Autumn has given way to winter, and it is felt all the more early and bitterly atop Mount Sunala. The temple complex has grown much more quiet, for as Alptraum has quickly learned, some of the rumors he has heard about Eeee-kind that seemed unfounded in Sylvania are not entirely untrue. It seems that some of the Eeee grow especially sluggish in cold weather, and some actually hibernate in the winter months. This by no means represents any majority of the population, but those who seem most susceptible to the cold of winter seem to make up for it by being all the more active in the warmer months … and thus, their absence would be felt all the more. Thus it is that Alptraum has had to go further to find warm places for moments of solitude, and this happens to be one of those places within the complex not currently occupied save by himself. The sound of footsteps (the corridors are too tight to fly) alerts him to the fact that this is about to change, however.

Alptraum lets out a soft sigh of air and cants his ears slightly, listening. "So much for being alone," he thinks, then backs closer to a wall and partially wraps his wings around his body to perhaps blend in some and see who is coming before they see him. Even with as long as he's been here now, he feels no more comfortable with the Yodhsunala. "I wonder who's coming this way … and why," he ponders, knowing very well that nothing is safe in Babel.

"Bar Reisender?" comes a voice from down the corridor, still some distance away. Alptraum's keen ears can identify the owner of the voice as Sukara – High Priestess of the temple, and not one to come quietly chat with Alptraum. He can also tell that she's stopping at one of the side chambers down the way, and working her way along – indicating that she probably doesn't know his exact location at the moment, if he's intent on escaping.

Letting out a captive breath, Alptraum relaxes his wings and eases them back. "All things considered, she follows 'Sunala', and well, 'Sunala' likes me, I think. I suppose she isn't a threat to me," he thinks. "I'm here," comes his reply a moment later.

A silent pause, and then more footsteps, as the high priestess changes her course that would have taken her down the wrong corridor (though a dead end wouldn't have allowed her to wander too far), and comes Alptraum's way. She comes through the portal, illuminated in the dim glow of the brazier's coals. Alptraum has met her before, but still hasn't had a chance to quite get used to the fact that she is as high an authority in this temple as can be found – save for Sunala herself, of course – and yet she looks for all the world to be a couple of years younger than Alptraum. "Good," she says. "I should have sent a runner, but most all of them are elsewhere, preparing for the evening's festivities. I trust that you have not made any plans for tonight?"

Alptraum bows. "I have not, High Priestess," he replies respectfully. "Is there something wished of me this Eve?"

"So it would appear." With a smooth motion, the priestess reaches one slender black hand into the voluminous folds of her other sleeve, and draws out a spiraling chitinous cylinder. She holds the item – a scroll-case, it would seem – to Alptraum. "This arrived but an hour ago from the Coalition Tower. It was addressed specifically to 'Alptraum bar Reisender.' It would seem that it is no secret that you are here."

"A few know, but not many, High Priestess," Alptraum admits as he accepts the cylinder. "Thank you for bringing it. I apologize for not being more easily findable," he says as he carefully opens the cylinder.

The cylinder is comprised of two twining, slightly pliable sections of chitin, and Alptraum finds it somewhat awkward to get the pieces gracefully apart, as they are wont to spring back together again. However, with only a slight tear to the edge of the parchment contained within, he is able to extract the letter. Once it is unrolled, he can see that it is penned in a very fine and spidery script, and he has some trouble reading it, on account of the poor light and the fact that it is in Babelite (a language he has only very recently started to master). Nonetheless, he is able to grasp the general gist of the message: There is to be a party tonight at the Coalition Tower, for all "good people of Babel," given in the spirit of unity and a great many other noble-sounding causes – and Alptraum must be one of these good people, given that the invitation specifically lists his name at the top.

"It's an invite to some sort of party," Alptraum says. "Curious as to why I would be invited. Very strange – I didn't leave there on exactly good terms. I almost think it's a trap of some kind. Still, I'm curious to find out why I was invited of all people. Did anyone say whom sent the message?"

"The Coalition," High Priestess Sukara says. "I will be representing our Lady – She will not be attending in Person. As for yourself, it is no concern of mine whether you attend or not. The message has been delivered, and honor satisfied. If you do attend, I would recommend formal attire." Without excusing herself, the priestess immediately turns on her heel.

