Kypheia: Selections from a Play

Kypheia, Selections from a Play by Idaru Xeveris Faendryl 

Cast: 

Xarinus - Sythenar
Ashallys - Ysharra

Kallistris – Nazarr
Ylthira - Annablyn

Adivio – Atlevro
Kypheia - Lylia

Nementha - Missoni

Characters: 

Xarinus Brizio Faendryl -- Magnate overseeing the disposition of the Mero estate

Ashallys Mero Faendryl -- Beloved second wife and mother, recently widowed

Kypheia -- Eldest child and daughter of Ashallys, mysterious and erratic

Kallistris -- Middle child and son of Ashallys, cautious and thoughtful

Ylthira -- Youngest child and daughter of Ashallys, trusting and naive

Adivio -- Friend of Kallistris who had loved Kyphaea hopelessly yet completely since boyhood

Nementha Parvere Faendryl -- Sister of Stelian Mero Faendryl and aunt to the younger Mero clan 

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out.

(Lylia strides to the center of the stage as imps dim the surrounding candles lighting the amphitheater, leaving the audience half in shadow.)

Lylia says, "Welcome to the Faendryl Enclave's presentations of scenes from a play as part of our seventh annual Faendryl Symposium! We are pleased to see such an eager audience and aim to delight and instruct in equal measure with 'Kypheia,' our second local production of traditional theatrical performances."

Lylia says, "While our previous play, 'Writ in Crimson Shadow,' was filled with Emporion intrigue, our chosen offering tonight focuses on an Agrestis family swept into turmoil."

Lylia explains, "The playwright, Idaru Xeveris Faendryl, is known for writing cautionary tales laden with symbolism. 'Kypheia' is one of his more accessible plays as it features universal themes of star-crossed love, familial strife, and the perils of prophecy."

Lylia says, "You may come across some unfamiliar idioms in the dialogue; these are my closest translated approximations of common expressions in our native tongue. Any mistranslation is solely my own error, not the playwright's."

Lylia notes, "The full tale of the Mero family typically unfolds over the course of hours and has many interwoven plots. We know such commitments are difficult to make, though, so our selected scenes capture only some of its scope, paring away its supporting stories to allow the central tale to stand revealed."

Lylia cautiously says, "We hope the play's essential allure remains and is not overshadowed by some of its...potentially controversial themes."

Lylia simply says, "In the spirit of offering an experience akin to what one might see in a Faendryl theater, we have chosen to present these scenes authentically and without apology, save for a few details that are impossible to reproduce here."

Lylia says, "With that said, allow me to set the stage..."

(Lylia holds her hand aloft and motions to a cadre of small robed figures waiting near the wings. Although the dark cloth conceals most of their bodies, the imps' pale faces shine from beneath their hoods in the reflected candlelight as they draw close to the stage.)

Lylia grimly intones, "Grief leads one down dark paths, and none darker than that which a bereft mother walks alone."

Lylia takes a few steps back.

(Lylia brings her hand down with a dramatic flourish, and the imps quickly snuff the candles, plunging the amphitheater into near-total darkness. The only light is a single lantern in Ysharra's hands as she gazes toward an unseen voice, an expression of joy suffusing her features.)

Lylia says, "Yet a smoke-seer s prophecy promises to shed light."

The voice of Lylia recites:

 "When nine times nine pale peonies bloom

 Beneath the swollen blood-red moon

 When much of Mero lies in dust

 And hearts cry out 'gainst fate unjust..."

The voice of Lylia recites:

 "When hope is torment, reason pain

 Kypheia shall return again."

Ysharra slowly empties her lungs.

Ysharra cries, "I knew it! Yes, of course."

(Ysharra extinguishes her candle, and other lights bloom around the circumference of the stage to illuminate the scenery, along with a quintet of actors as motionless as the props surrounding them. She draws silken wraps across her face and grows still herself as the actors around her come to life.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see some painted scenery of a library with teak armaria and a subtle verlok feather motif fresco.

(Sythenar turns from a painted bookcase and approaches a desk with the name "Magnate Xarinus Brizio Faendryl" on an ostentatious plaque atop it, fussily adjusting his sash as he sits. He looks up in thinly concealed irritation at Ysharra, who now wears traditional widow's veils that partly obscure her face.)

Speaking crisply to Ysharra, Sythenar says, "We have to make sure it all goes according to regulations, you understand. We must verify. Do you swear at the feet of the Patriarch you are none other than Ashallys Mero Faendryl, second wife of the late Stelian Mero Faendryl and partner of Lynaxia --"

Speaking sharply to Sythenar, Ysharra interrupts, "Yes, as I have already said thrice today. Can we please keep this brief? My husband and his wife have lain with the Embalmers so long, they may soon have to pay guild dues."

