Golden, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Gunther, a Rottweiler, Micana, 1 Saik Guard arrive, following Lucita.

It's midnight.

The doors of the shrine are propped wide open to accommodate people filtering in, and the light of a hundred candles spills out into the cool night outside, reflecting across the pallor of the snow. Inside, the shrine is full of people: Harlequins, and other disciples on loan from discipleships more rich in personnel, are serving as aids and waiters. A few musicians near the front of the room are muttering to each other in mild baffle over the strangeness of this particular assignment.

Long trestle tables are a little incongruous in the grand dignity of the shrine of Death, but here they are. Candles glow on each end as bottle after bottle of fine wine have been set forth alongside each of the pews, with dozens of fluted glasses for the pouring. The wine is all red, the whiskey all dark, the mead all pungent with fruit and spices. There are finger foods, too, mostly Lycene: cheese, olives, crackers. Tiny desserts, mostly the decadent kind that melt in their density on the tongue. The Faith (or ... someone) has put on quite a spread.

There are musicians, though all are missing something integral: violins without bows, drummers without sticks, the band is ready to play but for a vital missing piece of the puzzle. The square of a dance floor has been set off in the front of the sanctuary, beside the altar, but wound in braids of scarlet and silver silk where none shall enter. The message might be a little obscure.

The body of Prince Luca Grayson has been returned and lies in state at the front of the sanctuary.

Lucita quietly comes into the shrine, leaving her dogs outside with a guard as she makes her way to a spot out of the way to sit and listen, her expression is somber.

Caith has joined the pews nearest the back.

Lucita has joined the pews nearest the back.

Sorrel adjusts the lie of her really stylish party hat, which has been done up with an enormous dashing purple feather. There's something about the fabric that seems... off, like it isn't really cloth but something else entirely. In any case, she's wearing a form-fitting party dress covered in glittering spiderwebs that might seem to be a little fashionable for a funeral. Nonetheless, when she sees Luca lying in state, the tears leap unbidden to her evergreen eyes and she weeps silently. Almost eerily silently.

Josephine makes her way in, a bright autumnal scarf around her neck and one of her different canes in her hand as she uses it to make her way into the shrine proper. There's a pause as she crosses the threshold and a glance to the cordoned off dance floor, the musicians without the means to play actual music, and wilt a shake of her head, keeps heading in at her pace.

Dame Rosario Nevarre of the Oathlands, Anouk Ardennes, Anais Ardennes, Triage, The white dove of Mercy, 3 Valardin Knights, 1 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Sophie.

Jared, an overworked-looking, nervous Apprentice Whisper, Sophie arrive, following Bliss.

In candlelight, Juniper Whisper blazes with sparks of fire and diamond: gown and curls and shining eyes, from head down to her slippered toes. Grief doesn't weight her steps, they carry her light as ever forward, bright and easy as the musicians are /not/. As should be anticipated, the courtier has judged this an occasion at which wailing and hair-tearing and gnashing of the teeth would be inappropriate. So she eschews even somberness, and has a smile at the ready when one of those circulating aides sets a glass of whiskey in the Northern Whisper's hand.

Juniper has joined the lonely pew that smells funny.

2 House Velenosa Guards arrives, following Leta.

The shrine is pretty quiet, aside from the murmur of disciples inquiring about people's food and drink preferences. The host has yet to make an appearance. Corks are being withdrawn and dark liquid poured for people all over the room.

A glittering prismatic spider the size of a fist wafts on a long strand of silk across the front of the chapel, refracting colors in the candlelight before legs strike the altar. Octohopper skitters across the surface and then wafts on backwards, heading for points elsewhere on an errand of her own.

Standing near the 'dance floor' there is a lot of munching. Jeffeth stands just outside of it next to the ribbon and silk forbidding his entrance. The large knight stands by himself with one hand making a cup against his chest. Inside this hand bowl Jeffeth has obviously put a bunch of the fingerfoods he has gathered as he has walked through the shrine. His hand runneth over. Each piece of cheese and piece of meat is eaten without pause. Jeffeth chews, swallows, then grabs the next piece.

His eyes are locked on the dancefloor and he seems rather oblivious that people are starting to arrive. It's possible he's been here for some time, just chewin' on stuff and starin'.

It seems like a good occasion for a sleepless night. Faye has an unfamiliar sword at her hip, mostly obscured by her long, leather coat, she gives nods to familiar friends and acquaintances, all gathered here at the shrine. She heads over to a quiet pew, checking for spiders before she takes a seat.

Faye has joined the pews off to the side.

Upon the arm of the First Captain of the King's Own is Ophelia Velenosa dressed in a an outfit Luca would be proud of. A comfortable looking shirt, a pair of fitted trous tucked into tall leather boots, and leather handwraps that once belonged to her brother, Luca Grayson. Now she wears them in honor of him this evening. Her blonde hair has been fixed into a half up, half down style and she's done a good job at adjusting Luca's clothes to fit her frame. Tightening her grip around Corban's arm a little, Ophelia sweeps her gaze over the immediate area and catches sight of the front of the sanctuary where Luca rests. Her heart quickens and that grip of hers tightens even more. For now, she says nothing. Her eyes, though, remain fixed upon her brother.

Walking in with Siste Sophie on her arm, Bliss is dressed likewise not in all black, but in a dress of white aeterna adorned with umbra in the shape of a spiderweb. It's not long before she moves toward the table and takes the largest glass of red wine that she can find, as well as a couple pieces of the delicacies. She is not somber, but instead, wears a faint smile as she looks around the room, taking careful steps to avoid the spiders as she walks toward the pew to the side. Her head turns, taking in the body of the fallen, and a small sigh causes her shoulders to lift and fall before she sits.

Bliss has joined the pews off to the side.

Sophie has joined the pews off to the side.

Sorrel has joined the pews off to the side.

Helena has joined the pews off to the side.

Shard enters slightly hunched, as if she were anticipating having to duck under something, and with an expression of mild suspicion that grows a little more distinct when she spies the interior layout. One eye narrows a little more than the other for a moment, but she continues on in, careful and alert.

Carita's been here, she was sitting quietly, a glass of whiskey in her hand, a fairly sad smile on her face as if she were trying desperately to be 'fun' but it just wasn't happening. There's an occasional rise to dip a curtsy, but for the most part, she sits quietly tonight. Her gown, and slippers are the colors of Elvenbane, with the addition of the robe the Prince loved to wear, which matches.

Jeffeth has joined the pews nearest the front.

Tomwell isn't here in any official capacity, so he's left the Priest's robes at home. He enters quietly, and equally quietly skirts around the edges of the shrine. He finds himself a drink, but otherwise keeps to the back of the shrine with solemn features.

Two Redrains enter the Shrine of the Queen of Endings. Elgana is joined arm-in-arm with her little sister, Helena, the elder of the pair of Redrains is dressed in deep, rich scarlet and her long mahogany curls left loose and free to tumble about her shoulders. There's a pause in her step as she looks around, dark eyes landing on that form of Luca's before she turns toward the pews off the side and leads her sister onward to take their seats.

Flutter, a lovely passerine bird, Joan leave, following Videl.

Ophelia has joined the pews nearest the front.

Carita has joined the pews nearest the front.

Corban is in his formal silver armor, befitting of his station in life. The First Captain places his arm on top of Ophelia's, guiding her towards a pew to sit. Over his breastplate is a sash of seasilk silver, embrodiered with its first symbol: A green griffon, the symbol of House Grayson. He waggled fingers at a few he knows before joining his escort.

Corban has joined the pews nearest the front.

Leta is only not all in black on account of embroidery and purple silk laces and shinies. But then, she's all in a black a lot. She comes in with cautious steps, and stops to take in the preparations, a small frowning marring the woman's brow. She runs her fingers down her jaw, fidgets with a bracelet, and hesitates, giving the pews a suspicious look. But there are tables, so she wanders over to... she hesitates, and gives the food the same wary look everything else merits.

Aureth arrives from the Chamber of Stillness. His hair is long and loose, silvershot blonde brushed a hundred times, and he is dressed more for a party than for a funeral, in dark golden leather. His shirt is unlaced at the throat. He's even drinking as he walks, taking a long swallow from a rounded glass of dark red wine as he goes.

He always was pretty dramatic about this kind of thing.

Without saying anything, he relieves one of the disciples playing waiter of a bottle of wine and refills his glass. He salutes with it, and carries it and the bottle over to Luca's body. He comes to stand in front of Luca's feet. Glancing down at the corpse, cleaned and pretty in Grayson colors, and he leaves the bottle next to the princely head before he sits down at his feet, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the table.

"Hi," Aureth says. He takes another swallow from his glass. "The rules are pretty simple. Two drinks before you eulogize. So let's start there." He finishes off the glass in one long pull. For those people who know him, and are familiar with his alcohol tolerance, it is already immediately apparent that this is a _terrible idea_.

Shard has joined the pews nearest the back.

Carita lifts her glass as if to toast Aureth as he drinks, her smile curling a little higher.

The paler and fairer of the two Redrains, Helena looks around, taking in the symbolism and the imagery. Her blue eyes alight on the silent, still form that is and is not Luca, and she takes a quick breath, lifting her chin a little and squeezing her sister's hand, to give and to take strength from one another. She offers a small, sad smile to those assembled, picking up a glass of whiskey, before sliding into the pews with Elgana.

