Attendees of the Midsummer Mirrorball have been extended the hospitality of House Saik with lodging provided in and around the village - all comfortable walking distance from the Grand Mirrored Ballroom. The ballroom is comfortably lit by only candles as the mirrors reflect the light. On the platform, a quartet is set up and ready to perform lively music to dance too, while over at the bar attentive staff is prepared to dole out drinks (mostly Saikland wines and whiskeys, but for those who are picky there is a nice Lenosian red available, as well as Setarcan Buttercream). A few servers will circulate with assorted appetizers throughout the evening. Medeia is standing near the entrance, greeting people as they come in.

"Medeia, I'd heard tales of this mirrored ballroom, but this is simply beyond description," Norah says to Medeia, enjoying a very small glass of her favorite wine. "Your kin certainly are bold, with all these mirrors."

A night away from her office. A night away from the pile of missives that never seemed to get smaller. It is just what the young Pravus Princess needed and this was the perfect venue and gathering to do so. There was careful consideration on whether or not she wished to wear her new dress, as it was a big moment for her to do so. In the end it was decided and with a bit of nervousness on her face, Allegra makes her way into the ballroom, her cane tapping lightly on the floor with each methodically placed step.

As usual, she makes her way to what she deems a safe spot for now...a comfortable place to sit, trying not to think about what the backless dress reveals...a little self conscious of the mirrors reflecting what she has decided no longer needs hiding.

Decked in steelsilk and carting a Valardin on each arm, the Marquessa Inverno joins the festivities. To her left, Cristoph, the Duke of Laurent, and to her right, Alessandro, the Lord of Greenmarch. She shares her attention between the two, a smile swept from one than to the other before she engages in the teasing merriment of such parties, "The perfect night for one of these balls, I think. The weather, the company..." Her gaze drifts, catching her reflection (with the two men) in one of the many mirrors, and her smile deepens, "Especially the company. Something to drink?" she asks of them both.

Allegra has joined the glass top table with red candles.

Zakhar checked luck + smithing at difficulty 9, rolling 49 higher.

Cristoph has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Tyche has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Alessandro has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Scylla strides into the ballroom upon her patron's arm, crimson fabric trailing in her wake and strands of lustrous umber billowing in the illusory breeze. Her boots clack against the polished marble flooring of stygian coloration, the left one visible through the long slit of her vermillion velvet dress with each forthcoming step she takes toward the center of the room. Vibrant pewter irises take in the splendor of the scene, listing from left to right, until they rest upon the smiling visage of this evening's hostess as she stands near the entrance, the Lady Medeia Eswynd herself. The admiral curtsies appropriately to the woman, inclining her head in such a way as to disturb the strands of her tawny mane. "Lady Medeia," she rasps in her Thraxian cadence, straining to rise above the din of ongoing conversation despite its hoarseness.

Norah has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Merek takes the time to put on his autumn attire while he takes the time walk along in the village to wear most of the people are. He had wanted to come to relax for a while, dark attire on with the belt low-slung along the hip. The man looks to find some tea to drink, if there is any.

Duarte has left the glass top table with purple candles.

Duarte has joined the glass top table with purple candles.

Medeia puts golden ritual trident in a healer's belt with a variety of bottles, vials, and pouches.

Medeia puts Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass, and a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass in Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Zakhar takes a cotton towel embroidered with the Saik crest from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Ember takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Zakhar takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Scylla takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Yuri slipped in rather quickly behind Marquis Tessere and Scylla, having perhaps used the same conveyance or one of his own. His steps were slowed somewhat as he gazed around the ornate, reflected room with a low whistle. He fell in line in a procession to greet Lady Medeia; pleasant waiting with his arms crossed behind his back.

Yuri takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Opportunity to dress up? Check. The promise - excellent promise - of good food and drink? Check. A fantastic way to spend the evening, in the middle of summer? All sorts of check marks. Carrying a folding fan in one hand, and using it to stir the air as she moves through the room, Kalani passes a spare of the same type of folding fan to Irisa and angles a nod toward the refreshment tables and the waiters that are circulating through the room already. "I'll get us something cold to drink," she offers in a quiet aside, pitching her voice to carry to Irisa as she skims a look around the room. She uses her fan to wave to Merek, beams a radiant smile at Medeia and commences the drink-acquisition portion of the program.

