On this summer day, that is definitely Silver Day, and not some other random day, the faithful of the city come to enjoy the holiday. Normally the doors to the Great Cathedral would have been thrown up and people would have spent the day and night at the church as guests enjoying Gild's hospitality. But this isn't a normal time and repair work to the Cathedral is still underway. For nearly two weeks now, a great amount of scaffolding has been placed both inside and outside of the building. The roof with its gaping hole has been the highest priority, but there's also been attention focused on re-enforcing the path up to the bell tower so that it may be accessed safely.

A great many people are arriving, setting up across the rise up the hill. And closer to the Cathedral itself banquet tables have been arranged, along with a good number of tables and chairs. Many people are choosing to picnic, while others look like they're setting up sleeping bags to spend the night under the stars in the Cathedral's shadow.

Everything is mostly set up and ready to go, with Sir Porter Kennex wandering among the crowds, chatting with the new arrivals.

1 Harlequin jongleur arrives, following Korka.

Showing up with a triple-tool set of culterly in her left/gloved hand is the Scout Rowenova with Sir Floppington at her right side.

Rowenova says, "Thank you for this hospitality, My Lord and My Lady."

A beautiful songbird arrives, following Emberly.

A beautiful songbird leaves, following Emberly.

Enter the tourist. Curiosity has drawn Zyanya and that motivation shines through even the gentle mask of serenity the Weija has taken to wearing--in perpetuity--while in the company of full Arvani. Dark of eye and small of smile, she comes...and casts several glances skyward for a reason unexplained, as if expecting something. But when that something doesn't appear, her puzzlement is likewise masked as others stroll nearby, prompting the need for polite bows of the head and accented murmurs of greeting.

With Jeffeth (and all the proper camping gear for a night under the stars) in tow, Bree joins the festivities. The Knight of Solace looks warmed by the pending celebration, or perhaps by the coming of summer, and she chats merrily with the Grandmaster as they make their way into the mix. "I'm glad it is so warm," she tells the big man by her side. "But I'd /still/ do this if it were freezing." And she totally would. Her gaze scans, easily spying Porter in the mix, and she lifts a hand to wave to him, her gaze drifting momentarily to the Cathedral, a little excited bounce to her shoulders at something.

Korka sits off to the side leaning back against a wall, watching the people come and go and even more people start setting up for where they're going to be sleeping for the night.

Rowenova drops a tall tent of oiled canvas with a wolf face on all its four faces.

Filshiar is here for Silver Day, Cathedral or no Cathedral. He's gone the picnic route, for his part, and has set up a spot on the hill comfortably seated on a weathered traveling cloak. His eyes do tick up to the remains of the great building, contemplating it.

1 Templar Knight guards arrives, following Wylla.

Lisebet has made her way here. She's tog a few guards who set her up a spot to spend the night, the petite duchess perhaps not the most camping type ever. Still, it is Silver Day and she is willing, especially this year, to give it a try. Thus she's here. Even if she's getting help to get things done.

"I'm not a lord," Porter tells Rowenova absently as he rocks back on his heels. He watches the arrivals, occasionally lifting his hand to wave to. Zyanya and her looking to the sky earns his attention and he too looks up at the sky. What's up there? "Are you cloud watching?" he wonders of the stranger, drifting closer to her to ask his question. He notices Bree and Jeffeth's arrival, a broad smile and wave of his hand. Similar is given for Filshiar as well.

Wylla arrives with a delighted smile, peering about at those that are here and the details of the festivities.


Piccola just sort of arrives.

"Signora Glynn," she murmurs to Korka as she walks past. She's usually dressed for a night under the stars or out in the woods, and tonight is no exception. But she stops herself, turns, and eyes the woman for a couple of moments. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" She squints, and smiles just a hint of a smile. "It's good to see you again." And then she gestures towards a campfire is being set up.

"Are you planning to actually join the congregants?"



Nova oh yeahs. "Sorry, Brother Porter." She apologetically smiles his way then makes haste to set up the wolf tent she brought along. Spotting Lisebet, the wolfy scout briefly pauses to quickly wave her way, and then to the others apparently familiar to her: Archlector, General, Knight(s). She does seem somewhat curious about Zyana there. "What's up?" she half jests about the glances skyward.

1 Culler Boatswain, 2 Culler Midshipman arrive, following Samira.

"Please, forgive me," Zyanya says to Porter, accompanying the request with a bow from the waist. On rising, she looks up at him instead of the clouds and diplomatically says nothing on how over-tall people are here, even when it requires craning her head back so far. Instead, she tells him with a smile, "For the colors and fire. But I forget you do not celebrate here this way. When you have mages, one day I am sure it will be so. Silver's memory deserve this and more, yes? Please. I am Zyanya Lir. You are...?"