"Beg pardon for me asking, High Priestess, but is there some clothing in the Temple that I may borrow, then? I don't have much of my own," Alptraum asks.

The priestess only nods slightly and waves a hand dismissively as she leaves. "Ask, and you will receive."

Alptraum watches her leave, the follows suit and heads back up to locate some clothing. Come to think of it, he'd better just clean up in general. "/I'd better try and even out my hair before going – perhaps tie it back," he thinks.

Alptraum does manage to borrow some articles of clothing from the temple stores, once he manages to secure an acolyte to assist him. The articles of clothing he selects, all together, set a very Sylvanian tone, looking very much like an upscale version of his old clothing. (One of the benefits is that it's a lot easier to move around in such garb than the heavy robes favored by the Yodhsunala … though, at the very least, those heavy robes are probably welcome in the cold of winter.)

As night falls, Alptraum is ferried back to the Coalition Tower in a veiled bier borne by flights of giant birds known as rakhtors, all of them a snowy white in plumage … whereas the decorated box that he's riding in has all the cheer of a funeral carriage, and the larger one ferrying High Priestess Sukara is even less cheery. Alptraum could just fly himself, but Babel can be a tough place at night, even on a holiday … and bitter cold besides.

"I feel like I'm going to a funeral, not a party," he muses as he rides along.

The sounds of music reach Alptraum's ears now and then as the rakhtor-borne craft passes over a few scattered celebrations, drawing toward the Wound – and then it carefully flies around it – and toward the Coalition Tower on the other side. Acolytes with the disagreeable task of flying along with the rakhtors in formation spread out and guide the rakhtors with sharp cries to land on a wide plaza atop the tower. Other biers can be seen, their teams of rakhtors or other flying creatures being led off to heated stalls, flags and heraldry making it clear that a very prestigious collection of the elite of Babel have come to this place – not mere rabble, and certainly not mere gypsies, not even for entertainment.

"Okay, now I'm really worried," Alptraum thinks. "I better keep my ears alert and my eyes open."

Nonetheless, a white-furred Fnerf with a thick winter coat and adorned in fashionably cut thick furs atop that comes to meet Alptraum, bowing at her upper waist. "Alptraum bar Reisender?" she murrs, just loudly enough to be heard over the stringed melodies being played from unseen corners for the benefit of arriving guests.

Alptraum bows in response. "I am he," he replies, working to keep his accent as muted as possible. "I am honored to have been invited to such an event."

The Fnerf evidences no disdain at Alptraum's command of the Babelite tongue, as she replies, "Honored are we that you chose to attend; honored am I to show you below." She gestures fluidly with one hand toward a lit and roofed stairwell wide enough not only to walk but to fly down.

The Eeee smiles and bows to the Fnerf. "Thank you," he replies, then walks to the stairwell and proceeds downward.

The Fnerf matches Alptraum's pace, and the stairwell passes through the thick roof of the tower, coming down into a wide chamber that Alptraum had not seen during his previous visit – a grand party hall grossly leaning toward the convenience of fliers rather than walkers, for all the elevated balconies and platforms inaccessible except by wings or the will to traverse precarious-looking walkways or to face the indignity of hauling oneself up ladders and steeply arranged flights of steps. (It appears that some of those without the gift of flight, however, bypass this inconvenience by having winged servants ferry them about whenever they please.)

The bottom-most level is decorated in a fantasy view of Ashdod – a model of the city of Babel in miniature, with its mountains about it, and clusters of dwarf foliage that represent forests – even vibrant pinks that suggest outlying forests of the Aelfin sugarfirs. Pools of water suggest oceans, and clusters of kyootcumber vines dangle from some of the platforms and balconies clearly meant to suggest nondescript sky islands. (No attempt has been made, so far as Alptraum can tell, to simulate Rephidim specifically.)

As Alptraum descends, he looks around the room carefully, trying to see if perhaps Ariel or Mariamara is here – or perhaps the Yodhbarada or Rikat. They're the only ones who would likely know his full name. "How many were invited?" Alptraum inquires of the Fnerf.