"It is a lovely night," Cristoph agrees as they step into the ballroom. "I enjoy the decor of this room even if it's not something I'm necessarily certain that I'd choose for myself," he admits. As they approach the bar, he leaves Tyche and Alessandro to choose their seats and then slips in the spot next to the Marquessa. As he notices Norah joine them, he nods his head once and offers a polite, "Marquessa Eswynd. It's good to see you again. It hasn't been that long since-- the birthday party? It was a birthday party, yes?" he wonders, glancing to Tyche briefly for confirmation.


Perhaps it's in Ember's blood. The Baroness of Redreef Shores is an Islander, yes, but she's also the daughter of Lycene nobility, on her mother's side -- those who endured the Great Road Crisis some years back will probably have some reaction or another to the name of House Daveiga. So maybe that's why, whenever Medeia invites Ember to these parties, Ember seems to be unable to stop herself from trying to court scandal. Her gown is definitely suggestive, but it's not so much that her gown is suggestive of her body as it's suggestive of /the idea of a gown/. Ember has a drink in hand and is making the rounds, letting people play count-the-scars but not paying any mind to eyes set upon her. "Lady Medeia," she says, to the host. "A truly breathtaking location. Thank you for the invitation."

"Bold?" Medeia seems unbothered by the mirrors, few Lycenes are. She smiles at Norah, though, remembering that the Lyceum's attitudes are certainly /not/ the standard. "Well, I hope you are comfortable, even so." A wave is given to Tyche and Cristoph (and Alessandro, though she does not know him), and another to Allegra who also gets an encouraging smile. When Scylla enters, Medeia dips her chin to the greeting. "Admiral Scylla, I have not yet had the pleasure, but I have seen you and heard a great deal about you. Welcome, please enjoy the evening." She waves to Merek as well.

"Which birthday party, Duke Cristoph? Forgive me, there are ever so many peers with ever so many birthdays," Norah replies, sipping her precious glass. As the invitation had suggested, she is wearing her most scandalous gown, which by most standards is hardly scandalous at all.

Arriving stag as she is wont to do, Lore steps into the ballroom looking not unlike a mirror herself, albeit a broken one, wrapped in umbra and dotted all over with shards of glass. A dangerous woman in many senses tonight. She wears a warm smile and immediately moves towards the hostess, sweeping into a careful but theatrical bow, "My lady, this is amazing. Simply amazing. And a needed break from Arx. Thank you for hosting." Plucking a glass of Lenosian Red from a passing tray, she sips the wine and looks around the room, "I've never felt so appropriately dressed..." CHuckling, she dips a nod and moves along to allow Medeia to greet other guests and friends.

Haakon has joined the glass top table with blue candles.

Medeia has joined the glass top table with blue candles.

Saverio walks in alone, his cool brown eyes scanning the room and pausing as he catches sight of his liege, which draws the barest hint of a smile to his detached expression. The man's cool eyes and reserved countenance are a counterpoint to his flame-motif attire, and he bows with stiff formality towards Medeia at his entry, "Thank you and for Houses Eswynd and Saik for generously hosting this. It has been too long since I've been out, and it is much appreciated."

A plume of snow white hair pops out from under the steel helmet as the old man, some know as Zakhar, enters and removes the helmet with s little flick at the strap under his chin. Once the helmet is secured to the hook hanging from the belt at his waist. He's reaching into what could be a pocket behind his chest armor and is pulling out a tightly rolled cigar, then is heading over to the nearest table to light the roll from a candle upon them. As blue smoke rolls from his lips and nose, he is then looking around. A little nod to Ember, Duarte, then to a couple of others he reckognizes.

Irisa comes in with Lady Kalani and dips her head with the offer of a folding fan. It is taken and she looks around, eyes up and searching faces, scanning for people she may know. Her dress is black and long, hugging her hips and backless. A long slit up the right side allows the length of the skirt to flow subtly as she moves. Its expensive, for a commoner. But the red sash with the Malvici crest doubles as a swordbelt fo the expensive diamondplate sword on her left him, tied off with a peacebonding. She steps off to the side, "Whiskey, please, my Lady?" she asks before moving to stand to the side.

