Waldemai comes in a few minutes early and takes a seat on one of the benches.

Nevermore, the sulking raven, Cuddles, the pinch-happy scorpion arrive, following Narcissa.

Finding one's way in the observatory isn't precisely easy. The absence of artificial light has a way of doing that, above and beyond the few lanterns preserved so nobility and others do not trip all over one another. Hardly desirable to have the events stop as soon as they started because someone suffers from a broken ankle or cracked vertebrae. All the same, the path isn't quite so hard to see by. Adjusting by the time one enters from outside in the Sanctuary of the Lost means that finer details might emerge. A pot of night-blooming flowers, for example, holds a near glow in the dark. Those open pots of paint held on particular tables for those who wish to test their skills in a new medium are very much phosphorescent, differing in their degree but very much reacting to the presence of a candle's light or lamp brought near.

2 Redrain Guards, Lucien, a bright-eyed pine marten arrive, following Helena.

A frequent haunt of Tor's resident poet, the observatory is an easy find for Narcissa as she enters garbed in shades befitting the theme of the evening. There is a sketchpad tucked under one arm; a satchel slung over one shoulder 'clinks' with the sound of glass, the ink stains on its side enough hint to the art supplies it contains.

Quintin makes his way into the observatory, an apple in hand. He's making quick work of it, tearing off chunks with his teeth and chewing away. He's over half finished right now. Give him a couple of minutes.

Videl slowly but surely enters, every step measured, and she looks around in the darkened space for the thing she needs most right away. A place to sit and recover from the walk here.

Merek has come to the place with his cloak adjusted about him, hood up, while he makes his way to Delilah to offer a bow. He then has a few paints delivered, "All you asked about," he says.

"Are the paints dog-friendly?" That question emanates from a space just inside the foyer, not fully into the main chamber of the observatory. Delilah inclines her head at a hopeful man in a smock and, behind him, a basset hound without quite the same soulful intensity of Sir Floppington, esquire of House Halfshav. "Some of them certainly might be. Though perhaps you might want to ask..." A look about signals the possibility of blaming someone else with the highly technical questions. She flicks her wrist into the main archway, indicating someone that way. "Him just to be sure. Please do be sure you check in with Scribble and see about using one of the classrooms, just as a precaution because we -do- have arrows in here. Blunt ones, but it would be a shame if he ran away with the stardust." Quintin. Waldemai. A scholar who looks to be about sixty and already armed with a wooden palette balanced against his arm. And thus spoke Zarath... enters the duchess response for all this fanfare celebrating being in the dark on a beautiful midsummer evening. Or close enough to count, thankfully.

"Good evening, everyone!" she calls out. Merek, he's there! One dog-owning painter converges on him, because clearly Merek knows what he is about.

It's a less familiar place for Lora, who would be Narcissa's shadow if shadows could manage to exist in the calculated darkness here tonight. She is more lightly dressed, the scant bits of light catching in some of the glimmering facets of her accessories, as if she thought possibly to borrow a few stars, either to bring them in, or to smuggle them back out when she's finished. She gets about far enough to be distracted by one of the pots of night-blooming flowers, a detour that leads her there to brush her fingertips gently over its petals, but in the process she loses the poet and so goes to find the wine instead.

Helena enters the observatory, looking around with a bit of wonder. She didn't dress down too much for the day, and she didn't dress with the stars in mind but more the end of the day, in a dress that mimics the sky at sunset. She smiles as she sees Quintin and heads over to him. "Is someone else bribing you?" she teases. "I'll have to up the ante," she asides, before quieting to listen to Delilah's words and nodding, blue eyes darting about to take in the various activities that they can participate in. "My archery will probably be as embarrassing as my attempts at art, but then I can blame one over the other," she says lightly.

Quintin flashes a quick smile over at Delilah after swallowing his current bite. He nods to Merek, who is familiar, and blinks at Helena, puzzled. Just for a moment. "Oh! No, this is from the orangery," he tells her, holding up his apple a little. "I'm not much of an archer myself, but I'm even less of a painter."

With a glance stolen back over her shoulder, Narcissa sees she has lost the other Fidante to the blooms and eventual wine. There is a sigh and a lift of golden eyes skywards as a smile creeps at the corner of her lips. It is towards the corner of the Nocturne mural that she finds her perch, gathering some paints to her little section and laying out her inks as well. "I will stay far from the archery, thank you." she singsongs.

Waldemai just picks up a small pot of paint. "I think my skills extend to just about one single star."