Ysharra slowly empties her lungs.

Speaking quietly to herself, Ysharra says, "...And I cannot lose them again before I have found my daughter." She turns to Nazarr and places a hand on his arm. "Kallistris, come with me tomorrow. The moons should be right."

Sythenar frowns.

Nazarr says, "Mother, you know I am wherever you need me. But you really should put less stock in that pair of smoke-seers. I would swear they smell of wine more than smoke."

(Sythenar pauses for a breath and then continues as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.)

Sythenar drones, "...Lynaxia Mero Faendryl. Mother of Kypheia, deceased; Kallistris, present; and Ylthira, present. Noted."

Sythenar offhandedly adds, "Ah, and also the sister of the deceased Stelian Mero."

Sythenar nods at Missoni.

Missoni shifts her posture and the fabric of her river naiquard gown thrums with a brief dance of light and shadow that travels all the way down to its hem.

Speaking wryly to Annablyn, Atlevro observes, "Surprised he can count to three. Magnates, all of them just as bright as the caves of Rhoska-Tor at midnight."

Speaking quietly to Atlevro, Annablyn says, "You always manage to make me smile, Adivio."

Annablyn grins.

Sythenar clears his throat.

Sythenar coolly says, "If there are no further discussions, we may continue with the disposition of the estate."

Missoni exasperatedly says, "Finally."

Sythenar raises an eyebrow.

Speaking incredulously to Missoni, Nazarr exclaims, "His own sister speaks, and all I hear is the caw of a waste-crow just waiting to pick at my father's bones!"

Missoni narrows her eyes.

Fayotae says, "Thanks."

Speaking to Annablyn, Missoni offers, "Darling, forgive me. Tell your fire-breathing brother it is not the estate I want but a good end to all this grief. We never had the chance to say a proper farewell to Kypheia, and then to lose them so soon after..."

Annablyn shakes her head and turns away.

Sythenar interrupts, "If I may. Your husband and his wife left no detailed will." He consults his papers and looks up at Missoni. "Nementha Parvere Faendryl, you are the heir to any remaining property which Stelian Mero never moved into his own estate when he wed."

Missoni protests, "But he married four centuries ago! There is nothing left."

Missoni stares at Sythenar with an unreadable look of utter blankness.

Sythenar crisply continues, "The remainder of his estate, as he had no issue from his first wife who perished with him, is to be divided in three and given to his second and her two remaining children, and then --"

Ysharra calmly says, "No."

Sythenar blinks.

Speaking abruptly to Ysharra, Sythenar asks, "Excuse me, what?"

Sythenar primly says, "This is all highly irregular. You have no choice to take less. The law is very clear on this matter. Three family members, three portions." Irritation creeps into his voice. "Your husband could have made a will."

Ysharra serenely says, "Even my husband could be wrong sometimes."

Ysharra stares in exasperated disbelief, placing her hands on her hips for added emphasis.

Missoni raises her chin slightly in a show of defiance.

Ysharra dramatically mouths, "All. The. Time."

Missoni points out, "There is a fourth member of the family here, but it is not Kypheia. I see none of you are willing to open your arms to that, though."

Speaking dryly to Missoni, Atlevro remarks, "Their arms, or their purses?"

Missoni glances sharply at Atlevro.

Speaking to Atlevro, Missoni snaps, "You! You are not even family! Jumped-up son of a lemon farmer. You wanted to marry well, but oh, poor creature, I suppose you must look elsewhere now that the eldest is gone."

Annablyn snorts!

(Missoni stands and flicks over an inkwell on the desk, sending Xarinus into a flurry of frantic blotting and shaking of papers.)

Sythenar gasps.

Missoni inhales sharply, hissing through her teeth.

Annablyn mouths, "Lemon farmer."

Missoni says, "I do not need charity, nor do I need the insults of this parasite. Just a small memento, a garden or an orchard, it would have been enough. You forget at your own peril that a dagger in the dark is worth a thousand swords at dawn."

(Missoni draws herself to full height and gives Adivio a final withering look before heading toward stage right at a good clip.)

Atlevro gushes, "I would have broken the world for her and laid the shards at her feet."

(Missoni doesn't even acknowledge Adivio's avowal as she exits stage right.)

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra sighs, "Find him and settle him, if you can. Your friend is not my heartache."

Missoni just went through a tall wooden double-doored portal.

Ysharra nods at Nazarr.

Sythenar scowls.

(Atlevro bounds offstage in pursuit of Nementha, angrily calling her name.)

Sythenar firmly orders, "Out of my office. All of you. Now."

Atlevro calls, "Nementha!"