The second Valardin lord who enters with Sristoph and Tyche does not really have a Valardin 'look,' whatever that is -- probably there are several choices, but he looks far more Lycene than anything. Perhaps he married in. "It reminds me of the Velenosa estate," he says as he looks between the two, a little smile on his face. "Thank you for the invitation. I am looking forward to being out." Though not in Arx, but still. There's a polite nod to Medeia, and he says, "Lady Eswynd. Lord Alessandro Greenmarch. I'm looking forward to this evening." He doesn't take too much of her time, though, instead moving toward the mirrored bar to have a seat near Tyche.

Allegra has left the glass top table with red candles.

The marquis found himself in more simple attire tonight with Scylla at his arm. The brocade was finely tailored and made, giving him a sleek appearance, if not extravagance. Whatever words were shared with the Blackshore admiral at his arm brought about a faint smile to his lips as they paused before Medeia. He bowed his head slightly and smiled, kissing one cheek after another. "You look lovely, my lady. As does--" He looked around with a grin. "--all of this!" He flashed her a quick wink and turned away with Scylla just as his brother made to arrive. "Leonel!" He waved the man over and leaned once more to Scylla.

Haakon had arrived early, thus as most are proceeding in and greeting the hostess, the Prodigal is already seated at a glass table, a fine crystal cup with chilled whiskey in his calloused fingers.

Gaspar is overheard praising Scylla: A beautiful woman in a beautiful dress. How fortunate I am to count her as an ally.

Yuri is overheard praising Scylla: Never have I seen the Admiral look most sensationally breathtaking as she does this evening.

To a young woman who limits herself to just one glass of whiskey per day, attending one of the summer season's highlighted events is just as fitting an occasion to have one - and please her sister-in-law by actually wearing one of the many gowns she had gifted to her, but never worn due to her characteristic avoidance of most social events. Somehow, Natasha Thrax manages to bring herself to the ones the hostess harlequin holds, however; for all anyone knows it could simply be a blatant show of favoritism. A long-legged step takes her into the Grand Mirrored Ballroom, the wide net cast by her midnight scrutiny drinking in the sights, fingers absently tugging on the hem of the blood-red creation that dons her this evening - certainly more elaborate and shorter than she prefers, but the summer is hot and sweltering, and while she would never admit it, the lack of a lengthy skirt provides some measure of relief. Long legs are rendered even moreso by a pair of heels thin enough to puncture through a body's femoral at the wake of a vicious enough kick, and boosts her height with an additional two or three more inches. There's a smile cast to Medeia at her greetings in the door, and an incline of her head to Scylla and Gaspar as well once they've greeted the Eswynd lady. "Thank you again for all of your assistance, my lady," she murmurs to Medeia after the delicate press of lips on the air close to her cheek - when in the Lyceum, after all. "What you told me was extremely helpful."

When Medeia sees Yuri, she smiles brightly and holds uot her hands, greeting the Tessere lord in traditional fashion with a kiss to each cheek. "Lord Yuri, please, find a drink and make yourself comfortable." She waves to Kalani and Irisa before turning to Ember with a wide-eyed look of appreciation. "Baroness, someone is certainly going to confuse you for... Lycene." She stage whispers the last bit, grinning. Lore's words bring a brighter smile, and she dips her chin to the woman. "I'm glad you like it, it's been kind of a hidden thing for a while, it is far past time to make use of it."

"It was Lord Ciro wasn't it? Though I never actually managed to say hello to him. I suppose I'm the worst sort of party guest," Cristoph returns to Norah with a short laugh. Spotting Medeia's wave, he lifts his good arm and gives her a quick one in return before requesting a drink from the person tending bar. "And here I am, darkening the doorstep of this place with my poor manner." He leans forward to speak down to the others. "No, no. It was a birthday, I'm certain of it." He's insistent. "You asked me to come down at the last moment?" He gestures to Norah now, "We didn't speak with Marquessa Eswynd and Lady Medeia's wedding. I remember talking to her about dueling-" Which reminds him. "Alessandro, Lady Brianna won a duel on my behalf. Over honey. And sugar. And tea." All at once.

