You walk west.
[City of Omrazir, Palace Precinct, Poets' Place]
A fountain burbles musically at the heart of this spacious plaza that lies outside the violet-tiled
iwan of the Poets' Guild.  Though half hidden by the many lime and liriol trees shading the area,
the guild on the north side of the square is still a commanding presence with its gold-chased purple
dome and elaborate stuccowork.  Low benches sit scattered around the arms of the cross-shaped
reflecting pool, tucked amidst shrubbery and brightly colored flowers.
 (A crowd of revelers has gathered around the fountain in the plaza, loudly listening to and
reciting poetry in honor of the New Year.)
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. Warm rain falls steadily.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and east
Other: an elegant purple-domed edifice: grand wooden doors (open)

The scent of daffodils and solitary blossom lightly perfumes the air.

A heavyset guard is here.
A raven-haired male is here.

You have emoted: Emmaline notes the crowd and smiles slightly at the scent of flowers in the air.
She looks upon an elegant purple-domed edifice thoughtfully.

You think: That must be the building that houses the Poets' Guild.

>go edifice
A raven-haired guard steps in front of you with a shake of his head. "Akh aadha athy adahadh ay
ysakha," he says, blocking the way through the grand wooden doors.

You have emoted: Emmaline steps back in confusion, and moves to the outskirts of the crowd around
the fountain.

With your hope faltering for a second, you think: They must not allow just anyone in there... I'll
have to wait.

Your pose will read 'a slight, auburn-haired young woman stands waiting despondently near the edge
of the crowd, watching an elegant purple-domed edifice.'.

More New Years' celebrators flow into the plaza at a regular pace despite the rain, shouting
joyously to one another and taking little notice of the wolf-cloak hooded person in their midst.

A shimmering kingfisher darts through the air over the plaza, garnering gleeful cheering from those
who spotted the small colorful bird.

You have emoted: Emmaline glances up at the bird, having noticed it but not understanding its
significance. She continues to stubbornly watch an elegant purple-domed edifice, a few raindrops
dripping past her vision from the brim of her hood.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing walks out of an elegant purple-domed edifice through the
grand wooden doors, with a nod to the guard and a smile cast over the crowded plaza.

There's a cheer of excitement from the crowd upon seeing the emergence of a famous poet. (Emit by an
older gentleman with a dignified bearing)

Soft masses of clouds roll overhead, sending down a mild but soaking shower.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing offers a genteel wave to the crowd, pushes open his
umbrella, and lets the handle rest on one shoulder at a rakish angle as he surveys the plaza from
the raised platform beneath the iwan.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing raises an elegant umbrella with a polished starcedar
handle over his head.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing opens an elegant umbrella with a polished starcedar
handle.

Seeing an older gentleman with a dignified bearing emerge, you think: He seems important! This could
be my chance!

You are now speaking Ruvic fluently.

You have emoted: Emmaline raises an arm and waves back to an older gentleman with a dignified
bearing, and even though her motion is lost in the crowd, she lifts her voice in Ruvic to call out,
"Pardon me?! Sir, pardon me! Are you a poet?"

You lower the hood of a tawny wolf pelt cloak, the mantle falling back with your vigorous movement.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing lets his gaze sweep the assembled New Year's
celebrators, and then those eyes flick quickly back towards you. With a hint of puzzled curiosity
and amusement, he calls back in the same tongue, "Yes, my dear, I am Arezou Rufsahni!"

You have emoted: Emmaline lowers her hailing arm with a smile of relief. "I am Emmaline du Marais!"
she exclaims in introduction, letting the Meroueni accent invade her voice carried over the crowd.
"I've been waiting a long time to speak to a poet!"

"Then let us speak, Emmaline du Marais!" an older gentleman with a dignified bearing descends from
the iwan, moving through the courteous and admiring crowd with serene dignity gentled by the
occasional smile.

Pausing magnanimously on the way to you and speaking a line of spontaneous poetry to a wild-eyed New
Year's reveler, an older gentleman with a dignified bearing recites in a resonant baritone,
                 "A daviyhaadh ydhy ee ayth y aryjha ykadhy y eekhy a iazheyth ey iasha, While ydh
azyghy-ytysydh ah ad afythy iadhiaqq kaas akha deyd'y agygha."

You have emoted: Emmaline cranes her neck to peer through the crowd, observing an older gentleman
with a dignified bearing's advance with a hopeful look in her eyes.