"To finding the words worthy of so fine a prince," says Juniper, voice lifted from a softer remark that carries no further than her own seat. She lifts her whiskey and-- as is right and proper of a mining camp girl-- knocks back the whole thing. Out goes her glass then, expectant of a prompt refill. Clearly her definition of 'terrible idea' varies from Aureth's.

Outfitted in black and gold and a kitty, Caith sweeps into the shrine looking solemn and sad. Yes, it's supposed to be a FUNeral but Luca is still dead and that is a bummer. Holding Cuddle-Puddle against her chest, she comes to a stop when she sees the Grayson prince's body. "Oh my gosh Luca," she murmurs to the cat. "You really are gone." Without even being aware that she's doing it, the Thrax royal hugs her cat close. Squeeze-squeeze-squeeeeeeze.. "MROWL!!" Okay, a little less squeezing and little more holding the white feline up instead so she can see her deceased cat-daddy. Look, Cuddles! Look at Luca!

Cuddle-Puddle doesn't care. Cuddle-Puddle is a cat.

Anyway, bringing the animal back to her chest, Caith finds a place to sit and plunks herself down next to Tomwell. "It's all so saaaad..." she sniffles before resting her head against her cousin's shoulder.

Cramming a bunch of food in his mouth so he has enough hands (one) to grab a drink, Jeffeth puts down the dark mead in one straight gulp. His cup is quickly raised to a passing disciple.

Shard snags a glass of whiskey, and in this, at least, she's not particularly suspicious. Not /particularly/. She then retreats to a seat near the back, where she immediately sets into drinking.

With those instructions, it's not long before Bliss lifts her glass in salute to the body laying in state, before she brings it to her lips and closes her eyes, lifting it and drinking deeply. It's not quite a straight pull, with a break for air in the middle, but soon the first glass is done and set to the side. She doesn't immediately flag down a second, though, letting the empty glass rest and looking at it.

Sorrel has obviously been pregaming as well, and she toasts to Aureth with the bottle of whiskey that she's brought with her in honor of Prince Luca. She's also obviously been crying. She rummages in her bag and pulls out a notebook, labeled 'Why Sorrel Cannot Speak', which she shows off to her friends in the pew, and she pulls out a bit of slate and some chalk so that she can write things to communicate. She writes something on it, then flashes it at Aureth. 'Going to need your help with my eulogy,' the slate reads.

Sorrel gets Why Sorrel Cannot Speak from small bag for holding things and stuff.

Sorrel drops Why Sorrel Cannot Speak.

The refills happen. They happen quickly. The Faith has spared no expense. The booze is top shelf. _Of course.

"Grief," Aureth begins in a contemplative tone, "is always for what you've lost. We're not sad because the soul of our friend is safely in the arms of the Queen of Endings. We're not mourning for his new life. None of that is sad." He rubs his hand thoughtfully over his beard, and carefully sets the empty glass down beside his hip, in front of Luca's feet. The creep of a flush is already warming his fair skin, and his elocution -- usually quite precise -- is beginning to take on an element of slur. "We grieve because our friend is beyond us. Because the piece of our lives he represents has been taken away. Prematurely, we say. How can it have happened this way? He was young. He was fierce. He was fast. He was one of the most talented blades in a city full of fucking ridiculous sword talent. All those things are true. All of those things are part of his story. But so are all of these things." Aureth opens his hands and spreads them wide.

"This is a funeral," Aureth says, "because he's dead. But we're here to do is not just to weep over his death, but to commemorate the life he lived while he was here. Because. He deserves it."

He's coming to the end of what he had prepared before this began, obviously, and he teeters a little on the edge of the table in his perch as he squints towards Sorrel's slate. He says: "What?"

Leta, of course, has no idea what she's even looking for in her inspection of the food and drink. It just looks like food and drink, after all. She rubs her neck. Then she collects a glass of wine, and also an assortment of - finger foods. And look, little sweets. One pastry goes into her mouth for safekeeping. Then she sidles towards a pew in the rear, face set in an attentive frown currently aimed in Aureth's direction, when she's not studying the corners of the shrine for anything lurking in the wings. She sits down.

Leta has joined the pews nearest the back.

Tomwell tilts his head to the side until it rests atop the crown of Caith's head. He's been watching Aureth with a solemn expression, but her comment turns his attention to his cousin with a mute smile. "It is," he agrees. He reaches over to pat Caith's leg or hand or whatever's convenient in a reassuring manner. He spots Shard over Caith's head, and gives her a little nod of greeting.

Josephine has joined the pews off to the side.

Josephine laughs at the two drink minimum for a eulogy before she moves to settle at a pew beside Faye. There's a dip of her head to the woman, turning her attention to the gahtered at the pew and then to see who will get through their drinks first to speak.

Ophelia takes a seat in a front pew so she can be close to her brother and to Aureth seated next to him. Her arm loosens around Corban's and she then holds his hand, fingers twining with the First Captain's as she does. She listens to Aureth speak, but her eyes are fixed upon Luca the entire time. It's a shuddered breath that follows her swig of whiskey and she nods soon afterward, unsure if she's going to cry just yet or not.

Faye has a glass of whiskey. Unlike many gathered here, she is not particularly good at knocking back drinks without a care. But she lifts a glass towards Luca's body which has been laid out so nicely, so obviously and unavoidably, and takes a drink. As Josephine sits beside her, she looks over to the woman and gives her a nod. "Mistress Josephine," she says quietly in greeting.

'Need to teach the crowd to sing it,' Sorrel writes to Aureth on the slate, continuing not to make a sound. For the curious, there's a notebook circulating with an explanation, but she doesn't much bother with explanations. There are tears in her eyes, and she wipes her slate clean, getting chalk dust on her gown, so that she can write a bit more on it. 'I will teach you the tune, then you sing.'

Carita gets Nightgold's Aureate Aspirations from an elegant pouch.

Aureth reads the board with an air of mild bafflement. He glances at his empty glass as though it might be responsible for this. "Sure, I'm game," he says, scratching his ear. "I've had my two drinks, after all. Wasn't really how I was _planning_ on going about this, but--"

Rinel has joined the pews nearest the back.

Tears are flowing freely and every once in a while, Caith lifts Cuddle-Puddle to her face so she can blot her tears and sniffle her nose against the cat's fur. Some people bring hankies, she brings the animal that she and Luca co-parented. Cuddle-Puddle, for her part, seems unbothered by all this but maybe she will mind it when it turns out that she needs a bath later to get the snot out of her coat.

Motioning to an attendant, Caith mutters something-something-biggest-glass-of-wine-something-something. Soon, she is drinking. Drinking, sniffling, leaning against Tomwell and crying into her cat.

A glass has found its way into Elgana's hand, but she does not yet drink. She listens instead as Aureth speaks, a glance given off to the side toward Sorrel and her slate board, curious. Her other hand remains twined with Helena's which gets a gentle squeeze as finally, she takes that whiskey and tips it back. All the way back. She winces with the burn when done but the empty glass gets passed off to the nearest attendent in favor for a full one.

Jeffeth throws back his second glass and waves over another disciple. Three drink minimum Aureth said right? Holding his cup up for more, it's not long after his next glass is poured he's downing it as well.

"Mistress Faye. Halfway to a euology?" She inquires, a glance to the paper circulating but not paying it too much heed, taking a drink for one hand.

Sorrel holds up a hand that suggests that she's got this, winking at Aureth. And still she doesn't say a word. It's like she's taken a vow of silence, almost, except that when she laughs, that's also eerily silent. And when she cries. She reaches in her bag for a notebook, which she hands to Aureth, then pulls out her hairpins, which apparently turn into a flute. She waits until his eyes are on her eulogy notebook, then plays a jaunty little tune that is pretty much the opposite of a dirge. It is the most cheerful dirge ever. It is playful. It is witty. She plays it again so that Aureth can learn it.

Sorrel gets Eulogy for Luca from small bag for holding things and stuff.

Rinel has left the pews nearest the back.

Aureth checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

"Can we help harmonize if we haven't yet hit the drink minimum?" That might be Juniper's attempt at throwing a lifeline towards Aureth.

Sophie's entered quietly on Bliss' arm, though at first she seems distracted and in her own thoughts. Once they're seated she looks up and glances around at the others present. She snags a glass of wine when a disciple walks close enough with one and she sits back to drink it.

Faye shakes her head in response to Josephine's question. "I don't think I have any good words to say, 'FUN' or otherwise. But I can listen and I can drink, which hopefully is good enough. How about yourself?"

Aureth reads the lyrics thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side, and then beckons one of the disciples over, pointing to the glass as he snorfles. "We're definitely going to need backup," he says, rubbing at one eye with his palm. He stands up, and this also appears to have been questionable. He purses his lips and attempts to whistle to match the tune. It takes him a bit to get going.

After a few beats of this, he throws his hands high in the air, and the eulogy Sorrel has written flaps through his gesture because he has forgotten he's holding it. "VERY WELL," he declaims. "Ladies and gentlemen, Princess Sorrel Thrax has composed a song in honor of Prince Luca Grayson, and it is my terrible honor to perform it for her. It will get the ball rolling right. I must warn you all, however, that dancing--" He points at the dance floor and the beleaguered musicians, who don't have all their stuff. "--is strictly forbidden in the Shrine to the Queen of Endings until one o'clock this morning, so keep those toes from tapping too hard!"

