A/N: Just some heads up:

This is a story about elves, so time gets played with a little, and people don’t really age.

I do re-use names a lot, and people are starting to notice, but they’re completely different characters in each story. Even if they look alike. I tend to have either a particular physic or name that I really like, and use a lot. Maybe it’s a sign of laziness.

No one’s actually read this over yet, so sorry for any and all mistakes. I gave it to a friend to look at, but I haven’t seen her in a week. Grr.

Stranger Things Have Happened

Rayal watched the council’s proceedings with cold, passive blue eyes that betrayed none of his emotions. His face was smooth and devoid of any facial expression. His black hair was combed neatly and hung on either side of his face like a dark hood. His pale skin nearly glowed in the pale blue light and reflected back out from his eyes like shining mirrors with no personality of their own.

This was going to be it. This meeting would be the one to change everything for better or for worse, but if the group of people Rayal stood among had anything to say about it would be for the better.

They stood in a circle; one half dressed in black and the other a combination of every color possible. There could not be two more opposite groups of people, though they were all deathly somber. Each black robe was identical to the next, a simple black silk robe with only on decoration: a large dark blue embroidered panther frozen in mid-leap. Rayal could feel it shifting back and forth across his back. None of those dressed in black wore any other type of decoration, unlike those that stood across from them.

Those across from them, the high council of elders of the Centran city of Ayane wore colored beads and white feathers in their hair. Their robes were made out of colorful silks, and expertly embroidered with the symbols of their house and family and their own personal characteristics. They looked like a flock of peacocks assembled for a parade. Except for their faces. They all were frowning as severely as they could, but it only registered distantly with Rayal. Some where in the back of his mind he knew that he should be disturbed by the levity of the situation but he could not muster the will to.

The man in the center of the opposite side took a step forward and stared across the small temple chamber at the collection of people that Rayal stood among. The man’s name was Rumen. He was more or less considered the head of the temple, even though technically there was no head… Rumen was among the eldest Centrans living among them, and the one most closely related to the founding ancestors. He was a slender tall man with long black hair similar to Rayal’s except it was truly black, unlike Rayal’s near black hair. Ramen kept his braided back in the front so that it was out of his face. His hair was decorated in the same manner as his companions, with beads and feathers braided right into it. His robes however, where made of a slightly duller color, but anyone would recognize his house symbol, a combination of sea gulls and water, immediately. It was the oldest and most revered house in Ayane. It was because of that influence that he wielded so much power. It was he more than anyone else that they stood against. He would be the one to decide how the council would respond to the Panthers blatant challenge.

Rumen glared at the coldly, his eyes uncharacteristically severe. “I do not understand what could have possessed you to do something as disgraceful as this.â€