Videl has joined the an elegant arched-lattice bench.

Videl sits down on a bench, and looks around. She inclines her head to Delilah, "Good evening, duchess." Exhaustion in her voice. Then she to other people she knows, or just greeting them in turn, no verbal greeting for the moment, however.

"No such thing as poor art," contends Delilah, firing back on that front to Helena with a warmth to her voice meant to instill no suggestion of discomfort. "The purpose was giving everyone the opportunity to participate at any level. We might have masters of painting or those who would be content to create a stripe on a rock." A contained gesture indicates the various tables. "Painting a crystal or a stone as a star of the Dreamer is certainly easy. I'll put out a basket in a bit to collect anything someone makes, if they so wish. As long as you hit the wall with the arrows, you most certainly will produce some kind of effect. We've used eggshell and powder to interesting effect, I promise." Stepping back, she indicates the food. "Or you can enjoy refreshments. We have Torean wine, Lady Videl, should you like something a bit crisp and refreshing. As for myself, if you have no idea of who I am, I'm Lilah Shepherd, the person who built this place, as it is. We're fundraising for the Saving Grace Hospital in addition to simply welcoming others to come together and indulge in a bit of art."

Merek nods a bit to Delilah, while he moves about to look for things to do, while he participates with the different things, seeming thoughtful as well.

Delilah drops stargazer lily patch.

Delilah has joined the stargazer lily patch.

Quintin has joined the stargazer lily patch.

Making his way in to the observatory, comes the Saik Knight. Dressed in his blued steel and leathers. He rubs his beard as he looks around at the flurry of activity. His brown eyes watching people play with paints and such. "Interesting. Was unaware this was an art studio. Looks can be deceiving I see." Julian says with a grin.

"I feel you would be modest about things you do well, too," Helena says with a smile for Quintin, before nodding in agreement to Delilah. "You are right. All that matters is the earnest effort and the fun had," she says warmly. "I can certain paint some splotches on a rock, I think!" This is sad in a chipper voice. The others also get smiles as she sees others she knows -- those she doesn't know also get smiles and nods.

Videl has left the an elegant arched-lattice bench.

Videl has joined the stargazer lily patch.

Helena has joined the stargazer lily patch.

Merek has joined the stargazer lily patch.

Quintin is definitely intrigued by the bows, though he does look a bit askance at the ribbons on them. He finishes off his apple and, once he's chewed and swallowed - he's lucky he doesn't choke - he shrugs a shoulder. "There are a few things I'm very good at, and I'm not particularly humble about them. You just haven't seen me do any of them yet." Wiping his hands on a square of cloth produced from somewhere, he moves toward the bows to take one up. "Hmn."

Flowers, then wine. Two glasses, only one of which, surely, is for Lora. She has these in hand by the time she gets near to their hostess, and holds the pair with delicate precision in one hand, safely away, so that she can trade an air kiss with the duchess. "Delilah, this is..." A pause comes as she draws in a breath, and withdraws, so that she can look around. and up. Mostly up. It takes the whole thought away with it. Up, up, and away, into the stars, entirely forgotten by the time she looks back down again. There is a smile given instead, faint as the starlight, and then she moves away again to go peruse the archery-free opportunities.

"I would disagree, my lady. There is such a thing as poor art. It's art made by those who do not care about the result, who produce by rote drudgery. Even the most technically skillful artist will produce rubbish compared to the work of a complete amateur if the latter puts his heart and soul into it, and the former merely finishes it to get it done with." Videl answers Delilah, getting over to the archery section and looking around, "I will probably do dreadful at this, but I'd like to give it a try."

Waldemai takes one of the rocks and looks it over to see if it looks like it will look good with a star painted on it.

Those stargazer lilies in a pot may not exactly be naturally night-blooming, but their heady scent does help set them apart from the rest of the flowers gathered here or there. None are on the steps up to the dizzyingly high platform, partly as a safety precaution. A /terribly/ excited Explorer from the Society of Explorers commandeers a barrel full of suspiciously round-headed arrows, all of them wrapped lightly in gauze. On a battlefield, they would be nigh useless except to distress the fashionable Light Art Brigade. Still, the young man with a crop of bright ginger hair is happy to give every competitor two of the arrows. The shortbows present are glittery, silver-blue, and yes, they have ribbons. At least a few in places they won't be particularly a nuisance unless a crack archer wants to perform a trick shot. Eagerly, the young man thrusts his bow out first to Quintin. "This is so /cool/! You're an Ashford!"

