Deep down within the ancient cavern, through the winding halls of delicately carved bedrock and marble, a party was being held.
Such things could not be held in Darnassus, with the threat of uppity sentinels deciding what magic used when might be a ‘threat’, and so the festivities had been moved to Kalimdor proper.
The old barrow has seen some recent redecoration by the party’s hostess. Where roots before hung, wisteria dangled in their place, filling the many rooms with the sweet scent of its flowers. The walls of rough stone had been covered in marble tile, as had the floor.. and the supporting columns… and the bubbling fountain that resided in the entrance hall.
In this sparkling underground grotto, a flock of Highborne and Highborne-lovers had gathered at the promise of a ‘good, old fashioned party’.
Instruments played, strings and flutes sparkling with arcane enchantments to play themselves. Food, decadent and frivolous, piled high on silk-clad tables for guests to gorge themselves on without worry or even much thought. Rooms, cut off with ethereal curtains and golden ropes, could be found now sprawling halls like the lines of a spiders web… Some having trapped a couple or menage et huit or two.
In the main hall, however, most had begun to gather around a performance.
A tall woman in a near blindingly vivid robe had begun to dance. Her hair had been pulled up and set with intricate gold pins and combs, with bells at the end of two braids. While she already had vicious looking claws, longer golden ones had been added. Her face, though, was mostly hidden by a bejeweled golden mask, only bits of her round face and shimmering silver eyes visible.
As the woman danced her hand. waving close to the gathered crowd, was caught in the grasp of another when she twirled in a wide cirle, pulling with her whomever had taken her. Before she had much time to react or even look at the one that had intruded on her dancing another hold was perched at her waist, pulling the Highborne against her impromptu dance partner – a tall night elf man of elegantly decorated dark hair dressed in fineries of natural motif that only a druid would so freely wear. Hardly a stepped missed or pace slowed as the single dancer became a pair.
If there was already an audience for the dancing women more now had gathered at the curious addition of the newcomer. Faint gossiping whispers were barely audible above the lyrical music.
The nod he offered was so faint it was almost unnoticeable.
“You must pardon me,” he started as they kept dancing. However, it was the druid that was now taking the lead in their movements. “But much alike a ravenfeather in the wind, I could not resist.”
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