Elizabetta, a disapproving lady-in-waiting, Lily, an aloof lady-in-waiting, 2 Grayson House Guards, Clark, an exasperated guard arrive, following Sabella.

Is there wine? Josephine hopes there's wine. Somewhere in the reading room the old woman has settled, that wooden and metal cane with it's variegated woods and gems glinting at her knee where it leans. Someone turned the jeweler loose from her forge. Beware.

Even in the evening, the heat of the outdoors, where the sun's baked into the pavements and cobblestones, is oppressive, shuttling people inward, and the Vellichorian Academy is a welcome respite from the heat, even without the promise of camaraderie and pretty words to lure anyone in. The reading room smells like words, aged paper and book leather and glue combining into that heady library scent, and now and then a cooling, if still a bit balmy, breeze comes in through the windows.

Helena stands at the lectern to greet people with a bright Redrain smile, and urge them to pick up a blank journal and quill if they need them for what's "just a little writing exercise" she promises, "nothing to be afraid of."

Merek has come to check in to watch while people read.

Gwenna and Lorenzo arrive together, as they often do, and are chatting about this or that while first entering the room. Seeing a wonderful crowd for their cousin, the princess smiles wide. "Oh how lovely so many people came. I feel terrible that I've missed the others," she says in a tone that betrays the sincerity of the statement. "You've been to at least one, haven't you," is then wondered. No few familiar faces here, either, so Gwenna gives a couple of genuine grins and wiggle of her fingers in greeting. "I guess we should find a seat before there aren't any."

The Vellichorian Academy was a new place to Acantha, but that was an even better reason to go. The Clearlake woman enters without her usual animal friend as she wasn't sure it would be allowed. She gives a smile to those that she knows and finds a seat towards the back of the room to take so that she doesn't disturb things too much.

In a flutter of blue-washed seasilks Elgana enters the Reading Room, one arm linked through that intrepid explorer Arthen Dayne's. There is a murmur of quiet conversation flowing between the pair, a rather mischievous smiling tugging at the Redrain's lips before she says louder, "And maybe next time I won't try to read the map upside down. That was dreadfully embarrassing." Quiet laughter follows afterward as those dark eyes lift from her companion to glance around and see who has already arrived and what seating remains. "Are we early or are we late?" she wonders to Dayne as she gently starts to lead him toward one of those couches. Helena of course gets a waggle of fingers from Elgana, her smile turning brighter when she notes other family. "Gwenna! Lorenzo!"

2 Pravus Honor Guard arrives, following Sebastian.

Elgana has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Arthen has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Lorenzo has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Fairen has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Marquis Fairen Leary enters the room trailed by some of his hangers on. Realizing this, he flushes and turns, telling his house guards to go stand at the back and out of the way of everyone else. His scribe can stay though. Nodding to Caenn, the Marquis slides his way through the others present, offering smiles and nods in greeting before finding himself and his scribe comfortable places to sit down.

Josephine has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

"Wait.. This is poetry reading? I thought they said Upholstery Beating." a the Northerner says trying his best to hide a large stick behind his back. The man shifts a bit, moving to stand against a wall, his stick hidden behind him. "I guess that makes more sense," Aksel mutters to himself.

Rysen stands in the back of the room, finding himself near the bookshelf containing poetry and music, where his gaze lingers, and a smile plays across his lips.

Azova steps uncertainly into the reading room, bowing her head slightly to avoid catching too much attention as she realizes she's come woefully underdressed for the occasion. The linens were clean, at least, and she was as groomed as a woman of nobility ought to be. She strides in with enough confidence, however, lingering in an orbit around the stately sofa as she tries to scope out a place to seat herself. She floats past, however, and finds herself a place near Rysen. Out of sight of most, at least, and the quiet corners were often better for conversation.

Lorenzo enters the room with Gwenna, and as usual it's obvious they have been chatting along the way. "Looks like it is an excellent turnout," he agrees. "This might be the first one of these I've been to, though. I think usually I've had other obligations." It's a vague sort of excuse of prior activity, but maybe as accurate as anything else. "Oh, Princess Elgana and Master Arthen, how wonderful to see you again." He goes over to join them at the sofa where they're sitting.

"I ain't ever really sure about time when it comes to princesses. All of 'em make their own time. That's been my discovery.", Arthen Dayne admits, intrepidly, leading Elgana Redrain inside. Aksel's confusion draws a laugh from Dayne, who calls over to the man, "The Upholstery Beating's down at the Murder. Go in and tell 'em you want two, but take a friend..". While distracted, Elgana wrests control from him and before he knows it he's at one of those couches. He's Redrain-Servant enough to brush the couch off for Elgana with a smile, politely, and gestures like it's all clear before finding a seat himself.

Sabella comes waddling in on her own, just behind Azova, "Pardon me," She says, patting her huge stomach, "I just don't want to bump anyone unnecessarily. Princess Gwenna! Prince Lorenzo! I was so sorry to miss your reception, it sounds like it was amazing! And the two of you look wonderful together as always." She heads towards a couch to lower herself down and look around for a journal, "Princess Elgana, hello! Oh, have we started, sorry!" She gives a bright smile, not really looking all that apologetic, to Helena.

Acantha gives a look over to Aksel and there's a smile, "You could still beat the upholstery I'm guessing." she tells her fellow Redrainer. Then she gives a look to Rysen and there's a dip of her head to the man in greeting before she looks towards the front of the room.

Dressed in silks, Sebastian strides in to the room, trailed by his guards. Just a slight tip of head sends them to loiter near the entrance, looking as if they're used to waiting. His lips part, and close, gaze seeking out the hostess -- he assumes, anyway, given Helena's positioning -- with a brilliant, wide smile. "A larger crowd than I expected. First timer," he informs Helena. "Just point me to... ah, I'll find a seat."