Lucita has listened to the tune Sorrel has written and pulls the mandolin she wears on its strap into a position to play. Watching Aureth closely, she prepares to accompany him with music as he sings the lyrics written by Sorrel. This she can do from where she sits.

With delight, Sorrel claps her hand at the drunken priest, beaming at him approvingly. Clapping makes noise, so she isn't entirely devoid of sound, and she was able to play the flute earlier. She's just mute. 'Teach the crowd to sing it,' she requests with her little bit of chalk on slate. She nods approvingly as he tries to match the tune, and she plays it again for him, just in case. 'I will accompany you,' she offers in flowing script below her first line. Her chalkboard writing is very good, like she's getting quite a lot of practice.

Aureth checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

Aureth checked charm + teaching at difficulty 15, rolling 31 higher.

Helena follows her sister in downing a glass of whiskey, but there's no wince at the burn. She doesn't hurry for a second, her pale blue gaze darting from person to person. When Faye answers Josephine's question, she offers her a soft. "We all say our goodbyes in our own ways, Inquisitor. But if you chose to speak, no one here will judge your words, I'm sure," she murmurs. Her own eyes are dangerously close to filling with tears again, so she swallows hard, before looking to Aureth as he gives directions not to dance.

"So here's how it goes," is how this begins, as the Legate begins to attempt to coax his hapless audience to join in with Sorrel's masterwork here. Aureth's voice is a little rusty with disuse, his words a little slurry with alcohol, but the sprightly tune and the absurd delight of the song itself are clear in commemoration, _quite_ in the spirit of the thing:

With evil cultists all around,
Luca was the perfect fighter
He cut them up, he cut them down
With him the world was brighter

Oil him up and watch him fight
In nothing but a sheet
He'll whip it off just to disarm
That hardly is a cheat

He really liked to collect swords
For protection and good deeds
My favorite one was in his pants
He saw to all my needs!

Aureth drops Eulogy for Luca.

"I think i'll keep my words for my forge." Josephine murmurs to Faye, a nod to Helene. "But I came to pay respects to him, even if I was very wroth with him till the end. Poor boy."

Shard can be spotted in the back, briefly rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

Sorrel checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 36 higher.

Juniper checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 48 higher.

Jeffeth checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

Lucita checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 37 higher.

As the song starts Jeffeth plunks down in his seat and knocks back another drink, hunching over, his elbows go on his knees and he stares at his feet for a little while.

Sorrel plays along on her little flute, to reinforce the melody, and it's quite playful and delights in itself happily. It's a wildly inappropriate song for a funeral, but this is a FUNeral, and it certainly fits with the spirit of the event. Tears run silently down her cheeks as she plays.

Lucita simply plays along with whoever is singing and with Sorrel's flute.

Crying softly into her cat, Caith listens to Aureth singing Sorrel's song. Sniffle, sniffle, sniffle .. and then laughter. Bright, amused laughter. Yes, the tears are still flowing but that song is perfection. First her lips move over the words silently but then her voice pitches in, the princess holding Cuddle-Puddle in one hand and lifting her rather huge wine glass in the other. Slosh! Slosh! Goes the wine! And her voice lifts high and true:

"..oil him up and watch him fight
In nothing but a sheet
He'll whip it off just to disarm
That hardly is a cheat.."

Caith checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 37 higher.

Juniper's voice rises sweet and clear from the back, woven to fit the harmony promised. Too pure, surely, for such lyrics, but she doesn't stint on confidence in chasing the tune through to the...rather vivid and memorable finish, voice to voice to instruments, and just a dash of colour in her pale redhead's cheeks to flavour all the rest.

Ophelia finds herself with a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Luca would be /proud/ that she's double fisting it this evening! The thought makes her smile before she takes a swig from the glass -- she quite clearly had to let go of Corban's hand for this. And when Aureth sings? Well. She can't take another sip because she's giggling too much! "I'm not singing that last part."

Faye glances over to Helena and shakes her head. "I don't believe I have words that are enough, is all." She pauses to listen to Aureth sing and Sorrel and Lucita perform, the humor in the lyrics softening her somber expression, at least. She gives a nod to Josephine. "I rather like the idea of having a conversation with one's work. It feels like too much to say one thing and imagine everything necessary has been said."

Shard does not sing, exactly. Singing requires a certain amount of volume, surely, and presumably some sort of tune. She doesn't seem to give either. Instead, it's quite clear that she's muttering, and, judging by her lips, she's apparently muttering the lyrics along with everyone else.

Carita listens, one brow lifted as the music plays and Aureth sings. She squints one eye, and seems to be holding something back until the song is over. She dips her head, pale blonde hair acting as something of a curtain as she laughs softly. Or maybe she's crying? It's hard to tell.

By the time Aureth gets to the end of the song with its raunchy finish, he has gotten into the spirit of the thing-- which almost makes all the more obvious when the laughter and life leech out of him in its wake. In the quiet following the last ringing notes, he walks back to the front of the sanctuary, and sits down on the floor in front of Luca's body. "Fuck," he says on a heavy sigh. It is not proper etiquette for a priest at a funeral, of course, but what of any of this is? He rescues his glass, which a Harlequin has refilled, and dandles it there for a moment. "Luca was a Champion: of honor, of glory, of adventure, life, love and spirit. I met him when he was tomcatting around in the Boroughs where he had no bloody business. I saw his end. It wasn't the first, second, or fifth time I saw Luca take a reckless risk. You know? It was maybe the third time I saw him dance." He takes a sip and raises the glass high in the air. He fills his lungs to call: "All right, who's next? Someone who loved him? Someone who dueled him? Someone who punched him in the face? Someone who interrupted him while he was napping somewhere inappropriate? Will we hear from them all?"

Leta has a pastry halfway into her mouth, and that's where it stops as she listens to the song. "Uh..." She drains the rest of her wine before joining in, except for the bits where she mumbles and looks around to watch the others. She looks very confused, but sings nonetheless.

"Oh, we're singing." Tomwell can manage singing. He gives Caith a little nudge. "Singing is fun," he encourages warmly. He watches Aureth's instructional verse with a fond quirk of his lips, and then joins in with a pleasant voice.

There's a solemn nod for Faye from Helena. Ophelia's giggling and declaration on the last bit of the bawdy song makes her smile in her direction, before she turns her eyes back to Aureth. She accepts a refill from one of the servers, and this one too is knocked back as easily as the first, a true Northerner. She doesn't make any move to get up and speak though. Perhaps she feels her words are lacking as well.

4 Novice Keaton Huntsmen, Sir Pupsalot, a polite, tri-color corgi, Oaken, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Fidelity, a white-tailed eagle arrive, following Reigna.

After the song is finished - and Bliss joins in briefly - the Radiant signals for another glass of wine, saying something quietly to Sophie beside her and smiling as Aureth mentions people who dueled Luca. Still, she does not jump upright right away, instead keeping her focus on the man of the hour, as it were.

Ophelia would raise a hand to go next, but she's holding a glass in one and a bottle in the other. That makes for poor choices! She doesn't want to /spill/ anything. So, she lifts her whiskey bottle in the air. "May I?"

*hic*

Caith is still on her first glass of wine but she must have done some pre-gaming because she is tipsy. Some may say drunk but that would be false because princesses are never /drunk/. They are always just tipsy, no matter how much they might pass out, black out, and any other kind of drink-induced 'out'.

*hic*

But rules are rules and there is a two drink minimum. So when she finishes that first monstrous cup, she has it refilled up to the tippy-top-top. "You have such a lovely voice," she tells her cousin. "I wish you'd come sing to me every, every, every day, Tomkins." They're sitting in the back pews so perhaps only those closest to them can hear but something slips out at greater volume than the rest as she chit-chats away to Tomwell. ".. gentitalia .. "

Aureth starts trying to get up off the floor to properly cede the floor to Ophelia, but this also turns out to be a mistake. Sliding back down, he waves her forward, and says: "Please do."

Sorrel slips her bit of slate in her bag temporarily, and pockets her chalk, so that she can rise to her feet and head over to where Luca lies in state. She pats Aureth gratefully on the head as she passes him, then moves to lay her forehead against Luca's forehead, all too reminded that he is a corpse and she is grieving him. She keeps in her fist a bottle of whiskey, and she reaches up to stroke Luca's hair sadly.

With a bottle of whiskey in hand, Ophelia draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly as if to center herself for this moment. Never had she entertained the thought of speaking at her brother's funeral, yet here she is about to address some of his closest friends and supporters at this very shrine. She stands up and then pivots so that she has Luca and those gathered in her view. "For those of you that do not know me, I am Ophelia Velenosa. Luca's sister." she starts by saying, her voice not nearly as shaky as she thought it'd be. "It's difficult to put into words just how much he meant to me. I think the hardest part, for me, has been dealing with the fact that I will never see him again. I'll never get another hug from him. Or a messenger. Or a surprise visit." Her lips purse briefly and she pauses for a heartbeat before continuing. "I'll never get another chance to tell him again just how much I love and cherish him."

