Turtle steps in, gracefully striding across the floor, fluttering a fan in front of her face. The slim white sleeveless dress she wears is accented by lots of scarfs in various shades of blue, purple, and green. They are mostly concentrated around her neck, after the incident with the necklace. A few are also tied into her mane, creating a long high waterfall of hair to the side her mane usually falls.

Turtle jingles a bit as she moves, her ankles and wrists decked in several of her precious handmade bead bracelets.

Several of the guests stop their conversations, turning to look at the unicorn as she enters. A couple of the ladies give their husbands angry glares.

Turtle looks around, seemingly unmoved by the stares, her face a cool sea of disinterest.

The musicians continue playing a lively yet refined melody, pleasing to the ears. While this is a ballroom, presently it seems that the guests are just milling about, glasses in hand.

The Marquis, a peacock-like Kujaku, turns the ends of his beak into a smile as he sees the Inquisitrix. "Oh! Good evening, Mademoiselle. I was worried terribly about you," he twitters.

"As was I," comes a voice from the other direction, as a tall dark and uniformed Aeonian walks up to the Inquisitrix. "I have heard of many troubling things happening back in Rephidim."

Turtle smiles politely and curtsies as much as she can in her current attire. "Thank you for your concern. I am also glad to see you are more revived than when I last saw you as well."

Turtle gasps, turning as she recognizes the voice.

Turtle says, "Wh-what are you doing here, Inquisitor?"

Inquisitor Melchizedek bows, no longer wearing the black and red robes of an Arch Inquisitor, though, due to his black hide and red mane, he somehow looks much the same, even in the plain brown garb of an Inquisitor of much lower rank. "I am continuing my rounds … and heard of your presence in Fleaufille. Considering the length of my assignment, I deemed it reasonable to take a small detour."

Turtle eyebrows quirk, as her face takes on a colder appearance, although her voice is still pleasant. "Well, I appreciate the gesture very much, but that was not necessary." She suddenly remembers her manners. "Marquis, this is Inquisitor Melchizedek, of the Temple."

The Marquis twitters, smiling. "Oh! Pleased to make your acquaintance, good sir." He bows. "And this is my lovely wife, Lady Marionette," he adds, indicating his heavily-perfumed Kujaku wife, in a voluminous ballroom gown. Like her husband, she has a beauty mark on her beak, though on the opposite side. Her wig is bigger, too.

The Inquisitor bows, then turns toward the Inquisitrix. "I hope that you have been well? I received your letter."

Turtle moves a bit uncomfortably around Melchizedek, despite her attempts to hide it. "Have you? Perhaps it will give us something to talk about later… " She looks away towards the refreshments, as if wishing to depart company.

The Inquisitor folds his hands behind his back, walking after the departing Aeonian. "Perhaps, then. I will not be here for long. I am heading for a rather hazardous location next. My visits to the Outposts in Ur were cut short by the increased hostilities from Ashdod. So, I shall have to face the increased hostilities of an even stranger realm. But such is not mine to decide."

Turtle ears flick around at that, but she continues on with the same emotionless face, focusing on the table. "Oh, really? I have not heard of anything happening outside of Gallis since I left."

Inquisitor Melchizedek, hands still folded behind his back, stands beside Turtle, looking at the table rather than at her. "Babel has declared war on Rephidim. That is old news. However, it has finally taken overt action. There have already been military clashes in Ur, and more are expected in Ai. Covert activities in Rephidim itself are also feared."

Turtle's eye go wider. "Rephidim is at war?" She picks up a glass, and sips carefully, not really feeling like drinking anymore.

Melchizedek nods. "I can only presume much more has happened since I last heard any news from Rephidim. I am not as … in touch with things as I was before my departure from the Temple."

Turtle just holds the glass, and turns back to Melchizedek, nodding, her eyes averted down. "I can understand that." Deep in side, she feels the tinges of strange emotions, perhaps at the notion of being stranded. Whatever it is, she can't seem to look up at the Inquisitor before her.

The Inquisitor looks to Turtle, his brow furrowing. Whatever is on his mind to say, though, he keeps to himself.

The musicians stop, pausing, as the guests in the room look in the direction of the sudden silence. Some move toward the edge of the room, while a few couples move out toward the center of the floor.

Turtle moves around to face the center of the room, having requieted into her usual haughty stare. She watches the dancers silently.