The Fnerf laughs lightly. "Scores? Forgive me, but I am not strong with numbers." Here, the spiraling staircase branches off to a small balcony of sorts, which the Fnerf turns to. She brings back her shoulders, and in a strong and projected voice, she announces, "Alptraum bar Reisender!" Many murmuring conversations dwindle down and die, and Alptraum can almost feel his ears burning as countless pairs of eyes turn his way from all quarters.

Surely not all these people can be royalty, though – not with the sad state Babel is in. A great many of these people look like servants and attendants to the truly important people, at the very least. Still, Alptraum is very, very conspicuous right here, right now.

Alptraum shifts his weight nervously and looks around the room. Surely they didn't announce each person as they entered. He then smiles lightly and bows slightly. "Great, just great," he thinks.

A few of those gathered give Alptraum some nods in response, and then everyone seems inclined to return to their business, rather than to subject Alptraum to their undivided attention for the eternity the moment threatened to become. Several starbursts of chitin spines radiating out from spherical lanterns dangle on silken cords, and as one turns slowly in place, he is able to glimpse past it … Mariamara, seated at a balcony made up to look like a frozen sky island hanging with icicles. She is part of the entourage of Rikat – and Alptraum's eyes very briefly meet his, before his double turns away to resume his conversation with a vampish-looking vixen.

Alptraum lets out a slow breath. "Have everyone been announced as they arrived?" he asks the Fnerf.

"Everyone who has received an invitation," the Fnerf says with a smile, as she turns to look at him. Her smile turns sympathetic for a moment, as perhaps she catches his discomfort, and she leans over to whisper conspiratorially to him, "You are free to explore our wonderland at your leisure. Refreshments are to be found everywhere. The servants of the Coalition all wear identification – " Here, she fingers a necklace made of a rainbow collection of chitin beads at her nape. " – so that you will know whom you may ask for assistance."

Alptraum nods at this, then asks, "Who created the invite list, if I might ask?"

"A committee," the Fnerf says, "though I dare whisper that Vizier Thath may have had something to do with seeing that you were invited." Her eyes dart over toward one of the platforms, where a tall, regal, and very chilly-looking Eeee stands, surrounded by a collection of nobility, merchants and warriors all apparently vying for his attention, and laughing politely at his understated jokes. His fur is chalk white, and his hair long and raven, falling straight over his shoulders and layered so that at its longest, it pours down between his wings and down to the middle of his back. Although his natural features are stark contrasts of white and black, his robes are hard to place in exact hue, dominated by a sort of dusty violet, though leaning heavily toward suggestions of cloudy gray.

"Thath? I know him only by name," Alptraum says and looks toward him, trying to see if the Eeee is looking in his direction. "Thank you for bringing me down. I think I will mingle some. Do have a good evening as well," Alptraum says to the Fnerf.

The Fnerf's eyes seem to glitter. "I will take my pride in your joy. Enjoy yourself, and we will be happy at a job well done." She bows again at Alptraum's dismissal, and then begins to ascend the stairs, even as another small party is coming down with High Priestess Sukara – though still several flights above Alptraum yet.

As for Thath, Alptraum doesn't manage to catch his eye at this particular moment – but then, he does seem to have his attention commanded by more than enough people in his vicinity. Eeee are to be found everywhere, of course, but there are also a few Nagai attendants here and there, and more than a few peeks of golden spotted fur amongst the servants. Fnerfs are actually fairly rare – perhaps because they are the least adapted to moving about these flier-friendly environments (though their fur must be very helpful for waiting to greet new arrivals up above).

Alptraum heads down the rest of the way to be sure to be out of the High Priestess' way. "/I suppose I should thank Thath for inviting me. Perhaps Ariel asked him to do so – if she even knows him," Alptraum thinks and decides to make his way slowly over that way, where he can fly up easily to the platform.

