Fall From Glory

Tests

Gisela blew out a heavy breath, eyes brazen and alight with ire.

Across the table, Fintan was head-deep in arguing with Lord Drestial. Why the Lord had approached Fintan first, she would never know. Even after sitting at the table for five minutes on request, she hadn't been addressed or remotely acknowledged in the slightest. The two only seemed engrossed in their intense arguing with each other.

As the caterwauling peaked at a voracious level, Gisela glanced at the doorway, and Maralynn's figure shadowed in silhouette. The Psionipath gave her a stiff nod, then disappeared beyond the doorway. Gisela turned her attention back to the arguing duo adjacent to her.

"Drestial, Pyren, calm down." Both elves turned at her words, likely out of her speaking and her lack of titular respect, eyes locked on the speaker. While Fintan's gaze was a mix of indignant and consternation, Drestial's was a calm respite.

"We can work out a solution that pleases you both. A compromise. I suggest you halt your volatile arguing and instead reverse tracks to find a way that meets both of your needs and accommodations." The Polyglot reasoned, a false smile broadening the lines of her face.

Drestial's eyes thinned suspiciously, but he made no volumed objections. Fintan, meanwhile, flared his nostrils and shot her a be quiet look. She continued smiling, making it clear that she was waiting for her requested compromise.

"Gentlemen, we are steadily losing to time, so if this could be moved along, I'm sure our schedules would appreciate it."

Lord Drestial's deep ocean eyes flashed with understanding, and he turned to face Fintan. Only when he did did Gisela notice the striking differences between the two.

Fintan was ghost-pale, where Drestial was cocoa-toned. Fintan's eyes were pale sky-blue ice while Drestial's were the madly swirling undercurrents of the deep ocean. Fintan held himself pompously, while Drestial looked a more natural leader, without having to pose to prove it. Fintan was self-imposing, while Drestial simply wanted to be understood and respected. All in all, Fintan looked like an apparition, a weak fake, while Drestial held the collected, responsible stance of a true, responsible leader.

"Councillor Fintan," Lord Drestial began in his deep, eloquent voice, "I believe we should listen to Councillor Gisela. Arguing has gotten us nowhere, and with secondary support, I trust we should follow her plan and concoct a compromise. She is correct: arguing is pointless; we would have accomplished something already. I say we meet in the middle to respectfully discuss how to solve the problem to both our likings and better suit multiple elves as opposed to simply one."

"Then I agree, Lord Drestial. It would be foolish of me not to when I am clearly outnumbered." Here he shot Gisela a furious look. She merely lifted one shoulder nonchalantly, followed by a raise in her arched brow.

Fintan's brow dipped as he tried to figure out her meaning, but Drestial began the discussion and he was dragged along, forced to pay attention to the wise, dark-haired lord.

Gisela smiled and relaxed as the two debated and talked through their issues far more respectfully than before. That applied to Fintan, at the very least.

"Councillors!" Maralynn's exclamation punctured the heavy, tense air as Fintan and Drestial had gotten into another glare-stare match.

Fintan's head whipped towards the sound of her voice so quickly Gisela wondered if he got whiplash. "Yes?" He demanded, tone iron icicles.

"It's-it's the elves below! They've left!" She announced, once her eyes fell upon Drestial. Drestial apparently didn't miss that his presence had her resulting to code, and he didn't appear to care.