(Annablyn rises to her feet, and her sigh ends in a stifled sob.)

Annablyn calls, "Adivio? Adivio, wait!"

(Annablyn moves haltingly toward stage right, picking up speed until she is almost at a run by the time she leaves the stage. As she departs, the light goes with her, all the candles snuffed at once by robed imps who spring into action, whisking away the Magnate's office set and installing new pieces.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see a vividly painted backdrop of a night sky alight with mistvein diamond stars and some lushly painted scenery of peonies in full bloom.

Prismatic silken streamers flow outward from a fixed point in the air, dancing through the air majestically. The streamers coalesce to reveal a bloated blood-red moon illusion.

(Ysharra comes in from stage left at a measured pace, her hand trailing along the canvas scenery without quite touching it as she talks with Kallistris. The scent of peonies fills the amphitheater even though the only blossoms in evidence are painted.)

(Nazarr strides in behind Ashallys, slowing to match her progress as mother and son walk together toward center stage.)

Speaking quietly to Ysharra, Nazarr says, "She has been gone almost a year, Mother."

Speaking wearily to Nazarr, Ysharra says, "I have counted every day. Every nodding blossom here reminds me. They were at the peak of their season when we lost her."

Ysharra holds her hand out in front of her, gazing at her elegant fingers decorated in an elegant pink dreamstone band and then comically wiggles them in the air.

Ysharra turns to face Nazarr.

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra confesses, "The scent of them sickens me. How am I supposed to love the very thing that took her from me, and my husband too? So convinced she could fetch a better price for their essence in Behizet, and then they had to follow her path..."

Ysharra firmly says, "No more! No more of that, no more loss. This week, she returns. Lornon is bloody, and the peonies bloom."

(Nazarr turns away from Ashallys with a sigh heavy enough to be heard in the back rows. He takes her by the shoulders and brings her to a halt.)

Ysharra hisses.

Speaking to Ysharra, Nazarr insists, "You take the word of charlatans! Mother, we have danced this into dust."

Nazarr harshly says, "You cannot trust a pair of wandering smoke-seers. We have an Igaeshian reader, yet you cling to the words of a pair of wine-soaked soothsayers."

Ysharra points at Nazarr.

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra retorts, "They never found her body, Kalllistris! They looked, they found nothing."

Speaking to Ysharra, Nazarr interrupts, "Finding your eyeball in Shien'tyr would be simpler! The Wastes devour."

Imperatrix Lylia just came through a tall wooden double-doored portal.

(Lylia dashes in from stage right in a state of abject disarray. Her clothes are ruinous, her hair so clotted with filth that it's hard to tell what color it is in the dim stage light. A rank note underscores the peonies perfume in the amphitheater.)

Ysharra gasps.

Lylia turns to face Ysharra.

Speaking to Ysharra, Lylia cries, "Mother!"

Ysharra asks, "...is it?"

(Nazarr stares at Lylia as if thunderstruck and unable to move.)

Speaking to Lylia, Nazarr breathes, "Kypheia..."

(Ysharra runs to Lylia, her arms outstretched to embrace her daughter, murmuring Kypheia's name with the breathless avidity of a prayer.)

Lylia takes a few steps back.

(Lylia takes a step back and crumples to the ground, offering an upraised hand instead of an embrace.)

Ysharra exclaims, "...my daughter!"

Speaking hastily to Ysharra, Lylia pleads, "I'm...I am in no state, I would ruin your clothes, and I just want to be clean again. I feel like I have not been clean in forever! Help me up. There will be time to hug later."

Lylia adds, "All the time we could want. Years ahead of us."

Ysharra says, "...I...but...of course, my dear..."

Lylia smiles tentatively.

(Lylia allows herself to be led away stage left by her brother and mother, each taking one of her hands in theirs. The stage lights dim in a drift of waxy smoke, and a rustle of canvas suggests a change of scene as the first act draws to a close.)

Ysharra slowly empties her lungs.

(Lylia returns to the darkened stage, pausing at stage left to avoid the central commotion as stagehands quickly dress the set, removing the floral elements and setting the scene for a marketplace. The enveloping robes and wrap she wears hide all but the hem of her tattered Kypheia costume.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see some painted scenery of a bustling market with stalls offering heaped fruits, vaelfyren vessels, and platters of roast caterpillar, a life-sized faceless mannequin striking an artful pose, and a verlok-carved teakwood stall backed in mirrors.

Lylia narrates, "Kypheia's return has restored a measure of joy to her mother and sister even as they mourn the fresher deaths of Stelian and Lynaxia. Adivio, Kallistris' closest companion, shares in their delight as his lost love has returned."

