“Ah, I can see how that would be beneficial now. Thank you, Kaia. You've taught me something new tonight. Hopefully I can return the favor and teach you something as well. I would hate to be in your debt when the night ends.”

Kaia dipped her head in a small but playful show of acknowledgement. “Well, that was a very valuable piece of information. You could do a lot with that. I do hope whatever you have in mind will be enough in terms of compensation,” she teased coyly.

“As mortals, hoping is what we seem to be the best at, but hope won't carry you to the end of your dreams. Hope won't fight your battles. One has to word hard to improve, to stay alive, to grasp at every chance they get. Otherwise your desires will fall away. That's why I go after what I want. Chase it until I make it mine. That is the way of the world, wouldn't you agree?”

Kaia could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke and knew that there was honest truth behind his words. She could relate to his outlook, for most of humanity, life did not come easily. The very few who did not know of the true hardships of life could never relate, and those too afraid to change it would never escape their place in the world. “To think otherwise would be foolish,” Kaia agreed.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Growing up with only one parent deprives us of one of the most important influences in our lives. I remember the lessons she taught me daily, but I know there had to be more to learn from her. She tried to teach me the morals of her people and the beliefs that they hold; I'm afraid they never took, and that she might be disappointed in that fact.”

Kaia gave her companion a gentle look. “Do not torture your mind with such thoughts,” she adviced, though not unkindly. Kaia could understand that self-destructive voice that twisted her very being into aching knots of guilt. There was plenty Kaia wished she could have done with and for her mother when she had the time. Small memories that were so inconsequential at the time now had the ability to keep her awake with waves of guilt. One such memory was of a time when Kaia was still small. Her mother had found some flowers in the forest and had brought them to Kaia to inspect. Kaia had wanted nothing more than to go and play in the nearby stream instead of staying behind to sit and talk with her mother. As Callie had called out to Kaia, the blonde had pretended not to hear her and ran off towards the stream with her cousin. When they returned later that night, Kaia had dismissed her mother so much, that Callie simply tossed the flowers away and said nothing more on the matter. She would never admit it out loud, but Kaia truly wished she’d chosen to spend that afternoon with her mother. It mattered not that Kaia had no interest in pretty things like flowers, she just wished she had that memory of a free, warm afternoon with her mother.

“Just because lessons didn’t take then, doesn’t mean they cannot be learnt now. If it truly means so much to you, I’m sure you’ll find a way to honour her,” Kaia added softly. She didn’t know what lessons his mother tried to impart on him, nor would she ask. Painful memories of causing disappointment were not things Kaia would want to share either. She couldn’t make him promises that all would be well, for she was not so naive to believe it. She did believe though, that it was not too late if it was something he wished for.

“I am interested to see if this cousin of yours lives up to the expectations you've set for her. We'll see how well the fight goes. Can you see well enough from where you are? Perhaps I could put you up on my shoulders if you need a better view?”

Kaia raised a brow, but smirked all the same at the offer. “I can see plenty well,” she assured him. “Good try though, you nearly found a way to have my legs over your shoulders sooner rather than later,” she added slyly, resisting the urge to laugh. Perhaps she was being a little bold, but the warmth in her cheeks from the wine spurred her on all the same. As it stood, it seemed the current festival was the perfect place to make such a vulgar joke.

“I have no intentions of you forgetting this night. I want it to be the best of your life, in case we never see each other again. Should we never meet after this, I want you to grow old with whatever boring man you marry thinking fondly of this festival and the night you spent with me.”

For a moment, Kaia couldn’t respond, too busy trying to hide the sly and flattered smirk that warred with her features. How truly disappointed she would be if he could not live up to his own praise.

“Between boring husbands and ruining all other women, what have we done to our future selves? We best be careful not to make good on such promises, or the gods may refuse to let us create such a memorable night,” Kaia joked.

At that moment, Aea suddenly struck and launched herself beneath her opponent. Kaia’s story gaze snapped to her cousin as she leaned forward eagerly, nibbling on her bottom lip as to contain her overwhelming feeling of pride and triumph for her cousin. The crowd around her erupted in a mixture of shock, woots and laughter. Kaia swore she heard a woman scream in surprise.

All of a sudden, Aea was chopping down the height of her opponent, until she was on top of him, her strikes quick and purposeful. Kaia cried out with excitement as Aea locked her opponent into a choke. She had been so quick and from where Kaia stood, it seemed unlikely that the behemoth of a man would be able to dislodge her before he’d have to tap out. The round was not yet over, but the chance of the man snatching his victory this late was unlikely. Counting on that, Kaia glanced sideways towards Alexandros with a knowing look.