"Duke Cristoph, that you cannot keep your social calendar straight brings me such joy," Tyche muses as the man stumbles through trying to remember where he last saw Norah. "Your guess is as good as mine!"

Those familiar with Romulius Blackshore would be well aware that he is out of his element in such a place at such a time. His mixed parentage offered little favors, in that regard - he is far more Thraxian than Lycene. Still, the prospect of an evening away from preparations for the upcoming conflict in the Saffron Chain was justification enough to at least show his face, however uncomfortable the evening has the potential to turn out. While he certainly isn't dressed in a manner that would impress any of the guests, he's at least managed to wear a suitable color - his typical monochromatic black attire seems on theme for the evening, if only by accident.

As cerulean eyes sweep over the ballroom, the Blackshore lord is quick to pick out his home for the evening in the form of the bar. A polite nod to the hostess precedes his greeting, a warm smile offered to Medeia, "Lady Eswynd. Thank you for the invitation. Everything looks lovely." It's honest enough - the ballroom *does* look exquisite, even if it is not the sort of venue Romulius might be used to. With that formality out of the way, heavy footfalls of leather against marble carry him to a seat at the bar.

Merek notices Medeia and nods a bit with a little wave, while gloved hands take the tea to his lips to sip from.

Romulius has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

"Whiskey it is," Kalani confirms as she gives another flip of her wrist, folding the fan down so that she can safely slip through the room without swatting someone - purely accidentally, it would be, should it happen, which of course it doesn't - along the way. Dressed in a lovely gown of aeterna that drapes from a silver and nacre necklet, the material flowing in gathered pleats between the neck jewelry and the detached sleeves. She's moves through the room, angling for the refreshment table and the drink selection. It's a whiskey mission! Or a whiskey business?


"I've been called worse," Ember says to Medeia with a nod, and though she doesn't smile, there's a hint of it in her tone of voice. People known to Ember cross her field of vision or tread near her personal space: a nod given to Zakhar, an "Admiral" to Scylla, and so on. "Your Highness," Ember says to Natasha, "you look lovely tonight." And then, finally, Ember sets her eyes on Saverio. "Lord Saverio," the Bloody Baroness says, and offers her bent arm out for him to take, without further elaboration or spoken invitation.

Yuri's eyes lit up on seeing Medeia, skipping the bows and pomp to settle into that traditional greeting. A peck to each cheek and he smiled, "Lady Medeia, this is fantastic. As if you need to tell me twice to find a way to relax and get comfortable?" He smirked a bit, bidding her a short farewell before he moved off to a place in which he could snag himself a drink.

Natasha has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

"Good friends, indeed," Norah says to Tyche with an approving nod. She smiles warmly to Cristoph. "Regardless, I see you here now, and I am glad of it," she says, attempting to save him from any potential awkwardness. She looks between the duke and Alessandro. "A duel? Over tea?"

Leonel's scrutinous eyes were cast adrift over the sea of unfamiliar faces upon his arrival, with a pair of lips that thinned and a brow that sank, as he appraised one and all from where he stood. His regard would eventually wind its way to Mediea but given that the hostess was inundated already by well-wishers, Leonel opted to spare her another for the time being, and Gaspar's words rang in his ears even above the bustling din of the ballroom. "Why am I unsurprised to find you here? And with more company that I don't recognize." He cornered a grin, a twitchy curve that pulled at that straight line of his mouth as his steps steadily drew in toward his brother, his attention flitting restless 'twixt both he and Scylla. It was during the subtle incline of his crown that the realization hit, and sank in. "Ah, Scylla. Not too unfamiliar after all. The grotto it was, yes? Good to see that you're keeping well -- and that my brother hasn't scared you off just yet."