And representing Lagoma, a flame haired Mercy. Azova is there beside - or was beside - Porter with a cheerful expression to greet people and check on refreshments and then begin milling around to have conversation. "So glad you could make it!" is offered to various and sundry until she hears 'colors and fire' and obviously this perks her attention enough that she must wander over to where Zyanya is. "Are mages required for that? Is there some sort of display to honor both Gild and Lagoma that time has forgotten that we might replicate?" Her already wide eyes are even wider.

In an attempt to make it easier to look at him, Porter sort of takes a half-step back. Is he easier to look at, further away? Is this how size works? He's looking up at the sky when she mentions colors and fire, blinking a few times. Then she's offered an apologetic, if slightly confused, smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. None of that here. But we do have food? And sometimes that's almost as good as colorful fire?" He nods remembering Silver, "Yes, of course. Your name is familiar, you wrote me. About cathedral designs?" Then he's offering her his hand, "Sir Porter Kennex of the Knights of Solace." When Wylla turns up, he waves his big hand at her. "Archlector! Good day!"

Wylla laughs to see Porter and his wave, raising her own in greeting. "Good Day, Sir Porter," she calls back, and begins to move through the crowd, aimless, simply enjoying the sight and the event.

Although Samira arrives without any sort of camping gear in tow, the cloak she wears draped around her shoulders may do just as well in her case. The former street rat probably isn't overly picky about her sleeping arrangements. She keeps to the outskirts of the gathering for now, taking a moment to watch the crowds. On the hunt for familiar faces, perhaps.

Carrying a lot of the supplies, the massive man moves behind Bree as he carries all the gear. His face is uncovered, so the terrible scarring of his face is out there for everyone to see. There's a broad smile over to Porter. But no waving. He's holding too much garbage. Jeffeth goes to start depositing things before he makes his way back over to join Bree.

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

Lisebet waves back to Rowenova, making her way over towards the Scout, which means also towards Sir Porter and Mercy Azova. "Good evening to you all, it's good to see you," she says. She's not overly tall at all, the petite duchess shorter than Zyanya, even.

With Azova stepping up, Zyanya proves she has bows enough for everyone and demonstrates. Just like that. Some murmur of formal and respectful acknowledgement is made before she answers the redhead's question. "Pyromancers consider it a great art. Many of our festivals have...mm, light in the sky? Fire in the sky." She diverts the tongue she uses, speaking a single flowing word in some other language before returning to native diction. "When Arvum is able to learn such things, you will have a word for it too I am sure. Oh yes, Sir Porter. I did. And then did not send you the designs for fear of causing offense. Please forgive me. I thought perhaps your rebuilding should be wholly Arvani." With another smile, she dips her head to Lisebet.

Bree doesn't leave all of the work to Jeffeth, helping him unload the TREASURES (not garbage), claiming a spot for the evening of hospitality and cheer. "Here," she remarks, taking a bedroll and kicking it out, then another, and another. More bedrolls than the pair of them, apparently, just in case someone needs one! "Last year I wasn't in the city for this day. Out on the road, it was a little different," she muses, turning to look at the steps of the Cathedral, a brief flicker of something darker in her visage before she reclaims her smile. "I think Gild will be pleased that Porter set this up, even without the work done."

Siri, an attentive apprentice arrives, delivering a message to Zyanya before departing.

"Good evening, Duchess! Welcome. I hope you enjoy yourself." Azova remains all smiles, bowing towards Lisebet for her greeting. When she spies Bree and Jeffeth with all of those supplies of course she shoos Orion that way to help relieve them of some burden since it would be rude for her to rush over in the midst of conversation. "Fire in the sky." Oh yes, she clearly likes that idea. "That would be amazing. We could call such a display 'Lagoma's Lights.'" And mayb the Gods help them all, if the redhead ever figures out how to do this. She spirits away then though, so as not to interrupt the all important rebuilding conversations.

A smile of welcome is given to Lisebet before Nova regards the foreigner with curiosity then continues to set up the tent she brought with her. Meanwhile, that soulful hound (Sir Floppington) wags up to see about this Zyanya person, not touching but definitely sniffing. And wiggling a bit.

Wylla stops by Porter. "Ah, this is yours," the Archlector says, gesturing to a guard who brings over a small chest that jingles. And then she turns about and wanders through the crowd again.

1 Templar Knight guards leaves, following Wylla.


Piccola eventually turns away, and ends up trailing behind Samira.

"Signora Culler." Like the other woman, it seems that she intends to rely on her cloak if she intends to get any sleep. "Good to see you." She sighs and wanders further into the congregation, looking about, perhaps for a campfire to sit at. Maybe she's looking for the perfect one. "I'm hoping to hear from the Commoners' Council soon, by the way; however, I have not."