“Need I say anything?”

“I’m certain there is a lot I could do with that, if I was to take up fletching as a hobby. Perhaps a nice thorough lesson on swordplay would be of equal value? I’m certain there are many things I can teach you. There are so many different techniques after all.”

Kaia’s amusement became evident as a devious grin swept across her features. The double meaning of his words was not lost on Kaia, even with the warmth of the wine influencing her thought process.

“Well, I look forward to the instruction,” Kaia assured him, enjoying his flirtatious expression.

“Those who claim to be of higher status because of their birth only enjoy such positions because someone in their past took what they desired with the sword. There is no difference between those of us with ambitions and the skills to make our own destinies and those who made themselves the royals of Greece.”

Kaia had never considered that, but she supposed it was easily true. She was not so far removed from the outside world to not understand that war had ravaged the kingdoms both inside and outside of Greece. She had just never stopped to think that the most fortunate of people now had profited from those battles. That realisation was even more maddening. The only reason her mind didn’t spiral in a bitter pit of resentment, was because her senses were a little too focused on the feeling of Alexandros’ breath against her ear. The slightest of shivers ran down her spine and faded as he pulled his lips away again. She immediately wanted him to whisper something else in her ear again, but refrained from making the request. She did however make a mental note to insist upon it later.

“But perhaps this is a better topic for a safer place.”

Kaia tilted her head to the side to better meet his gaze once more. “Of course,” she murmured, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves either. The conversation was rather harmless, she felt, but she could understand the need for caution, especially with Alexandros’ position. Should the wrong person get the wrong idea, it could spell disaster for the handsome officer, and likely her as well if she was caught too.

“You speak as if you have experience in this. I shall take your words and see what of her lessons I wish to incorporate into my life. Perhaps between that and my prayers to her god I will be able to give her memory the honor it deserves. Thank you for the advice, I truly appreciate it.”

Kaia gave a small and solemn smile. “I was too quick to dismiss my mother growing up, wanting to be more like my father. I regret not taking the chance to connect with her better,” Kaia admitted. It was not to say she never expressed her love for Callie when she was alive, but Kaia could have been more thoughtful. “I have no doubt that your mother would appreciate your efforts,” Kaia added. She didn’t need to know his mother to know that it would be true. Any mother that had a child that cared for them must have been kind and loving in some way.

The conversation moved quickly along from their mothers to the fight at hand. At his offer to allow her to sit upon his shoulders, Kaia couldn’t help herself as a rather vulgar remark came pouring past her lips. Alexandros’ reaction was pleasing to her though, a grin spreading across her lips as he laughed.

“Is that where you want your legs to finish the night? Upon my shoulders? I think I can handle that. I was hoping for a bit more creativity though, or perhaps you are less experienced than you’ve been letting on? If you do just prefer the classics, then I can’t really fault you, I suppose. They are still quite enjoyable.”

She had only bedded a man once before and while it had been a pleasant and enjoyable time, she had not had the chance to be all too adventurous. At first, he’d hovered above her as he took her maidenhead, then at some point he’d rolled them over and pulled her on top of him. She’d liked that.

“You’re right, I suppose I do prefer being on top,” she agreed slyly, pleased that her answer served both to answer his initial question about being on his shoulders, as well as the innuendo.

“If the gods try to prevent us from seeing this night through to the end, then I shall take up my blades against them. They have no right to deprive us of what could be the most spectacular night of passion ever seen, assuming we both live up to the lofty claims made this evening. We deserve to see what the reality of our words are, don’t you think?”

“I’d drink to that,” Kaia agreed heartily, holding her unfortunately empty cup up briefly. Kaia went to comment further on her lack of drink when Aea launched into her attack. Within a matter of moments, Aea had her opponent trapped in a headlock. Unable to help herself, Kaia turned to Alexandros.

“I underestimated her, as I’m sure her opponent did. She has taken this round, but there are more to come. I’m curious to see how she fairs with the tricks out of the bag.”

Spurred by Aea’s triumph, as well as the excitement that coursed through the crowd, Kaia had every intention to gloat on her cousin’s behalf. That was, until her stormy blue eyes caught sight of her uncle Cassero through the masses, beyond the other side of the ring. Kaia, craned her neck for a better look, wanting to be sure it was him before motioning to Aea.