Rather than wilt at the thought, Ophelia straightens and lifts her chin a little more. "I know Luca, though. He does not want me to dwell upon his death for the rest of my life. In fact, he doesn't want /us/ to be sad for him. Instead, I know that he wants us all to live, to laugh, and to love with everything we've got." She smiles knowingly at this and looks at the gathered crowd, her dark colored eyes glossy with tears. "He told me that everything is going to be alright. I believe him." A few tears stream down her cheeks and Ophelia nods at this, still smiling. "Luca was the most loving, protective, supportive, and reliable brother a sister could ask for and I will miss him dearly." It's then that she lifts her tumbler in 'cheers' to her brother. "I love you so very much, Luca. Non omnis moriar. We will meet again."

Juniper has left the lonely pew that smells funny.

Tomwell, not at all drunk, replies to Caith in a murmur to quiet to be heard, though his poorly repressed smile is apparent even at a distance. Still patting her hand, he raises an eyebrow at Aureth's aborted rise before turning his attention to Ophelia.

Juniper has joined the lonely pew that smells funny.

An incongruous sight is seen when Reigna Keaton enters the Shrine of Death without her husband at her side. She is escorted by her animals though; faithful Oaken, her bloodhound, the tubby Sir Pupsalot on her other side. Following a ways back are her guards. She has brought a cask with her, helpfully carried by one of her retinue. The Marquessa looks... tired. The kind of weariness that eats at someone's core strength. She pauses once Ophelia starts to speak, listening, her expression sober, tense. When the last words are spoken, Reigna snags a glass and lifts it, "Non omnis moriar." There is a sharpness to the grief in the woman's eyes as she lifts her glass to deeply drink.

Someone refills Faye's glass, whether she needed it or not, and she sits quietly, cradling it in both hands as she listens. At Ophelia's heartfelt words, she lifts her glass in wordless salute and then takes a drink.

And abruptly, Josephine is rising, a frown on her face, or what migth be taken for one. "Mistress Fay" a dip of her head for the others on the bench and the old woman's rising, the clack of her cane perhaps lost to the din.

Carita's eyes well with tears as she listens to Ophelia, a sad smile playing across her own features as she tries desperately to clear her throat and shove any sadness down. As Ophelia lifts her glass, so too does Carita before she drains half her glass.

Corban looks on from the front pew when Ophelia speaks. He does not drink. But he does smile. Beam, even. Pride in the eulogy, well-delivered.

Juniper lifts her near empty glass-- second? third?-- and echoes, "Non omnis moriar," with warmth that rings.

Sorrel turns from Luca's body so that she can clap for Ophelia, even though clapping is sort of an incongruous thing to do at a funeral. She meanders in her direction like she's had a lot of that bottle of whiskey and drunken deeply of the sadness, and she offers Ophelia a kiss on the cheek in a compassionate sort of way, patting her shoulder as if to comfort her. She mouths something, probably 'Non omnis moriar,' as there are the right number of syllables, but again, no sound emits from her lips.

"Non omnis moriar," Elgana echoes as she raises her full glass of whiskey once Ophelia is done speaking. She pauses for but a moment before she downs more of that burning liquid, not swallowing it all down this time and leaving most of the glass full.

Sorrel has left the pews off to the side.

Sorrel has joined the pews nearest the front.

Something is muttered that might vaguely rhyme with non omnis moriar. But then it is swallowed as another cup is upturned and Jeffeth inhales yet another drink. The very large knight pushes himself up onto very wobbly feet. At least, at first. It's alright. Its just that he has been sitting so long, his legs forgot how to stand. They remember now? See. Jeffeth stands up from where he sits and wanders off, trading an empty cup with a passing disciple for yet another full one.

Jeffeth has left the pews nearest the front.

Ophelia sits back down and leans against Corban's shoulder, a hand lifting to curl fingers around her mouth as she casts her gaze over at Luca again. She's crying now. Tears streaming down her cheeks as her eyes remain fixed upon her brother. With her 'see you later' given, she can feel peace deep down in her chest as her tears mark her final release. It's when Sorrel draws near and gives her a kiss upon the cheek that she looks up at her, a glint of happiness in her dark colored eyes despite her tears. She nods her appreciation as she can't quite find the words right now. Sniffle.

Josephine has left the pews off to the side.

Demetria Arcuri leaves, following Josephine.

Reigna makes her way across the floor of the Shrine, stopping where the body is laid in state. There is a lengthy pause, just a study of the shell of what once was Luca. She takes a strip of green silk with small black paws, tucking it into a pocket on Luca's body before she moves away, heading for the pews with Elgana, Bliss, Sophie and the others. She nods to each as she approaches.

Reigna has joined the pews off to the side.

Settling down next to Ophelia, flanking her with Corban, Sorrel retrieves her bit of slate so that she can communicate with words and not just with gestures. 'Your brother was loved,' she writes. 'He was a great man. Non omnis moriar.' That fills up the slate, and she seems hesitant to erase it, though she'll have to in order to say anything else. For the moment, though, she just leaves it, smiling a tear-stained smile at Ophelia.

Sophie reaches a hand out to squeeze Reigna's arm gently as she sits at the pew with her and she gives her cousin a smile before tipping her head back to finish the glass of wine in her hand. She waves for a disciple to bring her another glass, and holds up 2 fingers before whispering to Reigna, "Wine or whiskey?"

Carita rises from her spot with Ophelia near the front to make her way towards Aureth, she kneels down to speak low with him the rare sighting of a dimple in her cheek appearing as she smiles at him.

Smearing his hand over his face, Aureth scoots forward in front of the table, sitting comfortably on the floor now with his glass settled on the floor beside him. He still manages to project his voice pretty well. "That is exactly the sentiment," he says. "I will not say not to grieve. I will grieve, too. But think about what Luca would do. What he would want. Embrace the life that you have left. That is a lesson of his life." He tilts an upnod to one of the others in the congregation, eyebrows up.

When Carita approaches him, he smiles, and reaches up to take awkward advantage of her offered arm to clamber his way to his feet again, without falling over. In a way that is definitely very ... winey.

There's often a moment at parties like these when it is time for people to speak. The keen eyed in the crowd can usually tell. Someone who ought not speak, getting ready to go and speak. Flooded with alcohol, Jeffeth takes a stagger step forward, blearily looking over to Aureth. He raises his hand slowly. "Father?" He has very much gotten past the minimum.

Leaning in to kiss Sophie's cheek, Reigna turns to look to Elgana and then Bliss, "It is good to see you all here as well." Reigna murmurs, her hand falling to the -- is that a *sword* on Reigna's hip? Why yes. Yes it is. She rests her hand on the hilt and says, "I thought this was supposed to be --" ANd then Aureth is speaking, and she nods, "Yes. That. Luca would not approve of the atmosphere. There is drink, but where is our laughter? Our sharing of joys even as we all bond in drink and loss?"

A small signal has passed between Bliss and Aureth, and the Radiant stands from her bench, smiling briefly to those beside her as she stands and walks up, saying, "Oh, well, let's see what we can do about that," to Reigna as she lifts her glass of wine, finishing it before looking at Jeffeth. "You want to go first, or me?" she asks him as she wiggles the empty glass in the air.

Ophelia is able to put down both tumbler and bottle before glancing at the slate that Sorrel holds. She reads the words and nods yet again with her own tear-stained smile. "Thank you." she says with a nod. And, of course, she has to reach for a hug to follow such kind words written upon the slate.

Corban wraps his arm around Ophelia's shoulder, hugging her close to it. Allowing her to express her emotions with him, his strong, armored frame, consoling her until she goes to hug Sorrel.

Aureth sways a little on his feet as he squints up at Jeffeth. He says: "Hi."

Jeffeth looks back down to Aureth, leaning forward a little as to make perfect eye contact. "Hi." His attention swings briefly in the direction of something Bliss shaped. He nods.

When Jeffeth leans forward a little, Aureth rocks back on his heels, a little reflexively, only to sway forward again on his toes. Even with Carita standing right there offering him support, standing still is clearly not something that is within his capacity right now.

Sorrel hugs Ophelia, letting the slate lie on the pew next to her, her bottle of whiskey with it, because she has, in all of her dainty princess etiquette, been drinking straight from the bottle. It's hard to tell how much she's had, but she's definitely less steady due to it. Nonetheless, she hugs the Velenosa princess tightly, like she would a sister, and she strokes her hair and reaches over her shoulder to pat Corban, who was previously hugging Ophelia.

*hic*

Finishing off her second glass of wine and letting it warm her along with the rest of the booze she imbibed earlier, Caith pushes herself to her feet. She wibbles! She wobbles! But she got this. Heading up to the front, she teeters along with drunken-grace; Cuddle-Puddle is tucked beneath her arm and the princess kind of bumps against pews until she gets to the front.

"Can you believe it? I never actually met Luca. Sure, we passed each other at balls and parties and events but we never, ever, ever, never actually met. Even though his genitalia defended my honor.." A hand is fluttered at Sorrel, perhaps this is a reference to the verse of her song about whipping off a sheet during a fight. ".. I never met him. But we exchanged messages. I have pages and pages of notes that we sent each other. I begged and harassed and annoyed him until he gave me one of his kittens."

She holds up Cuddle-Puddle! Cuddle-Puddle meows.

"We always swore to make time but it started to become this wonderfully silly thing, this friendship that grew from nothing. I am sorry. I am sorry that I never actually met him. But it makes me laugh to think about our friendship for, despite it all, he was dearer to me than so many I know in person."