Lylia says, "New Ta'Faendryl's market district itself seems alive with anticipation. What troubles Kallistris, then, when everyone else is wreathed in smiles? Perhaps we shall see as we look in on him as he, Adivio, and Ylthira wander the market streets."

(Lylia quietly heads toward the wings at stage left.)

(Nazarr walks in from stage right with Adivio and Ylthira as they move past groups of boisterous extras filling out the market scene, not all of them Faendryl; the twisted figures of imps and grik bustle about as well. As the group reaches center stage, the conversation and laughter around them fade into the background.)

Atlevro sighs dramatically.

Speaking comically to Annablyn, Atlevro moans, "Why did you let me drink so much last night? I feel as though someone reanimated me with goat's blood."

Atlevro leans on Annablyn.

Annablyn lightly teases, "You were the one who kept ordering."

Annablyn touches Atlevro.

Annablyn chortles softly at some secret joke.

Atlevro counters, "You were the one who kept paying, my friend! Besides, I have much to celebrate." He claps Kallistris on the shoulder. "We all do."

Atlevro flashes a quick grin at Nazarr.

Annablyn snickers.

(Nazarr fends off another affectionate back-clap from his friend and grins, although the expression soon gives way to a wince.)

Nazarr asks, "Ugh, my head is still ringing. Why must this market be a veritable Ithzir choir today? Is everyone five times as loud?"

Annablyn raises an eyebrow in Nazarr's direction.

Speaking to Nazarr, Annablyn says, "The Ovation for Pavantiis and the Eleventh, unless you have taken such complete leave of your senses that you have forgotten to honor the Armata's glory."

Atlevro nods sympathetically at Nazarr.

Annablyn raises her voice in merry laughter.

Nazarr replies, "Peace, Sister. I just want to honor them a little more quietly."

(Nazarr rubs his temples.)

(Atlevro starts to say something, but goes silent and thumps Kallistris on the shoulder, pointing to where a troupe of extras has parted to reveal as Kypheia, now dressed in silk instead of rags. She seems unaware of being watched as back is to the trio at center stage, and a market stall occupies attention.)

Speaking ardently to Nazarr, Atlevro whispers aloud, "You never told me your sister would be here today."

Annablyn gives a sidelong glance at Atlevro.

Speaking to herself, Annablyn murmurs, "As if he had only one."

Lylia suddenly fades into view.

(Lylia paws through a selection of colorful gowns, apparently to the consternation of the shopkeeper who flaps a hand at her.)

Lylia leans against a life-sized faceless mannequin striking an artful pose.

Atlevro gazes in wonder at Lylia.

Speaking reluctantly to Atlevro, Nazarr says, "We should -- let us go to the Galleries. The opera-caverns. Anywhere but here."

Annablyn gazes at Lylia.

Speaking incredulously to Nazarr, Atlevro replies, "What? You have barely had her home a fortnight! Of course we should go to her." He raises an arm and starts toward Kypheia. "She must have felt so alone."

Lylia puts her hands on her hips.

(Nazarr pulls at Atlevro's other arm before he can hail Kypheia.)

Atlevro frowns at Nazarr.

Nazarr impatiently hisses, "I have not wanted to say it, but something is amiss with her. Just watch. No calling her over. Just see if you see what I see."

Annablyn dubiously says, "She is different, but who would not be, after being lost? Besides, Father's death is still fresh for her. We have had time to adjust."

(Lylia holds up two gowns, each a different shade of blue, and seems to be discussing prices with the shopkeeper. Her conversation is inaudible, but the way she clutches the embroidered vaalorn blue silk suggests she's close to making a decision.)

Lylia narrows her eyes.

Lylia's bangles orbit her wrist as she spins her hand in impatient circles, wordlessly signaling to hurry matters along.

Nazarr says, "There, you see? She always hated blue, said it made her look waxen. Said it was an Ashrim color anyway. And she never haggled."

Speaking to Nazarr, Atlevro scoffs, "You have come unpinned. A gown means nothing. Many people wear blue."

Lifting one elegant finger to her lips, Lylia bites a hangnail off and spits it out.

Atlevro folds his arms over his chest.

Nazarr pointedly says, "Nementha wears blue."

Atlevro waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Atlevro skeptically says, "Oh, a glamour, is it? You think I am as dim as a Magnate to get taken in? I know the woman I love, in blue or black or nothing at all."

Annablyn folds her arms over her chest.

(Annablyn whips her head to stare at Atlevro but says nothing.)

Speaking to Atlevro, Nazarr replies, "It is not the only --"

(Atlevro shakes free of Kallistris and strides toward Kypheia.)

Speaking eagerly to Lylia, Atlevro calls, "Kypheia!"

