An Hour or two later —At some point, while lost in the throes of passion, both Evian and Daria lost track of time—, the steamy session finally came to an end and the two lay down on the floor with Daria resting her head on Evian's chest and holding tight to his midsection, not yet ready to accept the reality of another separation, no matter how long or short it would be.
Evian had both hands behind his head while looking at the ceiling above with a smile. His back cushioned by the spell circle Daria cast to create a layer between their bodies and the supply room's dirty floor.
"So, when will you show me around the City?" Evian asked, breaking the serene silence in the room.
"I almost can't believe you came here," Daria said after a few seconds of searching his eyes.
"How so?"
"Being what you are... Having highly perceptive Arcanists close enough to peer at you is dangerous," Daria said.
"Ha, I'll be fine," Evian said gently. He wasn't just saying it as a blowhard. As a Wraith Lord, despite his increased desire for Soul Eating, he was still lucid enough to pull in his cold, Eldritch presence hard into his body and create an allusion to appearing normal.
It wasn't foolproof but it was more than enough to grant him the confidence to thrust himself into unfriendly (by default) company.
"If you say so," Daria said with a doubtful sigh before getting up from her comfortable rest on his chest.
Evian watched her body, sexy as it was, pull away from him. He watched her retrieve her gown and with a flourish of Spiritual energy, dusted it for any spec of dust that had sullied it during its time on the ground. In seconds, she was dressed and Evian just remained where he was, propped by his elbow, enjoying the show.
Feeling his eyes on her body certainly felt gratifying to Daria but reason demanded that she close herself to it, lest she join him on the floor and pick up right where they left off.
Once she had secured the strap of her gown and was covered up, Evian let out a sigh and finally got to his feet to put on his clothes so it was Daria's turn to watch.
"I'll find you after the meeting," Daria said with one hand on his chest while they stood close to the door, ready to pull it open.
"It's a date," Evian told her with a smile.
"Stay out of trouble till then?"
"Of course," Evian said as he reached out and pulled the door open, "How hard could that be?"
•••
All eyes turned to Evian when he stepped back into the receiving hall. The wall of Arcanists appeared not to have moved an inch since he had been away with Daria and now they parted way to let him through and immediately sealed off the door again.
Ignoring the attention he got, Evian found himself a seat and got comfortable. Out of the tall windows in the hall, the sun could be seen setting calling to the oncoming of night and the meeting Dolan Karsten had already decided he would attend with his Knight entourage.
Speaking of Dolan, his staring at Evian became a deep glare of annoyance and soon, he broke the tense silence in the hall,
"Is there nothing you would like to say?"
The hall they were in now was as magnificent as it was massive. The Architectural design had more culture in each one of the small spokes that appeared to hold up multiple arches than any one of the Delegates had ever seen in their lives. Whatever emotion they were feeling, ranging from uncertainty to unease melted away in the face of their view.
They hardly cared for the Arcanists in the room, at least for the first few minutes after their entry and all just rather gawked at the Arcing ceilings with painted Artistry that all illustrated pages of scripture in accordance with the Arcane Faith.
On the other hand, the numerous Arcanists in the hall were not too taken by their environment not to notice the latest arrivals. Daria had made the meeting sound super official but it was more of a Soirée. An evening party that only certain important figures in Sacrosanct along with their associates, attended.
In the wake of the death of Pontiff Agregor Giyen, there was no way they could defend the idea of a lavish party so it was meant to be a muted affair. Some light drinking and discussing of matters in regards to who would succeed the late Pontiff and take their place at the helm of all Arcane Excellence in the Verlice Kingdom.
The post of Pontiff could not remain empty for too long. For the sake of the stability of the Arcane Hierarchy, it needed to be filled and thus, Candidates were already tossing their metaphoric hats in the ring and were going off on their political walks to garner support.
That's why this meeting/soirée was taking place. Secret meetings would soon be rampant but public shows of support were always welcome whenever they cared to show.
Anyway, all eyes fell on the arrivals quickly. They looked so clearly out of place, the fact that no one recognized them was only the second reason they were immediately tagged as followers of the Martial Path.
"Knights," said a female Arcanist with a distaste. Her cleavage gleaming out the top of her gown.
"I know what you mean, Aren," said a Second Lady while eyeing the awestruck Knights, "But they're not all bad."
"The one with the grey hair and eyes?" Aren asked.
"Precisely," her friend said.
"He is easy on the eyes, I suppose," Aren said as though wrestling with the idea that she found a Knight physically appealing, "Didn't know they made them like that on the crude side of the Kingdom."
"Oh, don't be so sassy," her friend said with a chuckle, "You've had your fair share of muscle-bound lovers."
"I won't deny it, Priscilla," Aren said with a shrug before her voice then went low, "But none looked like him though."
"I don't doubt that," Priscilla said looking from the Grey-haired stranger to her friend, "You might want to reduce your staring. You're starting to hyperventilate."
"I can hardly help it," Aren said, slightly breathless. The closer the stranger walked towards her —Towards the center of the party hall— the more appealing he looked.
But there was something more about him. Now that he was no longer eyeing the designs of the hall, she could see a coldness in his eyes that went beyond a physical description. There was something dark there. Mysterious. Dangerous.
There was also an Authority. A feel of it that set him apart from the rest.
"Surely he must be leading the group?" Priscilla muttered and although Aren said nothing, silently, she agreed.
So you can imagine their mild surprise when the handsome (but still lacking compared to the subject of their fixation) effeminate man took giant strides forward and addressed the hall at large,
"Greetings to you all! I am Dolan Karsten, Ambassador of His Royal Majesty, the King of the Verlice Kingdom. And I'm here to make do his august Will."