She's rambling at this point, drunken babbling you might say. Will there be a hook? You know, to yank her away? Will the music start to play her off? But wait, wait, wait! She's getting to a point, promise. "Through all our letters we exchanged and the white journals we wrote to each other, he taught me that the life best lived is the one with no regrets. That one must follow the wild passions of their heart and not be afraid to look silly, not be afraid to take risks, not be afraid to be anyone other than who you are. He left us too soon but we should all hope to leave this turn of the Wheel in the same manner. For his life concluded thusly: full of laughter and love, soaked with drinks, sweaty from dance and no regrets left behind." She holds up her cat again, as if raising a toast. "Oh my gosh. To Luca!"

After that, she stumbles away to the side, bonking up against the giant tree that is Jeffeth. In the spirit of all this, she goes up on her tip toes and gives the knight a long, deep kiss before she pats his chest and murmurs something to him.

Dolmen, a Crimson Agent arrives, following Harlex.

Aureth is overheard praising Caith: In the perfect spirit of the moment, well done.

Caith shouts from nearby, "Oh my gosh. To Luca!"

"Laughter and love, but not nearly enough oil. Yet," murmurs Juniper into the dregs of her whiskey-- a far less sacred echo of the eulogy given previous. But in keeping, oh yes. She aims her gaze low and then to the side, sliding back into quiet-- too quiet, surely-- conversation with Fortunato.

Jeffeth checked composure at difficulty 25, rolling 18 lower.

Aureth toasts this so vehemently with his glass of half-finished wine that a good deal of it escapes to splatter across the mica-glittering floor of his chapel. Somewhere, the Harlequin who is going to have to clean up after tonight sighs a little.

Harlex arrives -- late. The darkly-clad swordsman beelines for the table with the dark whisky. Surprise. Although he tries not to make too much of a fuss about it, slow in his gait, looking over the room in case he's spotted. At the toast, he lifts his glass and knocks back the drink. Refilling it afterward.

Waiting a moment for Caith to finish, Bliss clears her throat, a smile crossing her face at that. "To Luca! Well, that's getting us in the right direction, isn't it?" she asks, turning out to look toward the crowd. "And that's a hard act to follow, that one." She clears her throat, waiting a moment, before she speaks.

emit "You don't see a lot of Champions who learn what old age is like," is how Bliss decides to begin her eulogy. "In fact, we have a word for those Champions who do live to old age: boring." Bliss waits a moment, letting the joke land, and turning as if she is about to walk off the front, before she leans forwarde and motions with her empty glass toward Luca's body. "Luca was anything but boring. Whenever he walked into a room, he could command the attention of it. But his shine wasn't really for himself. He would use it and push people forward, whether it was in a duel where he made his opponents gleam, or if it was deciding to represent the Master of Questions in a fight of his against a god. You know? Ridiculous things, things people will talk about for years to come."

"His death fits in that, too," Bliss continues on. "When was the last time you ever heard of someone who wasn't in the latter years of their laugh actually dying while dancing? I doubt you have before, and I doubt you will again. That was Luca - doing the unexpected, right up until the very last minute. And then he ended things too soon, and yeah, it's disappointing in some ways, but you know what? He'll almost definitely be back, and maybe we'll be lucky enough to see it. If we are, I expect to hear just as many crazy stories." She then motions with her wine glass to one of the waiters wandering around, replacing it, before lifting her own. "So, a toast!" she calls out, "And a cheer for the Fox Prince, because fuck it, if I'm going to go someday, let me go like /that/. Embracing life for everything it's meant to be and can be, and flirting with the Queen of Endings like the beauty she is. Doing dumb shit to entertain a crowd is /exactly/ the way a Champion should go. I'm not here to mourn, I'm here to celebrate his life. Huzzah!" she calls out, lifting her glass into the air. On the way down, she pats Luca's body on the shoulder. "See you around, buddy," she tells him before she heads back to her pew.

Sorrel claps for Caith, again, even if clapping for eulogies isn't generally done, and she raises her bottle of whiskey to celebrate the sentiment. She takes another swig of it, not that she's not already drunk. And then there's Bliss! She remembers to put down the bottle to clap for Bliss's eulogy, then raises her bottle to toast the sentiment.

"To Luca," murmurs Helena, lifting her glass as well, a smile for Caith's effervescence, despite the mantle of grief upon so many of them. She leans her fair-haired head against her sister's darker curls, turning her eyes to Bliss to listen. Bliss' words draw a soft chuckle from her, followed by a shaky sigh. "To Luca," she says again, her voice a little louder this time, though it still seems in danger of cracking -- but does not quite. She lifts her chin though, and reaches a hand to squeeze Bliss' arm when the woman reenters the pew.

Tomwell has left the pews nearest the back.

Shard's ever-present frown twitches noticeably. She lifts her glass when the others do, though if anything the following sip she takes is slower and smaller than all the ones that have led up to it.

Carita remains at Aureth's side, something said between them making the smile she's wearing curl a little higher until a flash of teeth appear and she's dipping her head in an effort to concentrate on those speaking now. Keeping one arm supportively around the Legate, she pulls a flask from her skirt pocket to lift in Luca's honor. "To Luca!" she cheers.

Faye lifts her glass in salute to the speakers' then is about to take a drink when she hesitates. The hesitation turns into a pause, and then she sets down her glass in the spot Josephine had vacated not long ago. She stands and looks towards the man's body lying in state. "Luca. I will always miss you." And she turns and walks out.

Faye has left the pews off to the side.

3 Armed Confessors, Orva, a discreet assistant leave, following Faye.

Reigna sticks two fingers into her mouth and produces an exceptionally loud whistle at the end of Bliss' speech. "TO LUCA!" There's that Keaton voice, though the act of producing said voice seems to drain what little energy she has left. She finishes her glass of whiskey and inclines her head.

"Huzzah," hollers Caith in echo of Bliss, the princess holding up Cuddle-Puddle (this poor kitty) to toast since she forgot to get herself another glass of wine. "To Luca, huzzah!" She means to be standing /next/ to Jeffeth but she is about 10% princess and 90% alcohol right about now so she's actually leaning against him. He is the only thing, really, keeping her from the floor.

Ophelia sniffles and returns Sorrel's hug in kind with a smile to follow, the gesture very much appreciated. That was /surely/ a Luca approved hug! She nods and holds a hand to her heart when Caith speaks, smiling when the pretty kitty is lifted in 'cheers' after she is finished. "Aww. To Luca!" Those tears are beginning to dry and she's already feeling better after Bliss speaks next.

That glass in Elgana's hand rises twice - once for Caith and then again for Bliss - and she smiles, warm and sunny as she follows the cheer, "To Luca!" A soft trail of laughter caught up around her words before she downs the rest of her whiskey.

Jeffeth looks down blearily at Caith, listening to her words. Trying to listen to her words. He stares /hard/ at her as if that will help him understand better. She's then holding up her cat in salute and then aggressively stumbling at him. Jeffeth's brow furrows and then he's captured in a kiss. Returning the kiss, his brows arch high and his arm flops around trying to loop around Caith. Eventually when they part, he lets out a grunt at something she says, raising his gaze to listen to Bliss. He frowns, his eyes going downcast. Another disciple goes by, another glass is grabbed. He manages to stay upright as Caith leans against him.

Sophie lifts the glass of wine as Bliss and Caith finish their speeches, and she calls out, "To Luca!" and she tips the nearly full glass of wine back and pours it down, swallowing it quickly enough to empty the glass. When she drops the empty glass to her lap she shoots a smile to Reigna with a smile.

When everyone toasts, Autumn raises her empty hand as well and calls out a "To Luca!" as well, her fingers positioned as though she were grasping an invisible wine-glass. The woman's expression is an odd one as she does so, however: somewhere between fond remembrance and exasperation.

Brows drawing down, Aureth opens his mouth, and then closes his mouth. For some reason, he looks a little puzzled.

"To Luca!" Leta repeats along with the others, glances down into her glass and takes a bigger swig, going right to the last drops, which she shakes into her mouth before finding herself a refill. At least her face is growing rosier. She toys with the laces fastening her doublet and shakes her head, pensive gaze nost in the distance. Another small sip.

Lucita raises her glass and murmurs. "To Luca" And she drains it then quietly rises and makes her way out of the shrine.

Lucita has left the pews nearest the back.

Golden, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Gunther, a Rottweiler, Micana, 1 Saik Guard leave, following Lucita.

Reigna sways a little on her feet after her drink is finished. She frowns a little and one of her guards comes closer, taking her by the elbow. She is clearly not doing well. She offers a wave to Sophie, a murmured word, before she attempts a curtsy to Bliss. It is wobbly and the woman looks all but dead on her feet. She murmurs something to Bliss as well before she lets her guard start to escort her towards the exit.

Carita suddenly burst out in laughter at something Aureth whispers quietly, her eyes going wide, she puts a hand to her mouth as she visibly swallows any laughter back as she looks around for anyone that might be looking in her direction. Her reply isn't nearly as quiet as she believes it is, "It would /totally/ help I bet. Or, maybe make it worse? I have no idea!" She pauses, then, leaning to whisper to Aureth more softly.

Harlex is about three drinks deep when he finally puts the whisky at his back. He still looks begrudgingly sober, but here he is, and he moves closer to the pews. Observing the body for a time.