About what? She doesn't say.



"Send them to me! I can't promise the builders will use them? But, I don't know, I think Jayus would appreciate the brainstorming. Yeah?" Porter is saying to Zyanya even as Wylla is having someone hand him a chest. "Ah! Is this..." and he opens it up. "People keep handing me coins," he says to Azova. He looks around for somewhere to put it and ends up stuffing it under his arm. Problem solved. "Thank you!" he calls to the departing Archlector.

Dame Rosario Nevarre of the Oathlands, Anouk Ardennes, Anais Ardennes, Triage, The white dove of Mercy, 2 Valardin Knights, 1 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Sophie.

Aha! A familiar voice rescues Samira from her solitary lurking. She turns to glance over her shoulder and slows to fall into step beside Piccola. "General," she greets with a bow of her head to the other woman. Her gaze continues to roam the surroundings, alert and watchful despite her attention remaining upon the conversation. "Good to know. I haven't had a chance to speak with anyone yet myself."

"It is a good name for this, Lagoma's Lights. Maybe it will be so." Zyanya slides back a step as others congregate near, making room. When Porter makes another bid for the designs she'd offered (and not sent, like a tease with a horrible memory), she dips her head in outright apology. "Please forgive me. I will take up my brush and be sure to have them to you soon, Sir Porter. Not all can be done here but as you say, it is good to see more for ideas," she murmurs. Feeling a whuffle of breath near her hem, she adjusts her stand and looks curiously down at the dog before drawing a hand from her sleeve to offer for his sniffing.

Once all the treasured garbage is set out, the massive man rolls those broad shoulders and makes his way over to Bree, one large hand going to rest on her shoulders. Making his way up to Porter the Grandmaster then lays one large hand on his shoulders as well, giving a little squeeze. "You've done very well, Sir Porter." The big man rumbles lowly, the horrifically scarred knight smiles lightly over to the man before retreating back to Bree. Jeffeth's deep blues flit about the place and those present.

"Silvers for silver day?" Azova guesses, when Porter notes that people keep handing him coins. "I can have Orion take it somewhere if you'd rather not carry that around under your arm the whole night. It will be bruised, and then I'll need to use ointment, and there will be jokes about eating the ointment and really - " Oop, there is Jeffeth! Her bright smile is directed at him then, and then Dame Bree.

Merek makes a way along into the place, his dark attire on along with a cloak that is offered to Meeka while he adjusts what he's wearing.

And then the last stake is set for the fancy tall tent which looks much like a tiny house of dark canvas with wolf faces on each one of its four sides, but when the front flap is left open, its design does not show on that side. Then, after double checking her work, Nova steps inside and furls out the blankets.

Meanwhile, Sir Floppington has found a new friend. The Goodest of Boys first sniffs the hand that Zyanya offered his way, and then he just invites himself to put his long-eared nog right under that same hand, too. Like that. And, oh the wags.

"I haven't eaten anything inedible in at least twenty-four hours," Porter says to Azova with a deep laugh, he hands the chest of coins off to Orion and murmurs his thanks. "And thank you," he says to Zyanya, his voice pitched a bit louder for the woman as she seems to be moving away. When Jeffeth arrives and puts his hand on his shoulder, he claps his hand over the other man's. "Thank you!" He doesn't just leave Jeffeth to wander back on his own, he departs his current group and trots after him to find Bree.

Rowenova has joined the a tall tent of oiled canvas with a wolf face on all its four faces.


"I just wanted to keep you apprised."

Piccola frowns just a little, and then sighs to Samira. "We should find a place. But there's a lot -- " She gestures over at a fire being started elsewhere. " -- I mean there's a lot of places to rest, I guess. If you plan to spend the night here, that is." She looks over where the members of the Clergy are gathering. There, she eyes Zyanya from afar for a second. Her lips press into a line.

"You planning to stay the night?" she asks as a way to divert her attention.



When Bree and Jeffeth receive a helper, the Butterfly Knight looks up to spy Azova, giving a wide wave. "Hi!" the cheerfulness of her call is heard, but then Jeffeth is ushering them to Porter. "Yes. You've done very well, Sir Porter," she mimics Jeffeth's greeting, a touch of seriousness to her tone, but there's humor behind it. They are moving off, but Porter is trotting over to find them again, and she turns with lifted brows. "Is it time?" she asks, the question near breathless in the whispered way she asks it.

Lisebet inclines her head politely. "Sir Porter, Mercy Azova, I am glad to have the opportunity to be here," she says. "It is always good to offer prayers to Gild and Lagoma." That said, she checks on 'Nova who is finishing with her tent. "I have not attended one of these, at least not out of my home as a hostess in some time. I am glad to remember my youth." Because she is so old.