As Alptraum looks about, he can pick out that there is a contingent from every major temple present, though they seem not inclined to mingle with each other. A solitary Yodhgorphat adorned in bone-white bandages and jewelry – making her look in many ways like a caricature of a legendary Aeztepan mummy – stands conspicuously alone on one of the balconies, without attendants or visitors. A Yodhblakat (easily identified by her rag-tag and wild appearance against all the nicely-pressed suits and robes and gowns of most of those attending) is similarly left apart from the others. A small contingent of very military-looking priestesses stands on a platform that has been decorated to look like an airship, and by their markings they must be in the service of Rephath. A couple of Yodhbarada gossip excitedly near a buffet, while a plump Yodhzakaro helps herself to a sample of everything offered.

As Alptraum alights upon the platform where Thath is entertaining guests, he catches sight of a lone priestess there – a Yodhinala. There's something very unnerving about her … perhaps because her makeup and cut of hair seem intentionally to suggest that she is younger than she (hopefully) really is … younger than one would like to think would be serving in such a station as hers. Alptraum catches a whiff of her musk, but fortunately he's not forced to land anywhere near her.

A stone-grey Eeee in robes of a very rugged cut turns slightly as he sips from a slender chitin goblet to look at Alptraum. A faint breeze blows a wispy errant lock of hair across the bridge of his muzzle in an awkward way, but despite this he just solemnly nods to the newcomer, as the graying-haired woman on his arm looks curiously past him.

*** Note to GW: The woman looks curiously past the stone-grey Eeee toward ALPTRAUM. Clear that up, please. ;)

Alptraum stops his approach to Thath's platform and makes his way over toward the rather rough robes. "Greetings," Alptraum says when he gets close enough. "Forgive my intrusion, but I am relatively new here. I am Alptraum bar Reisender, may I inquire your name Sir? Lady?"

The older man smiles faintly. "I am Lord Cenesta," he says, though something in the inflection of his tone suggests that he does not usually wave about the title of "lord." "This is my wife, Aryadne." His wife's eyes widen momentarily as if something has occurred to her, and she glances briefly to Lord Cenesta, but he does not return her gaze, instead squeezing her hand gently. "Welcome to Babel," he says.

"Thank you. It's good to finally be home, even if the times are hard here," Alptraum replies amiably. "I'm not upsetting you, Lady Aryadne, am I? Forgive my curiosity, but is there something wrong?"

In the glittering lantern-light, Alptraum catches a figure of a stylized muscular bat worked into the clasp that holds Aryadne's shawl in place, fashionably pinned just above the right shoulder, rather than in the center. It takes Alptraum a moment to place the accompanying rune, but he is able to identify the figure as Breklea – a lesser deity, a male one, though Alptraum can't for the life of him place just what Breklea is supposed to preside over.

"Wrong? Oh, of course not, dearie!" she says, with a smile that betrays to Alptraum that yes, something must be wrong – or at least, there's something she's not saying. "It's just been so long since I've been to a party … I've not seen a celebration like this since the days of the Sabaoth." Well, at least that part seems convincing enough, as she looks around, momentarily distracted by the glittering and senselessly extravagant splendor.

"My business is construction," Lord Cenesta interjects, "though now my men have been largely busy with clearing away rubble rather than building anything new. Times change."

"Don't I know that," Alptraum replies with a nod. "My world has been turned upside down in the past year. I've traveled half-way around the world, been mistaken for different things, and now invited here. I'm not sure why I was invited."

"It means that you're someone important," Lord Cenesta says, with a faint grin, "or at least someone in the Coalition has decided that you are. Welcome to the exalted crowd."

"I don't need to be thought of as important. It just attracts trouble," Alptraum replies back, grinning as well. "I'm not even sure who decided I should be invited. I've heard Thath, but I don't even know him."

"If you're here, he knows you," Lord Cenesta says, nodding firmly. "The Sabaoth, the High Prince, the High Princess may have come and gone, but he has stood by the throne for time immemorial. He's older than I am, but you wouldn't guess by looking at him." Through a gap in the crowd, Alptraum can see that Vizier Thath's fashion is such that his robes are parted to reveal a slight but wiry build to his chest and wing joins, certainly ideal physique for anyone as old as he would have to be if Alptraum can guess Lord Cenesta's age correctly (in his late fifties, early sixties, perhaps).