As for Luca, he honestly could just be napping through all this.

Sorrel offers Harlex a little wave. She's got a personal bottle of whiskey for this, and she motions for him to join them at the pew near the front. Her cheeks are rosy from intoxication and she's clearly unaware of how low her neckline is based on the angle at which she's sitting with her bottle of whiskey.

Harlex has joined the pews nearest the front.

Caith has left the pews nearest the back.

The mood rises and Juniper grows more subdued. She's set aside her empty glass, she folds her hands in her lap where she can look down at them. The shape of her expression is low, thoughtful. Reflective.

Ophelia leans close and murmurs to Corban before standing up from her seat and quietly making her way toward the back of the shrine. The First Captain follows and soon the archeress has a fresh drink, but they both remain where they are. Probably closest to the booze for refills.

Ophelia has left the pews nearest the front.

Corban has left the pews nearest the front.

Reedy, a King's Own aide leaves, following Corban.

2 House Velenosa Guards, Robyn, an artful archeress, Corban leave, following Ophelia.

Burp.

"At the beginning of the Folly." Jeffeth is talking. Oh no. "The Nox'alfar said Blame Jeffeth." He looks over to Aureth at this. Pausing. "She did." He says as if directly to Aureth. Then back to the rest of the group, "So you can do that. If you need to. At one point in his life, he might have. Not at the end, I don't think. But at one point. Probably." He takes another sip. "I don't know if we were friends or not. I don't know if he would have called me a friend, in the end. The last exchange we had." He purses his lips and shakes his head. "Wasn't good."

Jeffeth's head hangs for a moment. "There was a lot of things he didn't care about. Most things." He slowly looks up. "He did care very much about certain things. People he loved. And protecting the Compact. It made him angry sometimes the things he worked against. Made him angry a lot of the time. I think some of the laughter was real, some of it was a mask." He looks up to the group. "Like most of us. I think...." Another sip, and he goes on a tangent. "Once we saved two people. Bliss was one of them. They kept falling asleep in a Shardhaven, Luca and I were the only ones awake. We had to run and run... We fought side by side together that time, other times. He was flawed like the rest of us, but a very good man. I won't say he was my friend, I'm not sure if he would give me that honor. But I was honored to know him, and I'm honored to remember him as he was."

"I think he would be a little pissed he died dancing." Jeffeth rumbles with a light grin. "Humans shouldn't participate in Follies. I know that now. Bliss has won some. Others of us have won some. That doesn't mean we're the most skilled. It means we were skilled and we got lucky. Luca didn't get lucky." He slowly lowers his glass to Caith.

"So a gift to Luca. He did love spectacle. Cutting through the monotony of things. So. A gift to you Luca. We'll repeat one game of the Folly. And this time, you will win." Jeffeth takes a few steps away from Caith. He looks over to Aureth.

"Father Aureth." He rumbles, standing still.

"Be my door."

Jeffeth checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 54 higher.

Looking as though the guard is supporting her more than her own legs, Reigna is exiting the Shrine with a final look to Luca's body before she slips away.

Reigna has left the pews off to the side.

4 Novice Keaton Huntsmen, Sir Pupsalot, a polite, tri-color corgi, Oaken, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Fidelity, a white-tailed eagle leave, following Reigna.

Aureth checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 69, rolling 47 lower.

Lowering his shoulders and hunching over, suddenly Jeffeth is sprinting across the shrine, running at full drunk tilt straight at Aureth.

Autumn has joined the lonely pew that smells funny.

A few things happen very rapidly.

One, Aureth figures out that Jeffeth is serious.

Two, Aureth tries to push Carita away from ground zero.

Two, Aureth's honor guard figure out that Jeffeth is serious. There is a clattering sound that comes from one templar fumbling her spear to drop it on the floor while the other suddenly jerks forward to start across the shrine with an alarmed shout.

That's about all there's time for. Aureth was having a hard enough time staying on his feet at all, let alone staying on his feet in the wake of a full on collision course. He sprawls on the ground in a flailing splay of limbs. Wine and glass are everywhere.

Shard sits up very straight and blinks. And blinks. And blinks again. And then her face twists into an expression of pure and utter bewilderment, the most non-verbal 'what the fuck' that she could possibly manage.

Looking put out just a moment as Jeffeth says that humans shouldn't take part in Follies, Bliss says something to those near her, and then - then Jeffeth is running full tilt at Aureth. But even before the feet started hitting the ground, Bliss is laughing and clapping her hands together. Just the words 'be my door' were enough, and the full tumble from Aureth, well, that's enough to get her to stand up and let out a whoop.

Dusk, the artist formerly known as Fortunato, rises from the bench and darts to Aureth's side when he crashes. Crunching on glass, trailing wine. Dodging past Jeffeth. "I have no idea what's going on, but are you /intact/?"

Aureth mumbles, "Ow."

There's a harsh bark of laughter from the front pew. It doesn't come from Sorrel. Harlex is laughing. He isn't even drunk yet.

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor, Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor, 1 Templar Knight guards, Oswald, the war pig arrive, following Brigida.

Juniper is on her feet. When did that happen? One moment to one moment and she's standing, hands curled over the pew before, looking pale and wide at Aureth, and then at Autumn.

Sorrel is laughing, but silently. It's a little uncanny, watching her make the motions of laughter and having no sound come out. She seems fairly delighted by the turn of events, however, and then she realizes she's lost her whiskey bottle. Nevermind, Harlex has it. She lets him drink. He's not drunk enough, and she's had plenty.

"Was that s'posed to... uh..." Leta only reacts by looking around to see how everyone else is reacting, a dumbfounded look on the burly knight's face. She still has some wine, so she makes that vanish quickly between her lips as she rises to her feet for a better look.

One moment Carita and Aureth are talking quietly, and in the next she's being shoved out of the way. Unexpected, she stumbles back to land on her backside as she watches the happenings in awe. "/Ow./" She makes a face at Jeffeth, since this is clearly his fault. Her assistant comes out of nowhere to try to get her back to her feet. "I could kick you, Sir Jeffeth, I spilled whiskey /all/ over myself."

Autumn winces as Aureth crashes down. "Tck! That looked like it hurt." She hasn't even yet taken a seat at the pew she's approached; her hand is resting on the back of it, just about to settle in, but she's frozen as her attention slips to the front of the room. "A little less graceful than most follies."

It's possible that under ordinary circumstances, Aureth might be able to do enough of a pushup to sit up, but it seems like right now the Legate of the Lost is going to be content to just lie here in a crumpled heap on the floor for a moment, letting the chapel spin around him.

One of the templars seems absolutely convinced that this is the weirdest assassination attempt in history and is getting all up in Jeffeth's face in a particularly priggish demanding way, all outside the spirit of the occasion.

The other one kind of stands there frozen, looking between the priest on the floor and the priest who is standing up and the various gigglefits that appears to be happening in the sanctuary in a vague confusion born of just how often silliness is a part of Harlequin _rites_.

The giant Knight Commander of Solace was the thing that was keeping her from falling over. That thing is now sprinting at the Legate, leaving her with nothing keeping her upright. There is, of course, the bang and clutter and hub-bub of two bodies smashing against each other. There is also the much softer *thunk* of Caith being introduced to the floor. Hello, ground! You are coming up awfully fast.

She at least has the sense to let go of Cuddle-Puddle on the way down so the cat doesn't get smooshed. Sprawled out on her back now, the princess Thrax stares upward in confusion as the white feline begins to wander about the shrine.

Harlex raises his acquired bottle of whisky, "If you need more, Countess. I'll refill your cup." Clearly the loss of Carita's drink is the problem.

Shard gives a sudden, muffled snort, not at the chaos around Aureth, but, apparently, at Caith hitting the ground.

Leaning over, Jeffeth places his hands on his knees. It's tiring, running like that when you're super drunk. Jeffeth looks down blearily at Aureth, then looks up at the Templars coming at him. He raises his hands palm up. "It's alright, it's alright. We were playing a game." Says the man, standing over the body of a legate. Jeffeth looks over to Carita with slightly widened eyes. "My Lady, I am very sorry. I honestly did not see you." Does he see her now? Unclear. Jeffeth looks down at Aureth and offers him his hand. Glancing back to the Templar that is in his face. "It's okay. I'm sort of your boss." A pause. "Am I?" Unclear. Then he's looking back down to Aureth. "How's your leg?"

If he is aware that he left Caith to just collapse on the ground, he's doesn't show any sign of it.

Dusk stays by Aureth in an awkward kneel, looking somewhere between very concerned and a little pissed.

Aureth rolls over onto his back and looks up towards the shimmer of the hundred candle chandelier. He licks his upper lip, looking sweaty and pale. "Dunno," he says thoughtfully. He manages to sit up, wincing awkwardly, and reaches to clasp his brother's arm. "I'm pretty drunk. Definitely gonna feel that one tomorrow..."

"No. Keep Oswald back there thank you very much, I'm sure I'll be fine here without a guard and a pig. You two though might as well follow me. Just watch and listen and pay attention as this is going to be a very sombre affai-" The voice of Brigida cuts off as she suddenly looks at what is actually going on and then hurumphs, "Ignore that... but stay quiet anyway," she amends as instruction to her Disciples as she squints around the area.