Sophie arrives late, of course - because doh, she's always late. She's walking quickly, though, and when she does arrive she stops to look around before moving to where she sees Azova. Her steps carry her in that direction and when she approaches Azova she smiles warmly, an arm gently resting on Azova's arm to draw her attention. "What a delightful gathering. You did a wonderful job, Azova." She nods toward Porter and she says, "You too, of course." She leans in to whisper something to Azova, then.

Apparently they have dogs in Jadairal, for Zyanya proves adept--once the hound makes the offer--in petting him, and stroking those silky ears. Likewise her ability to multitask. While fussing over Sir Floppington, she divides glances between the field of tents and bedrolls being arranged and those who cluster nearer the food. Hers is a calm contemplation...until a chance glance finds Piccola's regard, and thinned lips are returned with a small quirk of a smile.

"Mother Mercy!" Azova exclaims, reaching over to give the other woman a hug if it's allowed. "Sir Porter has really done all of the work. I've just been doing my best to help organize and keep things moving. And smile a lot." she jokes, giving him the credit because it's his due. Whatever Sophie whispers prompts her to smile shyly and shake her head a little. "You know I am just glad to be of service. Whatever you need, whenever you need it Sophie. I can do no less." is promised. "We should sit down soon, so I can fill you in on details of course."

Porter's hand goes to Bree's elbow and he murmurs a few quiet words to her with a nod of his head, glancing in the building's direction.

When anyone peeks through the hole in the wall of the tent (there because the front flap of the structure has been left pinned up), Nova can be seen spreading out a colorful circle of picnic-and-horse blankets. Suddenly there, she recalls one silly story and peeks out with a big grin to Lisebet there before she Northern yells. "Good to see you, Mother Mercy. Oh hey, Lo... er, SIR Porter. Did you get my jokey story about the horse whispering?" And then, forgetting that not everyone in the South or the Isle might yell back, the scouty lass goes back into the depths of the tent to set it up even more.

Meanwhile, Sir Floppington watches Zyanya with those soulful eyes, doing so with obvious gratitude in them, and the lightest lean into the strokes whilst his tail takes up a pleased tempo which sometimes swishes against people who pass behind him.

Samira nods to Piccola, wearing a pensive frown as she considers the best place to camp out. "Never hurts to have a change of pace. I figured I would stay as long as this many people all in one place doesn't start to make me jumpy. You, too?" She runs her fingers along the hem of her cloak in an absentminded gesture as she studies the terrain. "Some place with even ground with not too many people jammed close." She follows Piccola's glance toward the nearby clergy and catches sight of Zyanya, offering a wave to the woman. "Have you met Zyanya Lir?" she asks of the general.

Whatever Porter whispers to Bree, she smiles wide. To Jeffeth she turns quickly, "I'll be back in...10? 15 minutes?" And she slips from his side, quickly wrapping her arms around Porter to squeeze him in a hug. "One! Whatever the price today." And then she's weaving through the crowd, moving toward the Cathedral, and if anyone notices, slipping inside for some purpose not expressed to any.

Sophie laughs and shakes her head, "No modesty allowed. You're doing a wonderful job, and with things that are happening right now... I hope you'll continue, at least for the time being. I find myself.. rather forgetful as of late." Sophie returns Azova's hug before pulling away. "Come by my office tomorrow. We'll have honey cakes and tea, and talk about what's happened while I was away. It's been eventful, that I can tell." She gives the Cathedral a glance, shaking her head before Rowenova's voice calling her name draws her attention.

"Nova!" She calls, giving Azova a kiss on the cheek before departing and crossing to the blanket where Rowenova is settled. She sinks down next to her with a little 'oomph' and leans in to give her a one armed hug. "I nearly forgot about this. I don't know what's come over me lately. That meeting last night, I think..." There's a warm smile shot in Zyanya's direction, and her hand reaches out to ruffle whatever fur of Floppington's she can reach.

3 Templar Knight guards, Sir Daniel the Beardless, a somewhat hapless Templar, 1 Harlequin jongleur arrive, following Hamish.


"I have," replies Piccola to Samira.

But that's all she says about Zyanya. "I've been in large armies before, sleeping out in the forest on or the plains." She bobs her head absently. "It's been a while, but I always found comfort about a fire, listening to stories from the young and old alike. But this? This feels different." Beat. "This is a celebration. Few soldiers are in a celebratory mood when they are out in the field. Thoughts wander to their families, their friends, or their pasts. More than a few are thinking about their deaths in the coming days and what regrets they may have." Shrug. "It's a different feel."

With a snort, the General adds, "I'm probably not the best company."