Sabella has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Monique has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

"Elgana, you're perfectly on time whenever you arrive," Helena teases her sister, nodding as each person enters. "But it hasn't started, if that's what you mean," she adds, more seriously, which also answers Sabella's question. She fiddles a little with the journal she holds in her hands, as people trickle in. "Be sure to grab a journal and a quill, if you don't have your own." Aksel's words and Acantha's comment make her smirk. "Preferably not while people are sitting on it," she quips, turning then to smile at Sebastian, brows lifting. "It's a bit of a larger crowd than I was expecting as well, truth be told, and it's my third," she remarks, cheeks flushing just a little.

"Well, word must have spread, so you're doing something right," Sebastian murmurs to Helena. He doesn't linger to introduce himself, stepping past to let the hostess greet the other arrivals, choosing a seat for himself as he collects a journal and quill, setting them down beside him.

"Elgana! Master Arthen," Gwenna cheerfully greets the pair as they all converge at the ivory sofa. Helena is given a wave and delicate thumbs-up motion before this particular Redrain settles into a seat and smooths out her gown. It is then that she notices the blank journals and quills that have been made available and sends Khaavren off to collect a few. "Princess Sabella, you look stunning! I hope I look half as glowing as you do during pregnancy," she says and makes room for the Grayson. "Ah, but nothing to apologize for, truly your highness. Thank you for such kind words." Khaavren returns and passes out a few journals and quills for those who might need them, for which Gwenna thanks him kindly.

Sebastian has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Monique arrives, she of the flaming hair and indomitable spirit, and she makes a beeline straight for Josephine, her eyes bright and warm, her smile a living beacon of glee upon her beautiful face. The Greenmarch fair drips with dragonweep and makes no effort to conceal it as she settles upon the couch next to the almost-legendary jeweler. "My sweet Josephine, where have you been? I've missed you dreadfully! Marquis Leary, good to see you again. You're looking particularly dapper."

Lorenzo gives Sabella a warm smile and waves as she calls to him. "Princess Sabella! It's good to see you! Yes, sorry you couldn't make it, but these things happen.I'm sure we'll have the chance to get together again soon." He ends up with a journal and a quill in hand, though it seems like they might just be things to keep his fingers occupied more than anything else.

Radhilde takes her time upon entering the Reading Room to look at the furnishings as she smooths out her dress carefully then links her fingers together, stepping along with care. She soon looks to those gathered and with a smile, she dips her head, her gaze seeming not to recognize most however as she makes her way to the seating area.

The man holding up the wall that may or may not have a large stick behind him, gives a nod towards Arthen. "They usually change me triple for that sort of action," Aksel replies somberly before looking to Acantha and Helena both, "Well, I will save the upholstery beatings for later." There is a pause before he adds, "Maybe."

Radhilde has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

"You are too kind, sweet sister," Elgana calls back at Helena's words, keeping her tone at least not in the shouting range. Then that warm smile gets turned on Arthen as he gives the 'all clear' for the couch. Elgana smooths down the back of her gown as she lowers herself into the seat, "Thank you, Dayne." And then she gestures for him to settle in as she tugs her satchel onto her lap and starts tugging out those writing essentials she's brought along for them both. To Lorenzo, she turns that bright smile as she teasingly says, "We should stop being such strangers, only seeing each other in the hallways and at dinner and sometimes in the solarium." A wink makes its way toward Gwenna though before the Redrain hands half of the things she's pulled from her satchel to Dayne, small notebook and a quill. Once settled, Elgana notes others as they file in and get settled, little waves of greeting cast in the direction of Sabella and Fairen and even Josephine.

After most people, it seems, have found their way in and found a seat, Helena moves to the spot behind the lectern -- she does look a little wide-eyed at the gathering, much larger than the last two. She beams at Gwenna at the thumbs up, bites her lip and looks around. "We might be a bit warmer than I expected, given the size of the room and the fact there's so many of us, but I apologize for that. Just pretend we're on the beach and think cool thoughts, I suppose," she says, her pallor brightened by the flush that rises higher in her cheeks now that she's speaking to the group. "If you haven't met me, I am Helena Redrain. I do not profess to be a wonderful poet by any means, and I am sure there are some in the room who write much more profoundly or prettier than I; I simply profess to love words and their meanings and crafting them to make new, beautiful things to put out in the world -- sometimes I am not so successful." She laughs, softly. "To begin, I like to start with a small prompt -- you can write whatever you like and you don't have to write at all -- but I give you an idea of what to start with and you write whatever comes to mind. After that, some people can share -- or not -- as they like." Her dark blue gaze studies the audience.

"So I'll give you the prompt and you'll have just a few moments to write," she pulls out a small hour glass, perhaps five minutes of sand within. "Because it's been on our minds, and because Skald has been on mine, your prompt is Choice. Let your quill guide you wherever it may."

Sabella picks up one of the journals and a quill, setting it on her stomach like that's just what it's there for. She glances over at the other couch, giving a nod to those assembled and says, "Lord Sebastian, are those actual topaz worked into your outfit? They're positively stunning!" She turns to reply to Gwenna when Helena starts speaking and she pauses to look over at her, dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief considering the temperature. There is the briefest of shadows that crosses her face at the topic, but then she's turning a page and scribbling down some notes and lines. "This is far better an exercise than trying to write while alone in one's room. So much more inspiration!"

Brenlin, Aide-de-Camp, 2 Rubino and Zaffria guards arrive, following Miranda.

Elgana gets a lift of the ornate cane in a returned greeting and deep dip of Josephine's head to the Redrain princess.

Brenlin, Aide-de-Camp have been dismissed.

2 Rubino and Zaffria guards have been dismissed.

Arthen Dayne has a laugh for Aksel's response, and then gets comfortable on that couch, turning to another princess with a warm smile, "Good to see you, Princess Gwenna. I can't believe I have been to so many danged poetry readings this year. This is like the third in four months or so. Dangerous game, this poetry stuff." Elgana is handing him these writing things, so as Princess Helena gives out the prompt he sets to writing.

Helena adds, a few seconds into the timer being turned over, "You do not need to rhyme or sound 'poetic,' by the way."