Alessandro settles down, crossing one leg over the other as he looks to Tyche when she touches his arm. His smile widens at the question, as he replies, "Of course. How could I turn down a chance to prove myself? I will attempt not to tread on your feet, at the very least." What a ringing endorsement! He does seem to be joking, though. His attention is caught by Cristoph's comment then, and he looks up, continuing, "Did she? Well, my cousin has always been talented in the arena. If I ever have reason to fight another duel, I will make sure to ask her to stand for me." Norah's question has him letting out a chuckle, though. "A duel over tea sounds very sensible. I once had a duel over who was my wife's best friend. I lost."

Calista, the Duchess of Roses finally arrives to the affair, without anyone on her arm or as a trophy for someone else. Her confident steps carry her with effortless grace through the throngs of party goers in a crimson gown of the Lycene variant purposely designed to stop hearts. Her long bronzed legs make their appearance with each step as twin thigh baring slits in her skirts part like the sea. Shadowed emerald eyes sweep across the room, drawing in the ambiance and decor before she steps towards the hostess, Medeia, to properly greet her with a pair of air kisses to either cheek. "This is spectacular, my lady! I will certainly enjoy myself this evening." A glass of wine is plucked from a passing tray and pressed to her waiting lips.

Yuri managed to grasp a glass of wine off the wandering tray that Calista had locked down, quickly trying to stop the attendant.

Zakhar wanders around, with a little milling between groups as they are saying their introductionsl. A small cloud of blue smoke rolling out of his nose, and marking his trail through the nobles.

Duarte is at a table with purple candles drinking whiskey and smiling as he watches the grand entrances. A wink to Zakhar to answer the older man's nod.


"Doubtless true." Lord Saverio Inverno murmurs to himself in an ambiguous comment as his cool brown eyes turn to Ember. There's the briefest of pauses, and it's not quite a double take, but it's close. "Did your sister pick your attire? It..." He pauses, thinking of his words, "... becomes you." His takes his arm, moving to escort her towards a couch with a quiet word murmured to her.

Saverio has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

Scylla affords herself another full turn about the room, taking in the sights, though she focuses most forcibly upon the wall-lined mirrors where the ballroom itself appears to copy itself over and over, smaller and smaller, until her velvet frame disappears into nothingness. This seems to have a dizzying effect upon the admiral, her eyes quickly averting from the endless repetition scrambling her brain, and finds comfort in the visage of her date just in time for him to whisper something close to her ear. The woman nods once, then tilts her head toward the bar. "Prince Leonel, Lord Yuri," she murmurs, her hand extending outward in a gesture toward familiar faces seated where drinks are no doubt flowing freely. A subtle tug on the Marquis' arm leads him thither to this location, whether the named men follow suit or not.

"I'm certain that I'm right. Go read over our letters when you return home," Cristoph challenges Tyche when his drink turns up. He brings the glass to his lips and surveys the crowds that are beginning to mingle, shifting and moving around them as they're seated at the bar. "I look forward to the confirmation that I was right." He finally takes a swallow from his glass and lifts it, in the general direction of Calista once she turns up to the ball. "Cousin!" he offers, before returning to the conversation at hand. "It was a very reasonable duel. Tea should never have so much honey and sugar added to it at one time that you have to wonder if there's actual liquid in the cup. It was very exciting. For me least," he replies to Alessandro.

Scylla has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Norah glances down at Cristoph's cast. "Hopefully I'm not being impertinent, but I do hope the duel had nothing to do with your arm, my lord."

With a curtsy, Medeia greets Saverio. "You're most welcome, my lord, it is my pleasure to have you here. I hope you have a wonderful evening." Her eyes briefly follow Zakhar's entrance before Alessandro catches her attention. "Lord Alessandro, so good to meet you, I know several of your house members, Greenmarches are welcome here," she says with a smile and a curtsy. The greeting from Gaspar is returned, kissing each cheek as she says, "Marquis, you're too kind as always." And then she has Natasha affecting Lycene tradiotn, something which makes the petite woman grin. "Princess Natasha, I'm so happy you're here, and... Any time. You know that." The last added quietly.

Gaspar has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Ember has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

Norah's question earns a quick laugh from Cristoph and he ducks his head. "Oh gods, no. No one beat me up over tea. I fell off of my horse at a joust. Could you imagine? A pair of Oathlanders beating one another up over drinks without any alcohol in them. Maybe in some sense it would be fitting."