There's a soft smile down to Bree. "Ring well." The big man rumbles lowly. Jeffeth goes to meander off a little to the side, tucking his thumbs into his belts as he watches Bree go off.

"It would be my honor and privilege, Sophie." Azova's hand reaches up to clasp her pendant and give the Mother Mercy a deep bow. "I will be there tomorrow, bright and early." is promised, waiting until it seems Sophie is spiriting away, and then looking over at Porter and Jeffeth. "Is Bree about to make fire in the sky? Because I will be very disappointed if I did not get to help set a fire in the sky." She has no idea what's going on, but she just wanted to vgoice her objection to any possible pyrotechnics that do not involve her being way too gleeful about it.

Samira's wave is returned with a deeper smile by Zyanya. The Weija bends to offer Floppington both hands then for a last ear ruffling before she cedes pride of place to Sophie's efforts to spoil the hound. She withdraws with a polite nod while tucking her hands again into her sleeves and then gliding in Samira's direction. And Piccola's. Both, at least, receive a bow as she's near enough. "Good evening to you, Artist Samira, Lady Piccola."

Afterward his conversation with Bree finishes, Porter straightens up and puts his hands to his mouth and calls out, "Just a few words!" When he feels that he's obtained the attention of the people in his immediate vicinity. "There are other priests that give better speeches and blessings, but today you have me, sorry," he drawls with a note of good natured humor in his tone. "High Sun or Silver Day, is about us embracing the change from spring to summer. A day where we open our doors to our neighbors and embrace them, show them our good will. Our hospitality, as it were. I'm humbled to stand before all of you today, because I've seen the good will of the people of this city. I've seen noble and commoner alike move rubble, clear broken glass and sweep debris. Sometimes change is painful, it comes with unimaginable grief." He glances back briefly at the Cathedral behind him, his eyes lifting up to the sky for something. Then he's back to the crowd. "They brought blood to our doorstep. Darkened it. They tried to break us that day they burned our Cathedral, that they ended the life of our Dominus. But we won't break. We'll endure. We'll claw our way to hope, to a new day. To one that doesn't hurt as much."

Then he stops, turns to the building and waves his arms. It probably takes a moment, but then it comes. A sound that's been gone from the city for nearly two months. It reverberates loudly, a thunderous metallic clang. Once, twice, three, no. Thirteen times. An unmistakable ringing. The bell tower.

Sorrel, who has meandered into the crowd at some point to watch, looks delighted at the pealing of the bell, and she claps brightly for Porter's speech, looking cheered.

Lisebet listens to Sir Porter's speech, quietly. She's standing near Sir Flop, her gaze on 'Nova's tent as she notices the little lanterns there. And then she politely turns to listen and watch, her eyes widenign at the sound of the bell, as it rings out. Chills shiver across her spine. She's quiet, listening to the bell toll, but there is a very gleeful look on her face, perhaps matching Azova's at the thought of fire in the sky.

Siri, an attentive apprentice arrives, delivering a message to Zyanya before departing.

Azova spins to look directly at the host when he calls for attention, hands clasped in front of her, and a smile appearing when he begins his speech. Her chin tilts stubbornly as he speaks of those trying to break them, a look at the building that was set fire to, and all the way up to the bell tower. And when the first peal of the bell hits, she practically beams with joy, allowing unabashed tears to roll down her face when the beloved and much missed sound is heard again. "A beautiful sound. Nobody should ever forget how much work you have put in to making sure this moment has happened, Sir Porter."

Bree's purpose becomes clear when after a few quiet moments of Porter waving, the brilliant sound of the bell ringing fills the path, the city, and perhaps even beyond. Loud, reverberating and brilliant, the bell chimes. The Butterfly Knight is not on the ground to see the reaction, and neither are those on the ground able to see her own - she stands, her eyes glistening, her hands over her ears as the bell is much louder up where she is, and she looks out over the crowds. She'll stay up there for a time, where her entire body seems to be buzzing with the sound. Then she makes her way down to the Cathedral floor, and back out into the square.

Hamish comes walking up from the south and the direction of the Sanctum of the Lost, followed by a (very) small army of Templars and one dubious looking guy cutting up an apple with a small knife. Nods are offered all around as he passes by, eventually coming to a stop near Porter, eyes looking up at the bones of the Cathedral being knitted back together by artisans and tradesmen. Tilting his head toward Porter he says, "It may be controversial, but I think I liked it more before. This has its charm, I suppose, but I find some things just call for roofs."