"Well, perhaps it was Mage Ariel who mentioned me to him," Alptraum says. "I should thank him for inviting me. I'm honored, even if a bit uncomfortable being here."

"Oh," Aryadne says, "it looks like Lord Blowsails has finally run out of breath. If you've a mind to catch the vizier's attention, now's your best opening… " She avoids meeting Alptraum's eyes, though she seems to be addressing him.

Alptraum looks back at Aryadne and says, "Lady Aryadne, are you certain nothing is bothering you? My presence seems to be … upsetting you."

"Hsss," Lord Cenesta says, awkwardly looking to his wife, then back to Alptraum. "Never you worry about her, but, young man, if ever you think you are bothering a woman with your presence, you should learn not to confront her about it."

At this, Aryadne breaks into tears, and Lord Cenesta rolls his eyes up, throwing his hands up as if petitioning the gods and goddesses for strength.

(Of course, this draws more than a few looks from those nearby. Can't anyone be discreet?)

"My apologies," Alptraum replies with a wince. "I just don't want to offend anyone and if … I'd like to correct … Again, my apologies." With that, he moves away and resumes heading toward Thath, extending his wings slightly so he can wing up to the platform.

Thath and those immediately around him are far enough away that they seem to be unaffected by Aryadne's emotional outburst, or Lord Cenesta's awkward attempts to offer her a handkerchief and lead her away toward an alcove. Next to Thath is a blustery and unusually plump Eeee who looks every bit a merchant (and a successful one at that) must be the owner of the appellation of "Lord Blowsails" offered disdainfully by Aryadne. The reason for losing his momentum seems not to be that he ran out of breath, but that he's having a coughing fit, and his Savanite servants are scurrying and fawning over him, covering his mouth, slapping his back, and generally being active but not overly effective in dealing with whatever ails him. Nonetheless, the others around seem not greatly concerned – merely curious – leaving a momentarily lull in the conversation, and a gap that Alptraum might exploit to draw nearer.

And Alptraum takes advantage of that gap, taking to the air and flapping over to Thath's platform. He lands gently and pulls his wings tight against his back. "Vizier Thath? I hope I am not intruding," Alptraum inquires respectfully.

Vizier Thath seems almost relieved by the distraction from the merchant's antics. "Ah. Young Master Reisender. So good of you to come. I apologize for such short notice, but it was necessary for security reasons."

"It was you who invited me, then? I am honored," Alptraum says with a bow. "Security reasons, Sir?" he then inquires.

"Security reasons," Thath says, with a tone of voice that seems to suggest that it is all that should be said for now, but he nonetheless adds, "Babel is greatly lacking in law and order, and festivities – particularly those attracting such august personages as our guests – are tempting targets for the desperate and misguided."

"Understandable," Alptraum agrees and looks around briefly. "Although I must admit I am confused as to why I was invited. I am certainly not nearly as important as the others here. Was it Mage Ariel who mentioned my name to you, perhaps?"

"Ah, we all here play a role in Babel's future. It is not for a servant of the people such as myself to engage in such games as to rank my guests on their merit. But suffice it to say that the good enchantress put in many good words for you, yes." Vizier Thath smiles thinly, as he looks out across the gathering. "Ah, to be young again. You, my boy, represent the hope of the future, one of many youths who have stood out as bright examples of what we hope to see in the next generation. Though you were raised in a distant land, your interest in your heritage brought you here to your home, through many travails and tribulations. Dedication and bravery have marked your journey here, and I admire that in you."

"It was a long and hard journey, I must admit. I'm not sure it's over yet, either. So many have expectations of me," Alptraum says and looks over Thath once more. "How much did she tell you of me? Is she still in Babel?"

"Ah, I cannot say where she is now," Thath says, though his tone leaves ambiguous whether it's because he does not know, or because he is beholden not to tell, "but I am confident you will see her again soon enough. Although Babel's relations with Caroban are strained, I am heartened that talented men and women such as Sihr Ariel bint Azale make it clear that they are open-minded in their dealings with all nations of Sinai, and recognize the valuable part that Babel has to play in our world's affairs."