(Lylia doesn't seem to notice her name being called at all despite Atlevro's enthusiastic shout, instead continuing to haggle with the merchant.)

Atlevro gazes fondly at Lylia.

Annablyn looks thoughtfully at Lylia.

Speaking loudly to Lylia, Atlevro repeats, "Ai, Kypheia! Here we are, my sweet syrup-pie!"

Annablyn glances between Nazarr and Lylia.

Atlevro walks toward Lylia.

(Lylia turns toward Atlevro with the briefest flash of alarm before she composes her face in an expression of delight and moves toward him.)

Lylia leans closer to Atlevro and kisses the air next to his cheek.

Lylia croons, "Darling! And here you all are." She holds the yards of folded vaalorn blue silk in her arms, preventing anyone from coming too close. "I was just hoping I might see some familiar faces."

Atlevro smiles at Lylia.

Speaking to Atlevro, Lylia adds, "Especially yours."

Lylia demurely lowers her storm grey eyes.

Annablyn gazes anxiously at Atlevro.

(Nazarr touches his elder sister's elbow and leans toward her to kiss the air near her cheek before whispering something to his younger sister.)

Atlevro leans forward.

Annablyn nods at Nazarr.

Annablyn strides a few steps forward.

(Annablyn moves away toward stage left.)

Nazarr says, "Ylthira and I had a taste for roast caterpillar, the ones with honey and fire peppers you like. She should be back with the skewers soon."

Lylia smiles widely, but the expression looks a bit frozen on her face. She visibly swallows.

Lylia glances at painted scenery of a bustling market with stalls offering heaped fruits, vaelfyren vessels, and platters of roast garnet jewel caterpillars.

Speaking to Nazarr, Lylia replies, "That sounds delicious, but I should keep my hands clean. Honey and oil are a bad mix with silk."

Atlevro smiles gallantly.

Speaking to Lylia, Atlevro offers, "Let me feed you, then." He waggles his fingers at her. "I shall fear no stain in service to you."

Lylia carefully replies, "I can hardly say no to a man who would sully himself for me."

Lylia flutters her eyelashes at Atlevro.

Atlevro winks at Lylia.

(Annablyn returns holding four fire-roasted caterpillar skewers, passing one to her elder brother and another to Adivio, who takes a second from her. She looks perplexed at first, but her shoulders sag as she sees him bring the treat to Kypheia's lips.)

Annablyn glances at Atlevro.

Speaking to Atlevro, Lylia murmurs, "A mighty Palestra, armed with two swords."

Annablyn shifts her eyes to Lylia.

Nazarr glances between Lylia and Atlevro.

(Lylia disentangles one arm from her silken burden and takes Atlevro's wrist to hold the skewer still. Somehow, she flips it out of his hand entirely. Crisped caterpillars fly from their skewer to land with a chitinous patter on the stage.)

Atlevro tilts his head down.

Lylia gasps.

Lylia exclaims, "How clumsy of me!"

Speaking to Lylia, Atlevro assures, "I should have had a steadier hand. No Academy will have me, clearly. Here, take mine instead."

(Annablyn stares meaningfully at her brother, nodding.)

(Atlevro extends his hand to Lylia.)

Pushing her hand out in front of herself, her elegant fingers splayed, Lylia fends off Atlevro with a shake of her head.

Lylia demurs, "No, I must go, as happy as I am to see you. I need shoes!" She hurries off toward stage left, sparing a brief backward glance as she adds, "We will see one another soon, for the Ovation."

Imperatrix Lylia just went through a tall wooden double-doored portal.

(Nazarr watches her retreat and glances at his two companions.)

Annablyn stares off into space.

Atlevro glances away.

Annablyn raises an eyebrow in Atlevro's direction.

Atlevro sighs.

Nazarr grimly points out, "Do I even need to add that Nementha hates insects, arachnids and spices worse than monkeyflower? The woman is grasping, and tipping an inkpot was just the beginning for her."

Atlevro glances at Nazarr and folds his arms over his chest.

Nazarr insists, "This is not my sister."

Annablyn nods slowly.

Atlevro retorts, "You think me as blind as an arashan, but Nementha could never counterfeit her so completely. I used to like lemons and now prefer almonds; do you think I am no longer the friend you have known for a century?"

Annablyn interrupts, "You know, I never see them together. Not in a fortnight. Kypheia and Nementha, that is."

Annablyn nods thoughtfully at Nazarr.

Atlevro scoffs at Annablyn.

Speaking softly to Atlevro, Annablyn says, "Adivio, you know I would never call you a fool. But with illusions, we have to look for the lie."

Atlevro takes a deep breath.