Within Nova's tent, there are tiny replicas of Lagoma lanterns which are now strung up at safe distances from the canvas walls. Nova happily hugs Sophie, doing so whilst Sir Floppington gives one gentle nosing of apparent thanks to Zyanya's wrist before he wags back to visit there with Mother Mercy, too. Meanwhile, Nova does note. ~"It has been a bit rough since 'all that', yeah. Though, I have not quite lost it yet, I did kinda whine about a few things, after it was all over."~ She shuts up, though, peeking out of the big open flap space toward Porter yonder. "TO HOPE!" she calls out after his words.

"You mean you're not the type to go frolicking around the fire, uninhibited and carefree?" Samira asks Piccola with feigned shock, the start of a grin making its way to her lips. "Me neither, to be fair. At least not while this sober." She makes a quiet sound of contemplation, a hum in the back of her throat as she considers the other woman's words. "That sounds like the sort of camping out that brings people together. Fighting beside people, then sitting around a campfire sharing about your lives. I don't have any experience with an army, but I've been in life or death situations with people before. Creates a bond of sorts, doesn't it?" Eyes falling upon Zyanya's approach, she musters a smile of greeting for the Weija. "Good evening. How've you been?"

After the talking is done, Porter just looks up to the tower and smiles broadly for the woman that's up there. He breathes out in a long whoosh when the sound starts to taper off. "I'm just a guy that helped push the scaffolding up, to be honest. The crafters are doing the actual work of figuring out how to restore the broken stuff," he admits to Azova with a lopsided grin. When Hamish stops by him, his smile grows a bit wider again. "They're making the roof hole bigger! And then putting it back in? I don't know. Sounds complicated. I offer to carry stuff."

Lisebet is overheard praising Niklas.

Lisebet is overheard praising Porter.

Lisebet is overheard praising Bree.

Lisebet is overheard praising Azova.


Piccola returns the bow given to her with one of her own.

"General, Signora Lir." When the cloaked warrior-woman straightens, she gives the Weija a serious look. "The title I choose to use is 'General', Signora." Her eyes look to the tower as the bell tolls, and she closes her eyes as if to let the sound permeate through her. "Just as Signora Culler is an artist, so I am a commander and trainer of soldiers." Her eyes open, and she lets out a breath slowly through her mouth. "Although I hope to change that in the near future. The more I read the more I wonder whether I would be any good at art."

With a shrug, she looks to Samira: "Maybe I'll be a lady then?"



Azova looks slightly exasperated, and as if she would like to give Porter a good shove at the moment. But, with a Legate there, maybe it's not such a good idea. So instead, she makes a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. "A roof is definitely a good thing. But it should be the right roof." she decides, after hearing Hamish.

Sophie's head lifts to the sound of the bell, and a smile slides over her lips. Her eyes close as she listens to the thirteen peals of the bell, then her head lowers again and she reaches for Floppington. Sophie leans forward and wraps her arms around Sir Floppington's neck in a hug with a little laugh. "Ah, I'm happy to see both of you tonight. Even in our darkest times friendships remind us what there is still left fighting for, hmm?" When she pulls away she calls over to Porter, "Nobody could have said it better, Brother Porter!" She gives Hamish a polite nod as well, and then her attention returns to Rowenova, "I've just steeled myself not to think about it at all, at least for as long as I can avoid it. Distraction is the key." She gives Nova a little grin and she adds, "Wine. Maybe wine would help?

Sophie has joined the a tall tent of oiled canvas with a wolf face on all its four faces.

Lisebet has joined the a tall tent of oiled canvas with a wolf face on all its four faces.

It's a respectful gesture that Zyanya waits until the last echo of bellsong has faded before speaking to those she's come to for greetings. She closes her eyes briefly. When they open, she smiles again. "I am still here," she says to Samira's inquiry. "It is as you say, one day at a time? Yes. I wished to see how you celebrate your holy days." One hand emerges from her sleeves to indicate the gathering. "It is very fine." Then she collects herself. Piccola will get a /second/ bow, this one of apology. "Please forgive me. General Piccola. I will try to remember if we meet again. But I will not trouble you longer with my presence tonight, I wished only to say hello."

Hamish is overheard praising Porter.

Sophie is overheard praising Porter.

Sophie is overheard praising Azova.

"Hm. I don't doubt that the disciples of Jayus and crafters will build for us a very fine roof. I can't say I'm entirely certain what one would mean by 'the right roof', but to be true I come from a village where the right roof is the one that lets the least amount of water in while allowing the most about of sheep-smell out." Hamish looks back at the cathedral, studying it as if looking for something that may not even be there. "I think so long as it covers those who serve and praise the gods it will be good enough, though it will be nice if it is very pretty. After all, I think we hope to have it for a while." He glances over first to Zyanya then to Piccola. "General, my record remains a solid 0 for 5, if you don't count the time Dame Felicia felt bad about hitting a priest and surrendered. All encouragement to get better. I do miss Blessed Roran. He always made me feel a bit better about my fisticuffs by being worse at them than me."

