Ssarak Dyreackthanose

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Ssarak walked into the ballroom alongside Meirin. The first and foremost detail on his mind was the fact that he despised the outfit he was wearing. Not only was its appearance outlandish in his mind, but it was terribly uncomfortable. The pants were far too tight, and the shirt made him feel like a jester. He also had some illusory designs on his wings, which he could change at any time and scarcely required effort to maintain. His belt could hide a dagger, but he had instead elected to hide his weapon in plain sight, as it were. He could shift it into any shape he desired, so he shaped it into a somewhat thick bracelet, which did not stand out any more or less than the rest of his outfit. From everything he had seen and been told, his current outfit was perfectly in line with what was expected among Djarkel nobility, but he would be glad once the gala was over. In the meantime, they had a task to perform. 

The ballroom itself was actually rather impressive. It had a tall, glass ceiling through which they could clearly see the nighttime sky above. There was a slight cloud cover, though the moon was bright above them. As for the floor, it was reflective enough to essentially be a mirror. It felt strange at first, like walking on a solid, flat lake. He would have much rather have gone swimming than to this “celebration.” Already, Ssarak’s mind was on alert. Psychomancers were reasonably common among Djarkel courts, and whether or not it was “polite” to intrude into another’s mind, he expected they would be doing just that. With Ssarak’s College training and extensive private lessons, he could more than handle his own, but he was worried for the others with him. He had refrained from speaking of his hidden weapon, or any other sensitive topics, with them just in case. Ssarak supposed it would be appropriate to mingle and learn more about the other guests, but he stuck with Meirin for guidance for the moment.