With a sweep of one broad-sleeved arm, Thath gestures toward the gathering beyond the immediate platform, and with his other arm guides Alptraum by the shoulder toward the edge, for a more panoramic view. "This is Babel," he says. "We are not a disorganized rabble, an angry mob so obsessed with revenge for affronts real and imagined that we tear ourselves apart in our rage. We are thinkers, we are craftsmen, we are scholars, we are artists, we are statesmen, and so much more."

"But not all would agree," Thath says, turning to look at Alptraum, "and we just may need to convince ourselves of our own value. The Wound was struck against Babel, but not all of the ruin our city is in can be blamed on the actions of Captain Rockmore, his crew, and whomever supported him. We have let the rest of our great city fall into ruin … and we are the ones who must rebuild it – anew, if need be."

"But we have no Sabaoth any longer," Thath says, looking faintly sad. "There is no one ruler to lead us … and perhaps that is just as well. Ashdod has always been a territory of many nations, pledging fealty to one leader, but privately buying and selling allegiance in dark and noisy rooms. No one person can understand all our motivations, all our wants and needs. We cannot be like the Temple – we cannot have a Captain-Astromancer to guide our city. That is why we have the Coalition – an ideal gathering of those who hold real power in Ashdod – to bring us together as we should be."

Alptraum watches the older Eeee and simply nods. He doesn't interrupt, not yet.

"But why are you here?" Thath asks for Alptraum. "It is because the Coalition is not only for today, but it is for tomorrow. Perhaps you will only aspire to some humble occupation, and more power to you to find your proper place in life, but you are here as one of many representatives of a generation that will bring us the leaders of our future. (And if I were a seer to know just who those leaders might be, rest assured, I would invite them!) You have demonstrated character, and a complex character at that. You have been a hero when called to be one, but you are not a naive Knight of Rephidim who refuses to bend rules when necessary to survive. You show valor, tempered with a recognition of your limitations. You show personal ambition, but also an inclination to include trusted others into your circle, rather than to crush all in your way. You are – and forgive me for that – a symbol of the sort of youth we desperately need for tomorrow's Babel."

"And that is why you are here," Thath says. "This celebration is a symbol – a demonstration that we, of so many different interests and ambitions, can come together and celebrate as our ancestors did. Babel lives."

Thath pauses here, and several Eeee nearby on the platform politely applaud.

Alptraum looks at the older Eeee with piercing silver eyes, considering his words. "You flatter me with your praise, Vizier Thath, I thank you for that," Alptraum says, pausing to think, unsure of exactly what to say. "I have been called a hero before, though I've not ever seen myself as such. I just … follow my heart, I suppose. I have just tried to help those in need at their worst times." He pauses for a breath, then continues, "I believe your legacy is the lives you touch and what you leave behind. But, I am just one person, and a lost one at that. I can hope that perhaps my actions have, and in the future will, inspire others to look beyond their own interests and for the good of others, but… " He sighs softly, looking a bit sad, "I just don't know if anyone watches or listens here. The Temples all fight, and fight within themselves. The streets … you can't walk them safely."

Thath nods solemnly at this, and pats Alptraum on the shoulder. "True. Painful but true, and I am the least to want to argue with you on such a point. There is much work to be done, and we do ourselves no service by furthering such hateful cycles. You are not blind to the obstacles we face – obstacles that we of Babel have erected."

A young noble over at the fringe of the gathering snickers and whispers to his lady-friend, "If he's such a peace-maker, I'd like to see him go and make friends with the Yodhgor – " But he seems to realize that his voice is carrying more than he anticipated, and he swallows whatever else he had to say along with a gulp from his goblet of wine.

"And those obstacles … the people have to want to take down," Alptraum says with a nod. "I, you, most of those here, can have the desire … the dream of doing so. But, in the end, the people of Babel have to want it too." And to make a point, Alptraum turns and looks directly at the noble whom just spoke.

The young noble cowardly avoids Alptraum's gaze by having already chosen to look in some other direction.

Thath nods sagely. "Well spoken indeed."

"Speaking of obstacles," a rusty-furred Eeee in blue silks pipes up, "I notice that – as usual – the General seems to be shunning your parties."