Sir Floppington absolutely adores those wonderful hugs from Mother Mercy and happily chins at Sophie's shoulder in a reciprocated hug he parts ways, and then flops down somewhere behind the human women. Nova pulls over what are a couple trays into which she screws on 4 legs before uprighting them and then apparently shows them to be tiny just-above-lap-height style tables for the eventual feasting. When Lisebet joins, she sets up another one of those, too. "One of these for each of us. And yes, when things are dour I think of those who matter to me, and it helps me." She nods her wolf-framed/shaded noggin. "Whenever I need a distraction, I hug and pet Sir Floppington a whole lot, so feel free. He is the best soul balm and likes to be, too."

Maybe Hamish won't mind if Azova finally beats Porter in this moment, he only pushes her buttons constantly. Her look of exasperation is met with the big smile again, can she really stay annoyed? Sophie's words are met with a polite nod of his head, "Thank you." He glances away from the cluster of people he's speaking with to look toward the entrance of the Cathedral.

Samira's eyes gaze lifts to the tower, a quiet reverence falling as the bell tolls. "That's a welcome sound," she murmurs once its last note has faded. To Piccola, she adds, "I don't know much of anything about being a lady. But at least it'll be a good outlet for expressing some of the things in your head." Her gaze returns to Zyanya, expression softening into a knowing look. "One day at a time. That's the way to do it. Some'll be better than others. As for the holy days, I think this one is maybe even more meaningful this year with the reminder of standing strong and rebuilding."

Having studied the crowd for long enough, Korka stands and heads over to where Hamish is, snagging an orange from a basket as she moves and rolling it between her hands as she says, "Archlector. Various other people of station," nods to them all, "How many years do you think this is going to take you, Sir Porter?"

"It can be pretty, it can be plain. But it should speak to our devotion and love of the Gods. That is what I mean by 'the right roof'." Azova says simply, in response to Hamish. She might still be thinking about shoving Porter, especially when he does that smile thing.

"As you say." Zyanya's nod to Samira is deep and full of respect--a gesture echoed when she looks at Hamish and recognizes his finery, if not his face. She collects herself for a full formal bow for the Legate, arms curled before her, body folding at the waist in one smooth gesture. Upon rising she murmurs, "I hope you are well too, Artist Samira. Soon you must come to the Jade Moon for tea. General. Blessed Legate. Please excuse me." The Weija makes the most discreet of withdrawals.


"I probably know less about being a lady."

Piccola, as stern and severe as ever, turns her attention back to Zyanya. "I am not troubled; I am simply asserting who I am." She sets a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Who I prefer to be." Fire sets into her green eyes, but she moves them to Hamish. "Legate." She nods her head to the man. "I am sorry to hear that you have not yet prevailed with your fists, but that does not mean it will not happen." Shrug. "Congratulations to you and your ascension. That is, if it was welcomed."

"I am not entirely familiar with how the Faith finds its leaders."



"Depends," Porter starts as he pulls his attention back around to Korka, his head tipping from side to side thoughtfully. "I think they can close up the hole with a new roof within the year. The windows can be secured as well. Cleaning? Similar. But the craftsmanship that goes into everything else-- what makes it art? I think that's going to take a lot longer, and I can't really say exactly. But we'll get there." He turns to Azova, that smile back. Again. "Maybe we'll hang a nice painting of Lord Reve up."

When Bree pops out of the Cathedral, she's rushing over to Porter, and he is not alone! "Did you hear it?" she asks the obvious question, and then laughs quickly. "Of course you heard it. How was it? Was it good?" And he's talking to people, so she quiets herself with a quick, "Sorry," as she tries to bundle up her excitement, her skin still buzzing with the sound of the bell.

"That would definitely make the roof /very pretty/." Azova agrees, this time elbowing Porter (after she's playfully fanned herself) because he definitely earned it with that. "Breeeeeee. The BELL. That was - shit I'm gonna cry again. It was awesome."

"I'm doing alright," Samira answers Zyanya with a noncommittal shrug, but it doesn't sound as though it's a complaint. "I'd like that very much. Take care, Mistress Zyanya." Her gaze strays back to Piccola, lips pursed in thought. "Maybe you become a lady when you decide you can be both a lady AND all the other things, too? The things that make you who you are?" she suggests, though she looks dubious about her own theory. She glances toward Hamish and offers a polite nod. "Oh, yes. Congratulations on the new position."

"Yes! We all heard it." Porter's smile carries over from his joking around about hanging up painting of Reve, to land on Bree when she turns up. He reaches a hand out to her, his fingers trailing over hers. "It was great, absolutely fantastic. The best bell ringing that I've heard in a long time."