Yuri had managed to score himself two glasses of wine, for the sound of a familiar voice had him reading the demeanor of the Prince all too well. As Scylla passed by, he smiled along to the Admiral politely, extending forward to give gentle pecks to her cheeks in typical Lycene fashion, "Admiral, you look absolutely /stunning/. Allow me to sate the appetite of the Prince a moment, hm?" And his gaze marked down Leonel promptly, "PRINCE Velenosa. Good evening to you, your Highness. Care for a libation." He extended the glass out to him politely, leaning in to hold a private word.

Lore moves around the room at a slow stroll, people-watching and sipping her wine, pausing here or there to smile at familiar faces or offer soft greetings to those she knows. Generally staying on the move and not settling in at any one space. She catches a few glances here and there, lifting her glass and smiling in recognition.

"Thank you for your kind attention, Lady Eswynd," Alessandro replies to Medeia. "The pleasure is all mine." He has procured a glass of something from somewhere, surely, and he lifts it to her as he inclines his head, before turning to Cristoph and Norah again. "I have to agree with you regarding the tea," he admits. "I don't drink it often, but when I do it is because I wish to taste it. There are better vehicles for sugar than that."

Norah has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Norah has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

"A duel over tea seems very Valardin," Tyche approves, as if she might be some sort of authority on the topic. She doesn't delve further, however, as any more testing of her knowledge might show the glaring gaps in it. To Cristoph's remark on letters, however, she laughs, "I am not certain I have time for that with my new responsibilities." She slips from Cristoph's side now, apparently intent on drawing out proof of the promise Alessandro made, "Shall we? We can be among the first to grace the floor, and set the standard for how it is done." With a confident ease, she gives the man a tug. In her attempts to draw him out, her gaze flits to a familiar face, her uncle with the Baroness Redreef. Curiosity blossoms for a brief moment, and she makes note, but her goal is set - dancing with Alessandro!


Ember arches a brow at Saverio's comment about who selected her outfit. "If Lady Marina had selected my outfit, my Lord, I feel reasonably certain I would be wearing leather trousers with the smell of seawater trapped in the seams," she says, and she actually affords a tiny smirk -- just one corner of her mouth lifting, for a moment. As the pair have a quiet word on the couch, yellow-orange eyes keep an eye out on the rest of the room, looking for any familiar (or unfamiliar) faces, like she can't help but keep her eyes on the perimeter to check for danger.

Calista saunters in Cristoph's direction when the Laurent calls out to her. On her way towards her most beloved cousin, she snags Lore's arm and murmurs something possibly scandalous in the woman's ear.

Zakhar has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

A bit late, but fashionably so, the Princess Sorrel Thrax enters the ballroom with her cousin Legate Bianca Wyrmguard on her arm, a polite escort for the pillar of the Faith. "Ah, the architecture here is so beautifully Lycene," she remarks to Bianca, then laughs brightly. "As one might expect for a ball held by the Saik family. Still. The effects that they get with the lighting are really a bit mesmerizing."

Amidst the mirrors and dark glamour of the Lyceum, Princess Adrienne Pravus shimmers in aeterna, gold and silver disappearing over the shoulders of her demure, high-necked gown. Her features are set, unsmiling as she takes in the room sans escort. In a room of infinite reflections she seems not to know where precisely to look. Unhurried, she strolls the room toward an unexpected and ecclectic gathering at the ballroom's bar. She slides between two stools, forearms resting on the edge of the bar, to greet the other guests.

Adrienne has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Kalani's quest for whiskey is rather easy to fulfill, no dragon slaying, pyrotechnics, no diving or climbing, no collateral damage. The drink for Irisa secured, and having looped the ribbon attached to the fan over one wrist so that the fan doesn't get lost, Kalani has acquired a drink for herself and - though fortified - is distracted by the small cloud of blue smoke rolling out of the nose of the white haired gentleman milling around. Typically, for a Seliki, if there's blue smoke, something is on fire - or is about to be. Color this Seliki intrigued.