Melchizedek looks to the couples, then to Turtle. He offers a hand. "I am not much of a dancer, having not done so in a few decades, but … "

Turtle looks up at the Inquisitor incredulously, then down at his hand. She wonders about the gesture a moment, then decides it's only polite. She takes the offered hand, and nods to him curtly. "I'm sure that you will do adequately," she replies.

Melchizedek nods. "Thank you. I shall do my best." He guides the Inquisitrix out into the opening, then turns to face her, taking her other hand in his, and waiting for the music to begin.

Turtle shifts a bit uncomfortably, but says nothing. Her worries seem to have returned; her stomach feels a bit queasy.

The music begins, the melody drifting through the air, turning about and about, starting and stopping, forward, then to the side, then back, one with the dance, one with the dancers.

The black unicorn leads. As he said, he is not a particularly great dancer, but he is not untrained, and he does not step on any hooves.

Turtle follows gracefully, obviously a bit more trained in dancing, as her slim skirt seems to hinder her none at all in moving about.

The Inquisitor lets go of one hand, holding onto the other, lifting it up and turning Turtle about, then drawing her back so that they are both facing the same way, and she is in front of him and just to one side. A step here, a step there, across the floor.

Turtle follows with a bit of flair, holding her chin up a bit to better her appearance on the floor. Her worries still seem to be with her, perhaps growing a bit stronger. She wishes she could pull away, but…

The two unicorns stop, then their joined hands lift again, as the black unicorn turns the white one about, then draws her in, facing him again. His eyes meet hers for a moment, but that look in his eyes … A look of … fear? He looks away.

Turtle almost drops her cold expression as she catches the look in his eyes. What about her could he fear? She releases from his grasp, then curtsies politely. "Thank you," she says quickly, before looking away.

Melchizedek stops, then returns the gesture with a bow. "My apologies, Inquisitrix. Perhaps I should be going." He looks toward a couple of lupine Guards near one of the many doorways.

Turtle cocks her head slightly, raising her fan again, "So soon?" Funny, she feels … disappointed.

Melchizedek takes Turtle's hand again, leading her away from the other dancers. "So … soon … " he repeats, then looks down. "I must apologize. I have been travelling much more than I have for a long time. Perhaps it has not been the best for my health."

Turtle now outwardly shows her deep inward confusion. She uses the other hand with the fan to adjust one of the scarfs around her neck very self-consciously. "If you must go, then please do. But we have not even begun to talk… " She stops, feeling angry with herself for being so undecided over her emotions.

Melchizedek stops, turning toward Turtle. "Of what do you wish to talk?"

Turtle looks the slightest bit annoyed. "Well, we had agreed to discuss my last letter. Does this mean you are staying? Perhaps we could go somewhere that you could rest." She waves her hand around to the doorways, fumbling with her manners.

Melchizedek says, "Staying? That is not what I meant. I was merely looking to explain my … behavior." He turns again, leading Turtle toward one of the doorways, nodding at his guards as he passes. "In any case, regarding your letter … I am listening, if you have anything further to add."

Turtle nods as well, then walks on, her stomach slowly moving into the shape of a knot.

The short passage eventually gives way to a patio overlooking a starlit garden, the lights of the Procession glittering as they reflect off of the droplets of water cascading down from an artificial waterfall amidst the cluster of plants and rocks.

Melchizedek just stands there, looking out upon the garden, as the cool night's breeze plays with his fiery mane. His eyes move about, as if scanning for something … but with no look of certainty as to just what he is looking for.

"Well, honestly," Turtle looks away and begins, when it seems their destination has been reached, a bit of coldness slipping back into her voice, "I must admit first of all that my first real impression of you was certainly a bad one. I almost felt that I couldn't stand you… " She looks back towards him, her face grimacing slightly as if it were something very hard to say for her, "I apologize for that."

"You needn't apologize," Melchizedek replies. "Your reaction was justified. I have fooled myself into thinking that I upheld ideals long forsaken by others in the Temple, yet I trampled upon them as well. I cannot claim to be blind or ignorant. I am too old and too experienced for that."

Turtle nods, trying to trace the path of his eyes around the garden to find what he's searching for. "Which is what I discovered when you sent me correspondence . I was amazed to find you letter waiting for me."

The black unicorn looks out on the garden. "Others have paid for my mistakes. My demotion and being sent on an errand … those are nothing. I have risen and dropped and have risen again in the bureaucracy of the Temple for centuries. But I let emotion cloud my judgement too many times. Sometimes I thought I was being benevolent. But the fruits of my actions provide bitter witness to the truth to the nature of the seed."