"The General?" Alptraum inquires.

Thath chuckles lightly. "Ah yes. Well, we cannot be all things to all people, sad to say. But perhaps in due time, we can win the Guardians of the Tower over to our cause."

It's a chance thing – a very chance thing – but something catches Alptraum's eye while Thath is distracted. At one of the balconies along the outer wall, Alptraum sees a Savanite servant with a pitcher, refilling a punch bowl. Goodness knows but there are plenty of Savanites around. But there's something that pricks at Alptraum's attention. Surely it couldn't be … but she sure looked awfully familiar. The trouble is, before Alptraum gets a better look, the large merchant that he still knows only as "Lord Blowsails" lumbers back up, freshly recovered from his coughing fit, and demanding Thath's attention again. "I say, we still have the matter of exports to the outlying territories… "

"Please excuse me for a bit, Thath," Alptraum says, then moves to the platform edge and unfurls his wings and flaps over to where he last saw the figure.

Like scavengers closing in on an unattended kill, as Alptraum concedes his position next to Thath, the others close in quickly, with their own agendas to bring to the vizier's attention – and in the midst of it, Alptraum's absence seems hardly noticed, if at all. The balcony is vacant, for the most part, and the punch bowl – so it seems to Alptraum's eyes – probably didn't need all that much refilling, for it seems that most of the food and drink here has been untouched. Then, a strange scent reaches Alptraum's nose – a medicinal smell, intermingled with pungent herbs and a hint of perfume, combining in a sickly sweet aroma. And then it suddenly occurs to him just which balcony he has alighted upon. The only other visible occupant (for the cheetah servant disappeared behind a heavy curtain over the doorway leading to an adjoining corridor) is a gauze-wrapped Yodhgorphat, her exposed fur a strange, almost luminescent hue of faintly yellow green.

"Pardon me, Yodhgorphat, I do not mean to intrude. The Savanite looked familiar to me and I wish to speak with her. May I pass?" Alptraum asks and bows.

The Yodhgorphat turns about, looking through a veil of linen strips with dark eyes at the intruder to her lonely domain. She smiles mysteriously, then raises a hand to point at the curtain with a long finger. "I am not the host of this place. It is no concern of mine whether you come or go."

Alptraum smiles to the solitary figure, feeling somewhat sorry for her. "I am Alptraum bar Reisender," he introduces himself. "If I cannot find her, I can return. I know others may think me odd for doing so, but no one should spend all night alone at this party. I'm new in town and would like to meet others, such as yourself."

At this, the Yodhgorphat laughs. "Very new, but do not worry, I am not contagious. But do go and catch your familiar Savanite while you can. They run so quickly."

"Indeed they do," Alptraum agrees. "Thank you again." And with that, Alptraum slips behind the curtain to try and locate the Savanite.

Behind the curtain is a corridor much like any other he traversed during his earlier visit to the tower, and he is soon enough able to gain his bearings to figure out the general arrangement. There are two immediate ways to go, and he has little choice but to simply pick one or the other and follow it … and after a few turns and a few uncertainties as to whether this was the right way after all, or whether he really even saw anyone at all, he turns another corner and almost bumps into a Savanite in the garb and collar of a servant of the Coalition Tower, with tight black curls bound behind her head with an amber ribbon. When she turns to look at Alptraum, he can be sure that he was not mistaken. Autumn-Storm's eyes widen in surprise, and her grip loosens absently on the pitcher she's holding.

Alptraum reaches out quickly to catch the pitcher before it totally falls from her grip. "Autumn… " he says, in shock and disbelief. "It's you, it's… "

Alptraum manages to catch the pitcher in time, and Autumn-Storm recovers from her shock to grasp it as well. She just looks at Alptraum for a long moment, as if he's some strange apparition – familiar enough, but not certain to be real just yet.

"I thought you'd be far from this place. I hoped you would be safe somewhere, happy," He says, swallowing and fighting back wet eyes.

Autumn-Storm maintains her awkward, motionless silence for a little longer than would be comfortable, but then she shifts the pitcher in her hands, taking it from Alptraum's, and setting it on a service table along the wall. Her hands now freed, she signs, "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited." Alptraum signs back. "Why are you here, serving them?"