Miranda slinks in and hovers at the back of the room, helping to hold up a wall and praying she's not too late for the poetry reading! Some nice person beside her whispers about a writing activity and she takes a moment to gather quill and paper to try it out.

Acantha gives a chuckle at Aksel, but doesn't comment on his words. She didn't want to embarrass anyone. She then looks to Helena when she speaks and she settles back in her seat to pay close attention.

Fairen smiles over to Sebastian, offering a friendly enough nod. "My Lord, good to see you this evening." Out of the corner of an eye he catches Elgana's wave, and the Marquis nods and flashes her a warm smile in return. Then he's looking ahead and holding his hands together in his lap. "I hope there's poetry that has been inspired by myths and legends." He says hopefully. "Or maybe someone has found inspiration of other lands and has penned an ode to them. Or something. Do you think any of the poets will publish and sell their works?" This is asked to anyone who might be listening. The man does seem a bit excited by the possibility.

Quenia has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Quenia very quietly slips into the reading room and finds a seat on the stately sofa.

Gwenna can't help but chuckle at Elgana's remarks and wink, though it is the poet of the sister's that draws her attention back to the front again. Studying Helena a moment, she then look down at the quill between her fingers and the journal that is devastatingly blank. At least, perhaps, devastatingly so to her. "I am far better with numbers and paint than words," is a murmur as her lips purse and she appears to be putting a great deal of thought into the task at hand. Brief, that, as she looks back up to laugh once again, this time to Arthen. "Maybe you are, yourself, a poet and just don't know it?"

Helena moves to Miranda and then Quenia to whisper in each of their ears with a smile, handing them one of the quills and journals, before returning to the lectern.

Monique offers something to the companions at her couch and then grabs herself a quill and paper, pausing a moment in contemplative silence. Tap-tap-tap goes the quill against the parchment.

5 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, a sneaky black kitten, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant, Francis arrive, following Carita.

Bengalo, a sneaky black kitten have been dismissed.

Azova chews her lip in consideration of Helena's prompt, the lady still lingering in the privacy of a nook near the back of the reading room. "Choice," she murmurs, tapping her thumb against the edge of her jaw. Before she retreives her own quill and paper to participate, however, she reaches out to gently nudge Rysen's shoulder. "What are you thinking?" she murmurs conspiratorially, a little smirk at the edge of her lip.

Quenia smiles at Helena and takes the quill and journal, setting it in her lap as she gets settled.

Click clack clank. That's the sound of wood hitting the floor that comes from where Aksel stands upon when the prompt is revealed. "Sorry," Aksel says to the room at large to pick up the large stick and hold it behind his back. He looks towards Helena his eyes narrowing a little bit. He slowly shakes his head and slinks to the floor placing the large stick next to him and goes about writing.

Whatever it is that Elgana was about to say to the company she's seated with dies on her lips. Instead, the prompt gets Elgana's attention and then her quill is set to paper, scratching across it with a near viciousness as inspiration seems to grab hold of her at that moment. "Choice. Choice, hm," she murmurs to herself as that ink flows neatly across the page.

What, Lorenzo actually has to do something with the journal and quill he was given? He glances around at the others in the room, to see if they're studiously scribbling as per instructions. So many people's heads seem to be down, he hesitates, then begins scratching a response in the book with his quill. After a minute, he glances over at Gwenna's page, as if he's planning on cribbing whatever response she's working on.

Rysen chuckles. "My lady," he says quietly to Azova, "'tis better I leave that question unanswered lest you think me less than sober or sane."

Merek waves a bit to some of the people which he knows, while he settles about at a seat to relax and takes a drink of water from the flask he has with him.

The sand in the timepiece moves miraculously fast on deadlines, and the last of the grains slip through the narrow funnel quickly. "That's time," says Helena with a smile -- this time she's terrible and didn't write herself, instead giving instructions and journals to any latecomers. "Would anyone like to share? You don't have to wait to be called on -- just call out and say what you wrote. No one has to share, either."

An early summer evening settles its mantle over the city, the night carrying so few clouds when the sun finally recedes that it lets the first stars glitter clear and bright. Wrapped in forest green lace and seasilk, the Countess of Darkwater looks like the epitome of summer. Her long pallid blonde hair down, it stands out thanks to the dark coloring of her dress, looking for all the world like it's been spun from the moon itself. Pausing just inside the door, she takes in those present, dipping her head at a few and finger wiggling at others before she chooses a seat to settle in comfortbly.

Carita has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Sabella laughs as time is called, scratching something out on her paper, "I think the best choice for me is not to read, I couldn't come up with anything worthwhile. It was all terrible rhymes."

Miranda remains holding up the wall where she's at, her quill dipped in ink and hovering over the journal... and nothing comes out. The quill does not move. Then she snorts and eyes the quill before she sighs and closes her eyes. Finally, the quill sets to paper and.. that's time. She eyes her empty page and hmms. "I choose not to write, your Highness!" she offers, following Isabella's words. She looks a bit sheepish.

Azova clicks her tongue as she runs out of time before she even puts pen to paper. A quiet curse is murmured, only audible to Rysen, who she then addresses. "I've met plenty of pleasant people who were rarely either of those," she protests, lifting her head at the sight of Carita strolling into the reading room. She lifts her head, flashing a warm smile to the countess before looking back to Rysen. "I'll have to join her," she laments, slowly stepping away from the gentleman to move over beside the lady at her seat. She beckons Rysen for a moment, but doesn't keep her gaze on him to check if he accepts the invitation.

Azova has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Helena laughs. "I think this may have backfired," she quips to both Sabella and Miranda. "But definitely, Skald is proud of your choices."

Sebastian appears to spend some time -- in between chatting in low tones with his companions at the couch, writing in the journal, scribbling out and rewriting some part of whatever he's crafted. When Helena calls time, he looks surprised, brow furrowing at his work. With a twitch of shoulders, he pushes to his feet.

Arthen Dayne gives his piece of paper a dubious look, before saying, "I think Princess Sabella is onto somethin' here..", and folding his paper up to be tucked away. It doesn't stop him from leaning over to try and peek at what Princess Elgana had written down.

