Written Wonderland

((OOC: So, the sentences that talk about what Dehaljadrun noticed do kind of cross over the lines of her agency. As Emily put it, Dehaljadrun got put on railroad tracks for a moment. Lol. But, otherwise, this was fine. Thank you for doing this with me.))

Dehaljadrun was not entirely prepared for the bright shimmering nature of the fae grounds, the palace, and all their gaudy splendor. Preferring low lighting herself, she felt exposed and raw in the center of the clearing with the strange fae light shining down on her, but she was determined to make an entrance and keep her expressions serene if not severe, though she did momentarily regret not taking the Puck-thing up on its offer of escort. Some direction would actually be welcome right about now.

It wasn't as though she hadn't ever attended a fae party, but it certainly was rare, and to their credit, they did consistently impress. Or, maybe that was just the effect of memory, always making the past feel duller and less colorful than the present.

She couldn't look the palace in the eye, so to speak, and she recognized its shy nature like an old friend, like something pulled out of a dream, and it had the effect of putting her more at ease, at least inwardly. Even if the fae were relatively new creatures to this realm--definitely in comparison to Dehaljadrun herself--they still had older structures at play.

The goddess--heeled shoes at a nearly malicious volume against the stones of the courtyard--couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the color-coded groups of the fae court, grateful that she was, as ever, sticking with her usual black.

If the dark fae were looking at her, she did not acknowledge them, intent on making Puck the first person she actually spoke a full sentence with, ideally to criticize his choice of escort, but she momentarily lost sight of her goal as the floor--or absence thereof--caught her attention. Though she had certainly seen stranger sights in dreams, it took her a blink or two to understand the visual.

Walking the rest of the way up the stairs to the palace doors, Dehaljadrun kept her head held high and continued paying no attention to those arriving at the same time as she was, expecting to receive a wide berth on account of her appearance alone, if she was not recognized for her identity. She walked straight up to the doorman and leveled a steely gaze on him. At least he was wearing black.

The prowl entourage in full battle regalia (as was the custom for the more distinguished houses), led by their house banner (a black background with a solid blue line diagonally through it, lined with silver) had been approaching the palace as Dehaljadrun came into view. The duchess Elaine of Prowl was fuming with rage, but she had to keep a cool exterior. She was in a precarious position here at the court now, in light of recent events, and she knew it. Her boy, the manservant Vayne, was absolutely not a threat; she knew that she had complete control over him, but he could be weaponized against her. Puck had played a fascinating gambit that night; she knew that he stood to lose just as much as she did, should this recent... affair come to light. Hell, that was the only reason she allowed herself to be in such a... compromised position. What the hell is his game anyway? Is he just fucking with me, or did I manage to gain some leverage to pry him with?

Her gaze drifted to the bold, lone figure emerging from the forest. Elaine's eyes drunk her in and she shuddered, both from fear and excitement. She knew this woman; this was the Goddess, Dehaljadrun. Elaine had been wondering if this is where she was traveling, having seen her in dragon form during her voyage. It struck her as bizarre in that moment, that most of the fae here would have no idea who she is, even if they had seen her flying toward the palace grounds. Had it been generations since anyone last saw her? Maybe word just never got out when she was seen; she does seem to treasure her privacy. It was damn near impossible to ignore that aura though; she is clearly not one of us.

***

As Dehaljadrun approached the doorman, he stepped to the side of the door, pulling it open with a smooth motion, and took a deep bow as she passed, careful to never make eye contact with her. "Mistress, the King and Queen have been expecting you," he intoned. "At your convenience, please proceed to the mezzanine overlooking the banquet hall. You will find the stairs on the far end of the ballroom, which is just beyond this reception room." He gestured grandly and formally into the palace.

The goddess could feel the eyes of the fae on her, at least some of them clueless, as Puck had imagined, but others of them knew exactly what and who she was, and it set her on edge. She reigned in her ability to read thoughts, keeping that particular aura to herself; attending the party at all was already insulting enough without having to hear the fae's thoughts about her as well.

Still, she held her stately pose and demeanor, striking some combination of seduction and absolute terror into the hearts of anyone who looked at her directly. The doorman demured to her, which lifted her spirits somewhat. Now, here was a person who would offer her the respect she was accustomed to.

She was grateful that the monarchs had planned on meeting with her--or at least that's what she assumed--and some part of her laughed at the thought that they might not have. What monarch would leave a goddess alone at their ball? Certainly not a good political move, though Dehaljadrun was certainly unaccustomed to thinking that way. Though she wouldn't put it past Puck to do something like that just to watch her squirm. The goddess seethed at the thought.

All she had to do was cross a ballroom full of fae, walk up the stairs, and find Puck. Easy enough, she thought to herself, though she was already aching for solitude. Or, not solitude, really. A small room, a couple of human men to enthrall... A cheeky grin momentarily lit up her face, giving her the momentum she needed to resolve herself and walk with her commanding presence into the reception area. The goddess paid little attention to the grand decor or the elaborate costumes with their fae puppets inside, primarily because she was still trying to navigate the strange floor. From the first step she placed onto it, she experienced a floating sensation that made her deeply uncomfortable. While she was certainly accustomed to the sensation of flying, suspension was an entirely different matter altogether, especially given how little control she had over it. She wobbled slightly in her shoes and hoped no one had seen it, but the goddess recovered herself quickly, walking further into the room to prove that she had a handle on matters.

