Confirmation [Vriska, Ryst]

[Scheherazade Al Khalifa]

It’s easy to forget that the Oocca were once great, that they helped make the world in the image of the goddesses. It’s far easier to remember that they are fallen from grace, no longer as skilled with their own culture as they used to be. But they have thumbs now, connections with higher powers and people across the Sacred Realm that will help them be closer to the people they used to be. Scheherazade remembers the first time she squawked her way through a page of symbols, the way the page felt when she turned it with her nose. But most of all she remembers hearing her parents whisper about how it was a bit strange that their child never got stuck in a single pot, always minded her elders, and never complained about anything.

She’s much older now, possessed of a dignity almost beyond her years, and now Scheherazade refuses to even allow her parents to whisper of the things she never did growing up. Oocca are special, and it will take the Oocca themselves to return them to all of their glory. She has resolved to forget all the expectations her parents ever had for her in life, to sacrifice what remains of her time to being one of the ones dedicated to keeping her people alive until they can be who they once were. Scheherazade will forever remember the day she was confirmed in her position of power, the day her deepest wishes were allowed into the real world. But there are things to be done first, steps to be taken to ensure that her power will forever be used for salvation and not internal strife.

The throne room of her people is a disturbing place to be, the weight of ages crammed into one symbolic room from which one Oocca decided the fate of all others. Her heels click resolutely on the floor, fingers forcibly kept loose at her sides. There is only one possible goal, one person she must convince of her steadfast loyalty, and only one acceptable means to the end. Scheherazade they called her, the one who spins words to save lives, and she is determined to use her wits and sense to keep her lord safe. She keeps her eyes downcast, considers it rude to simply barge into the seat of power and let her eyes wander, feather cloak drifting in the wake of her stride. It’s a pretty picture, the counselor come to see the king, and would have been ruined if she hadn’t had the forethought of securing a meeting for herself weeks prior.

“My Lord Seraphine, I come to you to make a proper introduction. My name is Scheherazade Al Khalifa. You may call me as you wish, for I realize it can be a difficult name to pronounce at times.” She bows from the waist, legs folding so that her kneel is all the more graceful in its execution. “I hereby place my life in your hands, my skills are yours to command for the sake of the Oocca.”

[Vriska]

Shezarade? Shecharade? Checheparade? She would call her Shubbly.

Shubbly had just walked in on Vriska napping in her brother's seat. A single yellow-black eye opened and swung to look at the bowing woman. She liked it when they bowed. Curtseys were so very two thousand years ago. Besides, she wasn't wearing the clothes for a proper curtsey. Vriska liked that too.

"I'm sure he'll be flattered," Vriska told her. "When or if he gets here, anyway." She snuggled deeper into the throne. It was cozy. Would be cozier with a blanket, though. "I'm Vriska. Can I call you Shubbly?"

[Ryst Seraphine]

"You're also in my chair," Ryst said from his position tucked away off the side of the room. His arms were crossed across his chest and he leaned his shoulder against a column. He had been there for some time, out of the way where he wouldn't be noticed, watching as Vriska slept on the throne. He was actually just waiting for someone to walk into the room and react, though he'd personally hoped it would be the steward. Still, one of the new adjuncts was just as well.

He pushed off the column and stepped forward, the Vagrant Prince grinning. "Shubbly sounds like a good name, I do have to admit yours is unique," Ryst said as he stepped up to the raised platform to where Vriska was nice and comfortable. He pointed a finger at her and, using the ooccan telekinesis, shifted the finger. Vriska was pushed forward and off the throne, onto the ground. Ryst smirked and stepped over her, settling down on the throne. "I should thank you for warming it, at least, little sister," he said as he playfully put his feet up on her.

Back to business at hand.

"So if you're putting your skills in my hands, what might they be? I'm afraid I don't have a dossier handy," Ryst commented to Shubbly, holding his hands up helplessly. It was all sort of thrown on him recently, these adjuncts. Before now it was miscellaneous nobility and the steward.