With a last indulgent tilt of the head to those nearby, an older gentleman with a dignified bearing
arrives next to your side and shows you a more targeted smile even as his grey-green eyes study her
keenly. "I have a place to be," is the first thing he says, and then he shifts an elegant umbrella
with a polished starcedar handle so that it may shelter you as well. "Walk with me, Emmaline."

The rain slackens, becoming a gentle drizzle misting down from uniform grey skies.

You fall in with an older gentleman with a dignified bearing.

You look at an older gentleman with a dignified bearing, with a grateful nod.
An older gentleman with a dignified bearing is noticeably taller than you, and appears to be of
Irzali heritage.  He has grey-green eyes, light gold skin, and white hair tied back in a short club.
This older gentleman looks to be around sixty years of age, with the light golden skin and hawkish
nose one often finds in those of Irzali heritage. Beneath a high brow, his shrewd greyish-green eyes
are lively though deeply furrowed with crow's-feet, and his fine white hair is gathered in a stylish
club at the nape. Wispy mustaches and a somewhat long yet neatly trimmed goatee frame a mouth that
is thin-lipped but not stern. He is quite tall, with a build that even now hints at the strength he
must have had in his youth, and despite a bit of a paunch he still appears full of vigor.

He has no visible wounds.
He is damp, and he is wearing: a violet khazi felt razi hat, a refined brocade kaftan, a downy
inikiskin mizuda, a pair of natural-hued baldachin sirwaal, and luxurious soft inikiskin sandals.
He is holding an elegant umbrella with a polished starcedar handle in his right hand.

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing walks southeast.
You walk southeast.

(walking)...

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing walks east.
You walk east.
[City of Omrazir, Palace Precinct, Poets Gate]
The buildings that rise on either side of the street here are tall, but nothing to compare with the
ranks of soaring towers that begin just to the west. Indicating the prosperity and prestige of the
inhabitants of this sector, people dressed in colorful brocades and the finest Amunati linens stroll
the flagstones.  The graceful iwan that encloses the Poets Gate sits at the east end of the avenue,
where through its wrought brass bars the Via Columnis is visible.
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. A mild rain drizzles from grey skies.
Cardinal Exits: west
Other: the Poets Gate: tall brass gates (open)

An older gentleman with a dignified bearing walks along quietly for a while, simply smiling and
nodding at anyone who addresses him on the street, and finally looks over at you. "You do not know
who I am?" he asks, sounding mildly intrigued.

Feeling embarrassed, you think: Am I supposed to?

You open your mouth to say something.

You have emoted: Emmaline takes a second, then issues an embarrassed smile to an older gentleman
with a dignified bearing. "You are Arezou Rufsahni," she says. "But just now was the first I have
heard of you." Despite the offered shelter of his umbrella, she skirts along at a somewhat awkward
arms-length distance.

You will now remember an older gentleman with a dignified bearing as Arezou.

Arezou chuckles and nods, continuing to walk.

Arezou walks away through the tall brass gates.

You walk through the tall brass gates.

[City of Omrazir, Intersection of the Via Lucis and Via Columnis]
Before angling off towards the palace and the Elucidarium's western gate, the Via Lucis is joined at
this point by another broad street entering from the southwest. This avenue, the Via Columnis, forms
a decisively dividing line between the multistory but still relatively modest buildings to the south
and the positively soaring structures westward. Equally dramatic is the shimmering gold dome of the
grand mosque, visible where it rises above the other academy buildings and the bronze fence that
surrounds them all.
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. Warm rain falls steadily.
Cardinal Exits: southwest, east, and northwest
Other: a pair of tall bronze gates: tall brass gates (open)

The wrought brass gates of the palace precinct to the west gleam with a daylit bronze luster.

Feeling worried, you think: Obviously he's someone well known here, judging by the reactions of the crowd.
Have I spoiled my chances by not doing my research?

(Hidden) You have emoted: Emmaline fidgets worriedly with the hem of a classic brown linen kaftan beneath
her sopping cloak.

The rain descends in a melancholy curtain, dampening the scent of dust and filling the air with a rich wet
fragrance.

Arezou pauses briefly at the intersection past the gate, turning to face you as he keeps the umbrella firmly
centered over himself and his fine brocade garb. "You are a foreigner," he states, with a small smile and deep
curiosity in his eyes. "And not just any foreigner, but quite a.. humble one."

You have emoted: Once again, Emmaline doesn't seem certain how to respond, and just manages an awkward, "Oh...heh."

Arezou walks southwest.
You walk southwest.

As he walks, Arezou says, "Never fear. I shall not hold such against you, not at all."

