Max, an emperor tamarin, 1 Grayson Guardsmen arrive, following Ailys.

6 Crimson Blades Private, Staci arrive, following Tobias.

"I like to think I look more fearsome than I appear to." Caelis huffs and rubs her cheek after it's pinched and crinkles her nose as she scowls a little. She turns her attention to the front again and crosses her arms under her chest. She stands at the frint with Eirene-who is more interested in the stonework.

    As each person arrives to the Shrine, they are handed a piece of parchment, and guided to the seat of their choice. Isolde, not as the Acolyte today, stands before the altar, a burning bowl set beside her. She lifts her hands, a gesture of welcome and a warm smile, her mask and hooded robe lending her an air of reverence. "Come in, come in. We will begin shortly. I ask that everyone allow themselves an open mind to these words, and a true reflection of what lies within you."

One of the Crown's Inquisitors arrives in their traditional silence, hood pulled up and everything. Probably here to see who believes silly things like the Reflection and Demons. He keeps to the back and by himself, without attendance of any Confessors. Slowly the man takes a seat, sweeping a hand up to adjust his hood slightly so its not very clear who or what he is looking at as the event proceeds.

Seeing Eirene's greeting, Niccolo inclines his head in her direction. Spotting Acacia, he offers a faint smile in her direction in greeting and finally, those dark brown eyes find Edain once more. The archduke gives him a side glance at first, and that becomes a full look, studying the other man. "Are you going to participate or just watching today?" he asks the Valardin High Lord.

Driskell makes his way through the corridor and down to where the chamber and altar are at, a tilt of his head respectfully to those highborn while a pleasant enough smile is afforded to the lesser.

Franco arrives with an easy gait, slipping into the shrine and accepting a parchment as it's offered. His attention draws over the room itself, giving it a slow glance, before his eyes go to the parchment itself. Another cursory glance, and then the blonde man is looking about the room for the people nearby instead, offering nods to Niccolo and Luca in particular, before he steps towards Acacia, finding somewhere to linger, or maybe even sit.

Already seated, Acacia's digits paw at the granted parchment within her lap, turning it over a few times before seeming content to hold it. A respectful nod and a half-smile with a taint of weariness are granted towards Niccolo from her placement on the pews, before she exhales in a manner marginally more relaxed. A coincidental turn of her head has her gaze pinned to the hooded form of the Inquisitor between those settled on the benches, before her lids idly seal shut and she looks away. After only a beat, she steals her flask out once more for a single, quick sip, before tucking it away. Ferrando is granted a light nod in recognition, before she turns to look up towards Franco with a wink and then scooches over a tiny bit to afford him more room.

Jiacomo arrives, following Eleyna.

     Isolde begins a reverent bow of her head, her voice strong, fueled by fanaticism and passion, tempered by warmth and humility. "We know there is Darkness on our doorstep. We know it is things of nightmares and legends, with scraps of memory and parchment to tell us how to stop it. We know this, and it seems terrifying, insurmountable.

    But it is not.

    We have overcome before. We overcome now. We will overcome again. Just look to the Hall of Heroes, if you wish proof of victory over Darkness past. I dare say it is almost a holy place in and of itself, the way it inspires us, shows us that we, too, are full of greatness. They overcame the Darkness, and so shall we.

    In the current days, the Faith rediscovered old rites, designed to stem the tide of Darkness that comes. Our leaders, Duke Regent Gabriel, Lady General Calypso, Lady Surgeon Eirene? just to name a few? are stronger than any leaders we have seen in our lifetime. They lead us to victory, and Victory over the Darkness. And on the morrow, in all the days to come, we will -continue- to overcome the Darkness. We will persist. We will thrive. We will succeed.

    But it will take each and every one of us to do so.

Wearing his usual Crimson Blade tunic of red and black, Tobias enters the chamber silently enough. His bodyguards? The clank of their armor is heard behind him, and Staci arrives at his side. The bodyguards fan out to clear way, while Tobias himself sweeps his gaze over the area. "More than I expected." Tobias gives aside to Staci, as Tobias heads for one of the benches to sit, his left hand idly on his scabbard as he looks over the mirrors.