From her corner of the Nocturne mural blackness swells and builds, looming and beginning to reach out with only the faintest glimmer of dusk in its depths. Whatever it is Narcissa is painting, it has yet to take form. Overhearing Lora, she opines, "And then there are those that are pure genius that argue all of their work is deserving only of the rubbish heap. Every artist is their own worst critic...mostly, anyways. That is not accounting for the egotistical."

Merek takes shots at two of the full moon pouches, which brings a bit of the iridescent paint white-silver on black it looks like, in a way, while the other makes a white-gold, nodding a bit also.

"Well, that's good to know. Everyone should have something they are proud of," says Helena with a smile for Quintin. She too heads to the archery activity, picking up a green ribboned bow and shaking it a little to let the ribbons rustle about, smiling at the effect. "This is clever," she says, with a nod to the targets, and a smile for the ginger-headed assistant's exuberance. She waits to watch others shoot first, perhaps to get some pointers. Even if there's no points on those arrows.

Quintin grins at the redhaired young man. "Thank you. I am, but I'm perhaps the worst Ashford archer. Try not to be too disappointed." Quintin adjusts his stance, putting arrow to bowstring and lining it up with one of the moons. He lets the arrow fly, and the first shot is very clean, striking dead on. Out erupts a puff of dust that sticks in the paint immediately splattered out in an impact crater-ring. Where it catches, the glittering dust sparkles a shade of fetching pale green with tints of silver. It shows up well on the dark backdrop." Quintin seems pretty pleased by the effect, and pauses to admire it before taking up a second arrow.

Delilah languishes near the side of the archery mural. Not quite a pair of archery butts to count. Her explorer trainee has plenty of experience in handing ladies and gentlemen arrows, inviting them to try as they like. The collisions with the mural produce wholly satisfying sounds, gloppy oils or popping bubbles of paint lending their noises. It's a bit different from the usual pointy arrowhead buried in a bale of hay noise. With a wiggle of her fingers to Narcissa and Lora, she flits that way after a moment. "I must one day try something with an unconventional weapon. Hairpins. Dueling by paintbrushes. Dangerous arrangements of flowers," she thinks aloud, and smiles with the knowing sympathy of staring up. "It is." Added to Lora, her expression turns serene. "I hoped it would turn out this well."

Obviously not an expert with the bow and arrow, Helena chews her lower lip for a moment as she takes her turn -- aiming at the easiest target of course, because she's a novice. The arrow collides perfectly with the wall and strikes a moon-shaped disc that erupts into violet to iridescent lilac paint that sticks very well to the wall, resembling a lunar crescent. "Pretty!" she says looking quite pleased, before she shoots again, but this time she's not quite on target. The second arrow strikes a glancing angle that crushes the interior of the blunt head and leaves a cool, sparkling streak peppered like staccato notes in blue-white. "I like this sort of art -- even if I do poorly, it looks beautiful," she says with a nod.

Quintin's second shot is ambitious -- a slender yellow star full of a glittering, roiling oil through the thin glass shape. The arrow doesn't quite break it, though it sends tears of coruscating gold paint down. He's much more satisfied when the arrow rebounds off a red sphere that punches a spray of ruby paint-dust like a comet. At that, he nods an approving nod. "Nice!" Looking over to Helena, he asks, "Which bit did you do? I missed it. The blue-white bit?"

Sandor, the Tree Scout Captain, Nibbles, the Ashford Tree Squirrel arrive, following Rhiannon.

"Spoken like a true artist," Lora answers Narcissa from across the way, tilting her head a little to cast that same smile at the darkling poet. She yet loiters for a bit, absorbing the starlight, the sound, the subtle chaos, clearly disinclined to shoot stars and eggshells, less committed yet to some measure of creation. Maybe she's waiting until her wine is gone, for she has a sip of that before wandering over to pass the second glass off to the other Fidante. By then Delilah has neared and she looks past to the eruptions of colors that splash along the wall. "That is an interesting choice of diversion. Are you going to paint, or just oversee?" Not that she's painting yet, either.

Waldemai finishes bestarring his rock and sets it aside for the paint to dry. "Thank you for organizing this," he says. "To who should we direct our donations?"

Somewhere a bit further off, the fellow with his basset hound is trying to convince the hound to dip that great big paw in a pile of paint. The patient dog obliges and holds up his dripping foot, waiting patiently. His tail wags. The gentleman encourages him with "Who's a good boy? A fine artist! It's you! Yes you are, Master Houndsley." Houndsley, the dog in question, whuffs. Then there is the most satisfying squelching noise when he steps on a canvas, guided in a circle by. One bright shiny blue-white paw print trail glows on the dark canvas, even if it's smudgy and wet.