Melchizedek looks back to Turtle. "I do not know if I have any saving graces. But I pray that there is some hope that I can recognize my mistakes and attempt to correct them. I cannot undo the damage, but there is no sense in adding to it."

Turtle raises an eyebrow once more. "You say you are old and experienced," she says, with a bit of increased annoyance, "but you never said you were infallible, did you?" She looks away, hoping to find a place to sit.

A marble bench provides the most immediate seating, which Melchizedek paces in front of.

Turtle attempts to sit anyhow, striding around the pacing unicorn, to move onto the bench. She watches him from her pace, trying to figure his thoughts.

Melchizedek only nods at Turtle's commentary. He looks toward her, frowning. "What is wrong? Have I offended you?"

Melchizedek looks down at the bench, then stops his pacing, and takes a seat as well, his tufted tail lashing behind him, a severe expression on his face.

Turtle is taken a bit aback by that question. "Why, no, I… " She is taken more aback by the deep hurt she feels at it. "I suppose you don't need a lecture about your behaviors anymore do you." She bites her lip, frowning, and stares forward again.

Melchizedek starts at this, then turns toward Turtle, with a look of surprise on his face. He squints his eyes a bit, then says, "You … You aren't going to cry, are you?"

Turtle breathes deeply, even more upset by those words. "A lady does not cry… " she says evenly. Her eyes narrow, "you annoy me greatly," she snaps, although the moment after she says that, she also greatly regrets it. She covers her face with the fan, but not before a tear falls down her face.

Melchizedek raises his eyebrows. "I do not mean to be an annoyance. Forgive me if I have disturbed you." He stands.

Turtle crumbles, somehow hoping vainly he doesn't notice.

Melchizedek, however, can't help but notice. He just stands there, looking at Turtle, a greatly uncertain look on his face. "You … confuse me greatly."

Turtle doesn't look up. Her makeup is a mess, she knows it. "Really?" she sobs, the feelings in her stomach reacting violently, much to her own confusion. "I don't mean to, I… "

The black unicorn pauses, mulling over so many things, too many years of experience to sort them all properly. "Perhaps it would be best if we did not try to speak of the matters you wrote of. It seems to be doing something strange to you."

Turtle shakes her head, getting a bit angry with herself again. "No, it has nothing to do with the letter. I… I just… "

Melchizedek's hoof scrapes the stone tiles as he looks back toward the palace, then out across the Procession-lit garden … then back down to Turtle. "Don't cry. I never knew how what to do when Azhtar cried … except… " He sits down again on the bench.

"I think I feel sick," she concludes both out loud and to herself.

Turtle lifts her head, almost covered by the fan, to look at him. "Except what?"

Melchizedek says in a low voice, "I do not mean to offend. Azhtar was only a cub, after all… "

Melchizedek looks both ways, looking very out of place, then reaches an arm around the other Aeonian's shoulders, patting her lightly. "Everything … will be all right. There is nothing to cry about," he says in a near-monotone. He looks away again, frowning.

Turtle looks quite surprised by the hug, enough to stop crying fortunately. She stares at him a moment, her emotions subsiding, but still swirling in the pit of her stomach. "I can't say I enjoy being patronized like a cub," she finally says a bit huffily, then stops, and adds a bit more meekly, "But I appreciate the thought… "

Melchizedek says nothing in reply.

Turtle lowers the fan, looking down after it, feeling immensely foolish over her outbursts. She bites her lip again, trying not to let on, however.

An evening breeze blows by, tousling the manes of the unicorns as they sit on the bench, causing the branches of the trees in the orchard to sway gently, their leaves rustling.

Melchizedek just stays there a while longer, then at last turns his head back to look at Turtle. "I should be going. I do have legitimate business to be done in Gallis. I hope that you find the rest of the evening more enjoyable." He slowly stands.

Turtle just sits there staring down, trying to sort out strange emotions. "Until later, Inquisitor," she says finally, her voice as cold and polite as before, although her face betrays her, "I do not feel like staying longer myself. If only I could understand what sickness has come over me… "

Melchizedek nods his head. "I hope you will get well soon. Good night, Inquisitrix." He turns about, disappearing into the palace, leaving the lady Aeonian alone on the patio.

Turtle bows her head a bit, and she plays with the beads on her arms for a short bit before leaving herself. She whispers to the wind as she stands to leave. "I wished I'd never met him, but now I actually miss him… " She sighs, and heads home, her stomach bothering her all the way.