Luca arrived surprisingly on time for once, if only by the nick of time, and as he's striding forward in usual outfit of tight calfskin pants and semi-worn linen shirt covered by dark cloak, he's pulling free the hood of the cloak to reveal a clear-eyed, somber-faced Lycene prince. Free of alcohol for once even it seems! He's nodding his way through a few people, moving to stand vaguely approximate to some of the other Lycene, settling in to listen to the words as if actually giving them solid weight and real reflection. Okay seriously. Who kidnapped Luca and replaced him with an adult version?

As she's named, Eirene gives an amused snort and a faint grin. Her blue eyes give Isolde a doubtful look but she does mutter, "Damn fucking straight I will." The medic, in her black leathers adorned with Lagoma's flame and firebirds, gives a faint nod to the priestess.

Edain leans over to speak more quietly with Niccolo now, keeping his voice low now t hat the ceremony has begun.

The leathers the Inquisition wears creak ominously as the Inquisitor in the back shifts in his seat. Lifting a leg and cross it over the knee of the other as his hands fold together in the crock of his legs as he sits in silence and watches the proceedings... and all those attending.

Thumbing the slip of parchment she was given, Caelis looks sidelong at her aunt, standing a little wallker hearing her kin named as fine leaders. She nudges Eirene lightly at her snort and rolls her eyes before watching Isolde, waiting for her to keep speaking.

Staci accepts her bit of parchment with a nod and a quick smile. It fades into an expression of seriousness as she follows Tobias to the benches to sit. Holding the parchment in her hands which she rests in her lap.


Arcelia joins quietly. Tonight she is wearing a green dress made of silks and chiffon, the delicate fabrics wrapping around her body in a way that when combined with the grace of her steps makes her look ethereal. She settles in near Caelis and quietly pays attention.

    Isolde can't help but grin, ever so briefly, at Eirene, nodding to her. She continues, without missing a beat.

    Today, I beseech all of you to look within yourselves. We are one people, united and strong, but we are a people made up of individuals, each with our part to play, our duty to ourselves and each other. We have work ahead of us, make no mistake, and it must start from within.

    We have the strength within us, to overcome our own Darkness, and burn bright for the whole. We are mandated by the Thirteenth, to overcome and use our Darkness, lest it consume us. But be not afraid. The Darkness within us is not a force of evil, nor is it anything to fear. It is simply the Passions, which, left uncontrolled, could consume us. Greed, when controlled, urges us to fight more fiercely for what is ours. When uncontrolled, it consumes us and leads us to ruin. Hate, when controlled, makes us see our enemies with utter clarity, allowing us to attack precisely. Rage, when controlled, gives our bodies, our minds stamina to endure long, arduous times. These are not things to fear, but to overcome, and put to our purpose

Eirene puts Report on 'Hush'- Bringer Commander in a black leather backpack with a stylized firebird of Lagoma.

Eirene puts Account of the Autopsy of the Bringer Commander Hush 12-21-1005 AR in a black leather backpack with a stylized firebird of Lagoma.

Eleyna enters only a little late and settles into a seat quietly to listen to Isolde's words. While she does not wear the mantle of fanaticism or passion that her cousin does, she does listen intently. Her pale face, usually unreadable, is filled with both obvious fear and hope as she listens to Isolde speak. Her hands clench together and she takes a breath, as if trying to absorb those words and make them and the victory they promise real.

Niccolo offers silent acknowledgements to both Franco and Luca as they make their way through and glances over at the Inquisitor with a thoughtful expression. However, he remains close to Edain for the time being, exchanging quiet words with the other man. The archduke's expression softens at whatever Edain tells him, and he reaches out to put a hand on the other man's shoulder, giving him a firm pat. That done, he turns towards the service, watching in silence.

Franco's movements find him taking the bit more seat offered by Acacia, the big man settling into the motion with a lazy easy. There's a slight tilt of his head as the words begin, and he remains in general quiet, keeping his own tone low if he does speak to the person next to him. Eyes remain forward though, watching the orator.

Sasha, a smoke-gray mountain lion arrives, following Tristram.