Sebastian's movement pulls Helena's gaze that way, and she tips her head at the Pravus lord. "Do I have a brave volunteer?" she says, perhaps with the tiniest bid of pleading in her big blue eyes.

Rysen, from the back of the room, says to Helena, "I will share, if you like, Lady Helena - though I should apologize in advance for having a somewhat different style of composition."

Sebastian stands where he is, not at all bothered by the crowd, nor the baring of his work: he makes it seem effortless, nodding towards Helena. "I chose," with a glance at Helena that is partly amused, and not-at-all apologetic, "To write about something near and dear to my heart. Those familiar with the history of Pravus might well recognize the lovely lady to whom I dedicate this." He glances down at his journal, and carefully recites in a measured cadence:

Dreams a fearful mess
Doubt clawing at my throat
Her touch centers me, steadies me
Beats a steady note

Her sly smile holds her secrets
A lifetime of power and mystique
In history she is written
Ambitious; seductive; oblique

Her presence haunts my dreams
With the draw of her secretive gaze
A love built from stone and plaster
There, now, then and always

Forever

Miranda winks at Helena, though she likely won't see it. Still, she's a bit amused by her choice, it seems. She looks to Sebastian as he speaks and lifts a brow, smiling more gently as he conitnues. She applauds the reading, "Beautiful."

Rysen gazes at Sebastian in admiration, smiling.

Monique's eyes grow wide and eager at something Josephine has said, and then temper with amusement at Sebastian's conjecture. When he rises to give his ode, she can do naught but applaud, murmuring, "Procella would certainly be enamored with that, were she here."

Fairen is overheard praising Sebastian.

Elgana's own writing has come to an end and now she listens as Sebastian recites his words. The Redrain drinks them in, ponders them over and then offers very polite applause to Sebastian when he is finished, her smile warm, "Very well said, my lord." A little peep is then taken over toward Arthen's paper, trying to see what he wrote.

Azova offers a soft round of applause to Sebastian as well, an approving nod added alongside an impressed expression. "Good choice," she supposes, scratching lightly at her chin. She doesn't sit, instead lingering near Carita while stood upright.

A poem in its entirety surprises the hostess and Helena blinks, clearly impressed, not expecting the poem from the small time she'd given. She bites her lips before breaking into a smile. "Sublime, really, and now you will have proven my earlier words that there are others much better at this than I am," she says with a slightly breathless laugh. "Quite beautiful." She turns to Rysen and smiles at him, dipping her head. "Of course. Please do."

Helena is overheard praising Sebastian: beautiful poem!

Fairen listens to Sebastian with rapt attention, and when the poem has ended, the Marquis politely applauds, nodding and smiling towards the Pravus. "Well done. Well done indeed."

With a half-bow, Sebastian smiles -- nodding with a visible pleasure towards Monique as she names the ancestor for whom he writes. "Thank you," he murmurs, and retakes his seat, setting the journal back beside him. He turns his attention to the next reader.

Aksel finishes up with whatever he's written and takes it up to the Helena and stuffs it inbetween a bunch of other writings before turning and heading out the door. A beat later, he comes back and gets his stick on the ground and heads back out the door.

Radhilde has left the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Gwenna glances at her empty page briefly after Sebastian speaks; nothing even close to such eloquence appeared from her quill. "Impressive, my lord," is offered sincerely and with a dip of her head. Her attention shifts to find Rysen who, it seems, will be sharing next.

Rysen's hand trembles slightly as he nods to Helena. He pauses for a moment, and begins to chant in a melodious voice:

'Delightful Lord Pravus, sheer delight. Thank you!" Josephine calls out, tapping her cane against the floor in lieu of clapping.

Sabella applauds very quietly, but makes a show of it towards Sebastian, "Very impressive to have come up with all of that so quickly!"

”‘Tis truly the greatest gift
Yet bestowed by all the gods,
To give we mortals freedom
To choose and face the cost”

“I would not trade this gift
For a throne of silver coin
And yet the choices I have made
Have had the sharpest point”

“And for all my love of freedom
And the choices I can make
I am glad some things are settled
By a distant ruling fate”

“For already my heart and mind are taxed
By decisions great and small
And only hope that those I make
Like a flowing waterfall”

“Cause some mote of good to grow,
A seed for those to come
For my own life has
been cursed or blessed
By others’ choices right or wrong,”

Rysen continues to chant in a flowing voice:

”Yet no person holds the answers,
To what makes one’s choices best
Instead one must rely on heart and mind
And trust one’s friends for all the rest.”

Rysen ceases, and blushes furiously, his cheeks flushing to a bright red.

Carita's smile for the group she's sitting with is turned on Azova as she nears, her hand lifted to lightly squeeze the Mercy's forearm in greeting.

Fairen is overheard praising Rysen.

Once again, Gwenna looks impressed, this time as Rysen's words fill the room. When he finishes, she offers a couple of claps of her hands and quick dip of her head. "Another exquisite piece. I'm almost glad now that I did not manage anything, as it seems there is a fount of talented poets here this eve."

Gwenna is overheard praising Sebastian: Inspiring poem!

Miranda applauds again, always impressed with those who can write with such skill in so short a time. "Princess Helena, I didn't know you snuck poets into the seats of us wanna-bes! I'm jealous!" Yes, she's teasing, but also very impressed.

Gwenna is overheard praising Rysen: For sharing a wonderful poem!

Sebastian is wholly, fixedly silent while he listens to the next poem, gaze going distant as Rysen speaks, as if listening as much to the cadence as the words themselves. "Well crafted," he approves, applauding.

Acantha gives a smile and a light round of applause for the wonderful poems being read.

Merek is overheard praising Sebastian.

Merek is overheard praising Rysen.

Acantha is overheard praising Sebastian: For a lovely poem.

Acantha is overheard praising Rysen: For wonderful words.