"I'm not – " Autumn-Storm starts to sign, but then just shakes her head. "After … what happened, I continued to Babel, not knowing where else to go. I ran into an old friend … a friend in need, serving a good and just cause. You must not let anyone think you recognize me, do you understand? I am not really here."

"I came looking for you. I hoped I'd find you here. It's the only reason I continued on after Sutrana tried to kill me," Alptraum signs back, then hugs Autumn-Storm tightly for a moment. After letting go, he says, "Sorry."

Autumn-Storm hugs Alptraum back just as tightly, and she seems reluctant to let go at the last, but once her hands are free again, she signs, "Be careful of Sutrana. I do not know what became of her, but I heard her speaking with Nekara – She claimed you were a blasphemy, and that a 'false Sunala' would try to use you, to establish some sort of … power in Babel. I do not know what she meant, but she meant to kill you, I am certain."

Alptraum nods at that, then signs, "And that she did try to do. I'm the child of a srinala, if you remember what Nekara spoke of those. They're hoping I show some power and can claim me to be a demi-god, or so Nekara told me last I saw her. I must be crazy for even remaining here, but for some reason I did. I've never been able to easily walk away from anything … or anyone." He smiles weakly.

Autumn-Storm's ears pale, and she takes a step back from Alptraum. "A demi-god? Power? Alptraum, you snatched me from the Sea of Souls yourself!" She rubs absently at her right wrist with her left hand, then shakes her head. "I'm glad to see you again – I want to see you again … but I can't stay here. I'll be missed. Where … where are you staying? I'll see you again. I … maybe we could even work together. There's a very important mission coming up, but … it will take much explaining, and this is not the place."

"I'm staying on Mount Sunala, actually. With the Yodhsunala. But, I often go out in the afternoons to the wilderness nearby. It's dangerous for non-Yodh to go there, but if you can, look for an old statue near an outcropping of rocks and a clearing. I can often be found there," Alptraum signs.

"And a waterfall," he then adds.

The cheetah seems a little more certain when Alptraum adds that last detail. "I will try to find it, though it will be harder to hide my tracks in the snow. But if I can, I will see you again, though it may not be until after the New Year. There is much I have to – " She suddenly looks up, as footsteps sound down the corridor. She abruptly picks up her pitcher again, then leans over and gives Alptraum a peck on the cheek. With one hand folded against the side of the pitcher, she clumsily gives him a thumbs-up sign of "Good luck!"

"Be careful, Autumn-Storm. I will be looking for you. And avoid one named Rikat! He looks just like me, but he is not me," Alptraum signs quickly, then smiles. "Bye!" The Eeee then turns and looks the other direction and takes on a disgruntled pose, looking as though he's disappointed about something.

Alptraum can hear Autumn-Storm slip away, out of his range of vision. A serpent with a rainbow bead necklace that marks him as a party attendant shuffles around the corner, and looks faintly surprised when he sees Alptraum. "Ah! You muSt have gotten loSt. The party iS thiS way. Or are you looking for Something Special?"

"Thought I saw someone I knew. I was wrong. Ah well," Alptraum replies, looking upset about it. "Anyway, I'll head on back now. Said I'd talk to the Yodhgorphat, so I should keep my word."

If the snake looked surprised at seeing Alptraum here, he seems even more surprised at this last revelation from Alptraum, but quickly hides it. "I am Sure the Yodhgorphat would be pleaSed. Ah … her name iS … Yodhgorphat Phlagaea, I do recall." The way he says the name, it almost sounds like Alptraum should offer him a handkerchief, bless him and wish him good health.

"Good to know, thank you," Alptraum replies with a smile. "I'll head on back now," he says, then heads back the way he came.

The snake just bobs his head amiably, and shows no intent of following Alptraum back to the balcony.

Alptraum indeed makes his way back to the balcony. "Hello again, Yodhgorphat. Wasn't her, just looked like her. I should realize by now they all look the same, eh?" Alptraum says amiably. "So, care for some company? It's a party, you shouldn't spend it entirely alone… "