    And so, today, we conduct an Invocation of Strength. Each of you were given a slip of parchment. Upon this, choose something within you that you struggle with controlling. Mine? Is Pride. Jealousy. I name these and I place the work on my shoulders to overcome them, control them, and make them a source of strength, that I not be blinded by these things." Isolde moves to place the paper in the fire of the bowl.

    "I ask each and every one of you to come, place your offering in the bowl, and with the smoke, let your intention reach the Thirteenth, that you may be stronger for your efforts. You may declare your Darkness, or you may let it remain between you and the Thirteenth. If you wish, once you have accepted the strength within you, you may kneel and receive a blessing to go forth, and be your strongest self. If you are not ready for such, then know your presence here is welcome, and I shall pray for the strength within you to flourish."

    With that, she takes a step to the side, motioning with light fingers toward the bowl. "Come forth, and claim your strength."

Fortunato slips into the ceremonied shrine with his oft-present canvas-bound board under his arm. He's slipping along the back as he watches the front, a bit perilously distracted. Ho boy.

6 Thrax Guards arrives, following Dagon.

Tristram is greeted by an acolyte quietly, who gives him a piece of paper and recaps what he missed. He nods towards Edain, then moves near to Eirene. He begins to write on his parchment, quietly.

Eirene looks over her paper and ponders it, tapping her finger against it as if willing the words to appear. Her lips twitch and quirk thoughtfully. She produces a charcoal pencil from her belt-purse and crosses her leg to write atop her knee. Her handwriting is barely qualified as literate. Then, with a devil-may-care shrug, she signs her name to it. Tristram is given a similar lift of the chin in greeting but a faint smile to go along with it.

Vladimir arrives, following Hana.

Holding her bit of parchment close, Caelis considers for a moment before she writes her words in samll font and approaches the bowl of fire. Whatever it is she feels she needs strength in, she keeps it to herself as she slips the paper into the flame. Drawing a breath as it burns, she lifts her chin and slowly kneels with a determined look.

Tobias looks at the parchment, then up to Isolde, before he grunts and whispers to Staci.

Acacia reaches subtly into her cloak once more to withdraw a small rolled container with a few portable writing instruments. The dip of her chin has her concealing a partial smile when a look shoots askance to Franco and then she shakes her head quietly. After scribbling upon her own parchment, she passes her own pen towards the Lord beside her as she began to rise to her feet.

Lady Vanora Pravus has been standing in the back for some time, eyes lowered and deep in thought. She does not look for friendly faces to join but seems focused on her solitude, and after a period of reflection and the speaker's own admission carefully scrawls something on the paper. After a few long breaths taken with eyes closed, she lifts the fringe of dark lashes over pale green and walks forward. Her stride is slow and confident, comfortable in this space, until she is before Isolde. "I too offer envy, and I offer insecurity. May the Thirteenth accept such and may I walk the path to strength." The parchment goes into the flames, and she kneels before the priestess gracefully.

    Placing her hands on Caelis' head, Isolde draws a Thirteenth symbol on her forehead with her thumb. She does not burst into flames. "You have claimed your strength, and strive to controll what darkness resides within you. Go with the hope of greatness, and be blessed." She leans down and kisses her forehead, smiling softly, as she offers a hand to help Caelis rise.

Eirene stands and sets her paper aflame but doesn't ask for anything. She just takes the chance to study the reflections on the black stone altar. She returns to her seat with Caelis and Tristram, shrugging to the pair.

Caelis takes the offered hand up and rises murmuring a quiet thank you to Isolde. One her feet, she returns to her spot, content not to be on fire.

Having accepted a parchment earlier, Niccolo takes a moment to write something on it once he's also been given a quill. That taken care of, he inclines his head towards Edain, before stepping forward. "I offer rage. The anger I feel towards those seeking to hurt those I care about. Towards those that have hurt those I feel for," he says out loud, letting the paper burn in the bowl, before he waits for his turn to kneel for his blessing.

Fortunato does a few broad gestures over his canvas before fishing in his pocket for a scrap of parchment. He leaves it balanced on the edge of his board. He writes nothing as yet.

