Story for the Day: The Hachamba
Nothing says celebration like the Lucentian Hachamba. The Hachamba, or the 'one-two', is a lively Lucentian dance, reserved for the major holiday of Lucentiana. The holiday commemorates the day on which the elves arrived in what was then Old Lucentia and escaped the plague that had destroyed their original homeland. The most significant part of the holiday is the grand Hachamba procession, which begins on the edge of the capital and ends at the Royal Plaza. Thousands of people come to watch the parade, and nearly the whole capital participates by performing the dance and wearing intricate costumes which don't always function as they should-- as Kai Linaa discovers:
Kai Linaa and Unghaahi were almost late to take their places at Leraa’s side; a few of the adhesives on Kai Linaa’s befeathered and bejeweled outfit were amiss: some were sticking to her skin as they ought to do and others curled and rolled up, refusing to remain stuck to her for any tolerable length of time. The hour of preparation, of standing in line and championing in all the little fidgets of first animation, was nearly upon them. She fussed, she flumped, she smoothed. She licked her thumb and pressed down upon the back of the vibrant adhesive, but attach to her skin it would not. She applied to Unghaahi for assistance, who was having his own difficulties in endeavouring to fasten his feathered greaves around his enormous shins. After all the requisite alarms and fits of consternation were to be got through, Kai Linaa was able to relay the distressing news of her adhesive refusing to bend to her commands.
Unghaahi examined the whirling designs of the adherent, and his eyes wrinkled with smile lines. “You have not removed the protective paper, Ghaala,” he purred, his complexion darkening and his expression glowing with fondness.
Kai Linaa had forgotten what the costumer had told her, that the adhesive must be protected from losing its moistness before the parade should begin. She coloured and shook her head at her own forgetfulness; the costumer’s words had been lost under all the terror and agitation at not being able to adhere to her outfit. She gave a timid laugh, removed the protective paper, and allowed her mate to press the points of her intricate bodice against her chest. Her features tinged with a slight blush as his thumbs rolled over her breast.
“I am aware of your plan, Ghaala,” Unghaahi’s voice purred.
“Plan?” said Kai Linaa, raising a brow, “What plan?”
“You wished for me to do this.”
Kai Linaa looked mildly appalled. “Are you saying I only pretended to forget?”
“I am not saying you forgot dishonestly. It is convenient, however, that you should forget the bonding paper when you remembered how to fasten the hooks for the cinch.”
Kai Linaa bit her lower lip and looked coy. “Maybe it’ll be just as convenient for me to forget how to peel them off.”
Unghaahi narrowed his gaze and made a salacious grin, and no sooner did he express his hopes than Kai Linaa knelt and reminded him how to fasten his feathered greaves. She was not kneeling long before pleasanter cogitations began to overpower him: her adorned and nearly bare breasts pressing against one another, creating an ample vale, complemented by her colouring complexion, furnished him with an abundance of pleasing notions.
“I think you wanted me to fasten these for you,” said she, looking up. She paused, marked his avid expression, and looked down at her dress to examine whether one of the adhesives were out of place. “What?” said she turning back to him.
An assenting hum, eyes flicking up and down, a mound between his legs rising betrayed his interest. To admit that he enjoyed seeing his mate between his legs would have been a sanguine indiscretion, but just then the call for the beginning of the ceremony rang throughout the capital and he was forced to leave his ambitions for a later hour.
Together they hastened out of the guest room and into the main hall, where the rest of the party were just assembling. Ladrei and Iraiya arrived first with Adsen, Iraiya dressed in her finest silks, her arms draped in sheer pearlescent fabrics, Adsen donning his white linens, specially pressed and steamed for the holiday, and leaning on a new walking stick, carved from a gnarled willow, and Ladrei appearing to all the advantage that his black satin vest, his gold-seamed straight-leg trousers, and his impeccably sheaved hair could accord. With Iraiya, looking as lovely as she did, hanging off his arm, his gold watch chain draping from his breast pocket, his rings and gemstones adorning his ears and fingers, his silver cravat tied tastefully about his neck, the guildlord was well-prepared to amaze society, and as well-prepared as their Lord were Nidello and Arkastino, coming in all their glowing affection for one another to the main room, dressed in their softest leathers, complemented by their various silver ornaments garnishing their wrists, necks and ears. Nidello marveled at his new galligaskins and displayed his new bangles and bracelets as they came toward the party. Arkastino whirled about, exhibiting the new leather breechcloth folded over his chaps, and brandished the thick gold chain fastened tight around his neck.
“Nidello had it made for me,” Arkastino abashedly declared as Kai Linaa and Unghaahi approached the amassed party. He gave a doting look toward his mate, and then blushed and turned aside.
Kai Linaa remarked the tastefulness and intricacy of such a piece, examining the chain by turning it about every which way. “Is the centre link in the shape of a heart?” she asked, unable to check her smiles.
Nidello’s smiles broadened. “When the silversmith offered me the piece, I couldn’t resist.”
“It did help that you were there to collect money from him,” said Ladrei, smiling.
“I was fortunate that he didn’t have any on him.” Nidello winked. “Taking payment in jewelry always gives me a pleasant feeling, and being offered something in return for not harming those who owe My Lord money is always welcome. I would have beaten him for you, Inpalo,” turning to Arkastino, “but he began crying and surrendered. If he had struggled, I would have dislodged his knee.”
Arkastino was all exuberant affection. “Inpalo,” he cooed, caressing his mate’s face.
They shared a tender osculation, and as the second call rang out from around the grand fountain, the party quitted the guild hall and walked through the teeming lanes around the district in happy reverie, everyone glancing about in curious exultation, remarking the bustling crowds of celebrants lining the Hachamba procession.