"Is there something about that couch?" Sabella laughs, shaking her head with a smile and applauding for Rysen, "That was amazing as well! I'm beginning to think the choice of where one sat this evening was the real choice here. Look at how productive they were over there!"

The blushing of the poet makes Helena smile, as she listens to him read the piece, looking impressed with each new verse as it comes. "Gods, I do feel I should give up the lectern and let the rest of you run the show. I could not write that quickly or that profoundly in twice the time, I'm sure. Well done, my lord," she says, with a nod for the man, clapping as well. She shakes her head to Miranda with a smile. "Jayus must be helping me tonight, I feel."

The princess looks to the crowd, brows lifting. "Would anyone else like to read from their prompt?"

Roland, the worst bard in Arvum arrives, following Niklas.

Helena is overheard praising Rysen: quite prolific and well said, a beautiful voice as well.

Softly, because there is being late and then there is missing half of the event, Beatrice finds an empty seat and slides onto it. Her smile is deeply apologetic to Helena as she rakes a hand through her hair, straightening it.

Beatrice has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Azova smirks at the sight of Rysen's rosy-cheeked reception to the praise, though her attention is called away as Carita squeezes at her forearm. "I was feeling inspired when I walked in, but I think we have some much finer performers present," she murmurs, with a pleasant little giggle.

"Oh my. That was truly lovely!" Elgana exclaims after Rysen finishes. Another little bout of applause given for the poem. "I'm almost worried now as I didn't write any poetry myself," she says to those at the couch but then murmurs something to Carita with a smile.

Lorenzo applauds as Rysen reads his poem, truly impressed. "Such talent with words, especially to compose off the cuff like that." He nods agreement with Gwenna. "It's lovely enough to hear other people read, without being pressed into service one's self."

"The only way to get better at performing is to practice in a place like this!" Sabella tells Azova with an encouraging nod, "It does help when you are surrounded by friends. And that most of us didn't even finish, which if you did puts you ahead of the rest!"

Azova lets out a little snort of a laugh at Sabella's encouragement. "I didn't even start," she admits, showing off a blank pad of paper and a quill full to the brim with ink. "But it's a nice sentiment. It's a welcoming environment, but my thoughts are a bit too disorganized to put onto the paper.."

Gwenna can't help but laugh a bit when she overhears Azova. "It's almost a bit intimidating. Or wholly intimidating, in my case," she remarks to the other noblewoman with a grin. She holds up her own blank journal and gives a little shrug. A couple more nods of her head follow, this time in reply to Lorenzo. "I think it would take me a week to craft something of such beauty, at least in words. Still, every time I think I have seen some of the greatest talent Arx has to offer, I am surprised anew."

Helena smiles as people comment on the poets who've read, looking quite pleased, really, a small smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. She looks around and sees Beatrice's apology, and shakes her head with a little hand wave -- don't even worry 'bout it. "All right. So with the torture over, I mean writing exercise," she grins, "We'll move on to any readings of prepared poems. I have only one I was planning to read, so hopefully others will join me in *choosing* to share their work and words. Who was planning to read something today?" she asks, hope in her eyes as she looks at the crowd. "I can go first, so you know I'm not just here to make you do all the work, but I hope at least a couple of others will read something."

Rysen's gaze meets Helena, and he nods at the question of any willing to share.

Niklas has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

1 Grayson House Guards arrives, following Roxana.

Miranda glances about, eager to hear. THough she eyes the door as if eager to make her own escape before she's called to come up with something on the fly! She looks a bit amused, even curious as she glances about to see who might else come forward.

Niklas sneaks his way inside, just in case someone's in the middle of doing some of that good good beat poetry, and makes his way around to the sofa where his wife has set up shop. Following on his heels is the worst of his assistants, Roland, whose sense of style is louder than his voice could possibly be, but who has been ordered not to sing, recite poetry or talk in any way for the duration of the event. Niklas murmurs all sorts of apologies before dropping down next to Sabella.

Rysen's nod is met with a smile by Helena, as she opens her journal to another page. "Okay. The last couple of times, other people's work sort of inspired others to share -- sometimes it works that way. I feel quite humble in sharing this little work, after the artistry we've already heard today. This is the latest in a small collection of the compass points; some of those here already heard the North and the South poems, which I won't repeat for their sakes... so this is East."

Helena takes a breath, those twin spots of rose in her cheeks rising a little again.

"The deepest azure sky
rests upon the violet sea,
the waves rock a gentle lullaby
in a moment of tranquility.

When a storm begins to brew
tumultuous waves rise up to lift
this vessel carrying me and you
then throw us both adrift.

Star-crossed, tempest-tossed,
we find our way to shore,
exhausted from the journey
til Mangata calls us back for more."

Man, what a comfy couch. Arthen Dayne doesn't seem at all used to being on such a lovely piece of furniture. He's about as settled in as he can get, and he listens as the poetry goes on. But he keeps touching the couch cushion with the palm of his hand, admiring it.

Rysen's eyes open in wonder, as he listens to Helena recite her poem.

Acantha seems to be completely happy with sitting and watching the others and listening to the poems that they read. "Everything is so lovely." she murmurs to no one in particular.

Carita laughs softly, "Princess Sabella, have you had the pleasure of meeting my sister-in-law," she coughs, "ish? Lady Azova Darkwater. Come to help add a dallop of charm to the house." For Azova she says, "This is Princess Sabella Grayson, the most delightful party companion if you're ever in need of someone to talk to." Then she motions to Niklas, "Not to be outshined, her husband Prince Niklas who will, no doubt, write something completely wonderful tonight." Then on to Elgana she motions, "Princess Elgana Redrain, another delightful conversationalist." then to Arthen, "And Master Arthen Dayne, quite extraordinary ..." but then she trails off a she listens to Helena's poem, quickly clapping her appreciation, "Beautifully worded!" she calls to the Princess.

Miranda applauds again, for Helena. "Bravo!" she cries out. She does look a bit thoughtful as she waits for the next person to join the poetry reading fun!