Staci studies the parchment in her hand for a moment, her gaze lifts to look at Tobias and she nods her head to whateverhe's said. Running fingers along the parchment she doesn't look ready to write anything, not yet.

Acacia navigates with care from the black pews, with only a single look spared aside towards the Hood in the back to register his presence. There's a small thinning of her lips, but it vanishes by the time she turns her focus back towards the front to stand in line. Pacing forward with muted footsteps, she too gingerly adds her paper to be devoured by the flames, murmuring her admittance, "Avarice. Doubt." Dark eyes once more touch upon Isolde and hold there, before she gingerly sinks to a kneeling before the Princess after the ArchDuke.

    With a barely restrained look of delight on her face, she beams at Vanora, but does not allow herself to break the reverence of the ceremony. She repeats the laying on of hands, and the symbol, intoning the blessing. "May you rise, stronger than ever, beloved of the Thirteenth, and may your strength and light be a beacon to those in this city, where they can find hope." She leans down, kissing Vanora's forehead, murmuring quietly, before helping her rise as well.


Arcelia slowly writes on her piece of parchment before she folds it over and wordlessly heads towards the fire. Whatever is on it is private, between her and the Gods, she doesn't speak it out loud as she lets the the paper fall from her red blistered hands into the fire. Her blue eyes look into the fire for a moment, watching the parchment go up in flames before she moves over to Isolde and settles in to receive a blessing.


Luca had settled in near some of the Lycene in his somber air, pausing to murmur something briefly to Eleyna when she joined, a hand reaching out to pat his cousin's back gently comforting with the words, then when the instructions were coming. He paused to write out something on paper and then he's striding up to the line of those gathering before the flames. When it is his turn, he's letting the paper fall into the fire with his fingers almost too close to the flames, perhaps feeling a bit of pain from it, though he doesn't wince to it. He just speaks low words in Lenosian accent that seems to carry. "Lack of Forgiveness. My difficulty finding forgiveness inside my heart and the distraction that gives from duty." The words seem hard for the Velenosan prince to utter. Especially in front of present company, but he bravely pushes forward with them, waits Issy's benediction, and then turns to make his way clear of the flames.

    Isolde nods as Niccolo kneels and she repeats the blessing gestures. "May your rage be tempered into clear sight, into the ability to make the decisions for your people that others cannot. May you lead and delegate through your rage, knowing the strengths of the weapons you wield." Isolde leans down, kissing her father on the forehead, before nodding, letting him stand his own damned self up. Or not, she offers a hand in any case.

    Acacia receives a warm smile and a nod as Isolde repeats the blessing gestures. "You offer much in the service of the people. May you take the guidence of the Thirteenth, and turn these into strengths, to thrust forward through the darkness to come and guide those that follow to Victory." She kisses her forehead, then offering to help her up as well.

Eleyna glances at the slip of parchment. Jiacomo, ever the helpful servant, provides a writing implement and hands it over to the princess. After a moment's hesitation, she neatly writes two words on the paper. She studies it for a moment before she rises as well and joins those that are gathering at the altar to submit their own offerings. Though she has written the words discreetly on the parchment scrap, Eleyna also says them aloud. "Selfishness and fear."

The kiss the priestess offers to her forehead is taken on with reverence, any studying the look on Vanora's face would see the sense of rapture held within. Whatever is murmured in her ear is met with a nod and a smile almost sly, yet warm. A few deep breaths are taken while kneeling, as if she might pull whatever is in this place into her own body, and then she accepts the Priestess' hand and rises to her feet slowly. There is no hurry to return to a seat, instead she seems to crave being close to this altar and the woman speaking before it.

"I offer Donrai, cruelty, and the worst part of my reflection," Dagon murmurs to Isolde, and to the shrine, and the fire as he moves to drop his paper off into the gently burning flames. His guards flank the walls of the place, watchful and curious over the proceedings as their Lord quickly catches on to the proceedings. Whether not somebody's name might be a suitable offering to the Mirror, he places it to burn regardless. On that paper, in big bold charcoal, is the former tyrant's name. It burns away in the flame.