Rhiannon walks in to see the painting event. She looks around, eyes scanning everyone who is here and what they are doing. She is quiet for now, just getting adjusted.

Merek also waves to the guy and dog from before as well.

"To Sister Sophie, please. We ask a starting donation of ten resources if you can afford to do so, but any amount might be welcome." Delilah responds to Waldemai, encouraging his painting with a grin. "The rocks are the best part. I have a basket if you've created one, and we will leave them on the altar of Aion next door." Her attention slips back Lora-ward, a perfectly satisfying direction, and she gestures. "See how beautiful their work is? I hardly want to get in the way, especially if someone intends on capturing the crown. Lord Quintin, you did perfectly well. Princess Helena, you have excellent choice in my favourite colour." As though the Redrain fully intended to do that.

"Brilliant," says Helena to that red-sparkle comet, and nods. "That and that violet bit over there," she says, with a gesture for the crescent shape on the wall. "I might have taken better to archery AND art lessons if they were like this when I was a child," says the Redrain princess with a grin. She smiles over at Delilah. "I aim to please." That might be a little pun. Just a little one.

Quintin nods to Helena, relinquishing his bow so someone else can have a try or two. "Well done," he says. "I think I'll go try to add something to that mural." A quick grin, and the young Ashford lord goes loping toward the paints. Maybe with a pit stop for a bit of whiskey. But definitely to the paints after!

"True artist." Narcissa parrots Lora, turning her eyes away from the mural to regard the other woman. "A title that does not decree merit or worth of painting..." there is amusement in the line of her lips, twitching briefly into a smile but ebbing into neutrality as she finishes the rest of her addition of painting. In the bottommost right corner darkness swells, climbing upwards in the looming form of an observer, the hood of its cloak veiling identity but the upwards tilt of its head rendering it captivated by the sky above. The colors of dusk and twilight dapple the cloak, trickling down into an ebbing of aureate dawn at its hem. The wine is gladly taken and she laughs brightly, "Am I that easy to read?"

Waldemai has left the an elegant arched-lattice bench.

Rhiannon looks around, stepping inside to the arrow event and she looks up at it, seeing the rules. "Hmm. My cousin did this one? How did he do? Quintin, how does this work?"

Quintin picks up a little pot of green paint and a paintbrush. "Hey, Rhi. You take one of the bows with the ribbons and then you get two arrows to shoot at whatever you like. The more difficult shots are worth more points. Pretty much no matter what you do, though, something bursts and flings sparkles around. It's fun! See if you can hit the shooting star or the big white one!" He asides to the redhaired youth of earlier, "That's your Ashford archer right there."

"I'm wondering if it gets even better with wine," Lora answers Narcissa. Once she's free of that glass, she has another tiny sip from her own, one more glimmer of a smile given to Delilah, as well. "I suppose I should figure out what contributions I'm going to make. The glowing paints are almost impossible to resist." Which is likely why she then gravitates in that direction again, so that she can borrow some of the materials and begin working on some star-inspired idea of her own. For the moment that means spending an awful lot of time picking a rock out of the basket.

The Redrain princess wanders over to the mural to peer at the work going on there, looking around thoughtfully to see what it might need. Probably for her to stay out of it, honestly, but well, what fun would that be. She finds a paintbrush and a palette to begin to mix some white and yellow and silver together, looking up now and then to watch the others work and stay out of their way.

The abundance of alcohol and other treats of a less licentious nature all favour easy nibbles. Let someone enjoy the best of the weather, balmy and a touch sultry, without being forced to wander away. No concern for shadowy confusions or befuddlement, since no one wants to fall into the deep meridian line carved into the floor. That's a bit of a drop! "By all means, help yourself as you wish," she brightly says. Rhiannon's appearance warrants a double-take from the Explorer -- a ginger kid of about eighteen -- rocking on his heels, realising there is more than one Ashford in the area. And a Redrain! And some Lycenes! He blushes right up to his freckles.

"We have a heap of clothing that way if you wish to paint a garment for yourself. Just add the adornment, and the work is nearly done for you." A pleased sound escapes her lips at Helena and Narcissa's elegant work.

Merek makes his way to find a drink, then he seems to relax while he sighs, looking about, taking a seat to work on some of the things there, making paintings, as well as a bit of nice attire as well.

