Oh, Meres has outdone himself once again! The decor is exquisite, even by his remarkably high standards. He has decorated the main ballroom to appear as a palace under the sea, an Atlantean wonderland, awash in blue and the strange, vibrant colors of undersea life. The chandelier overhead is positively dripping with the brightest crystal, long strands of carefully cut pieces dangling as drops of water - water which seems to hang in midair, as a thousand tiny fairy-lights are scattered about the room, the tiniest lanterns I have ever seen strung about everywhere. And the light is reflected a thousand times again, for there is crystal and fine glass and diamonds everywhere, every surface sparkling as if kissed by dew. The ceiling has been hung with vast swathes of silk and tulle and satin, in shimmering shades of cerulean, azure, amethyst, jade, and a thousand tones in between. The walls are similarly covered, all the way to the floor, draping over the various doorways and arches as well, with more transparent fabrics, which one may pass through as through the mist of a waterfall. Diamonds have been threaded to hang glittering in bursts of sparkling foam and bubbles, hanging from the ceiling and every available place they might gain purchase - the stem of every glass has tied to it a delicate strand of that most lovely of stones. The illusion is carried through to every detail - one would expect no less from Meres! - all the way down to the utensils on the buffet tables, which are shaped to look as bits of coral, the napkins, which are green and filmy, as seaweed. The music is a solo piano just now, generally slow, and gentle, with soft gradations of volume and tone, as the gentle motion of waves, the sparse melodies leaving notes hanging glistening in the air.
        As I move into the room, I am startled by a bit of moisture bursting onto my sleeve - and then look to see a young girl, perhaps fourteen, dressed quite convincingly as a mermaid, and holding a dish of soapy water in her hand, a loop of fine wire in the other. She is seated on a brightly-colored rock, and giggles at my surprise. "Welcome, kind sir," she says politely, her violet eyes sparkling. "Do be cautioned, that one may not remain dry and be a part of our realm."
        I smile down at her, amused, and enchanted by her strange loveliness. Truly, she does not look as one who walks upon the land - her hair is a strange shade of blue-violet, and falls in languid damp curls. Her skin is greenish, but it does not look unhealthy, rather it appears as though it is a healthy flush, only of pale jade instead of light rose. Her lashes are long, and at the end of each is a sparkling bead, I do not know of what. She is clad in some diaphanous material, of the same spectrum as the fabrics which drape the room, and she wears a long strand of pearls, each a different size and slightly different shade - as though she had, in play, picked them up from the ocean floor, and strung them together with childish carelessness.
        We were instructed to come dressed as for a masquerade, but with a somewhat limited palette - we had theorized about the theme, of course, from the colors, but as ever, his artistic vision could not have been guessed. It makes for such a lovely setting, though, for though the costumes are of diverse style, the unifying colors make all awash in a glittering spray of ocean water, a thousand sparkling shades blending together and separating again, glistening beneath the warm filtered light. There are lush feathers and sparkling gems, intricate brocades and extravagant swathes of silks and crepes, fountains of lace bubbling up at throats and sleeves. Ah, the delights of costume! For here there is no fear of being out of fashion, here the wildest dreams of what might make for some sort of vision, however lovely or chilling, may be realized.
        A serving-girl, dressed as... not a mermaid, for her feet are visible, but a naiad I suppose, for her long hair is streaked with jade, and her flesh is tinged with aquamarine and lavender, her eyes the sparkling green of a young stream. "May I offer you a drink, sir?" she asks sweetly, waving one hand toward the serving-tray she holds aloft in the other, full of glasses with some concoction of luminescent celadon.
        "Thank you, dear," I reply, taking a glass in hand. "Do tell me, where is our host? I should like to congratulate him on the lovely setting he has produced."
        She glances about, considering. "I do believe he is near the piano. Or that is where I left him, though the current may have drawn him elsewhere." Her eyes sparkle with, what? Excitement, I believe, or perhaps it is only self-satisfaction with her own ability to play her role so well. In any event she does seem to be enjoying herself, and that seems somehow fitting - I do not think spirits of the water should be somber.