Oros, a stern swordsman leaves, following Zyanya.

After the tiny tables are set up in the tiny house with all the blankets, too, the three women and Sir Flop get comfy near the entrance which is wide open, which will let them see all the festivities as well as talk to those who are out there every so often. Nova doles out a wolfy hug to Sophie then lets go before stretching out on one side, nodding back to Lisebet, then glancing up toward the sky above.

Hamish arches an eyebrow at something Korka says, then replies, "Lady Caithness Anthy provided for something they called the courtesy of the Queen's Court when someone gets a person's title wrong, so I'll just have to smile and nod." He smiles at her. Then he nods. Samira gets a less sarcastic nod. "Thank you, Mistress Samira. It wasn't exactly how I would have wanted to earn it, but we work with what we are given."


"Maybe that is the case."

Piccola shrugs her shoulders loosely. "But I would like to choose how I am known, Samira." She pats her sword. "And when the day comes that I ride at the head of my column I would rather be remembered as a general." She looks around for a moment. "I think I may get myself lost in the crowd." She pats the other woman on the shoulder. "I will see you soon at the Rabble Art. I promise." And then, as promised, the General pulls her cloak about her and starts to wander through the people, probably to find a nice campfire surrounded by soldiers or ex-soldiers that she can swap stories with.

Lost in the crowd, as she said.



"It was very loud," Bree admits as she claims Porter's hand, the look she shares with him one of pure pride at what he has done. Azova's reaction has her laughing, and she turns to the healer. "I know! I cried up there, too. It was beautiful." She doesn't let go of the Boat Knight's hand, fingers lacing easily to stand beside him there in the shadow of the Cathedral. She murmurs something under her breath to the bearded man, and then she looks out over the crowds. "Oh Blessed Hamish came. And I saw Blessed Wylla earlier. This is wonderful."

"My apologies, Legate Hamish. Or would you prefer Father Hamish?" Korka asks with some amusement, digging into the flesh of the orange to start peeling it back, sending some citrus spray outwards at the group. "That's a pretty aggressive timeline," she replies to Porter, looking to the Cathedral thoughtfully, "I hope you're able to move that quickly."

Samira offers a genuine smile to Piccola, watching the woman meander off until the crowds have swallowed her up so that she's no longer visible. In scanning the crowds, the artist's gaze lands on a few other familiar faces and she brightens, waving to Porter and Azova. "No, that's true," she notes to Hamish, expression solemn. "The circumstances were pretty terrible, but it's like you say. Just have to focus on what has to be done and doing the best we can now, I guess."

"Maybe we should have sent you up there with something for your ears. Unless you did that! In which case, good job," Porter replies to Bree, fitting his fingers with her and bending down to hear what's being said to him. "Yes! People have been turning up left and right. Archlector Wylla gave me a bunch of coins." Not just one coin. A bunch, Azova. "I hope so too," he returns to Korka on his aggressive timeline.

Azova smiles broadly at her favorite artist, waving back of course, to Samira. "Oh, is that what was in the chest? A bunch of coins?" Hopefully Porter put them all under his arm while they were in the chest and not individually. And she looks practically vindicated when Bree said she cried too. She is not the only one! "Very successful. I'm going to go get all the blankets and extra pillows and make sure they're ready for the people who will be staying overnight!" she exclaims then, making sure to go over and do what has probably already been done once. She'll just do it again. Because it doesn't hurt to triple check anything.

Samira wears an uncharacteristically wide grin as she catches the mercy's eye. Cupping her hands around her lips, she mouths something to Azova, then flashes a triumphant grin. And then? Then, she's turning and making her way through the crowd to hunt for the perfect (according to her) sleeping spot.

"So are we all sleeping under the stars tonight?" Bree asks when Azova speaks of the blankets and pillows. "One of my favorite things to do," she admits with a sidelong glance at Porter. And that's when she spies Korka, and her brows lift. "Mistress Korka. We never figured out the mystery of those letters! My fault entirely, because duties of the Order... I still have them, if you would like them. Perhaps someone else solved it in our absence?"

Lisebet calls out, "I think we are all sleeping under the stars. I do hope it doesn't rain!"

Sophie smiles as Lisebet calls out, and she peers out from inside the tend calling over to those gathered near Azova, "I certainly intend to, unless I'm called back to the House of Solace!"

"I know that I am, show me where you set up the rolls? The sleeping rolls. Or the bread rolls. I'm not picky," Porter goes on to say and starts tugging Bree along with him. He flashes a smile to everyone else, "Thank you everyone, if you'll excuse me. Us." Or maybe just him, maybe Bree isn't going to show him where the rolls are! Left to fend for himself.