the empress sits in the private room of the winter palace, dedicated to her for when she desired to escape from the fantasy world of the game– they allowed her this, in exchange for her merciful presence. she sat at the desk of whatever diplomat may hold it, fingers dragging across the fine wood as she examined the contents placed on the table. alibaba, her champion in these games, had already taken apart every inch of the room by mere sight, mere observation. she did not need to fear the unexpected.
“lovely evening, don’t you think?” she speaks, finally, after a moment of silence. her mask – a demon’s face – sat on the table, watching amarantha with red eyes. her own meet the other’s form, bowed deeply at her presence and she snaps signalling the other to stand straight once again. alibaba stood still by the window, seemingly unbothered by the empress’ presence, actions, and words. his mask is that of an owl, with two layers outlining his face beneath– gold wings painted on porcelain. it resembles the bird that rests on his shoulder staring at the spy with two wide, purple eyes.
“i didn’t know they invited elves to the winter palace.” the empress smirks at the thought, they called her an elf too despite her being far from such a thing; said this was a great honour to be invited considering her “heritage”. they quickly learned not to speak to the empress in such a way, they quickly understood that who they stood before was not mortal. she was an abomination to them, she could hear them in their thoughts, but they would never dare to utter such words to her.
When the Empress snaps her fingers Amarantha looks up, but still does not meet the gaze of the Empress. She instead focuses on Ifritah’s hands. They are beautiful—immaculate as one would expect of someone that rules—yet incredibly capable looking as well. “It is even lovelier now, to be given the honor of meeting the Empress of Gehennam.” To thank the Empress, to speak of her beauty—that is what her intel tells her she is supposed to do. This is all easy and with utmost sincerity—the Empress is beautiful, if not fearsome as well.
She wants to also gaze upon Alibaba, to take in the other presence within the room, but does not dare remove the Empress’ hands. To do so may hint that Amarantha does not entrust the Empress with her safety or perhaps even a worse offense. Her curiosity will have to be sated later.
“For myself—humans always have their price.” Gold speaks wonders. The man with his list—she cannot remember the title in common—is willing to overlook her presence for a hefty sack of sovereigns. Fair enough. With Sonja backing her, Amarantha is willing to make mouths move or shut tight with finesse of blade or a simple sack of coins.
Amarantha has to keep herself from wrinkling her nose. “If I may be so bold, you appear to be a Goddess, not an elf.” A Goddess of what? Well, Amarantha is not so sure. “I do not believe I have earned the honor of asking questions, however.” That too, Amarantha hears, is something similar to a blessing. Although blocked by the mask, Amarantha’s own ears are pressed against her head in submission.
Dirth Elgara may be fierce, but she also knows when to hold her cards. Right now, she is simply gladdened that the Empress does not appear to be displeased by her.
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