        I make my way gradually toward the piano, looking about myself in admiration every moment. It is a great novelty to me just now, to be so surrounded by cool colors, and the mysterious glimmers of underwater. I have been so long in the deserts, tending to my residence there... It is lovely there as well, of course, where everything is rich and leisurely indulgence, the colors warm and spices strong. But my time spent there makes this party all the more unique, for there is a different sort of subtlety about the water than there is in flame. It is deeper, I think, and holds a different sort of darkness. There is sensuality in both, but the water is gentler than the fire... more womanly, perhaps, for it is full of curves and softness, slow rolling surges and ebbs. Things are silver here, where I have seen only gold, blue in place of red.
        "Azal!"
        I smile warmly, and embrace Meres, kissing his cheeks. "Ah, my dearest Meres, how wonderful the place looks! I cannot stop looking about me for a moment, there is such attention to detail - it is a grand success, even for you."
        He smiles proudly back, lifting his chin as he looks around, evidently quite pleased. "Yes, I am quite satisfied I think. Of course an artist is never fully content with his own work - isn't that so, Claude dear?"
        There is laughter, and a young man with dark curls and darker eyes looks shyly up at Meres. "You are quite right... but you understand, then, why the painting you requested of me has taken so long?"
        "Ah, darling, I do. I am simply anxious to see it! I have such high hopes in your talent, and while there will be all the time in the world to view it, I am still eager."
        The boy beams, his cheeks flushing with the praise. This is the first I have seen him, but I have gathered a bit of information on him from various letters and visitors in the past month or so. Meres seems quite fond of him due to his abilities; Luce seems to be engaged by him as well (a somewhat rare and always curious thing), apparently due to some unusual relationships the boy has gotten himself into - a priest, even, I have heard! But one never quite knows when to trust what one hears, especially when there are humans involved, for their memories are really terribly inaccurate. But he seems a fair enough thing, if a bit scheming. I like intelligence, of course, and wit, but I prefer to have those who are beneath my station, act as such. Something in this boy's eyes shows me a hint of presumptuousness, which I really would not have the patience for, though I am sure others find it amusing. Yet there is a naivety to him still, so I suppose he would not be entirely poor company. Still, I shall leave him for Meres and Luce and whoever else. I am far more interested by the water-girls Meres has employed this evening, they really are of exceeding loveliness.
        I stay awhile and catch myself up on the latest gossip, laughing and jesting with the rest. Veri makes an appearance, and I am glad to see that he looks rather well. Of course it may merely be that his outfit flatters him so well - he is wrapped in shades of green and pale blue, with gentle streaks of blue in his still predominantly light-colored hair. (I must wonder, has he found some dye or bleach to keep it so? For I have tried a thousand things, and yet cannot bring such paleness back into my hair... and his hair retains a shine as well, so it cannot be anything so harsh as my hair would seem to need.) Luce glides into the conversation briefly, to murmur something secretively into Meres' ear, before slipping away again. It is only some minutes later that I notice the boy, Claude, has gone as well - undoubtedly this is not a coincidence.
        Meres calls over a serving-girl, requesting another round of drinks for everyone. She returns in a moment, and hands around the shimmering glasses, the diamonds tinkling lightly against the crystal. As she hands me a glass, her eyes meet mine, and I am immediately drawn to them. The deepest sapphires, sparkling darkly with mystery and silent experience, and they gaze into mine with a delicious mixture of desire and... not apprehension, it is nervousness but an excited one, the tingling sensation of great things expected. When her tray is empty, she moves slowly away... but she does not go far. She pauses at some little distance, glancing back to see if I am following her.
        I believe I shall.
        I slip silently away from the group, they are too engaged in conversation to take much notice, and in any event know well the value of discretion. If I chose to make my encounters private, then they will grant me that privilege. (At least until morning, when all hints of any remotely interesting story will rapidly become fodder for discussion.)
        She moves deftly through the crowd, moving first toward the discrete alcove where the servant's supplies are held, to deposit the tray. She does not look behind her again, knowing I am there. I for my part keep a slight distance, that it may appear I am merely walking among the throng at random. It is an obvious game, but I should like to allow her to keep the scrap of mystery about her for a little longer, I find it quite enticing.