Arezou walks beneath a brick archway.
You walk beneath a brick archway.
[City of Omrazir, al-Hikmat Souk]
This market lies tucked away within baked brick walls, wedged between the multistoried buildings of the neighborhood
to the east and the Via Columnis westward. Neat little shops are housed inside wooden kiosks, or set beneath canvas
awnings that every now and then flap with a sharp attention-grabbing *snap* whenever a breeze sweeps through the
archway to the north. More booths tumble out south and east, each drawing its own small crowd of custom.
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. Warm rain falls steadily.
Cardinal Exits: south and east
Other: a brick archway

Giving the matter a passing afterthought, Arezou says, "Though some of my peers might..."

You nod slowly.

(Hidden) You have emoted: Emmaline glances around the marketplace, containing her overwhelm as best she can. It is
not a place she has been before.

Arezou walks east.

You walk east.

[City of Omrazir, al-Hikmat Souk]
This corner of the souk is somewhat cramped due to the press of high brick walls belonging to the surrounding
neighborhood, whose edifices seem to be trying to rudely shoulder the untidy clusters of booths and patrons out
of the way. In spite of this a number of vendors have crammed a peculiar diversity of goods into the space,
from pots and painted fans to perfumes, while several inconveniently large clay urns flank the entrance to an
alleyway winding off vaguely northward.
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. Warm rain falls steadily.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and west
Other: a vaguely winding alleyway

Arezou shows you a smile as he turns towards the mouth of an alleyway in the corner of the busy souk. "I came from
similarly humble roots myself, Emmaline," he reveals, with a hint of grandiosity in his tone. "You would not know
it to look at me now, of course. But," he adds, "From the humblest of roots may spring the mightiest of cedars."

Arezou carefully skirts the clay urns as he head off down a vaguely winding alleyway.

You have emoted: Emmaline follows Arezou through the alleyway, stepping behind him and turning sideways to make
sure she doesn't accidentally break any clayware.

Arezou walks along a vaguely winding alleyway.

You walk along a vaguely winding alleyway.

[City of Omrazir, Thieves' Court]
Much like the marketplace it adjoins, this small and oddly angled court seems to have been jammed not entirely
successfully into whatever space it could be made to fit. A three-story structure is angled to occupy the northeast
corner of the space, its numerous upper windows fronted by shallow wooden balconies whose latticework conceals the
rooms behind. More tall buildings form a solid mass to the east, while a heavy perimeter wall distances the court
from the busy Via Columnis to the west, even as the spires across the way appear to stretch themselves up as high
they can to get a peek.
Puddles have accumulated underfoot. A mild rain drizzles from grey skies.
Cardinal Exits:
Other: a vaguely winding alleyway and a three-story structure: curtained doorway (open)

Snatches of boisterous laughter and song come through a three-story structure's curtained doorway.

An athletic, dusky-skinned young woman is standing by the side of a three-story structure.

You say, "Ah... heh."

You think: Damn it, I must try to be more eloquent! Make a good impression!

Arezou looks ahead towards a curtained doorway, and lifts an elegant umbrella with a polished starcedar handle in
order to raise his other hand to a figure waiting ahead. "Akyqqy!" he exclaims in good-natured greeting. "My
atiysheew for being late."

Arezou goes to stand by the side of a three-story structure, joining an athletic, dusky-skinned young woman.

An athletic, dusky-skinned young woman stands on her tiptoes, peering towards the alleyway through the drizzle, and
then quickly assumes a more dignified posture. "Sayyid Rufsahni," she says as the pair approach, and demurely bows
her head.

You go to stand by the side of a three-story structure, joining an athletic, dusky-skinned young woman and Arezou.

(Hidden) An athletic, dusky-skinned young woman's mouth twists a bit, and she side-eyes you.

You have emoted: Emmaline gives a small wave to an athletic, dusky-skinned young woman. "Good afternoon," she says,
speaking Ruvic. "I am sorry, it was probably my fault, as I ambushed him outside the, er, at the -- Poets' Place..."

You think: Ugh! Well, I tried to tell a joke. So much for eloquence!

A few heavier droplets plop down from the sky, though the drizzle shows no other inclination to intensify.

"Djafira," an athletic, dusky-skinned young woman introduces herself to you, rather frostily.

(Hidden) You have emoted: Emmaline turns subtly redder upon her wind-weathered cheeks.

You introduce yourself as 'Emmaline.'

Going ahead and continuing to just use the wrong name for Djafira, Arezou says, "Give me a afamath, Djamila, as
I must have a few words with Emmaline. And then we will asagydh our ayg."