Dusk returns the clasp and braces his other arm behind Aureth's shoulders. "I think that's enough japery for one night," he says, a little stiff. "You've already danced quite close enough to Death. Take care now. Of your body and your head."

"Dancing is STRICTLY FORBIDDEN," Aureth announces with inebriated certainty from the floor. Then: "Wait. What time is it?"

Helena's eyes widen at the reenactment of the folly game, brows drawing together in confusion as well, watching the men recover from the collision. "Is that supposed to be fun?" she whispers to Elgana and Bliss -- perhaps not surprisingly, given the Redrain is one of the least martially skilled people in Arx, not counting children in diapers. She doesn't wait for a response, but rises, kissing Elgana on the cheek and making her way to where Luca lies in repose. Helena takes a flask from her pocket to tuck into one of his, and a sprig of foxbrush. "You would do anything to avoid the upcoming winter wouldn't you?" she murmurs softly. The tears start to slide down her cheeks, and so she turns to go, footfalls hurrying with each step.

Jeffeth slowly straightens up, shrugging his massive shoulders. "How do you tell?" To Aureth. "We don't have a clocktower." He reminds. A beat. "Probably one." There's a shrug as he reaches down to pat-pat Aureth's shoulder. "I'm sorry if I broke any bones. Need me to carry you?"

"I think you can let them dance, now," Dusk says, firm to certainty. He eyes Jeffeth rather direly. Surely Jeffeth is threatened by some tiny guy in umbra.

Helena has left the pews off to the side.

"Hi Dusk." Jeffeth grunts with a small smile, reaching up with one hand to clap onto Dusk's shoulder with all the warmth in the world. His broad drunken smile is gleaming at the shorter man. "Thanks for coming."

"It would improve most Faith services," Shard volunteers, from the back pews. No one asked her.

Carita shakes her head Harlex's way and pulls a flask from her robe's pocket, "Thanks, I got this." Her brows are still level, this is not a pleased pale blonde woman, aided by Luna. Smoothing a hand through her hair, she sniffs lightly, points in Jeffeth's direction, her eyes narrowing, "You're remarkably bad at being a door or whatever." Her brows furrow as Aureth asks for the time, "I'm sorry, Father, I have no idea." She smooths her hands over her skirts, "Can I say something, Father, or is it too late?"

"Fun," Elgana murmurs back to Helena but her eyes stay on the events as they unfold. She smiles at her sister and leans into that peck, and when Helena wanders off, she watches her then. Elgana's smile turns softer, somewhat sad for a moment but then she's looking away toward Bliss for a moment. The mention of dancing gets her to shift and rise from the pew, fixing the skirts of her gown. Her glass, drained of its whiskey gets set aside. "He was very much like sunshine himself, warm and caring. A true friend and I shall miss him," she remarks warmly.

'SAY SOMETHING!' Sorrel writes on her bit of slate and flashes it in Carita's direction, the words large and friendly with a mind to be readable from a distance.

"Right. One o'clock." Even though Jeffeth is very large and very strong, it is on Dusk that Aureth more or less habitually leans as he clamors, groaning and grunting, to his feet. "Ow," he says. He shakes his head. Then he says, "It's one o'clock and the hour is spent. I forbade dancing in his name. But he is gone; my friend has fallen, and his memory remains. Let us not freeze in place, broken and weeping, but move forward, in his honor. So celebrate your lives, ladies and gentlemen. Dance, if you want to."

As he speaks, he gestures, and one of his Harlequins quickly rushes to the musicians to hand out their missing pieces: the bows for the fiddles, the sticks for the drums.

"Toast to Prince Luca Grayson." Aureth smiles. "Please, feel free to speak, Lady Carita. I'm sure he would love that. -- Oh gods, Dusk, can you help me to one of those benches, please."

Leta's wine is gone, and she's forgotten the vessel in her hand, empty, as her eyes fix on the front of the shrine, where Luca is. Her fingers slip under the abundant velvet cloth bound about her head, scratching at her scalp, then lower to rub at her ear. "I don't understand death," she admits, philosophically slack-jawed.

Brigida has joined the pews nearest the back.

Dusk straightens (badly) and takes Aureth with him, hobbling him over toward the rather smelly pew in the corner. "Good evening, Sir Jeffeth. Please do not knock anyone else over. Folk are fragile, sometimes. Let's shatter no more glass. Sit here, Legate. Rest your head."

Looking back at Elgana, Bliss gives her a faint smile, before she hears that there's dancing finally being allowed. She stands, clearing her throat, and holds a hand out to either side. For whomever might wish to take them, a meaningful look being sent to everyone at her pew.

Sophie has been watching the craziness at the front with Jeffeth knocking Aureth to the ground, and then Caith sprawled on the floor as well. She's watching them more carefully than most, but once she decides nobody looks actually injured enough to require healing she relaxes. When Bliss extends her hands Sophie takes it and stands from the pew, placing the empty wine glass on the pew she just vacated.

As people sort themselves out, as people continue to drink, as Carita is about to say her piece, Cuddle-Puddle the cat wanders about with her big, floofy tail sticking straight up. She rubs against this person. She rubs against that one. Finally, she springs up onto the table where Luca lies in state and climbs over his body. Because cats are gonna cat. She sniffs at the Grayson prince's corpse and then lays down atop his chest, tail lazily swishing back and forth.

Where is Caith? Why isn't she corralling the fluffy monster? Because she is still on the floor. She closed her eyes at one point but -- ooof -- that made the spins worse. So she just lies there, very still and sends up silent prays for the world to get back on its axis, pleaseandthankyou.

"You two should dance," Elgana says to Bliss as Sophie rises and accepts the Radiant's outstretched hand. Elgana herself shifts and dips into a curtsy to the pair before she wanders off toward where Caith has been left prone on the ground. She gives the fallen princess a little smile before she holds out her hand. "Need help, highness?"

Elgana is overheard praising Aureth.

Carita's having a little trouble keeping her balance, and did she just limp her way to the front to speak? "Might I just begin by saying Father Aureth is remarkably strong. Thank you for pushing me out of the way." Her smile restored as she dips her head Aureth's way, then levels another look Jeffeth's way, she lets a slow sigh escape her as she closes her eyes in an effort to regain some composure and collect her thoughts.

That moment lasts a really long time. Did she fall asleep?

Then suddenly her eyes reopen and she's smiling warmly. "I wrote in my whites a little bit about the adoration I had for my patron, Prince Luca Grayson. I could honestly talk for hours, as I'm sure a good many of those that loved him could, but I share the same feelings his lovely sister Princess Ophelia did when she spoke of not having enough time with him." Her head dips a moment. "What I was blown away by, was the flood of letters I received that spoke so kindly of the Prince. Funny stories about his carving his initial in someone's leg," she motions Bliss' way, "or how he supported businesses," her smile softens, "but most of all just how loving and loved he was. One letter spoke of the spot Luca created in their heart, as he did mine. For that, for his genuinely /caring/ as Sir Jeffeth-the-very-large-and-terrifying-when-he's-running-at-you said in his speech. He used to send me haze cigarillos when I was in /horribly/ boring meetings, and I rarely got a chance to smoke one so I have a very large collection which I've brought with me today if anyone would like a Luca haze cigarillo to remember him by." She lifts her flask, "To the most caring fucking patron, and lovely man, Prince Luca. His garden is going to be /spectacular/!"

Aureth is overheard praising Carita: I'm sure it will be.

Brigida settles in on a pew at the back, her face screwed in a wrinkle as she tries to figure our just what is going on. Her face lightens somewhat as she realises, ah it's one of ^those^ funerals. "Right Keski. Go get me a small wine. Don't panic I'm sure if it were poisoned they'd all be dead by now." The old Archlector shoos her disciple off and settles down, eyrs watching keenly.

With Sophie taking both her hands and Elgana dismissing her, Bliss smiles as she focuses her attention fully on Sophie. "Come on," she says, guiding the Mercy out into the hallway and toward the barrier that had been erected, bending down and shifting under it before she stands again, turning to the musicians who are missing integral pieces of their instruments. Her tongue runs over her lips briefly before a grin crosses her face, and she calls to them, once Carita is done with her speech, "You don't have instruments, but you have voices, and you have hands! If you have either of those, give us a beat to dance to!"

Carita is overheard praising Aureth: For saving my life and throwing an awesome FUNeral.

Harlex lifts his bottle of whisky at Carita's eulogy and toast. He drinks a lot of that bottle afterward. A bottle is just a big cup anyway.

Harlex takes a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

Aureth gets a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

Sophie's smile brightens considerably as Bliss focuses on her, and she tightens her grip on Bliss' hand. When they're skirting under the barrier Sophie does let go of the hand long enough to pull off the heavy robes of Mercy and drape them on the nearest barrier to them. She doesn't wait for the music before she slides an arm around Bliss' waist, and she waits for whatever sort of beat might be created for them to dance to. "I knew Prince Luca, but not well. I don't have any stories to tell, or memories to peruse. Only the stories I've heard from the people closest to him, but I do know... he'd want dancing, and drinking, and laughter here tonight - not more tears."

Elgana gets a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

Juniper takes a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

"Oh, no. My Lady. I won." Jeffeth announces. "Father Aureth is bad at the Be My Door Game." Jeffeth explains with a warm smile. Then the large man gives a nod to Dusk. "Oh okay." With that he backpedals a few steps. Listening to Carita with a gentle cant of his head and a broad smile. He starts lumbering away once more. Completely unaware he has left poor Caith just laying there on the ground.

