The Scales of Splendor- Chapter 6: Bash

Balloons of blue and gold mylar floated. Streamers and glowing lamps dotted the scene. Lasers and other lights cut through smoke produced by machines. Digital figures walked through the scene from miles away. They couldn’t be present physically but their sensibility was felt, nonetheless. At the Costerly Compound, guests had gathered to celebrate the twenty-first birthday of Miss Leola Costerly. This celebration all came with the muffled booms of tanks exploding and that pat-pat of rifle fire. It was custom to have dinners and be dressed up despite the current climate of war. Although they shunned everything regal, Knock and Gesta Costerly possessed the funds to make their daughter’s day into something riveting, almost royal.

The military defending the family name donned dress uniforms and spoke in hushed tones. Smiles remained in abundance and entire families poured into the spacious mansion. Smiles plastered on faces gave the night a mixture of a solemnity matched with gaiety.

A hairstylist, manicurist and pedicurist, makeup artist, and a general assistant all met to work like a machine on Leola. She didn’t need much work. Her beauty spoke from her face and figure: a high-cheek boned one and an hourglass, respectively. She possessed Cupid’s bow lips and a broad pecan-colored nose. She wanted to consider herself in the mirror. She finally had time to recognize her own beauty without killing herself after peering into a pool.

“You’re going to be late. If you are late, then I will be fined or not paid at all and I don’t want that. I need you to be on time, Miss Costerly. As a matter of fact, on time will not do, you have to be fifteen minutes early for this event. This is about you, yes, but there’s no telling what will come down on my head if the birthday girl never makes it to the ball on time. You’re going to be late,” Assistant Janet Clark repeated.

“I will not. I have this thing on lock. My parents are currently winning with their numbered throngs. They’re sipping coffee and potent potables. I’m not worried whether I will be tardy to the party. I’m fortunate and clear-eyed to even be a part of this ceremony. You know my story. This is neither a blessing from God nor a divine right by nature. It’s a celebration of living,” Leola replied.

Janet brought a right thumb to her lip and then pardoned herself from the room. The beauticians and artists all looked at one another.

“That actually shut her up,” Sala the pedicurist smiled. “Alright. Are we done? As fussy as Janet is, she’s right if we don’t act with expediency.”

The woman all filed out of the adjacent room to Leola’s bedroom. Each of them held a degree of accomplishment. They had achieved the feat of polishing and primping who never needed either. On this day, though, they wanted to present their work by light makeup, French tips, and stunning curls. Her buff-colored and colonial blue gown sparkled with diamond sequins. It was like she was a glass figure, too fragile to touch but if held the wrong way, could cause a slicing wound.

Leola started to turn down that crystal stair and saw him. Triakka. He wore black trousers with white and gold stripes. His jacket boasted his medals, shimmering in the light. A dark blue boatcloak and a red and blue evening coat and mess jacket completed the ensemble. He looked at her. When their eyes met, a twinge of joy and revulsion mixed up in her mind; the former was the elation of seeing him there and the sick reality that she could not run to him, respectively.

Her steps were sure. Every foot placement was precise and she felt power with each landing of her heel. As she walked down to the base level, A band had started playing a peculiar tune that was unlike any other she had ever heard. It was buoyant and free and allowed for the guests to sing along as if they had trained for this moment her whole life. Nowhere else had she heard this tune. There was a sense of somber ideas amongst the gladness in the music. Its ecstatic bombast shook her soul and energized her mind. She grinned broadly. Applause arose from the crowd. Knock took Gesta to the platform and wireless microphone beside a large banquet table festooned with peach blossoms to match Delaware’s flower and this time, May 21, when they bloom most in the state.

“To all leaders of state, to the military personnel, to the executives, to this family, I must say that I am honored to have you all present to celebrate our daughter’s twenty-first birthday.” More applause.

“I’m so happy to have a daughter like mine who has never backed down from combat, even when she was directed not to enter it. She’s a fighter at heart like her father. I cannot, no one can besmirch that fact. So, I say that in everything that we do tonight, let us lift up her name and rejoice in her grace. Before we start the meal, I ask that Porter Klay speak over it.” Porter Klay was an atheist chaplain within the military. He came to the stage with a microphone already on his face from the wireless device projecting the sounds around the room.

“Thank you, Madam Costerly. Now, every head unbowed and every eye open. We thank the Costerlys who allowed us into this great space. We thank the immense supply chain during a time of great strife who still connected and permitted us to enjoy all these material luxuries that came from individual minds. We thank the men and women still fighting on their own behalf and for a family that deserves it. We thank the esteemed cooks who came up with this meal. And we thank Leola for being a true warrior despite her never having to be compelled into combat. Now let us partake of this food in the name of all that is rational and selfish. Let it be so.”