The goddess studied the various heights of the fae, trying to figure out what the doorman must have meant by stairs. After seeing a few people walking up some kind of slope, she decided to try it herself. She was a being a magic, surely she could figure this out. First, she simply tried treating the ground as though it were a stair, and her foot landed on the same level. Frustrated, the goddess played it off as though that was intentional, just a larger step on her way through the room. Then, after glancing at the ease with which the other fae were moving--and sneaking a quick peek into their minds--she discovered the trick and took two steps up with confidence. It worked. She came back down, pleased with herself as she continued walking forward.

She couldn't help but smirk thinking about why the fae would have such a ridiculous floor. Given that some of the fae were wearing dresses, the goddess could think of a few ideas.

Though she avoided walking straight through any ongoing engagements, she did not hide or shirk to the edges, half expecting everyone in the reception area to turn--jaws dropped--and stare at her. She would part them like a sea with her presence if it came to that, and right then, with the grin sliding into a steely serenity, she absolutely could have.

Her magic began to ache within her fingers, and a lavender glow developed about them as she crossed the floor of sky, eager to be on the mezzanine where she could look down on the fae from her rightful position while in their midst, her long black cutout dress trailing slightly behind her.

The floor of the fae court was exactly as solid as it looked. Stepping into the fae court's palace was an experience not unlike floating; your feet are not touching anything underneath you, but you don't fall. It doesn't require any balance or effort to stay upright, and you can still move by walking normally.

There were many fae houses assembled in the reception room, lounging casually at varying altitudes, waiting to be announced into the banquet hall. It didn't seem difficult for any one fae to ascend or descend on a gentle slope as they walked, and many mingled with houses other than their own. They all seemed to be in high spirits, talking and laughing amongst themselves, and interspersed were many servants in the same, simple, elegant, black garb, most of them distributing slender glasses filled with a sparkling liquid to the attending fae.

As they were announced, every house put on an elaborate performance as they processed through the ballroom. The ballroom was filled with music and color, the fae demonstrating acrobatic feats, musical prowess, and martial presence.

***

Baron Clem of House Poivre had a deep, hearty laugh, and he was definitely putting it to work tonight. His armor glimmered over his sizable frame with an impeccably polished sheen, casting gold on surfaces around him. His house's livery was orange and yellow, and his velvety tabard fit nicely over the breastplate. His arm was slung over his mistress, and as Dehaljadrun approached him in the reception hall, he met her gaze with an easy smile and a depth in his eyes.

"Madame, you are a vision of grace and elegance! I can tell you aren't from around here; please, allow me to escort you for the night. I'll introduce you to everyone worth knowing."

The doorman said there were stairs. What stairs? the goddess thought as she crossed the reception room, trying to plan out a way to maintain as much dignity as possible while she searched for Puck. She could see the floor of the ballroom from where she stood--it appeared that all the flooring in this place was this ridiculous--and she was irritated at the superfluous use of magic. Sure, why not float at all your parties, she thought sarcastically. Granted, it was fae magic, and did that really even count?

She slowed in her crossing of the reception room as she realized that the fae houses were clumped together, waiting to be announced and give performances as they entered the ballroom. Did they expect her to...? No, she wasn't going to sink so low as to feel like she needed to perform at the request of fae manners and politics. Puck never said that was part of this deal. If the king wanted to introduce her to the rest of the court, she would let him do it once she found him. Until then...

Some fae man was talking to her. She could not help but turn her head with something of a scowl on her face as she responded to his address. He was repulsive to look at; the colors he wore were vibrant and caught the light as though trying to capitalize on how painful they were on the eyes. The goddess' scowl only deepened when she saw his arm around a woman's neck.

Gods, she probably wasn't going to make a good impression if she went around glaring at everyone this way. Finally, she reigned it in a little, though the best she could manage was a hard line of mouth. She raised her head slightly, appraising this man sincerely, a part of her unable to stop her mind from imagining the types of things that would make him tick underneath all those ghastly clothes. She certainly would enjoy shoving his face in the mud.

"I need no introductions. I have business with the king," Dehaljadrun said, her voice a little less confident than she wished it sounded. As she began to walk away from the man, however, she said over her shoulder, "I'm the only one from around here." She said it with a wave of confidence, and her voice swelled with velvet. Her expression turned both seductive and possessive, though she shortly turned from the Baron and made eye contact with the woman for a moment as her features returned to neutral.

She grew irritated, though, as she realized that only the servants--notably all male (and Puck faulted her for her thralls. Ha.)--were wearing all black. What did that make her? A fucking goddess, she reminded herself. They're all lucky I allow them to be here.

As she approached the main entrance to the ballroom, she could see the performance currently under way. The bright teal against the dark black soothed Dehaljadrun subtly as she looked at it, and the flame symbol some of them bore pleased her. At least they weren't as repugnant as the Baron had been.

The goddess spotted Puck and his fae queen up on the mezzanine watching the show from above. That was her rightful place. If she wanted to get up there, she needed a way to cross the ballroom without being seen. Then again, slinking around was even less of her style.

She approached the doormen as she recognized that the performance in the ballroom was about to end. Time to interrupt their obnoxious little parades, the goddess thought.

((OOC: Also, the upper gods sort of forced the dark fae onto Dehaljadrun before she was fully exiled, but I don't know how long ago that was. I imagine it was at least a few centuries ago. So that's what she means when she said she's the only one from around here, but she doesn't care whether or not the Baron understands.

Also, if the doormen are male, they are going to be very affected by Dehaljadrun's powers unless they have some ability to withstand her presence. She's probably going to attempt to sort through their fantasies to see if she can find anything of note to influence them.))