As if guided by the gods themselves, Kaia caught sight of her uncle again. There could be no doubt that it was him, though she had never seen him in such a state. Somehow he was bare chested and seemingly covered in wine. His expression was both incredibly pleased, but also slurred. Judging by how he had his arms draped around two practically naked women, Kaia wouldn’t have been surprised if he could barely walk on his own.

Still, it would do her and Aea no good if he recognised them. Thankfully, Aea was not facing him, but if he so much as looked in Kaia’s direction, he’d see her.

“Shit,” Kaia breathed, ducking her shoulders down and tilting her head away. Kaia eyeballed her cousin, hoping Aea would see her so that Kaia could give her warning.

“We need to go,” Kaia murmured, as if hoping to avoid her uncle hearing her. With a nod towards her uncle’s direction, Kaia flicked her gaze back to Alexandros, “my uncle is over there. He would not be pleased to find us here. We should go.”

With another glance towards Aea, and a pang of disappointment at the realisation that she would be missing the rest of Aea’s fight, Kaia, broke out of Alexandros’ hold and instead took his hand.

Kaia pulled at Alexandros’ hand and tugged him along with her as she weaved through the crowd, heading in the direction away from her uncle. Paranoid that her father or other uncles would be nearby, Kaia kept her head down and avoided making any eye contact with other people as much as possible.

((Will continue on in Tempting Fate))

Vangelis did nothing as the girl circled the open courtyard. He made no move towards her as she meandered about the crowd and found distraction in the form of three witnesses. He shifted a little, in order to keep her in clear view but, beyond that, he barely disturbed the sandy pavement beneath his feet.

The raven-haired woman was all confident sinew and arrogant stride. She made no move towards aggression, nor did she turn to him with the wrath of the desperate. She was no street urchin looking for something to eat. She was not so wholly lost as she seemed to portray. Instead, her clear familiarity with conflict was written in every shift of her hips.

Given Vangelis' sheer size, women were not comfortable around him. Even the courtiers that had sought his attention for means of marriage or feminine ego were never truly easy in his presence. He was too large, too muscle-bound and too stoic to see them calmed by his proximity. Too clearly able to break them in two should he wish for them to relax.

This woman, on the other hand, wandered about him with a deceptive serenity that was telling in its very rarity. She held no fear in his company. She was neither blind nor stupid so it was not that she had failed to notice his towering frame. She simply did not fear it.

Which told Vangelis that she had some skill in violence. Likely against men. Why else would she take the time to weave herself a braid of colour and play with her garments?

Whether it was a tactic to see his reaction, a means of assessing his shape and strengths or merely a tool of mental warfare, Vangelis did not react to the girl's dithering. He let her do what she wished, refusing to initiate the fight himself. He would not attack a woman. He would defend and he would fight. But he would not attack.

Even in the land of Colchis, where women were allowed access to war, they were not brought into close conflict. They were kept the length of an arrow's fly away from the fighting. It went against Vangelis' nature to break with tradition and seek to injure a member of the fairer sex.

'Fine, mister. We'll have it your way. I'll not lay blades on an unarmed opponent.'

Vangelis could respect this, even if he thought it foolish. He had no interest in framing himself as an 'unarmed opponent'. It had not been his intention to spark noble intentions within his enemy. He had simply refused to lay a blade upon a woman.

Physically static did not mean that Vangelis was not astute. He watched her. With care and with attention. From the corner of his eye, Vangelis spotted when she made her move.

She darted low and she darted fast. Like a wildcat launching from perch to ground, she dived between his legs in an attempt to send him off-balance. He lifted a foot and pivoted on the other. Years of practice had seen him grow fast for a man of his size but even then he was a shade too slow. On one foot, the strike to his knee was dangerous. It buckled the leg before he could strengthen it. His shoulders hunched and he dropped onto both feet again, grounding his base.

The girl had disappeared.

The next moment, legs were around his waist and arms had found his neck. Thighs clenched down on him hard and he could barely see the pale skin of the girl's arm it was so tight upon his throat. Instantly, his chest ached with the need to breathe, his temples flushed hot with the lack of air.

Yanked backwards, he reached for the girl's arms and shifted his weight to stay upright. His fingers wrapped around her limbs. Pulling, he eased the hold enough to drag a thin whistling of air between his lips but no more. Like a python she was wrapped tight and, being so small, it was near impossible for him to ply her from his back.

'Ten seconds... Yield before I put you to sleep.'