Rhiannon tips her head as she looks at the target. "I think I am not yet skilled enough to hit the Shooting Star with absolute ability. That would take more time. Perhaps one of the others?" She looks over at her cousin. "Would you like to pick?" She picks up one of the bows and then nods to the boy Quintin has been talking to.

Quintin offers a bit of a smile to Lora as they don't quite cross paths at the paints. He takes his green over to the mural and stoops to set his brush to it. And, an upward line. Wiggle. That's... that's very slanted, that line. It's not a mistake, it's just a happy little accident. From there, he bends the brush out from the center line, shifting from one side to the other, pushing the paint out. It's a pine tree. It's a happy little tree.

"I imagine that with more wine the colors blend more...so, yes, it would be more enjoyable in a different way." Narcissa asides to Lora, finishing up the last of the hooded figure's cloak with dappling gold.

Helena tips her head and decides on her spot, moving to a spot in the sky above the heads of the cloaked figures. Shooting stars are easy -- after all, they don't really look like anything but streaks of color anyway. So she makes a point of gold and yellow at the head of the shooting star, then adds streaks of silver, white, and gold paint to follow it across the sky. She steps back to tip her head and survey her work, adds a little more silver, before stepping away to find a place to put away the paintbrush and palette.

Rhiannon taps her fingers on the bow and then she sizes up the target. "I think.. the White Dwarf," Rhiannon says and she looks to be sure that she has covered all the bases before she lifts up the bow.

The ginger teen gives a great big, toothy grin. A happy little accident, a happy little moment. He picks up one of the ribbon-clad shortbows, handing that fanciful creation with gauzy streamers to Rhiannon if she prefers blue to gold. "Here you go." Two arrows are pulled from the depleted barrel, and their obviously gauze-wrapped, blunt ends are made to crack on impact and do very little damage except to egos. "It's up to you which one you hit. I mean, you could try any of them! So, yeah, that's basically it."

Rhiannon checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 60, rolling 32 higher. Rhiannon rolled a critical!

Delilah takes The Celestial Archer - Luminous Strike Award, June 1010 from a burnished picnic basket laced with a great sea-hued ribbon.

Rhiannon checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 70, rolling 2 lower.

Rhiannon releases her bow and the end hits the canvas. She strikes the shooting star and globules of paint -- silver, gold, copper, ruby, violet, azure -- burst out across the painting. It forms a brilliant arc of constellations and dusts all the way down in a remarkable shape." She lowers the bow and then regards the target again. "Hmm. One more, I think."

Delilah drops The Celestial Archer - Luminous Strike Award, June 1010.

Quintin looks up and over to watch Rhiannon's shot with anticipation. He clearly expects her to deliver, and she does not disappoint. The young Ashford lord's face breaks into a wide, toothy grin.

Rhiannon aims at the canvas again. She takes a moment to line up her shot and then lets go. Her arrow is almost a clean strike against an incredibly delicate target, but the arrow doesn't quite hit straight on. So when it smashes into the canvas, it sends another torrent of glittering sparkles cascading down in blue-white moonlight. The bow lowers again and then Ashford Lady steps back. "Perhaps something that can be useful."

Which stone is the stone seems to be entirely dependent upon which fits just exactly so in the palm of Lora's hand. She goes through four or five before settling on one that is right, then goes through a similar process finding a paintbrush, very tiny, and a couple of sticks that might've originally been used for mixing some of the paints. It's as far as she gets before Rhiannon makes her first shot and she glances up to watch, expression flashing briefly surprised as the star explodes into a trailing tail of color that is visible even from where she's standing. "Well. Well done!" The second shot might not be as successful, but it is still a lovely display.

There's a glance over to where Quintin was, and the happy little tree there draws a smile, for she loves trees. She turns to watch Rhiannon's shots and her brows raise at the explosion of colorful paint against the wall. "Beautiful," she says with a smile for Rhiannon. "Very well executed."

^ says Helena.

Helena is overheard praising Rhiannon.

Merek is overheard praising Rhiannon.

That sublime eruption is enough to bring forth a cry of surprise from Delilah, approval surrounding those other painters and artists of varying skills. Even the basset hound looks up, mostly because his owner is handing him a bit of cured meat for a snack. Naughty! Rhiannon earns a clap from the duchess, and she calls out, "I think that settles who gets her, Lady Rhiannon. Durden, would you go fetch the statuette for her?"

The ginger is absolutely thrilled, practically scrambling to jump on a locked little chest hidden away in an alcove with one very grumpy, very sleep-deprived Inquisitor guarding it. The confessor gives a slow stare, and allows Durden the ginger to procure his prize for the Ashford woman.