Speaking slowly to Annablyn, Atlevro replies, "You are asking me to stare into the sun and look for shadows. If I do, I would soon see nothing but darkness. I must believe her, or else I would go blind with grief."

Atlevro glances away.

Annablyn sighs.

Annablyn firmly says, "Then we should make sure Nementha joins us for the Ovation. We shall all be together, and Nementha can no longer hide her poor pinched face, if that is what she is up to."

Annablyn nods once.

(Annablyn waits for confirmation from the two men, both of whom look troubled.)

Atlevro bites his lip.

Annablyn urges, "Are we agreed, then, that our loving aunt should join us?"

Annablyn glances between Atlevro and Nazarr.

Atlevro gives a sigh of resignation.

Atlevro allows, "Fair enough. I do not need to stare at the sun to know there is but one in my sky."

Nazarr uncertainly says, "And if Nementha appears while Kypheia is there, then I...I suppose I need to spend more time with my elder sister. Perhaps we grew apart before the Wastes took her."

Speaking affectionately to Nazarr, Annablyn says, "Your younger sister agrees with this plan." She links her arm with his. "Besides, I miss my Parvere cousins."

Annablyn grins at Nazarr.

(Atlevro takes a bite of his remaining caterpillar skewer as they walk toward stage right, the two siblings matched in stride. Extras cross in front of them, chatting and laughing, until the trio disappears into the wings. Imps douse the light illuminating the stage, while others busy themselves changing the set pieces onstage.)

[House Brigatta, Amphitheater]

The central theater stage is bordered by two tiers of benches and rings of limestone arcades. Lower arches give way to a series of terraces, and above them, open galleries are lofted upon barrel vaults, offering the spectators seated below a colorful mosaic ceiling that does not disrupt their view. A stage floor constructed from crafted panels of marble and dark hardwood are joined to a series of levers that allow them to be concealed or revealed for the needs of the narrative. A tall wooden double-doored portal leads out. You also see a verlok-carved red maoral table set with gleaming silver candelabra with some stuff on it, a painted backdrop of a vibrant street scene along a peony-lined avenue, some festive bunting of gathered colorful fabric, and a festive street scene illusion of joyous revelers.

Bright specks of color, perhaps confetti or flower petals, spangle this panoramic view of a bustling market street during a festival.  Vibrant silks on Faendryl revelers echo the banners hung from the lit shop windows and graceful balconies poised above the broad avenue's market stands.  The deep perspective makes it difficult to pick out individual faces in the crowd, but the overall impression is one of joyous celebration.  Although the illusion does well to replicate its source imagery, it wavers occasionally, somewhat ruining the effect.

Lylia suddenly fades into view.

(Lylia returns to the stage holding a lantern aloft, its light largely obscuring the activity of stagehands behind her on the otherwise darkened stage. A wedge of vaalorn blue silk peeks out from beneath her wrap. Her voice rings out over the sound of ropes creaking and canvas snapping as painted backdrops are pulled into place.)

Lylia narrates, "It is a day of triumph! The city honors its Armata soldiers who covered themselves in blood and glory during battle in the Wastes by hosting a grand procession: an Ovation."

Lylia explains, "Even the summoned denizens of the city feel the excitement of these displays of martial and sorcerous power."

(Lylia gestures to imps that make their way through the audience with wine, indicating with a nod that everyone s invited to partake.)

Lylia continues, "Families gather to feast, toasting the victors and jeering the vanquished. Many who were previously at swords' points will make fragile peace during these revelries, and it is also thus with Nementha Parvere and the Mero family -- or so some of them hope."

Lylia mysteriously intones, "But will she arrive for the celebration, or is she already there, cloaked in blue silk and the face of another?"

(Lylia extinguishes her lantern as the stage lights burn brightly, revealing a city street scene draped in dazzling gold and saffron hues. Errant breezes in the amphitheater stir motes of confetti and flower petals that drift from the rafters overhead. The Mero family, along with Adivio, is gathered on a platform decorated to resemble the balconies in the Dreamfire illusion.)

Lylia suddenly disappears.

Ysharra smiles and gestures with her wineglass toward the balcony. She's no longer in mourning veils on this celebratory day.

Ysharra observes, "I have not seen such a fine turnout for a decade, possibly longer."

(Ysharra rests a hand on Ylthira's arm, giving her youngest a wistful smile.)

Ysharra rests a gentle hand on Annablyn's arm.

Ysharra says, "Your father would have loved it. He reveled in Armata victories as though they were his own."

Annablyn nods in agreement at Ysharra.

(Annablyn affectionately covers Ysharra's hand with hers.)

Speaking to Ysharra, Annablyn says, "We might have a chance to expand our revelry today. I invited Nementha to join us. We have a much better view of the procession from here than she does on the street."