It would not take ten seconds. Vangelis had found himself enough air. He would hold longer than that. But it didn't truly matter. Either way, ten seconds or twenty, he would pass out. No human could survive without air.

Vangelis instinct was to seek air. To break her from her hold any way that he could. The simple solution was to leap back; to use his weight and size against her. A single jump and the fall of his own mass would crush her into the ground, force her to loosen her hold.

On grassland, he might have considered it. On wetland, before his own officers, he might have taken that path. But here... upon paved ground where few knew his identity and may never discover that he had yielded a round to a female...? He would not. He refused to throw himself backwards and beat the girl with the earth itself. Such stone could even render her unconscious.

Instead, he tapped her arm. The universal sign of yielding.

A call came from their right and the round was lost, claimed by the spry little girl who fought like a viper.

Once released, Vangelis swallowed hard and drew in a heavy breath. But he did not give her the satisfaction of rubbing his neck or feeling for bruises. The pain was less important than the way his vision came back into focus.

As the pair were forced to separate for the second round, Vangelis deliberately avoided paying her expression attention. He had no doubt that she would be pleased, perhaps a little amused that she had handed him his arse so quickly. But he would pay such emotions no mind. Feelings on the battlefield were a mere distraction. Lies.

Muscles could not lie.

This time, when the girl approached him, Vangelis reacted faster. Striking and then dropping to the ground in a feint that would see his legs swept from under him, Vangelis snatched out a hand. His size worked to his advantage, his reach long. Her wrist was quickly in his hold. He lifted the arm he held to take her weight. Her feet scrambled over the ground, searching for purchase.

Vangelis wouldn't let her have it.

Twisting her arm and kicking her hip, Vangelis spun the girl to her front. He locked her arm and pulled it up behind her shoulders. He placed a knee to the small of her back and put down pressure.

He might not be willing to drive a female into the ground with violence. But he would hold one in the dust if necessary.

Remembering the way the girl had strolled around him with confidence, Vangelis could not help but lean down, increasing his weight a little.

"Ten seconds..." he repeated back to her.

The man tapped her arm and the ringmaster called the yield. Aea unlocked her limbs, her ears ringing and her breath growing a little heavier from the exertion of force she levied upon his thick neck. The man drew in a deep breath and she patted him on the shoulder, wordlessly apologizing for the injury. She’d had that choke put on her a few times and it put a hefty ache into her muscles for a day or two after.

He would be alright, though. Likely the mostly-naked woman watching him with a half-lidded expression would not mind kneading his aches away. 

Aea unwound her legs from his waist and slid from his broad back. It was a ways down and her feet thrummed when her sandals slapped the hard ground below. Shockwaves traveled up her shins as she crossed the ring with a self-assured swing to her hips and a concentrated frown on her lips.

When she made it to her side, the crowd had all but disappeared, leaving only she, he, and the ring they danced in with the sky above and the ground below.

She rolled her neck and shoulders, stretching her muscles and concentrating on her breathing to calm it again. The butterflies and lightness hadn’t vanished yet, only got stronger.

Her empty stomach and search for Kaia was but a distant memory. Sweat beaded under her hair and clothes, a light pebbling that might have turned into a thick film if she fought for an extended amount of time under the bright sun.

One arched eyebrow ticked up and she looked pointedly at the man's shoes when he didn't move to throw his contribution into the pile. He seemed to be paying her little mind, though.

A cheeky little smile slid across her lips as she considered her opponent. Perhaps he was getting irritated—irritation meant he might over compensate at some point and strike with too much ardor. His weight would be detrimental in such a case.

Aea dropped into a defensive position and waited on him to advance, for surely he would this time. She waited for near thirty seconds before she realized that he wasn’t moving. This man was very strange. Either that, or very stubborn. She’d just put a rather nasty blood choke on him—he should be charging her like a wild boar.

Hesitantly, she dropped her position. New plan. Get the dagger. Diving for his legs wouldn’t work again, and neither would dancing around his reach. If she rushed him, he might just stop her with a hand to her face, and then she’d have to climb his arm like a squirrel. She could ram her head into his stomach, but he’d probably catch her without a distraction to occupy his hands.

There was an urge to use her scarf, but it would be unwise to give away her best trick unless she had no other choice. A kick to his knee ought to bring him down, though, and then she could catch his neck and yank him to the ground when he was vulnerable. Yes, that would work.