“Let it be so,” the room chimed. The guests lined up buffet style and sampled drops of caviar, meaty lobster, hearty boomerang steak, and sipped wine casually. Champagne came out from the back bottled decades ago. Leola stood up to the platform as Knock handed her the first glass of alcohol she ever tasted…officially. As she sipped the effervescent beverage, her eyes again trained on Captain Triakka. He toasted and sipped with her from afar and when they both had finished, he sat down his glass and walked out of the mansion. Leola froze. Then, her father and the rest of the party all cheered.

“My daughter,” he said.

“Presents! Presents!” Gesta shouted. The glee in her face made the guests want to imbibe even more. With gifts both large and small, in colors of all kinds, it looked like a Christmas morning or a baby shower not just a twenty-first birthday party. Gesta directed the attention for the digital guests to see every gift that could fit in the space. She kept showing them via the virtual reality link.

“Where’s Leola?” A Brazilian bussinesswoman asked.

“She just went to freshen up, I’m sure,” Gesta reassured. Her mind continued to swirl. She gulped some champagne.

Leola lifted up her gown and rushed out of the party to see where Triakka had gone. The faces of the guests appeared bewildered and concerned. Gasps shot up amongst the group.

Leola could see Triakka walking up to his car. The driver opened the door for him. She reached him by slipping off her heels and hurrying to the doctor. The driver shut the door. The propellers began to whir. They were rather quiet, but still made enough sound that one would have to raise one’s voice in order to communicate.

“Wait! Wait!”

Gesta used her wireless device as well. “While the life of the party has momentarily left, let us all dance to this classical tune, shall we?” Like ballet artists, the patrons all began to rock and sway to the string section beside the platform. Gesta and Knock looked at each other. They shrugged.

Outside, Leola had reached the car.

“Window, down,” Triakka said.

“Where’re you going?”

“I should’ve never shown up in the first place. You know you’re exactly half my age, now?”

“I figured as much.”

“Well, I’ve got to be off. I’ve been messaged about a major operation that only I can perform. There is still a war on if you haven’t noticed. But you enjoy your get-together. I’m glad you’re happy. Don’t get too drunk. Happy birthday,” Triakka said and motioned for the window to rise and for the driver to fly. The vehicle flew off into the night. Leola’s two tears dropped from both eyes. Once she returned to her home, the makeup artist stood at the door.

“Run upstairs. Quick!”

Once they reached the place where she had been dolled up, she quickly sat down in a huff.

“It’s going to be alright,” said Sonoya Rios. “I can just touch up your eyes to relieve the puffiness.” As soon as Sonoya finished, Leola bolted from the dressing room to her bedroom and disrobed. Standing naked in the middle of the floor, she put on battle attire. She wore a blue and gold sapphire and diamond face mask and blue plates to cover her torso. She grabbed her combat boots and marched out of the room.

“You tell one person about this….”

Sonoya understood what could happen to her, but protested anyway.

“I know the war doesn’t end with a birthday bash, but must you get into a fight all the time?”

“Yes. It’s what I do,” Leola replied. There are warriors prepared to lay down their lives all for their own sake as well as yours. Is it a statement you’re trying to make?” Leola looked squarely at Sonoya. “The only statement I’m making is defending what I love.”

“The privileged girl wants to make good on her promise to be a fighter for her dragons, for her family, for herself….Why must you show time and again that you are some great presence on the battlefield when you could be working behind the scenes to aid those in battle?”

“That’s not a bad idea. I think I will consider it.”

“This is a contentious way to go. You don’t have to walk down that road of uncertainty and possible death. Think again about how that blue liquid is still coursing your veins. Know that if you suffer a mortal wound, that’s the end of you. Everything you’ve ever hoped for will be turned to your remains. Although it is admirable what you’re prepared to do, it is inadvisable. What do you profit from going into combatp again?”

“I gain great value in safeguarding my values. That’s all I’m about.”

“Is there no end to the ways you will find out how you will forever be a warrior?”

“Little else matters.”

Oh, I get it. It’s that doctor. You wish to see him. You want to prove to him that you're not just some spoiled brat who is just breathing up all the warriors’ air. I can see the attraction. He’s comely. But that’s what he signed up to do. He is a career fighter. If not fighting in the field than in the operating room. You’re now a fully grown woman. You can order a drink on your own. That is, however, not what makes a woman. You have to stand on principle and understand all of the ways that make you a target. Suppose the Hests capture you…You would be a prize for them. You would be a source of extreme anguish and pain if you were ever a prisoner of war. Remember that. Remember that you wish to be something you’re not. I know it’s hard to realize that you wish to be in a relationship with someone who is directly tied to this war, but you must depart from your old ways. As a complete adult, you have the opportunity to pick a profession that can extend your life, not endanger it. Why do you want to do this? You live in this gorgeous place. You have every amenity provided for you. Why do you want to risk all of that?”

“I’m not just risking it, I’m protecting it.” She gathered her war gear and found a driver with gumption.