Lylia suddenly fades into view.

Annablyn nods once.

Nazarr carefully ventures, "I would not mind seeing my cousins again."

Atlevro lets out a long, contemplative breath.

Lylia pours herself a vellum-labeled bottle of pale white wine.

Nazarr turns to face Lylia.

Annablyn gazes longingly at Atlevro.

Speaking to Lylia, Nazarr says, "You remember the last time we spent a winter at the Villa Parvere, Kypheia? All Eorgaen spent indoors because the weather was so dire."

Lylia gazes with interest at Nazarr.

(Atlevro appears to be watching the street below, but the points of his ears are canted toward Kypheia to hear her response.)

Speaking haltingly to Nazarr, Lylia replies, "Yes, so cold that the imps had to stoke the fires throughout the night."

Atlevro takes a drink from his red Faendryl wine.

Nazarr corrects, "Ah, no, that was the Villa Tauviris. It was mild when we went to see Nementha and the twins, was it not, Adivio?"

Lylia smiles tightly and gestures for a refill on her wine, which a passing grik supplies. Her ostentatious turquoise ring clicks against the glass as she moves the drink to her other hand.

Speaking to Nazarr, Lylia says, "It could be that my memory and yours are both drenched in wine already, brother. We should relish the taste of victory over the savage Wastes more than what is within our glasses."

Annablyn clears her throat.

Annablyn interjects, "Speaking of memories, I hope Nementha recalls our invitation. I told her to be here before the heat of the day, but it already feels unseasonably warm."

Lylia nods gratefully at Annablyn.

Speaking to Annablyn, Lylia says, "I cannot wait to see my sweet aunt once again. It is only money, after all, and they are hardly poor."

Speaking pointedly to Lylia, Nazarr says, "She will no doubt be happy to see you, although she might try to steal your gown. Blue is her favorite color."

Atlevro adds, "It suits you, but still surprising to see you in blue instead of topaz and gold in honor of the day."

Lylia attends to her matte silk gown, making the gown as presentable as possible.

(Atlevro gives Kypheia a searching look.)

Lylia lightly says, "Spend enough time in the Wastes, and you too will have enough of sallow hues. My whole being cried out for something cool and blue."

Nazarr sardonically asks, "Oh, the pitiless skies were not enough blue for you?"

Lylia's wide-set storm grey eyes suddenly grow round and wide.

Annablyn offers, "Why dwell on misery when we should celebrate as family? Kypheia, remember a score or so ago when we took that grimoire and --"

(Nazarr cuts Ylthira off with a sharp gesture.)

Annablyn gasps.

Ysharra glances sharply at Nazarr.

Nazarr accuses, "She could not remember, because she was not there! It was when Nementha left for Gellig."

Missoni just came through a tall wooden double-doored portal.

(Missoni emerges from a hidden set of steps behind the balcony, gazing at her assembled in-laws through narrowed eyes.)

(Lylia turns her ring about nervously.)

Annablyn exclaims, "Nementha!"

Missoni coolly asks, "Why are we talking about my going to Gellig? I have not been in twenty-eight years." She strides to the table and helps herself to the wine. "Now that I think about it, why are we talking about me at all?"

Lylia turns to face Missoni.

Missoni casually observes her surroundings.

Speaking to Nazarr, Atlevro crows, "I knew it!"

Speaking cautiously to Missoni, Ysharra says, "Nementha...welcome. I have no idea why we are delving into the past, but I am now curious, too."

Atlevro points at Missoni.

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra asks, "Why are you tormenting your sister so?"

(Nazarr presses his lips in a tight line of consternation. His eyes dart from Nementha to Kypheia and back.)

Speaking to Lylia, Nazarr accuses, "You still remember none of it, because you still are not here." He amends this, fairly spitting his next words. "You..are not her."

Missoni pours herself a glass of dry Rhoska-Tor merlot.

(Ysharra rises from her seat and takes Kypheia's hand as she stares at her son.)

Lylia turns her head toward Nazarr to favor him with a silent, withering gaze.

Lylia gently rests her hand on Ysharra's shoulder.

Speaking to Nazarr, Ysharra asks, "Are you unhinged?"

Speaking to Ysharra, Nazarr demands, "Ask her anything, Mother. Look for the lie this time. I thought it was Nementha, but --"

Missoni squawks, "You brought me here to accuse me?"

Speaking to Missoni, Nazarr asks, "No, to accuse her." He points at Kypheia, whose hands are balled into fists. "Who are you? What are you?"

Atlevro removes a polished elder twig carved with spiraling esoteric runes from in his bourde half-cape.