The Inquisitor remains seated in the back. No scrap of paper in hand. Not even a pen to write down a declaration of darkness to be burned away by the fires of Tehom. Does he have no Darkness? Perhaps hes just accepted it better then most. Its easier to be evil and corrupt when you don't have any delusions. Occasionally his head turns slightly, following indivudal people moving up to the flame and making their offering... receiving the blessing from the Acolyte.

Eirene almost smirks at the mention of the Old Man. She seems to get it and what it means; or she thinks she does.

    Isolde looks down to Arcelia, nodding with a warm smile, laying her hands on her head, drawing the symbol on her forehead. "May what passes between you and the Thirteenth give you clarity and strength, that you may serve yourself by becoming stronger, and going forth, to serve the people with the same." She nods, kissing her forehead, and offering a hand to help her up.

Niccolo accepts the hand and rises along with it. He dips his head to his daughter, along with a faint smile after the kiss and at her words. His steps do not take him back to Edain, but rather he walks towards the Inquisitor in the back. He sits down by the hooded man, inclining his head and speaking to him quietly.

Franco takes the offered pen with a nod and an easy smirk, not speaking, but instead putting his knee to use as he scribbles on the parchment. As people begin to go up, and settle into the lines, the man manages to raise to his own feet, a quiet cluck going with his tongue as he too moves to join the group, settling in to wait his own spot in line. The parchment goes with him, being pressed towards the flames. "Wrath, always the trick, keeping it in check." He admits, taking his kneel in turn.

Like the others who had been offered, Acacia gently clasps the Princess Isolde's hands and rises fluidly with her aid. Her lids had sealed shut temporarily upon the kiss, but she dipped her head with respectful reciprocation towards the Princess. Perhaps oddly, she didn't focus on anyone's specific words before the flames, instead seeking her seating arrangement once more. Leaning forward then, elbows pinned to the top of her knees, she studies only her fingertips.

    Luca is greeted with a warm, bright smile and she nods, laying her hands, drawing the symbol on his forehead. "Take those, and overcome them, as we are meant to overcome darkess. Take them and make them the strength of your mind, the strength of your arm, your heart, where they fester and make you weak uncontrolled. Do this in his name, and be a mighty force of hope for all the world to see." She leans down, kissing his forehead with a tender touch, brushing his cheek, before offering to help him up.

Ferrando ponders his unusually torn-up-on-one-side parchment before scribbling down something and folding the paper up. He troops out from between the benches and up to the altar. "I offer arrogance. May the Thirteenth accept it, and give me the clarity to not mistake confidence in my good judgment for confirmation of my own correctness," he declares quietly, casting it into the flames before moving to kneel before Isolde when his turn is up.

Driskell waits for the higher class to go, and then a majority of commoners before he makes his way. Taking a small leather satchel off his belt, he unwraps the item to show a smaller piece of worn driftwood or perhaps flotsam. Well worn and smooth, the piece of wood is placed in the fire to be consumed. "I give my pride. Knowing of my self-confidence when it goes awry as it evolves into something far greater. May the Thirteenth continue showing me that comfort a spoke has in the wheel it is placed."

The Inquisitor is watching Dagon intently... especially considering the man just offered the name of his father as an offering of Darkness. He does not acknowledge Niccolo immediatly, slowly turning his hooded gaze upon the Velenosian Duke and giving a slight inclining bow of his head in greeting as he shares quiet words.

Fortunato sets his canvas-bound board against a spare bit of wall. He approaches, his empty scrap flapping light with every scrap. Wordless, announcing nothing even to the paper, he burns the blank parchment.


Arcelia accepts the help up and offers Isolde a smile. "Thank you." Without another word she heads back over to Caelis where she stands quietly once again, her hands hanging at her side. She listens in respectful silence as everyone else moves about.

Eirene mutters back to something Tristram says, "Why the hell would I think there's anything wrong with that?" She arches her eyebrows at him, trying not to grin too broadly.

     Franco is gifted a warm smile as Isolde repeats the blessing gestures. "One of the most potent strengths to control. Let yourself dominate the darkness within, and control it to be a weapon of y our choice, to lead and guide people through the darkness, as a whole and complete strength. Overcome, and we shall overcome." Isolde nods, leaning down to kiss his forehead as well.