Jeffeth has joined the lonely pew that smells funny.

Bliss gets a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

Sophie gets a fragrant and hand-rolled haze cigarillo from an elegant pouch.

Now that the Harlequins have restored the musicians and their instruments, and the pieces of the whole have been brought together again, the first song that is struck up amidst the wine and food and occasional laughter is definitely a sprightly dance tune, taking its cue from Sorrel's sassy little dirge about what should ought to be played here tonight.

Shard finishes off her whiskey with another slow sip, at which point she sits there squinting narrowly at the empty glass for a minute or so. She only gradually looks up after, frowning over at the two person dance that's starting up, and then the musicians. She regards the nearest refreshment table last of all, but it doesn't seem to be enough to urge her out of her seat just yet.

When Elgana appears over her, the Redrain princess is a bit fuzzy. There are two of her -- two Elganas that are overlapping a bit. Caith blinks hard and tries to focus on her, a dopey smile fixing to her lips. "Yes please," she says, taking her friend's hand and starting to pull herself up.

And then the world lurches and starts to spin faster. Ooooooh nooooooo...

So Caith lays back down, her hand slipping out of Elgana's. "I think," she mumble-slurs, reaching over to pit-pat the woman's ankle. Nice ankle. Nice lady. "I think I will just stay down here for a bit." Carita's words wind their way into her consciousness, prompting the very /classy/ Caith to bellow out in an echo:

"To the most lovely fucking patron, and caring man, Prince LuuuuUuuUuUUuuca!"

Cuddle-Puddle stretches out atop the dead man, rolling onto her back and exposing her tummy. Watch out, people. It's a trap.

Gregory, an unassuming disciple have been dismissed.

2 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.

Binky, an asshole crow have been dismissed.

Carita has left the pews nearest the front.

Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant, Luca II, the laziest of the feline lot leave, following Carita.

Well. That did not go accurately to plan!

Elgana's dark eyes widen as Caith seems to have a secure grip, which is reinforced by Elgana's own not-winning-any-contests-but-can-help-another-princess-to-her-feet-strength. "Oh no!" But it's too late. She winces as Caith slips back down to the floor. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?" Elgana is no Mercy, but she dips down to make sure Caith is at least okay - nothing seems broke, that she can tell. Once satisfied she gives the Thrax princess a gentle pat. "Try not to make any sudden movements and if you feel worse just call for Sister Sophie. I'm sure she'll be able to help you better than me." Sorry, Caith!

Rising back to her feet, Elgana takes another look around before she quietly just slips out.

With the music up, despite her call for clapping, Bliss seems quite happy, beginning to pull Sophie around in a dance. This isn't an elegant, courtly thing, but more the kind of upbeat dance that would be found in many a tavern across Arx or the Compact in general - foot-stamping, clapping and laughter coming from her.

Elgana has left the pews off to the side.

Lille, the dauntless companion leaves, following Elgana.

Sophie checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.

Sorrel gets up from her bench and puts her hand in Harlex's, leading him and her bottle of whiskey easily towards the dancefloor, though she does it all quite silently. There's a limit on conversation now that she's without her slate, but the expressive princess can probably make it up in body language.

Bliss checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 49 higher.

Brigida raps her wooden staff against the pew she is sat on, the knocking of wood on wood joining the beat to help the dancers, the old lady smiling as she remembers dances like them.

Sophie manages to keep up with Bliss, and even looks like she's having fun doing it, though of course, her skill can't compare to that of the Radiant. Her eyes close for a moment as she dances with Bliss, and when she opens her eyes she says to Bliss, "May we all go doing what we love, hmm?" Then she laughs and pulls Bliss closer to whisper something in her ear.

Harlex is led out to the dance floor and seemingly could be no more out of his element. Whisky is an elixir of a thing, helpful in its way, as he indulges in another deep pull. There's not but a splash in there anymore. He'll follow the silent princess's lead on this one. Haphazardly able to set the bottle aside on a (probably) reliable surface.

Sorrel checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 27 higher.

Harlex checked charm + athletics at difficulty 20, rolling 36 higher.

Harlex won't step on any feet.

Even wildly, desperately, fall-down drunk, Sorrel is a pretty good dancer, and the very body conscious dress she has on doesn't hurt with that. One might even think she was flirting with Harlex, the way she moves, leaning close to him as she trips the light fantastic.

Shard pushes up from her seat. She fills her glass of whiskey back to full, but rather than return to the pew she just left, she eyes the dance floor for a few moments and then heads toward the one that smells. /Why does it smell/.

Shard has left the pews nearest the back.

Shard has joined the lonely pew that smells funny.

The band plays on, and Bliss keeps up the beat with Sophie, lasting into the night. There is a very simple message here: life goes on, and death happens, but you can't stop the beat. She probably even vocalizes that at some point until she and Sophie head back out, arm-in-arm, late in the night.

Bliss has left the pews off to the side.

Sophie has left the pews off to the side.

Dame Rosario Nevarre of the Oathlands, Anouk Ardennes, Anais Ardennes, Triage, The white dove of Mercy, 3 Valardin Knights, 1 Templar Knight guards leave, following Sophie.

Jared, an overworked-looking, nervous Apprentice Whisper, Sophie leave, following Bliss.

Brigida has left the pews nearest the back.

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor have been dismissed.

Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor have been dismissed.

1 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.

Oswald, the war pig have been dismissed.

Sorrel gets Why Sorrel Cannot Speak.

Sorrel gets Eulogy for Luca.

Sorrel puts Why Sorrel Cannot Speak and Eulogy for Luca in small bag for holding things and stuff.

Leta sits silent, but now that there's music and dancing she does, at least, tap one foot to go along with the others. Her eyes turn up and away from the proceedings for a second, aiming at an empty corner of the shrine while she thinks. Her lips move, accompanying some internal monologue that seems to be going on, with small interruptions. Eventually, that fades off and she stands, hands on her hips. She smiles at last, watching everyone make merry to the music. Her fingers move with it, too, tapping a beat along the pew as she shuffles off and heads for the entrance in thought.

Taking Juniper's hand, Jeffeth makes his way over to the dancefloor with her in tow. He pauses near Caith with a broad, sleepy smile. Leaning over to press a peck against her forehead. Then it's off to the dancefloor.

Jeffeth checked dexterity + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor have been dismissed.

Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor have been dismissed.

1 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.

Oswald, the war pig have been dismissed.

Harlex couldn't lead a dance to save his life. Too soon? Regardless. The swordsman moves in step with Sorrel. Close against her, with the same murmured words as he wears a slightly dry, amused smile.

Leta has left the pews nearest the back.

2 House Velenosa Guards leaves, following Leta.

A smile is cast to those remaining on the pew before Juniper is led up to the silk-bound dancefloor. Passing near Caith, she chirps a respectful, "Your highness!" and takes every care in making certain the overabundance of her skirts doesn't drown the princess in starry fabric while Jeffeth bestows his kiss. Then she arranges herself before the knight and lets him sweep her in among the other dancers.

Juniper checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 25 higher.

The world continues to go on around her. People laugh, people cry. People drink, people dance. Caith? She just continues to lie sprawled out on the floor. At one point, her guards tried to pick her up but as soon as she was approaching upright, she'd gurgle. You know. /Gurgle/. So they gently set her back down, on her back, and stand guard in her vicinity.

Jeffeth kisses her forehead and Caith mumbles something. Or slurs something. Maybe she used words, maybe she's just making drunken noises at this point. One thing is for certain: she is going to regret this in the morning. Which is in direct opposition to how she eulogized Luca: NO REGRETS.

With his hands on Juniper's waist, Jeffeth starts to lead the dance with overly careful steps. He leans forward, going to rest his head against the northern Whisper's as he begins their.. Very Careful dance. There is some amount of grace to it, but mostly the large man is trying to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone /else/ at this Funeral tonight. He rumbles lowly to the Whisper as they dance, focusing /very/ hard on staying upright.

Harlex nods and moves to escort the muted Sorrel from the shrine.

Harlex has left the pews nearest the front.

Sorrel has left the pews nearest the front.

3 Thrax Guards, 2 Thrax Elite Guards, Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog leave, following Sorrel.

Dolmen, a Crimson Agent, Sorrel leave, following Harlex.

Juniper provides admirably sturdy in movement, capable of staying light on her feet and assisting Jeffeth in his efforts to remain very careful. And not topple over. Quiet talk is return, carried on the curl of a small smile.

Alright. Enough is enough. There are some concessions to be made for it being a funeral and all but Caith's men can only leave her on the floor for so longer before it becomes a matter of dignity for her House.
One man, he carefully picks up Cuddle-Puddle from Luca's corpse.
Another man, he delicately scoops the Thrax royal into his arms.
The third man, he grabs a bucket and stays close in case her body riots.

Carys gives Jeffeth, Dusk, Juniper, Autumn and Shard a polite nod, Caith's maid falling in with the others as they get their lady home. Goodnight, Luca. Goodnight, sweet prince.

So long and thanks for the fish.

3 Thrax Guards, Carys, a slight woman with ink-stained fingers, Cuddle Puddle, the loviest-doviest kitty leave, following Caith.