"It's a shame we can't have umbrellas," Bran commented miserably, his dark hair plastered around his head as rivulets of rainwater streamed down over him. He pulled his cloak around him tighter in hopes that it might become more waterproof.

"It's a shame the gra'al react poorly to them," Imogen said through a forced smile plastered on her face. Her sound of contrived joy made her sound almost as though she were singing. "And this is all about making the gra'al happy."

The two of them stood in a circle of fluted marble pillars around a dais of the same material. An archway stood at one end of the circle. Rain came down in a torrent, making the pillars only faintly visible in the gloom. The dais did not drain water very efficiently, leaving pools of water standing on the surface.

"You know, I don't see why you're holding that smile already," Bran said. "We don't even know when the ambassador will arrive."

"Because if I drop the smile," Imogen answered as she pushed a sodden golden lock out of her face, "I might start crying. Do you have the scroll with the speech on it handy?"

Sniffling, Bran replied, "Yes. It's still sealed up but it's just inside my coat."

"Good man," Imogen replied. "All those years of education have clearly paid off for you," she jibed in her trilling tones of mock joy.

Bran coughed and said, "Imogen, if you're going to be a bitch, I can just leave you behind next time."

"Promises, promises," she said in lilting tones.

A light flickered in the archway, catching the pair's attention. It flickered a few times before resolving into a brilliant glow, cutting through the gloom. Imogen cleared her throat. Bran straightened up and peered forward expectantly, the misery of the cold and wet forgotten for the moment.

The gra'al's first two legs came through first, chitinous limbs probing through the arch for footing. Its tarsi tapped hesitantly down on the marble before the next pair of legs came through with the bulk of the gra'al's form. The tentacles around its oral disk drifted as though caught in a current that the humans present could not feel.

As it pulled its bulk the rest of the way through the portal, the slight form of a human woman followed behind it. The woman moved cautiously, as though having trouble with balance. She was dressed in nothing more than a thin, simple dress that was instantly soaked through in the downpour. As the gra'al came to a halt in front of the trio, the woman walked gingerly around the gra'al and rested her hand amongst its tentacles. At the shoulder, the gra'al was a foot taller than the woman, not including the writhing mass of boneless limbs that stretched upwards from the top of its carapace.

Imogen held a hand towards Bran who opened the scroll case, slid out the scroll within and passed it to her. After handing it off, Bran unshuttered a lantern for her to see by.

"Ambassador T'k'l'k of the Gra'al League, and Speaker Belinda, we are honored to have your presence return to our humble kingdom. We bear with us the words of our monarch, King Gwalch--"

"This one appreciates your desire to properly welcome us," the woman interrupted in a tired and fragile voice. "But this one has had a taxing journey and, while this one would not want to create a diplomatic incident, this one would really prefer to settle back into this one's accommodations."

Imogen's face had frozen with her mouth open in mid-speech. After a moment she managed to adapt to the sudden change and said brightly, "Of course, of course. Please, this way. We have your transportation just down the hill. We should be happy to transport you back to your consulate."

The pair led the ambassador and its speaker down to where a pair of carriages awaited. T'k'l'k's carriage could only barely be considered such, and was much more like a well decorated wagon. After ensuring that the ambassador and Belinda were securely seated in the wagon, Bran and Imogen entered their own carriage to finally get out of the rain.

Once the carriages began moving, Imogen covered her mouth with the edge of her cloak and screamed into it.

Bran, slumped in the opposite corner of the carriage, noted dryly, "Your perpetual grace always astounds me."

"Two hours!" she exclaimed.

"It's hard to coordinate schedules between our world and theirs," Bran said, mostly to himself since it was clear Imogen wasn't listening.

"In the rain!" she continued.

"They don't control the weather," he muttered.

"And then it turns out our entire little welcoming ceremony was unnecessary!" she fumed.

"You know, Imogen, if it upsets you so much," Bran commented, focusing his attention on the rain that fell outside the carriage, "You could get another assignment within the diplomatic branch. I think it's understood that not everyone has what it takes to work as a liaison to extradimensional entities."

"No, no," she assured him tersely. "I'm just venting a little. While I don't come at this as a labor of love like you do, I recognize the importance of this work. The supplies of thaumium they provide us are invaluable and it's important to maintain good relations."

"And it looks good on your service record," Bran muttered darkly.

"That," Imogen huffed, "is just a side benefit."

"Okay," Bran said, hoping to convey that he was done with the conversation.

Imogen did not discuss the subject further for the rest of the ride, except to occasionally mutter "two hours" and "in the rain."

~