There's a side glance to the Inquisitor, but Niccolo's eyes remain forward, even as he continues to trade quiet words with the man. He leans forward some, his hands clasping in front of him and arms resting on his thighs. He studies those still waiting to make their offering and receive their blessing.

    Ferrando is greated with a quiet nod and she smiles warmly, placing her hands in the blessing gestures. "May your arrogance be made into a usable pride, knowing your skills save the lives of many, use it to force yourself to become better each day, to overcome and not become complacent. This is my charge to you, to help our people overcome the Darkness."

Luca accepts the kiss from Isolde with a reverence that seems absolutely genuine and surprising on the prince known more often for not taking anything much very seriously. When he turns from her, its with tear trails on his cheek, unashamed as he moves back towards where he stood with other Lycene before. He even manages to do it letting his distinctive cinnamon eyes trace over the faces of those onlooking, rather than lowering his gaze from his pain as he might want to.

Tristram glances over at Edain. He seems to be watching his cousin to see what he does next.

Franco waits for that benediction, bowing his head slightly more, before his eyes open and he pushes to his feet. There's a nod offeed, but otherwise silence as he moves away from the central portion, drifting back towards his seat with an easy gait, only a few steps behind Luca.

Edain dips his head acknowledging his cousin, Prince Tristram. The Prince of Sanctum seems content to respectfully observe rather than directly participate.

Looking at Luca, Caelis offers a nod to the prince and bumps Arcelia lightly. "Your hands ok?" She asks the Saik in a soft voice, not wanting to disrupt the ceremony.

Ailys moves in a little late but its all ok! The Grayson princess has her small monkey on her shoulder his dignified mustashe twitching as he sticks his tongue out at random people.

    As Driskell comes forth, Isolde straightens, motioning for him to kneel before her. "In this Invocation of Strength, the Shrine of the Thirteenth accepts Driskell Stillwater, to serve as an acolyte, and show others the way of the Thirteenth. May this Shrine be stronger for his presence, and may the darkness within him be made sharp and potent, to be used by his will and no others." She motions over, where a Silent Reflection holds a half mask of mirrors. She puts her hands on his head, offering his blessing, then kissing his forehead. "Be welcome, Acolyte." She takes the mask and hands it to him, a warm smile on her face.

    Dagon is greeted with a warm smile and she nods, placing her hands in a blessing gesture, murmuring. "You, one who has already overcome, and has so much to overcome still... may you be a beacon of hope to all those around you, an example of strength and wisdom, a possibilty of what happens when one overcomes and embraces their own darkness." She leans down, kissing his forehead before helping him up.

Eirene's approached by her aide, given a note. She rolls her eyes and mutters a curse, heading out to go deal with whatever it is. "Supplies of bandages apparently got eaten by rats," she explains to the Malvici-Saik contingency. "I'll catch up to you all later, I need to see what's totally ruined and what might be untainted."

Alistair shifts where he sits. Making some gesture with his hand as he speaks in silence with Niccolo, the man's gaze slowly turning towards Luca and the tears he displays. Most of his features are shrouded by the hood, so it is not obvious what judgment he passes, if any.

    Eleyna is greeted with a sisterly smile and she nods, laying her hands upon her. "Be blessed, child of the Thirteenth, and embrace the darkness within you. Let it be honed to defend those you love, and the people you lead. May you walk with your head high and your soul full of strength." She dips her head, kissing her on the forehead, before offering a hand to help her up.

Luca moves back to his place after murmuring something to Franco, then casts aside a small, warm smile for Caelis, flexing his fingers and whispering something back to her. Still the Velenosan prince isn't wiping away the tracks of the tears on his cheeks, letting them dry there as is.


Arcelia nods her head to Caelis and in a hushed tone answers. "I will be alright. My hands have just long forgotten what work feels like." SHe offers Caelis a warm smile and nods to Eirene. "Be well."