Aea’s foot slid back, the sand scraping ‘neath her thin sandals. Then, she pushed off and darted for his front. Instead of using his arms as she assumed, he struck the ground and dropped, his weight surely enough to shift the earth below the pavement.

Her eyes widened and she slid to a stop, her feet scurrying backwards when she realized he was about to either slam a shoulder in her stomach or throw her to the ground.

Too late.

Instead, he snatched her wrist, his hand easily encircling it twice over and locking like a knot. Her feet slid from under her and in seconds, she was dangling in the air like a low-hanging fruit. Instinctively, she kicked to settle upon a surface but all she found was air. Her abdomen muscles grew warm as she brought her knees up, intent on forcing her foot into his stomach, but he was fast.

An impact to her hip, a burn upon her wrist. One moment she was staring at his stoic face with wide blue eyes and the next, she was facing the crowd.

She'd never been held up as if she weighed nothing before, but her muscles moved without the assistance of her mind. Aea tucked her free arm to her stomach beneath her chlamys, her other arm stretched taught behind her, her arm socket already thrumming with burning pain. There was a pressure in her back and suddenly, she was no longer looking at the crowd, but their feet.

Her air left her, unable to squeeze through the pressure upon her back. The knives at her waist dug into her muscles and sand abraded against her cheek. Her shoulder burned hotter now that he’d gotten her down and pinned her with his great weight in addition to anchoring her movements against her.

Think. There had to be something. There was always something. She struggled to draw in a full breath and her body responded in panic, trying to snatch every iota of air it could and only partially succeeding.

Her breath left her again when he bore down harder on her back and Aea’s eyes swiveled to peer at him from the corner of her vision, her heart struggling between his weight and the impossible force of the ground.

The man leaned down. There was not a single movement across his expression, not a single twitch in his stony features. Not a tightening under his blue eyes nor a flare of his nostrils. She stayed absolutely still, waiting for what he thought to do, her heart hammering harder against the ground.

“Ten seconds," he said.

Her eyebrows pinched, confused for only a moment. And then, she laughed. It was difficult not to. Whether he meant to taunt her and make her angry or not, she found his dry irony perfectly comical. He was funny.

Her laughter came out weak and it did not last long when she could not draw in enough air to sustain it. Right. Ten seconds. She moved her hips, wiggling them left and then right to test how much space he’d given her. She did not move far before the burn in her shoulder became too much and she feared it would break. He'd covered his space well, then.

Which leg did he wear that knife on? Aea would try her hand anyway upon whichever leg was closest. Apollo might be on her side today, after all.

Her fingers, numb now beneath her own weight, wrapped about the hilt of her longest dagger. She pulled and it loosened from its thick rope hold. Aea bared her teeth and pushed through the pain in her back and arm. She rocked her hips aside and her free hand slipped from beneath her, brandishing a dagger.

Aea used the man’s weight to hold her down and her knife to elongate her reach. With her torso anchored to the ground, she stretched her arm back and down. She lost her breath completely under the force of her movement. Her shoulder popped from its socket and her wrist groaned under the man’s grip.

The blunted tip of her blade hitched on something and she yanked against it, telling herself it was only a few more seconds. 

Whether it was the man’s sandal or his knife, it broke loose. If it was his knife, it would go flying over her. Either way, he would be irritated this time, she was sure of it. And then she could use his lack of control against him.

Aea’s eyebrows pinched and she squeezed her eyes closed, tapping the ground with her free hand in a yield when she did not have enough air to waste upon words, her lungs and ribs whining for relief.

The ringmaster called it and when the man got off her, Aea drew in a deep breath and rolled from her belly to her back. He was incredibly heavy—he probably ate three times what her stomach could take. It was a faster move than she thought him capable of. She had underestimated him as well, then. 

Aea pushed herself to a seating position with her good arm and once up, grabbed the useless appendage hanging under her chlamys. In her head, she counted to three and then forced the joint back into place. The sweat collected under her hair was beginning to get itchy and uncomfortable. She'd buy a bath with her winnings after this, surely they had one somewhere around here. Her uncle said that every city had a bath.

She centered her focus back on the present and slowly undid the straps of her sandals. Her arm pulsed and ached as she unknotted the leather ties around her shins. Once the straps fell away, she cast both of her threadbare shoes into the pile of clothing and climbed to her small bare feet.

Perhaps an attempt at the knife was a poor idea. She’d meant to make him angry at the cheeky move, thereby making him less focused. It did not seem to have worked, and she sacrificed the wellness of her arm in the process.