Scylla accepts the brief kisses to either cheek with only a modicum of awkwardness detectable in her mien; she's not quite used to receiving people in such a fashion, but does so without complaint, and wearing a gracious smile upon her lips. "Of course, Lord Yuri. And thank you." In such tempered lighting, the room illuminated by mere candlelight, the flush warming her visage may go unremarked, but appears nonetheless as a result of the compliment. "Join us if you wish, both of you."

Gaspar followed that nod of the head and smiled a bit, following Scylla to a group of familiar faces. He greeted those at the bar with friendly smiles and nods. Whispered words tickled his ear and he gave a little bit of a smile to no one in particular. "Prince Leonel, Lord Yuri, do take good care of the admiral in my absence, hmm? I have a few faces to--" And here they came! "Duchess Calista, Lore." He nodded to each of the women as they approached and while he lingered at Scylla's side in that daring red dress, he looked to the Fidante and Artiglio with a charming smile. "What a delightful surprise."

"Lord Yuri, and with /wine/, too. You're a lifesaver." The prince's beloved affair with Lenosian red saw him nearly taking Yuri's hand off with it, as fingers greedily coiled and choked 'round the rim of the cup, in his efforts to yank the thing free and claim it for himself. "You're looking very handsome. Did you arrive alone or with my brother, and Scylla? They seem to have scurried off somewhere, when I took my eyes off of them." Leonel tracked the departing duo, searching for their faces in the crowd and found them after some modicum of effort, the corners of his lips broadening. His eyes peeled away a beat afterwards, to resume his conversation with a tip of his head forward -- a modest, but respectful enough duration and depth. It was likely to serve as his response to the quiet words. "I'm going to wander I think, Lord Yuri. Enjoy yourself this evening, will you? Remember what I told you last time we spoke."

Bianca entered the Grand Mirrored Ballroom arm and arm with the Princess Sorrel. She maintained her usual dignified bearing, the indoctrination of Oathlander decorum weighing heavily in the way she moved, delicate grace like silk moving beneath clear waters. "I had been hoping to see this ballroom and it certainly does not disappoint." She murmured in her soft and withdrawn way, a vision of contrast with stark white skin and hair almost glowing in comparison to the deep red of her gown. The Templars with their peacebound weaponry fanned to line the walls so as not to disrupt the festivities, warily watching after their charged and some of the more orthodox of the guards seeming slightly unnerved by the architecture.

Tyche's request has Alessandro letting out another laugh, and he stands without too much more encouragement, offering his arm before he moves them toward the floor. "I hope I can do you justice, Marquessa," he replies. "If only because I feel I have plenty to make up for for never returning your last messenger." His eyes light on Calista as they walk, and there's recognition there before he smiles, nodding once to her before he and Tyche reach the floor. When they do, he puts an arm around her to begin.

Medeia has a server bring her a glass of wine while she continues to greet guests. She curtsies quickly to Romulius, smiling. "Thank you for coming, Lord Romulius." Ember's comment about being called worse draws a wry sort of humor into the woman's expression before scanning the room once more. She sees Gaspar speaking with the unfamiliar Leonel, and catches his eye with a nod before turning to Calista. "Duchess, welcome and thank you! Please let me know if there is anything you need." A curtsy is given to the Fidante before waving greetings to SOrrel, Bianca, and Adrienne.

Whatever passes between Calista and Lore has the latter letting out a rich peal of laughter, leaning in to murmur something in return with a mischevious grin on her lips. Looking up as they approach Gaspar, she offers a warm smile, "My lord, always a pleasure. I haven't been to the Lyceum in years, I couldn't possibly pass up the opportunity!" She glances to Calista and chuckles, "I suppose we should be glad there's no pool present tonight...."

