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It is strange, G'Kar thinks, to live among a people who celebrate all the same holidays at the same time. On Narn, holidays are first and foremost a personal affair, celebrated among family, friends, or adherents of the same prophet. And they are determined almost entirely by which path -- of prophet, philosophy, or none at all -- that one chooses to follow as an adult. The only planet-wide celebration on Narn that G'Kar has ever experienced was the one following the second Centauri occupation.
He hates to think what sort of new holidays have grown up among the followers of his cult. He could ask Ta'Lon, but then he'd have to know about it.
But the Centauri are a people of very public holidays. They love holidays, and they love celebrating them as a massive cultural event. The more holidays, the better. The Emperor's Day of Ascension is one of them, one of the bigger ones, even, which G'Kar never tires of mocking its subject about.
"I don't think they made the cake big enough last year," he remarks, lounging on the bed naked while Londo, still in his nightgown, frets as he attempts to choose between several ivory-and-white outfits that all look the same to G'Kar. "I doubt whether a full troupe of dancing girls could fit on it and still leave room for a regiment of your guard. Entirely unbecoming a person of your status, let alone your advanced years." Londo scoffs audibly. G'Kar is not discouraged; it would take a lot more than that to stop him. "This year you should have them make you one cake for each year since you, so to speak, ascended. That should stretch all the way down Victory Boulevard .... by the way, why do the streets of your capital have such pompous names? You could probably change them by imperial decree. Name one after me if you do."
"On the actual topic of today's events, are you planning on wearing boots this time?" Londo asks over his shoulder as he continues to dither over different vests.
"Of course I am. I cannot protect you adequately in bare feet."
Londo looks pointedly at G'Kar's very bare feet, dangling off the end of the bed. "I must be terribly unsafe in my own bedroom, then."
"I haven't noticed you being surrounded by several thousand possible assassins in your bedroom."
"Barefoot assassins. No threat, then." Londo lays out a vest on the end of the bed that apparently passes inspection.
"Mmmm. You know, one of these holidays we should celebrate by taking an actual holiday."
Londo makes an absent listening noise. He is now dithering over a large box of jewelry. G'Kar knows from experience that this may take some time.
"They'll never even notice you're not there. Just put the imperial robes on someone about your size and shape, or, no, prop up a wooden cutout wearing your symbol of office. Put my coat on a rack near it, and it will be about as much use as the two of us normally are at this sort of thing, and much more pleasant for us."
"You know this will take twice as long if you keep distracting me, hmm? Also, you should start getting dressed yourself. We're going to be late."
"It doesn't take me any time at all to get dressed." G'Kar folds his hands under his chin. He likes that he keeps distracting Londo; the frequent glances suggest that he is managing even more distraction than he was trying to. "But I'm serious. Let's run off and hide. Let them have their holiday without us."
"The one at which I am the guest of honor, you mean?" Londo inquires while laying out jewelry on his dressing table, among a dense clutter of cosmetics, perfumes, and ornate hairbrushes.
"You're the guest of honor at every holiday. They won't care."
"I assure you that they will, and my Day of Ascension will not be improved by the entire palace staff spending half of it looking for me."
"They'll never find us. I'm very good at hiding."
Londo huffs a little sigh. "Which of these do you think, the red or the blue?"
He's holding up two pieces of jewelry that look identical except for slight graduations of color (blue to red on one piece, red to blue on the other).
"That one," G'Kar says, pointing at random.
"You didn't even look."
"That's because I don't care. Anyway, I have some good hiding spots picked out. Come on, we'll take food and make bets on how long it'll take them to find us."
Londo places one of the jeweled brooches on the dressing table (the one G'Kar pointed to, he notes, pleased). "I know that you're joking, but --"
"I'm not, actually."
"-- the joke has ceased to be funny. I need to get ready, and so do you."
G'Kar sits up, because he has developed a well attuned sense for Londo's moods over the years, and he didn't mean to actually upset him.
"You're right, I am joking in a way, but I'm also not," he says to Londo's back, shoulders stiffly set beneath the flowing folds of Centauri sleepwear. "The schedule you keep is exhausting. I know because I don't actually have to do anything except follow you around most of the time, and I get exhausted."
"If you don't want to attend, you don't have to," Londo snipes, still seeming genuinely annoyed, which wasn't G'Kar's intended result at all.
G'Kar rises so that he can put an arm around his neck, approaching by habit from the left rather the right; Londo still startles whenever anyone touches him on his right shoulder. He startles a little anyway, and goes silent. G'Kar kisses his neck, still damp and warm from his morning bath. "It is probably a form of madness, but I happen to like following you around, especially when there's a buffet to browse at, and Centauri to offend. Of course I'll be there." He moves his lips to a new part of Londo's neck, noting that he has not been shrugged off yet. "But think of an entire weekend with no one bothering us, no ministers, no supplicants, no appointments; nothing to do except lounge around in bed if we want to ..."
"That will happen when I'm dead," Londo mutters, though he has gone a little more pliant in G'Kar's grasp.
A shiver runs up G'Kar's back, and not the pleasant kind. He doesn't like it when Londo gets into these moods, and starting off a holiday like this bodes ill indeed. "I hope to have the pleasure of proving you wrong," he murmurs against Londo's ear, pulling him backward. "It's always so satisfying." He runs a hand down Londo's side. "But I will settle for making you late to your own party."
"Stop -- I'm being mauled -- Minister Turini will have a fit --" But he is not actually putting up much of a fight, or any fight at all, as G'Kar very gently, well aware of his own superior strength, drags him down to the bed.
They are late, but in G'Kar's opinion, it's worth it. And he likes to think he's planted a tiny little seed of an idea that may grow into something later. Perhaps he'll get an actual vacation one of these days, and more significantly, Londo will too.