"That means we have two more awards to give out. A hard-fought contest, to be sure. Lord Quintin, Master Merek, I have to ask," sings the copper-haired girl, "would you like me to give you the moon or the stars?"

Rhiannon takes The Celestial Archer - Luminous Strike Award, June 1010.

"I like the moon," Merek offers, with a nod also, "It is my favorite," he says, "But I do like stars, but I do like the moon the most as well!"

Rhiannon takes the statue as it's handed to her and she blinks. "Oh, I thought we were just painting for charity," she says hesitantly.

"We do have a display for winnings, don't we? There's some weird beard thing," Quintin tells Rhiannon. A glance to Merek and then he tells Delilah, "I'll take the stars, then. That works out well."

Delilah takes a moon-dusted cloth of midnight cloak with a deep cowl haloed in stars from a burnished picnic basket laced with a great sea-hued ribbon.

Delilah takes a star-dusted cloth of midnight cloak with a deep cowl haloed in moonlight from a burnished picnic basket laced with a great sea-hued ribbon.

"It's beautiful, thank you," Merek offers, while he takes the cloak, switching the one he has on with the new, then he nods a bit while he swirls about to shift the material.

Delilah takes a cheerful silk morning glory from a burnished picnic basket laced with a great sea-hued ribbon.

Delilah takes a jaunty silk poppy from a burnished picnic basket laced with a great sea-hued ribbon.

Rhiannon gives Delilah a little bow. "My thanks, Duchess. It is a pleasure to be of some help to the charity." She glances at Quintin. "We do have a display case, I believe."

Quintin claims the star-themed cloak, his eyebrows going up as he holds it up. "It's a fancy cloak," he says. "This is clearly not for running around in the woods. It's so... sparkly. I don't think I've ever seen a cloak this pretty."

"Oh, lovely," says Helena as she watches the winners receive their prizes. She smiles at the flower handed to her from the hostess, and nods to her with thanks. "Thank you! It's lovely," she says, tucking it behind one of her ears. It doesn't *quite* go with her blue to amber ombre gown but it doesn't clash either, so there's that. "Charming. You are too generous."

Helena is overheard praising Delilah.

Rhiannon is overheard praising Delilah.

Narcissa pushes herself up from her corner of the mural, her addition now complete. Her own collection of paints and inks are returned to her satchel, replaced in her ink-stained hand with that glass of wine. It is imbibed quickly, and deeply as she stands back to admire the whole piece and the additions other made. As cheering breaks out she turns that way, raising the wine in a silent toast of thanks to the hostess.

"They're unique for the observatory. The design will only be repeated for the events used here, though one day soon enough I might upgrade to umbra or see about something a touch fancier. Seatouched wool, perhaps, to preserve us from the cold," murmurs Lilah with a soft glimmer as she pulls a few treasures out of the basket to hand-deliver. It's a beautiful bit of basketry, all said and done. "It's for good evenings, Lord Quintin, and it could be used in the woods. It's lined well enough for it." She touches her fingertips to her brow and laughs. "You have all made this a lovely evening and I owe you a great deal of thanks. Now enjoy yourselves freely, as you wish!"

Rhiannon bows toward Delilah and then she steps back, nods at her cousin and then starts to make her way out. "Good evening, everyone."

"I am sure there will be an occasion you can wear it -- perhaps a star themed gala or ball," says Helena to Quintin, nodding her approval to Merek as well. She finds a glass of something to drink, not noticing that at some point she got a little smudge of silver paint on her cheekbone -- how one does that, who knows. Perhaps it'll be all the fashion soon. "This was a charming evening. Thank you again, Duchess," she tells Delilah, before making her way to the door.

"Thank you kindly," Quintin tells Delilah. After a moment's thought, he drapes the cloak over his arm.

Helena has left the stargazer lily patch.

Lora finishes her own painting with several calculated flourishes. Swirls, really, that swoop around the stone she's been working. Most of the painting bits are returned to their original spots, but at the very, very end of it, she straight up dips a pair of fingertips into the phosphorescent paint. Left with glowing fingers, she makes her way across to stand by Narcissa, there to regard the mural for several long seconds before reaching out and adding two glowing dabs. Twin stars, just... there. Her smile goes sad for a moment, then fades away. "This really was lovely," she admits.

Sandor, the Tree Scout Captain, Nibbles, the Ashford Tree Squirrel leave, following Rhiannon.