50 Searing, 124
The Embassy of the Tides, despite its nomenclature, stood a few miles from the shoreline. Having been let by the Crown of Sol’Valen to serve as headquarters and home away from home to the newly minted Neptori ambassador. Though Lord Tyrann technically only represented one of the five Neptori Nations, his self-given title was aspirationally all-encompassing of the semi-aquatic race. As the most populous Nation and the one with the most cultural touchstones in common with Sol’Valen, their claims exceeded their governance.
When Sivan arrived at the embassy, he would find the exterior to be well in line with the other stately structures in the vicinity. The only outward sign of anything foreign were the nautically themed accent pieces— Seahorse statues lining the path to the front door, over which cephalopod gargoyles kept vigil. Even these ornaments were still in the local style, even if they were thematically atypical.
Sivan would be greeted at the door by a pale-skinned neptori male with light colouring and hair the colour of pale sand tinged with seafoam. He wore form-fitting leggings with a prismatic fishscale pattern, which ended at the knee. He was otherwise unclothed, though his pale torso and arms were adorned with intricate designs that may have been tattoos or body paint.
“The Lord Ambassador welcomes you to the Embassy of the Tides. He awaits you within.” The servant, who Sivan may have identified as being a Coastal Neptori, turned on his heel and padded into the embassy and up the grand staircase of white marble.
By and by, Sivan was led to a door which was opened to reveal something more akin to what one might anticipate from the residence of an aquatic ambassador. He stood on a balcony overlooking what must have once been a ballroom, but it was bisected by a great wall of water that rose from the floor to the high ceiling. The far side of the room, opposite where Sivan stood, might have been an aquarium. The lights from the dry side of the room illuminated enough to see only part of the watery chamber, where fish swam in schools, chittering dolphins played and several humanoid figures slithered through the water effortlessly.
“This way.” The servant gestures down a set of stairs and led Sivan to the main floor. To his rear under the balcony and along the walls were marble benches. In the centre of the dry side of the room was a large, sunken bath in the middle of which idly floated a tray of food and drink.
“Make yourself comfortable.” The servant said, gesturing to the sitting pool. Across the room, a dolphin seemed to notice Sivan. It nodded as if in greeting and sang something into the darker waters behind it. From out of those watery shadows emerged the fit figure of Sivan’s host, who swam up to the edge of the ostensible aquarium at floor-level and stepped through the invisible barrier. Still damp, he ran his webbed hands through his hair and as he made that gesture, he cast off the water and sent it backwards toward the aquarium.
“Greetings.” Tyrann was dressed not unlike his servant, but a more ornate variation upon that scanty theme. The scales of his leggings shone brighter and reflected more colour, the markings on his body were more intricate. As his hands fell from his blue-green hair to his sides, their webbing receded, as did the webs between toes with nails painted like pearls. He padded to the edge of the pool, grinning impishly.
“Don’t be shy! Prince Sorononar tells me you’ve had much more intimidating audiences than this, so I hoped to put you at ease with the more casual customs of my homewaters. Let us know if you require bathing attire, but the seas and my residence are both clothing-optional.”