Sebastian can be seen handing his journal to Beatrice -- maybe for her to write her own contributions? -- as he gaze goes to Helena, looking her way but attention going unfocused as she reads. "Beautiful," he murmurs, and he applauds when she finishes, smiling towards their hostess.

1 Grayson House Guards leaves, following Roxana.

Relaxing back into her seat, Beatrice applauds softly for Helena.

Azova can't help but let her eyes roll a bit at Carita's less than elegant introduction, but she's got a smile pleasant enough for refined company on the moment attention is turned her way. "A dallop of charm. Please.." she says, a wry smirk on her face despite the blush that comes to color her fair cheeks. "Princess Sabella," she says, doing what may be a mock curtsey despite the lack of a dress. "And Prince Niklas.." She continues with the bowing of her head as more are named off, giving each their turn. "Princess Elgana, Master Arthen.." She lifts her head upright, again, to show her appreciation for Helena. "Absolutely wonderful," she agrees. "Succinct and powerful."

"That's something I would expect to hear from an Islander, but it was truly beautiful," Sabella says to Helena, applauding a little more loudly for the hostess than she did for the rest. "And see? Maybe it's a sign that we ought to consider that name for a girl," she says knowingly to Niklas.

Gwenna's eyes might not look all that different than Rysen's, truth be told. "Beautiful, cousin! Simply beautiful!" She gives Helena several claps of her hands and then leans back with a little sigh. "Princess Gwenna Redrain. And this handsome man is my husband, Prince Lorenzo Redrain," she offers politely to Azova by way of introductions, as they're all gathered together at the couch.

Gwenna is overheard praising Helena: Absolutely stunning poetry!

Rysen is overheard praising Helena: Beautiful and moving poetry!

As soon as Helena is finished reading, a messenger comes in, handing her a scrap of paper, which she looks at, and smiles, before looking up at the applause and blushing some more. "Thank you so much," she says to the compliments, glancing down to push a strand of hair behind one ear. "I have one more contribution, before our other volunteer -- something written by someone here who wants to remain anonymous, on our Choice prompt:

"In the swaying of the breeze against the trees
A choice is given to be chained or be free
To run with family is to be bound
To face a choice is to be found
A darkness creeps across ones hearts
When the howling bears its arts
A woman who offers damnation
Also shows a way to salvation
The mournful cries of the pack
Howl their loss to the uncaring sky.
A choice to stay.
A choice to go.
The losing of a family.
But a choice grow."

Helena smiles and puts the scrap of paper in her own journal. "Wonderful from an anonymous poet. And now, our next poet?" she nods to Rysen, giving up the lectern and moving away to stand toward the back.

Niklas gives his wife a briefly tight smile. "Yes, well, fortunately he will be a boy and we have a name on which we have already agreed!" He offers applause for Helena when she finishes her poem. "Lovely, your highness!" At the introduction he offers Azova a dip of his chin. "Well met, my lady."

At being called out by name, Arthen Dayne goes a little red at the ears just a touch. Golly, Countess Carita. He unrelaxes just a touch and lifts a hand to wave to Azova, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Azova." He asks of the new face, "Youre sister-in-law.. ish? She's real good at gatherings, ain't she? I think I first met her at one." He's talking about Carita, of course.

When Helena finishes up her poem, Elgana breaks into somewhat louder applause, "Beautiful as always, sweet sister! This is why you are the scholar and not me." And then she falls quiet for the next one that Helena reads, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

Elgana is overheard praising Helena.

Azova lifts a hand to indicate herself to Arthen, returning the gesture. "I suppose she is," nose wrinkling with her amused smile as she spots the red touching the fellow's ears. "She carries the charm of the house. Not sure where she got the idea I had any to add," she teases, glancing down to Carita.

Lorenzo had been clapping and listening, but when he hears Gwenna say his name, he turns and smiles at Azova. "Very pleased to meet you. And I feel lucky that we all have gathered here this evening, to hear such works of tremendous talent. It nearly makes me envious." He tilts his head a little to listen to the anonymous poem and applauds when Helena has finished reading. "I'd say that's lovely... no reason someone shouldn't've been happy to read it and claim it as their own."

Rysen walks up to the lectern, moving rather stiffly, and, in passing Helena, quielty asks, "My lady, I can recite a sonnet, or a longer narrative poem that in the north we call a lai. May I ask which you would prefer?"

"Oh, that one is lovely." Josephine murmurs at the bench.

"Whichever you prefer, my lord," Helena says with a smile for Rysen, before finding a bookshelf to lean on, clearly happy to be out of the center of attention.

Gwenna rests one of her hands on Lorenzo's arm. "Very lovely. Perhaps it was something too close to their heart? Personal enough that they needed to write it, but could not bring themselves to share." That said, she quiets to listen to the rest of the speakers as they take their turns sharing their craft.

Monique applauds the most recent verse, giving it full appreciation before she settles back to the couch and her companions there.

Not only was Beatrice late, but now she's tearing a page out of a book between recitations. Lycene. Go figure.

"The sonnet than," Rysen replies gratefully, and makes his way to stand before those assembled. Beads of sweat have formed on his brow, perhaps from the heat or a noticeable degree of anxiety.

Gwenna has left the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Khaavren, a dutiful assistant have been dismissed.

2 Redrain Guards have been dismissed.

Rysen closes his eyes for a moment, and takes slow, deep breathes. He opens his eyes and begins to chant in a melodious voice:

“Let me upon truest love leave no stain,
For I, not love, betrayed, in willful youth
The strictest dictates of my iron fate,
And so followed headless my heart and muse.”

“So vain to think that only will alone
Could from ashes, laments and blood arise
To cast down, conquer, crown and there enthrone
Love with affection as our only guide.”

Rysen’s voice continues to flow through the room:

”Though my own heart a lost and broken wreck,
Yet faithful still to Love in all her forms
That empress in all blessings fair bedecked
From whose largesse all our mortal joy is born,”

Rysen chants:

”And now my empty heart has open room
To sing in hope, for others’ love may bloom!”

He ceases, and bows reverently to those in attendance, and his cheeks flush a bright red color.