Aea grabbed her shoulder and rotated the cuff a few times, settling into the ache and working the muscles past the burn. Now separated from the man again, she reached to her back and brought out her red-yellow-red scarf, stretching it between her hands to make the signal obvious.

Now, where was Agogos?

Her eyes wandered around the crowd, over their heads, over the man’s head. She tried not to give away what she was doing, glancing behind him just long enough to catch a flash of black. There.

Her raven, having spotted his signal, launched from a tree far behind the man. Ravens could not see most hues of yellow, and observing an almost invisible mass betwixt two bright masses of red was the signal she'd trained him with since he was old enough to fly.  

Aea did not betray what was coming, she only caught the man’s eye and approached him slowly rather than rush him. She was close enough for him to grab if he so wished.

If he did, wherever she put her bird’s signal is where the raven would attempt to land. Hopefully it would be enough to startle the man into flailing, and having nowhere steady to perch, Agogos would flap and squawk in displeasure, battering the man in the process.

The best place to get him was about the face, but the hands would do as well.

If the man didn’t grab her, she would simply ball the scarf up and throw it at the man’s face. Instinct dictated he catch it. Once distracted, Aea could do one of three things.

She could either grab the man's arm and use his leg as a shelf to climb his shoulder and lock her legs about his neck, cranking his chin aside as if to break it. Or she could go the usual route and knee his balls into his stomach before slamming a fist under his chin, then an elbow to the side of his face. Hopefully he would fall to his back, then it was all a matter of stepping upon his throat and winning the round. That is, if he doubled over low enough. If not, she would have to grab the back of his neck and slam his nose to her knee.

Agogos soared toward them, almost upon the man now. His great black wings spread wide and his shadow fell over the crowd behind the man, making him appear more ferocious and magnificent than a phoenix. Now, the question was, would the man attempt to snatch her up again, or would he remain still and force her to throw the balled scarf—and, subsequently, an irritated raven—at his face?

‘Yes, I have heard.’

Unbothered by the creature’s spindly legs nor the whispers of its antennae across the palms of her hands, Gianna let the exquisitely dressed youth get a good look at the reason she’d nearly accosted him, invading his personal space without bothering to ask, before retracting. It struck as her a bit surprising that he should have been familiar with an allegory born of a foreign land, but she smiled rather bemused none-the-less with plump painted lips and inviting philtrum. As this visual feast of sartorial splendor extended a hand, Gianna found it absolutely darling, doing the same in kind, palm down, letting him choose to shake, or pay homage and kiss her ringed fingers. On this day of all days, she cared little for formality, wholly committed to the atmosphere of lackadaisical philandering and abandonment of gender-driven protocols and socially-mandated limitations.

‘Mihail. A pleasure.’

“Likewise,” Gianna sang in response. As he lowered his marvelous footwear to allow her to take a seat, the princess gently tossed the insect away and moved to accept the invitation when she heard her name being called.

‘Gianna….’

She recognized the voice before Mihail confirmed identity with his acknowledgement. ‘Lord Fotios, Lady Eirini.’

Of course the Leventi were in attendance. Why should they not be. Gianna lowered herself with all the stately baring she possesed into the open seat extended to her, glinting eyes turning to take in the couple as she semi-reclined onto an elbow, and lifted one slender leg up to cross over the other at the knee, the sheer fabric of her chiton falling away openly to expose a bronzed thigh nearly all the way to her hip. She batted hooded eyes at the Leventi and smiled, likewise offering them salutations. “Why, the Leventi. How spectacular of you to attend,” she mewed at them sweetly.

‘The event appears to have much life this year. I can only assume you and your sister were responsible for certain preparations? I hope you are taking the chance to be proud of such a turn out?’

Fotios was proper as duty required of him, which likely explained the social initiative taken. Gianna relaxed in her seat, making no effort whatsoever to conceal the very obvious show of her deliciously pert breasts beneath the scarce layer of gauze that she had the unmitigated presumptuous gall to call a gown, absolutely in love with the human form, including her own. “I am nothing but elated for the fervent reception the people of Tangea have held for the festival. It was a great bit of planning and preparation, but…” she motioned aloft with painted nails, the gleaming bangles about her slender wrist jingling with each movement, “....what do mere mortals do if not shower the gods with due glory, that Dionysus should be pleased with our cajolery in his holy name.”

She heard Mihail compliment Eirini’s gown for the Dionysa, translucent like her own.

‘That is a lovely gown. I would love to know the details.’