The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Claudia Emerison]

Claudia stiffens slightly, but doesn't pull her hand away. She cants a look at Coquette from the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what she wants or what she's doing. On the dais, Paerie suddenly grins broadly before covering her mouth in faux modesty. Her mother watches with cold eyes, lips pursing, but the others don't seem to react; Wynnith doesn't even notice as far as Noire can tell, but Estelle's expression of polite disinterest in everything and anything happening doesn't even flicker. 

[NPCs]

"Well, isn't this--" The words cut off and there's the sound of rapid movement behind Coquette, but before she can turn, a tiefling female with strong drow heritage slips past Claudia to stand in front of the three of them. She's wearing a single silk... dress, perhaps, or maybe scarf. Too slim for the former at a mere handspan but far too long for the later at nearly thirty feet based on the number of time it's wrapped around her body. It obscures her mound and her breasts but only enough to make them shadowed and tantalizing, not respectable for most cultures. She laughs softly, slitted eyes filled with a spiteful mirth. The ugly black iron collar and the crest stamped on it make it clear that this is Tenachka, the Matriarch's eternally youthful personal aide.

"I was going to comment on the handholding but I am now far more interested in your male!" She touches her shoulder lightly, drawing attention to the smear of dark purple blood there. "Tis a small number of people capable of wounding me with their bare hands after all," she announces, causing a noticeable stir in the observers.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Husband," says Noire, her voice like ice. "We do not damage the Matriarch's property."

[Zevran]

"My first duty is your protection, not obedience," Zevran replies in a regretful tone that nevertheless has no yield to it. Estelle and Paerie both look either impressed or approving, but Alaedra has locked her reaction down sharply, aside from a slight paling of her complexation. "Still, despite her own ill manners, I offer my apologies for the cut." He pauses, a rustling hinting at a low bow. "And the information that it was not bare handed; I have a hairpin." A soft twitter of laughter follows his words from the small crowd of watchers, though Tenachka pouts at the correction.

"Silver?"

"Steel with a mithril tip," Zevran replies, then goes still when he realizes that the person he's just answered is elegantly elderly drow woman sitting on the throne. Does everyone enter a room by just appearing out of nowhere? he thinks a trifle wildly, ignoring that everyone but the last two had just walked in like normal people.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Now Noire curtseys low, abasing herself before a monarch as is their right. She does not speak, as she was not spoken to or acknowledged yet, and lets her husband handle his own affairs. 

[Claudia Emerison]

"Mithril or no, it would take great skill or greater strength to wound my pet," the Matriarch comments, studying the male with an unblinking gaze. "Who are you?"

Coughing softly, Claudia steps forward. She pauses a second then, waiting for Feythal to shift her gaze to her in silent acknowledgement. "My Matriarch, this is Lady Coquette Blacquin and her husband Zevran, whom have proven blood ties to our Famiglia." Instantly, a dull roar of whispers fill the room. Just as quickly, the noise cuts off as Feythal rises to her feet.

"Explain."

Voice quivering, Claudia nevertheless manages to reply without stammering or faltering. "Ritualist Neshim preformed a Blood-Telling this morning for them both, which resulted in the discovery that--"

"Impossible," Alaedha snarls. "He's far too young to be hurrrk!" 

"Thank you pet," Feythal murmurs, not even looking at where her daughter is sprawled, bleeding from her temple, on the ground. "Continue."

Swallowing thickly, Claudia finishes in a rush, "that Lady Coquette is your grand-niece!"

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette's  bow deepens a touch as attention focuses on her, but she does not speak, waiting for permission prettily. This of course gives everyone time to observe her high, delicate cheekbones, the same in a lighter shade that Faythal has herself. Her delicate, Drow nose. Her bright, cunning eyes. Only her mouth is too broad to match. 

[NPCs]

"Male, come here," Feythal says in a harsh, deadly whisper. Zevran bows even as he steps forward, offering a gesture of respect but not delaying with obeying either. He hesitates for less than a second at the base of the dais, as if to give her a chance to do something before he stepped up, but continues on when she merely continues to stare down at him. It's when he reaches the second tier and is just about to step up to the third when her hand lashes down to strike him across the face. Cedric can see that he notices the blow coming and forces himself to take it without flinching, though it's questionable if he could have evaded it entirely anyway. However many years or decades past three hundred the Matriarch is, not a day of it has slowed her down.

Or, if it has, she must have been a terror worthy of legend in her youth.

Lifting her hand up, Feythal studies the smear of blood on her hand, then tastes it. "You... You are not mine," she finally says slowly, brow furrowed. "And yet, you wear his face, carry his name and are wed to one who is mine. An interesting twist of fate?" She finally looks at Coquette, eyes still blank, face still serenely cold, and a drop of Zevran's blood on her lower lip. "Well, Grand-niece, what is your story then? How did you find this one to mate with?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I was given in marriage to a cruel woman and shipped to Alyssa," she says, as she rises. "I was given several husbands, including this one. I was treated badly, as were my husbands. I took what I could and fled, seeking asylum. But I was forced to leave my children behind."

[NPCs]

"A cruel woman," she repeats slowly, studying Coquette. "And why were you given to her? And how did she find your husband?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I do not know how my husband was found, only that he was bought as a slave. I was given to her because I disappointed my father. I was too Drow for his liking."

[Claudia Emerison]

"She was his mother," Claudia offers timidly, earning herself a frown but also a shallow nod.

"Go on," Feythal orders, gaze back on Coquette.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"...I suppose she was," says Noire slowly. "I only just found out myself, I haven't had time to process that. She fancied herself a Drow, but though she tried to teach me of your ways, she was nothing compared to your majesty and strength, merely a pale shadow of the true thing."

[NPCs]

"Clearly," is the droll reply.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Is there anything else I can answer for your ladyship?"