For a moment Dagon stays with Isolde, holding her forearm in his hand, a small smile on his face. "Thank you," he murmurs, before passing away and to Niccolo and Alistair. His steps are slow and gracious -- every bit the heir his father raised him to be, even still. "Inquisitor. Your grace," Dagon bows his head to Niccolo, deeply, a look of sincerity and gratefulness there. But he doesn't comment on anything to the man. No, his attention is to the Inquisitor, and he leans forward to whisper some words to him.

Alistair has rolled a critical success!
Alistair checked composure against difficulty 20, resulting in 21, 1 higher than the difficulty.

Hana, meanwhile, makes her way up with a rolled piece of paper, one that has thick black charcoal markings dimly visible on it. After a moment, she says, "I offer ego. The idea that I have to be /better/ than others to be /good/. I try not to listen to that little voice, but sometimes..." She trails off, and then sets her paper -- a design sketch for an alaricite blade -- aflame.

Driskell accepts the mirrored half-mask from Isolde and rises to put it on his face before he moves back towards where he was.

"Duke Dagon," Niccolo quietly greets Dagon, when the man approaches and after having exchanged a few words with the Inquisitor. Rather than try and continue his conversation right away, he looks between both men with open curiosity.

Carissa, a Malvici bodyguard leaves, following Eirene.

Taking one of Arcelia's hands, she studies it. "Ropes." She clicks her tongue. "I know just the salve. Catch me before dinner." She tells her and nods to Eirene. "Ok. See you later." She offers to Eirene as she looks to Luca and nods slowly, quirking her lips in a smile.

Alistair slowly turns to stare at Dagon, "Is he?" are the only words that offered to the Thrax Duke, whatever question being turned back on the man.

Eleyna reflects Isolde's smile and grips her hand to lever herself to her feet from her kneeling position. After a final bow of her head, recognizing that, in this role, Isolde is much more than a sister in the moment, but also a beacon of hope, she turns to rejoin Luca. Quietly, without making a lot of fuss, she reaches out to attempt to take her cousin's hand, offering in a squeeze.

Eventually Vanora steps back, allowing for a new acolyte to be welcomed and for the priestess to continue with the rites. Still when she moves away it is not far, there is no searching for a place to sit or glancing at other people to see what they are doing. In her own world, or imagining she is in that of the Thirteenth, she lingers a few feet away from the action and off to the side, her eyes affixed to the mirrors.

Franco remains quiet, leaning in towards Luca when the prince does likewise, sharing quiet whispers with him. There's a few nods, and a slight edge of a smile drifting over his lips with the motions, before he's leaning back the other way to share some quiet whispers with Acacia, trying to remain under the centralized point of conversation and proceedings.


"Yes, ropes." Arcelia confirms. "I went sailing." Which she looks pleased about. "It has been a while though." She nods her head once to Caelis. "But a gentle cleaning, some salve, and perhaps wrapping them will bring me some relief. I will find you."

Hana quietly kneels before Isolde, after she watches her sketch burn.

    Hana is given a warm, genuine smile and Isolde lays her hands on her head in the blessing gestures. "May you hone this Darkness into something great, to be a leader amongst your peers, to guide them through the Darkness and into Hope." She leans down and kisses her forehead, before helping her up.

"I've no patience for games, Inquisitor," Dagon's voice is suddenly sharp, and louder than he might intend -- his gaze looks around, furtively, at those around, with an apologetic gaze. "Forgive me," his face shows its exhaustion in the bags under his eyes. There's still that aggravation in them, however, for their current subject. "It is urgent." His tone is half-pleading, half-impatient.

Luca takes up Eleyna's hand with his own, giving her a brief small smile, keeping attentive eye to the ceremony and other's reactions to it while he whispers occasionally with other lycene.

Hana rises, with a smile and a nod of thanks to Isolde, making her way back into the audience... only to pause and look over at Dagon and Alistair with obvious curiosity.

Ailys lets her eyes flicker from person to person before she touches her bracelet lightly she looks a bit peaked but dose not say much of anything, her eyes flicker to Dagon and the princess raises her eyes a little before she looks back onto the ritual before the masses.

