mind on it for more than a minute. At one point, a black fly buzzed close to her ear, circling around the ornate braids that her long-suffering lady's maid had so carefully arranged atop her head this morning. Subira twitched and repeatedly shook her head in an attempt to dislodge it, but the fly only grew louder and more persistent. At last, losing her patience, Subira slapped furiously at the fly and clapped at it with all four hands. She finally captured it between her palms and let out a crow of triumph, only to cringe when a dozen Eypharian faces turned toward her, glaring and hissing softly in disapproval. Brushing the fly's remains from her lower left palm, Subira subsided into embarrassed silence and hastily tilted her face toward the stage, willing her unruly muscles not to fidget or grow restless. The slanting rays of the sun had taken on a distinct reddish tinge when the last Semhu performers had taken their bows and retreated from the stage. Subira rose thankfully and rubbed the pins and needles from her thighs. Beside her, her younger sister Tesha was doing the same. They exchanged amused grins when Tesha pointed to the snoring forms of both their father and older brother, who had apparently fallen asleep during the performance. Muttering under her breath, Subira's mother woke the former with a gentle caress on the cheek and the latter with a curt slap on the shoulder. They waited respectfully as the North Winds were the first nobles to leave the amphitheater, as was custom. Subira thought of the gathering to take place afterward in the open courtyard with dread, though her stomach grumbled plaintively at the thought of the food and drink sure to be offered there. A cool evening breeze brought the aroma of delicately spiced lamb stew to her nose, causing her to inhale appreciatively. As soon as they reached the courtyard, though, Subira's mother never gave her the chance to even look for any tables bearing food or beer. Though she stood half a foot shorter than her tall, robust daughter, her mother always seemed to dominate Subira effortlessly. She took her daughter's left wrists in a firm grip and led her over to the edge of the crowd. With a start, Subira recognized the tall figures toward which her mother was inexorably steering her. One of them was the tall, dignified older man that she had seen her mother signaling during the show, and beside him was the young man who must be his son. They both seemed even taller at close range, with clearly defined muscles that wouldn't disgrace even the hardest-working oarsman. With a start of horror, Subira realized the younger man looked to be close to her age, if somewhat younger. Like a stubborn desert cow, she tried to plant her feet and dig in her heels to keep from being moved any further. Her mother wasn't having any of it, though. "No, mother! Not another young man to meet," Subira whispered fiercely, trying to pull her left hands free. "No more suitors! I thought I told you, I don't want to marry anyone, not yet." "Oh?" her mother replied in a voice just as low and vehement. "And when do you plan to marry, Subira? When you are old and weathered, your looks have faded, and no one will want you? I have told you time and again that it is your duty to marry well and bring honor to the South Winds. I even offered to let you choose, if you'll remember, but I've since learned I have to choose for you. You're fortunate that I was able to find anyone at all who'd consider accepting a spinster as old as you as a potential wife for their son!" "I don't feel fortunate..." Subira muttered rebelliously. "Hush!" her mother hissed angrily. She all but dragged Subira toward the two men. In a transformation so swift and so complete that it seemed almost miraculous to Subira, her mother's face softened into a gracious smile and her voice rose to a melodious, courteous trill as she addressed the men. No one could have guessed that a moment ago, she had been admonishing her daughter for her failure to marry well. "Lord Direnc, it is so good to see you this evening," her mother said, inclining her head politely to the older man. "And this handsome young fellow must be your son! What a pleasure it is to encounter you both like this, after that delightful Semhu performance. I have never heard Rumati sing so beautifully." Subira cringed inwardly as her mother nudged her forward. "If I may," her mother continued in those sweet, trilling tones so different from her real voice, "I would like to introduce my eldest daughter to you gentlemen. This is Subira, the pearl of my little family. Subira, my dear, do say hello to your mother's good friend Lord Direnc of the North Winds and his younger son." "Hello," Subira murmured reluctantly, glancing sidelong toward the younger man. She nodded stiffly in greeting, every line in her body betraying her desire to flee. "It's a, uh, honor to meet you both."