Speaking mournfully to Lylia, Atlevro says, "Ah, my love, forgive me. I must see the sun even if it blinds me."

Lylia stares unwaveringly at Atlevro.

Ysharra gasps.

Lylia hisses.

(Atlevro act raises his elder twig, though regret is painted on his features. Tentacles of shadowy essence unfurl from the wand to advance on Kypheia, where they begin to lick hungrily at her clothes and flesh.)

(Lylia melts and shimmers around the margins of her form, which seems to shrink in on itself, growing shorter and thicker. She shrieks as if her bones are reshaping themselves under skin that has grown coarse and pocked.)

Lylia's appearance shimmers briefly.

You see Imperatrix Lylia Rashere the Sorceress.

She appears to be a Burghal Gnome.

She is short and has a slender build. She appears to be in the spring of life. She has beady green eyes and sallow skin. She has raggedly cut, lank dark brown hair with tufts of grey behind the ears. She has a fleshy face, a button nose and a missing tooth. 

She is in good shape.

She is holding a vellum-labeled bottle of pale white wine in her right hand.

She is wearing a large treasure sack with a blood crystal clasp slung over her shoulder, a crisp garnet linen shirt with faint tonal embroidery, a sleek black cutwork leather satchel, some side-laced dark caramel brocade leggings, and a pair of ora-buckled obsidian leather boots stacked on cloven fel heels.

Missoni blinks.

Lylia's right beady green eye twitches with an odd tic, though her face remains unreadable.

Lylia chokes out, "Gods and demons take you black-ears, from your Patriarch on down!"

Atlevro gazes at Lylia with a look of utter sorrow in his eyes.

Zahiris gasps.

Lylia howls, "For a year, we waited -- not much to you, everything to us. That prophecy was perfect, you were all so eager to believe...or almost all of you."

(Annablyn is stunned, covering her mouth in surprise and disgust.)

(Atlevro attempts to grab the gnome, but she twists away with ease, her silken sleeves now loose on her scrawny arms.)

Lylia ducks her head.

Speaking to Lylia, Atlevro cries, "You murdered her!"

Lylia laughs!

Lylia scornfully says, "No, you idiot. We never touched her. We never had to. We have no idea if she really died." She leaps up on the edge of the balcony's railing. "We borrow, not kill."

Ysharra hisses.

Missoni glares at Lylia.

Speaking gleefully to Ysharra, Lylia says, "Oho, but what a stroke of luck for us that your husband and his wife took off after her! Looked to get some crumbs of Agrestis bread and wound up with the whole meal. You have more than enough, yet you never part with a bite, so we take where we can."

Lylia cackles!

(Ysharra's eyes are are wide as saucers, the whites visible to the back of the house. Her pale face and stunned expression draw back into a snarl.)

(Missoni manages to catch Lylia in her gnomish disguise, clamping a firm hand on her ankle through layers of silk.)

Lylia glares at Missoni.

(Lylia grunts and thrashes, drawing the attention of imps and other demonic forms passing near the balcony. Some of them pause, their avid stares fixed on the small figure s struggles.)

Missoni ominously hisses, "He was my brother. You have not enough life left in you and your next seven generations to pay for it."

Missoni glances meaningfully at Ysharra.

Ysharra strides a few steps forward.

Ysharra grabs Lylia's hand.

Lylia shudders.

Speaking quietly to Missoni, Atlevro admits, "I should never have suspected you. Not of this."

Missoni nods once at Atlevro.

Speaking to Lylia, Nazarr promises, "You have only begun to suffer, gnome."

(Ysharra strikes the gnome across the cheek with an open palm, raking the skin open, leaving bloody ruin behind.)

Lylia throws her head back and howls!

Speaking to Lylia, Ysharra says, "There is not enough pain for you to contain it all."

Annablyn strides over to stand before Lylia.

(Annablyn produces a slim knife from her bodice.)

(Lylia thrashes with increasing fury and panic, but to no avail. Her scrawny form is all but lost in the blue silk, but red welts appear where rough hands have held her.)

Speaking to Missoni, Annablyn says, "The dagger in the dark, you said? Then let us all guide the blade home together."

Annablyn nods at Missoni.

Annablyn stares at Lylia.

Annablyn smiles coldly.

Missoni walks toward Annablyn.

(Atlevro glances up at Ylthira's words, and his gaze lingers there. He smiles at her, tentatively at first and then with real warmth. His hand covers hers on the blade as the lights dim and shrouded imps gather around the small squirming figure in their midst.)

Ysharra strides over to stand before Lylia.

(Lylia is completely hidden by demons and Faendryl alike, but her hoarse shrieks continue until the stage is in full darkness and velvet curtains descend.)