Arezou turns to you with a questioning smile. "Now, Emmaline du Marais," he begins. "I am certain you have quite
a fascinating story to tell about why you have come here, but..."

With a small shrug that causes an elegant umbrella with a polished starcedar handle to bob cheerily on his shoulder,
Arezou exclaims, "I have not the time to hear it, not today!"

Arezou appraises you curiously as he goes on. "Why is it you were waiting for a poet, if we may take care of that
matter at least?"

Djafira folds her arms, observing in sullen silence.

With a nod to Arezou and a quick glance at Djafira, you say, "Yes, I understand, but --"

You have emoted: Emmaline clears her throat and takes a deep breath. "I wish to join the Poets' Guild," she declares,
and stiffens her spine solemnly while meeting Arezou's curious eyes. "Please allow me to prove myself, Sayyid
Rufsahni."

You will now remember an older gentleman with a dignified bearing as Sayyid Rufsahni.

Djafira belts out an abrupt and cruel laugh.

Sayyid Rufsahni holds up a hand to Djafira with a slight headshake, but his mouth does twist in quite an
entertained fashion. "Ah, is that so?" he murmurs. "Well." He takes a moment to look about the odd little court.

You feel your stomach sink in dejection.

Djafira closes her mouth, but there's a hard glint in dark eyes over her smirk at you.

You have emoted: In the pause that follows, Emmaline manages to murmur, "I know the Poets' Guild is a refined
institution, but I..."

Finding the words at last, you say, "I have traveled a long way to come to Omrazir, which is a place that I have
heard -- and I have hoped -- where anyone's dreams can become true."

Djafira scoffs, but quietly.

You have emoted: Emmaline looks solemnly at Djafira, then at Sayyid Rufsahni, and lets her eyes rest upon him
with a serious and determined stare.

Sayyid Rufsahni shifts from his assessment of the Thieves' Court, casting you a smile from a reverie that has
turned his faintly amused expression to something subtly wistful and soft.

In a tone of solemn declaration, Sayyid Rufsahni says, "One month from now, you will audition for us, Emmaline
du Marais."

Sayyid Rufsahni lifts a finger and wags it in gentle scolding, with the addition of a broader smile. "In perfect
Sirdabi, only."

Djafira grunts in a mocking manner, but there's an unsettledness in her eyes.

You have changed the type of your relationship with Djafira to stranger
You will now trust Djafira to the degree of stranger.

You have added a new impression to your relationship with Djafira:
I am no stranger to the senseless cruelty we humans exhibit towards each other, but I am still
disappointed every time I come across it. She does not know me, and yet still discounts and mocks
me.
You have earned some experience.

You have emoted: Emmaline cannot help but beam. "Thank you," she says to Sayyid Rufsahni, and upon his addition
of the caveat, she nods -- but her beam fades. "Thank you, Sayyid Rufsahni," she says again, and gives a shallow
curtsy aimed at both him and Djafira.
You have added a new impression to your relationship with Sayyid Rufsahni:

You have changed the type of your relationship with Sayyid Rufsahni to acquaintance

You have added a new impression to your relationship with Sayyid Rufsahni:
For a man with so much acclaim, this one is generous with both his time and his intentions. I am
always grateful for an opportunity to prove myself, and he has given me one.
You have earned some experience.

Sayyid Rufsahni nods with a benevolent chuckle at you. "And now I must attend to business with young Djamila," he
says, beginning to turn towards the curtained doorway. "Take care, Emmaline du Marais." It is apparent that his
Meroueni pronounciation of you name is absolutely perfect.

OOC: Sayyid Rufsahni has just recorded an impression of you: An intriguing young woman. She will go
far, if my intuition serves me well.

Djafira turns to follow Sayyid Rufsahni into the curtained doorway, lofting her gaze away from you with the air of
one who has more important matters to attend to.

Djafira falls in with Sayyid Rufsahni.

You are no longer following Sayyid Rufsahni.

Touching the sea with an opalescent glamor, light filters down through pale wreaths of cloud.

Tilting his umbrella while moving to the curtained doorway, Sayyid Rufsahni says to Djafira, "So, we have two ysha
to araashiyk."

Sayyid Rufsahni walks into a three-story structure through the curtained doorway, already beginning to speak in
Sirdabi.

Djafira walks into a three-story structure through the curtained doorway.

You think: Well, if I can't find the way back, I can always ask for directions to the caravanserai...

You have emoted: Emmaline sets off.