Glancing at Dagon, Caelis raises a brow and looks back to Arcelia. "I'm glad you got to sail, we should get you gloves to protect those soft hands." She recommends to Arcelia and glances over her shoulder again at Luca for a momnet before looking to Isolde.

    Isolde waits for a moment, to see if any others come forth, and when no one does, she offers a broad smile to all those gathered, speaking louder to cut through any drama. "Let it be known, that this gift is for all our people. Each one of us can be a beacon of hope into the darkness, offering advantage to wisdom and against the darkness. Each one can take those passions within us, and turn them into a force for our people. It is ever a personal journey, and one can always call upon one of this Shrine to help guide you to become your strongest self." She lifts her hands in benediction. "Go forth, with Strength and Hope, and be whole and Complete. And so it is."

After his stinginess, clear stinginess, Fortunato looks over at Hana with a lot of fondness and a faint touch of regret. He skirts back to the back, then, to retrieve his board and canvas before finding a new vantage, settling near Luca and Eleyna while he sketches the altar.

The Inquisitor lifts his head up slightly so that the hood reveals more of his features and it is clear that the man stares at Dagon. He motions to his side, as if offering a seat. "Let us see the Acolyte's ceremony finished, then we may talk." he offers to the Thrax nobleman.

Vanora watches Isolde with reverence still affixed to fine features, taking all of this ceremony into the whole of her, and gathering each word spoken in the Thirteenth's name as treasures. She lowers her gaze for the final benediction but does not yet leave the Shrine.

"And so it is." Luca intones softly to himself in echo of his cousin-priestess' words. A solemn nod given into a silent prayer, eyes closed. After that, looking up, hand still laced with Eleyna's, he's glancing over shoulder to where Fortunato is trying to gain vantage. Shifting himself closer to El, he gestures for the artist to move forward more for better view, murmuring something to him as he does.

Tense, but obliging, Dagon nods and turns to face Isolde as she speaks. His head is bowed as he listens, and his midnight blue eyes stare at the floor. Isolde's words sweep him far away into some introverted thought.

Eleyna doesn't try to intrude in Luca's conversations, but she does keep hold of his hand, clinging to it herself almost as much as trying to offer strength and comfort through the gesture. Isolde's final words are given a bow of her head before she notices Fortunato standing near. She offers the artist a faint smile and murmurs, "Master Grayhope."

As the ceremony concludes, Edain bows his head, in Isolde's direction, but quietly slips out of the shrine. HIm and all his white and blue-ness.

"So it is." Caelis repeats softly, offering a smile to the room and looking to Isolde. She looks to Edain and back to Arcelia. "I keep meaning to talk to him." She admits quietly.

Isolde looks around and she nods to those gathered. "Feel free to stay as long as you like, congratulate Acolyte Driskell, ask questions, or what have you. Thank you all so much for attending."

Tristram watches Edain leave, and stands, with an encouraging smile to Isolde, he departs.

Sasha, a smoke-gray mountain lion leaves, following Tristram.


"It might be wise for me to get myself some body protection in general." Arcelia replies to Caelis. "Since I am going to be playing around people who handle swords." She falls quiet when Isolde begins to speak, a smile forming on her face as the woman speaks. The name Grayhope catches her ears and the woman's blue eyes shift over to look at Fortunato and take in the man's features. She looks back to Caelis when she starts to speak. "To which who? Darkwater?"

Luca is overheard praising Isolde for: It's rare Issy shines in her purest light as First Reflection and tonight she outdid herself

Fortunato dark-shades the altar, with special attention to the mirrored surface. He shapes a figure reflected in that mirror, probably Isolde, but indistinct. His motions are rapid, skillful, if indistinct is kinda the word of the day. "Your Highness. Ah, Highnesses? Both of you." To Eleyna and Luca, together, himself distracted. He returns a lower murmur to Luca.

Fortunato is, feature-wise, a short, slight man in pale leathers, with dark hair and eyes. He's almost a bit indistinct himself.

Eleyna is overheard praising Isolde for: A beacon of hope in these dark days.

Ferrando seems done with whatever personal reflecting he was doing in his seat past the close of the ceremony and gets up to troop out and face the rest of his day.