Miranda is overheard praising Rysen: Beautiful poetry from this man. Amazing.

Miranda is overheard praising Helena: Hosting another amazing Poetry Night!

Chin resting on her clasped hands, Beatrice watches to Rysen's performance with a lingering smile. "I think I could listen to him recite a cookbook. How charming."

Monique is overheard praising Rysen.

Monique is overheard praising Helena.

Acantha gives one of her bright smiles to Rysen and she listens to his sonnet and there's a delighted clap for him, "Well done!" she calls.

The hostess claps from her spot at the back. "Lovely. I do hope that does come true for you, if you were the speaker of the poem as well as its poet, my good lord," Helena says, a soft smile of sympathy for Rysen, either because of his broken heart or his deep embarrassment at reading aloud.

Helena is overheard praising Rysen.

Acantha is overheard praising Helena: For hosting a wonderful event and a wonderful reading!

"Beautiful. That was just beautiful," Elgana says warmly as Rysen finishes his poem, peppering in more applause now. "This has been such a lovely reading."

Rysen smiles warmly at Helena, and quickly flees to the back of the room.

Niklas raises his hands and offers enthusiastic applause for Rysen. "Excellently recited, my lord!"

Miranda applauds Rysen, looking very impressed. "Well done! Well done!"

Josephine is overheard praising Helena.

"Fine, fine, I'll read it now. It will be all the worse for the beauty that came before," Monique rises from the blessed couch full of silver tongues, responding to a comment of Sebastian's, fully prepared to absolutely destroy the myth that Jayus touched it. She clears her throat, tosses her flame-bright hair with a humility that is non-existent, grins a wicked smile and launches into a truly, spectacularly horrible poem.

"You can be so reckless with your heart
but it's not made of steelsilk
It's actually made of blood and gore
I don't think I should be able to see your heart
but then again, I am no healer
so maybe I should just stick to poetry

My dearest, farewell. Can't you see,
this ill-fated affair was doomed from the start.
My people are human;
Your people are human.
It could never have worked.

Recall me fondly;
shed a tear for me
and two
for a world that could wrack us with such anguish
all for the simple crime of removing your heart
with my blade."

Rysen chuckles softly with amusement, hoping the poem partakes more of imagination, than an account of historical events.

Sebastian's gaze hasn't quite the same fixed, distracted air to it when Monique recites her poem. "Well, that was--" he searches for an appropriate word -- or words. "Appropriately brutal," he gives a low laugh, amusement spilling forth in the wake of that. "Woe betide whomever steals your heart, my lady." Trust a Lycene to appreciate something ending with a blade in the heart.

Helena grins as Monique takes the lectern, knowing that the woman will deliver something, well, *something.* She laughs and claps. "Your wit is as sharp as that blade, I think, Lady Minx," the hostess says merrily. "I quite like the bit about being human. It really does explain all my failed ventures..."

Despite her earlier protests, it does appear that Miranda's come up with something. When the moment arrives, she pushes away from the wall to stand straight. "Of course, now I must follow his lordship's fantastic sonnet and her ladyship's..." She has to think of the right word, "... unique works." She makes quite the show of being put out, clearly unable to match them in style and ability. Still she applauds for each of those bards previously gone before her. Finally, she draws in a deep breath and speaks...

"The touch of fingers across my cheek
upon my neck a breath of air, a look into eyes so deep
into my ears your voice so fair.

Passion is not our problem
Fighting, laughing, kissing, sighing.

And upon the ocean
we go flying.

Now, sounds of you are whispers on the breeze
sent to me on the salty air
a gift to me from you and the seas."



She smiles and steps back, done.

Monique graces the room and Helena with a florid bow, knowing full well how bad her verse was and embracing it with aplomb. She settles back upon the couch happily and offers something quiet, aside to Sebastian, before turning her attention to the next poem.

Beatrice applauds most seriously for Monique. Aside to Fairen, she finally ays in a mock-whisper, "With poetry so evocative, I'd dare not accept it with less than complete enthusiasm, lest she be writing one about /me/."

Acantha's smile fades a bit at all the beautiful poems and the talk of lovers. Maybe it was making her think of things. She gives applause for the poem that is read and sits quietly for now.

Quenia quietly rises from her seat, preparing to make her way out of the reading room.

Sabella applauds for Monique, then leans over and whispers something to Niklas, taking his arm as they rise and shuffle off to the door with murmured apologies to those nearby.

Sabella has left the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Niklas has left the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Roland, the worst bard in Arvum leaves, following Niklas.

Elizabetta, a disapproving lady-in-waiting, Lily, an aloof lady-in-waiting, 2 Grayson House Guards, Clark, an exasperated guard, Niklas leave, following Sabella.

Rysen applauds Miranda heartily, and his gaze lingers a while on the talented poet.

At Miranda's poem, Helena gets that look young women get when something is sweet -- a tilt of the head, a small smile. At least there's no crooned 'awwww' to go with it. "Beautiful, Lady Miranda," she says softly. Her blue eyes sweep the room, looking for any other readers, before she moves back toward the front of the room.

"I think that's it?" she says, looking much less rosy now that the hard part's over. "Thank you so much for coming tonight, for your support of myself and all poets and lovers of words. I hope you all can take some bit of inspiration tonight -- whether it be about choice or love or bladework..." her eyes sparkle at Monique for a moment, "and perhaps take it to your own quill and journal. Or choose not to -- as Skald has let us make our choices. Have a lovely evening."

Quenia has left the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Josephine has left the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Demetria Arcuri leaves, following Josephine.

Josephine leaves, following Quenia.

Acantha rises when things are called to a close, "Thank you for hosting this, your Highness." she tells Helena. Then she's turning to head out with a nod to those she knows and to those she doesn't!

Miranda smiles sheepishly at Helena and a nod of thanks to Rysen for his applause. As folks begin to leave, Miranda pushes back off the wall, but waits a moment to let the rush of folks go by. She does head over to Helena and offer her the journal and quill she never used, "Thank you for hosting this, again, your Highness. I'm afraid I didn't need these tonight."

Rysen approaches Helena, and offers a deep, respectful bow. "I don't believe we've met, Your Highness. My name is Rysen Crovane. Thank you, very much, for hosting such an excellent forum for the arts of language." He smiles, and begins to make his way toward the door.

Carita is overheard praising Helena.

Monique cheers on Helena quite boisterously, adding her idolatry to that of the others in the room. "You're a wonderful host, as ever, Your Highness. I expect I shall be barred from reading next time," she teases, "but I shall continue to attend for so long as you host these delightful events."

Lorenzo is overheard praising Helena: Wonderful poet and hostess!

Lorenzo has left the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

2 Redrain Guards, Ciro Sclafani, a world-weary manservant leave, following Lorenzo.

Azova nods her head at the sentiment regarding inspiration - though it turns into a more skeptical consideration as the Skald is brought into it. "Wonderful performance," she says aside to Rysen as he passes. "Inspiring." She smooths out her hair again, plucking at the collar of her linen as she tries to preen off some loose thread.

"Thank you for coming," Helena says to those giving her thanks, accepting any unused journals and quills with a nod and smile. "Lovely poem. Thank you for sharing," she adds to Miranda, then turns to Rysen, offering him her hand after he bows. "Thank you, Lord Rysen, a pleasure to meet you and thank you so much for reading," she tells the poet, before turning to Monique with a laugh. "So far you're not barred, but one of these days..." she says teasingly. "You are always welcome," is added more seriously. "Have a lovely night."

Arthen Dayne rises up from sofa he's been so well-settled into, "Princess Helena, this was a real nice poetry readin'. I can't believe it's the third you've had. Times goes real quick, don't it?". He offers a hand out to Princess Elgana, who he'd escorted here, figuring maybe she'll want a hand up.

Rysen smiles warmly at Azova. "You are too kind, my lady. And my sincere thanks. I am new to the city, and have never performed any poem in such splendid company as this."

Miranda nods to Helena, then looks towards Monique, "Your poetry catches us all off guard and is very unique. I enjoy it. You should write a book." She chuckles and offers to Helena, "Thank you for hosting, again." She then begins to head out, finally.

"Another wonderful poetry reading, sister mine! I think you are doing such a wonderful job with these events," Elgana says warmly to her little sister as she takes Arthen's offered hand and pulls herself to her feet in a flutter of those blue-washed seasilks of hers. Arthen gets a turn of that smile before she looks to those still gathered at the couch, "It was so lovely to see you all. And to meet you, Lazy Azova. I hope you enjoy your stay here in the city, there's an awful lot to see and do."

"I thought it might just be us three, truthfully," says Helena with a confessional tone to Arthen, reaching to give her sister and cousins all quick kisses on the cheek. "Thank you for coming, as always. One day maybe one of you will read. The prompt was a little daunting I think this time -- perhaps I'll scale it back next time?" she says with a grin. "I mean, I cheated and didn't write about it myself." She nods to Azova. "Lady Azova, a pleasure to meet you as well," she says, catching the name from Elgana.

Brenlin, Aide-de-Camp, 2 Rubino and Zaffria guards leave, following Miranda.

Azova waves off the fellow's dismissal of her compliment, showing off a bright smile in return. "Thank you for the warm welcome back," she says softly, offering a nod to Elgana and Helena in turn. "I'll be sure to attend the next one."

Beatrice pauses, swallows a laugh at something Fairen says and answers, "Perhaps not one of Lady Monique's." She skirts the couch to pass by Helena, touching a careful hand to her elbow. "Princess, I do not wish to interrupt, merely to thank you for hosting this and to apologize for being unforgiveably late. You gathered a special group of talents."

Beatrice's words earn a smile from Helena. "Lady Beatrice! Thank you so much. Oh, I'm not one to worry about late arrivals, honestly. All are welcome, no matter when they come," she says with a smile. "Today was the best turn out, with quite talented surprises in store for me as well." She glances to Sebastian, with a nod to him. "I didn't catch your name, lord...?" Her brows lift up with the word lilting upward in query. "Your poem was lovely. Thank you for beginning the event so auspiciously, my lord."

Standing, Sebastian gives a nod towards Fairen, "Pleasure to meet you," he murmurs, and then Monique, "I shall look forward to that bribery gift," with a wry smile, before he trails after Beatrice towards their hostess. "Lord Sebastian Pravus," he introduces himself deftly to Helena, "And the Lady Beatrice is quite correct: a lovely event. I'm ashamed I hadn't managed to attend before. As to the poem -- well," a wry, unembarrassed smile, "I'm quite used to being prepared to throw myself on the altar of opinion, as a fellow artist, so you're welcome, your highness."

Monique throws a mock-wounded hand to her chest at Beatrice's comment but nods sagely to Fairen. "She's right. Not one of mine. I can imagine it wouldn't go over well for woo'ing. But of course I will let you know, Marquis, when new books arrive. There should be two coming within the week, in fact. Another from Master Zeriax and a third from Catreva Voice, who unfortunately, no matter the sum offered, does not allow me to sell more than five copies." There's a slight irritation with that admittance.

Charmed, Beatrice dips her head to Helena before turning an amused glance to Sebastian. "A rare reversal. Lord Sebastian is the Voice of House Pravus, your Highness, and architect of the Titan of Setarco, lately finished." She gestures between the pair, a neatly folded note within her hand, before stepping away with another flash of a smile to Helena.

"Well, thank you for your sacrifice. Hopefully you will survive, merely wounded and not a martyr," says Helena with a laugh. She looks at Monique when she mentions books, always eager for new additions, before looking back to Beatrice. "Of course. I should have recognized him, though I've a bad head for politics and who is who among the Voices, I confess. It's why they give the important work to my sister and cousins," she says with a grin in the other Redrains' directions. "But it is a pleasure to see and meet all of you. I hope you'll come to another and share more of your work." The last bit to Sebastian, though the invitation levied to all.