She takes great care *not* to affect any contact when dispensing the air-kiss to Medeia. "Of course. Perhaps we can converse again later." Something flickers past those fathomless depths, quiet perturbance that doesn't find her voice briefly manifesting before it fades into the ether, shaking her head briefly. "I'll leave you to your guests, and it isn't as if I don't know where to find you, yes?" Thus addressed by another, Natasha barely recognizes Ember in no small degree due to the fact that the Isles' traditionalist princess is busy marking the dress (merely a collection of strategically placed umbra strips, by her estimation, and she is doing her very best not to gawk) with no small measure of silent incredulity, especially when she's already fidgeting at the length of her own skirt despite the fact that she's in the middle of the Lyceum and will inevitably run into more scandalous fashion choices...probably. But when dark eyes lift to regard all-too familiar gilded irises, recognition sets upon the luminous cast of her marble countenance. "Baroness, thank you. You are as bold as always." Unable to resist that touch of wordplay, but dovetails its end with the flitting ghost of a smile and an incline of her head that forces a dark curl to brush against the high set of a cheekbone. Adrienne's greeting brightens her expression subtly. "Princess Adrienne, good evening. I had meant to write but it has been terribly hectic since I returned from Maelstrom. You are well?"

With another shadow attempting to make his own greetings to the hostess, there's a small pivot in an attempt to avoid the crush of incoming traffic and sends her in a near collision course with the taller shadow of Romulius Blackshore, a hand rising up to use him as a brace in an effort to steady her and fingers brushing over a stygian pin that looks terribly familiar. "Pardon," she says in apology, drawing her hand away quickly and craning her head back to look at her victim in the face. "I didn't mean to-- " A blink. "...my lord Blackshore, I..." After a brief and awkward pause. "...apologies, I didn't step on you, did I?"

There's a noncommittal sound from Cristoph when Tyche claims she won't have any time, "Mmhm." But as she's going off with Alessandro, he lets his attention drift to Calista's approach. His smile blooms slow and wide, "Calista, it's been too long since I've seen you. How are you? Your husband?" There's the approach of more people and he lets his attention drift from one to another in equal parts. "Princess Adrienne, I'm glad to see you again. Will you take this seat?" he asks of her, and his cousin as well, because there's more than few empty seats in his general vicinity.

Niklas wields Madrigal, an alaricite and platinum archlute.

Leonel has joined the glass top table with red candles.

Fashionable people are fashionably late! OR it is forgiven if they do. Such is the Lady Mabelle Laurent who wanders in with a gown of shadowmeld and adorment of gold. Frankly, she looks like a very evil chandelier. She greets the host, "Lady Medeia, lovely gathering!" and smiles to a few familiar places here and there. he does however beeline to the black velvet couch. Could be the color or the fabric or the person sitting on it.

With no shortage of greetings and introductions to be had, Adrienne takes shelter at a stool beside Cristoph Laurent, an Oathlands wall in the mirrored ballroom. Her gaze fixes on Medeia and she half-bows in greeting, respectful to the hostess.

Irisa looks over to Kalani as she approaches and takes to offered whiskey. There is a gentle sniff to the quality before she takes a small sip. A respectful dip of her head in thanks and she looks across the room towards where people are congregating. Watching the guests, it might be easy to mistake her as a guard. Perhaps she is. Or not. Nothing immediately said to anyone, the Malvici knight and minister looks on with a ghost of a smile to her face.

Calista has not yet reached Cristoph as she remains by Lore and the approaching Marquis of Iriscal. "Marquis Gaspar, fancy seeing you here." Fancy indeed, his outfit is legendary. To his companion, Scylla, the Duchess offers her introduction, "Hello! I am Duchess Calista Fidante. Its is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Have you met Lore Artiglio?" She gestures to the beautiful woman beside her. She only takes a brief step to the side to offer Cristoph a pair of kisses to either cheek. "Cousin! You look devilishly handsome. Have you done something different with your hair? Have you met everyone here?" She is by all accounts taken up by the social swirl and her fingers waggle gently towards Alessandro who dances with Marquessa Tyche and a few other familiar faces in the crowd. "I think once I finish my glass of wine I will make my way to the dance floor. Who will accompany me first?"

Yuri release his hand on the glass as Leonel grasped it away from him as the shifting of guests had the duo spinning about to see where there comrades had gone to. "I aim to please, your Highness. I could see you melting away if you did not receive your nectar of life." He bid his head gently to the Prince with a smile, "Why thank you, you're looking dapper yourself. I ah...arrived shortly after your brother. I had some issues before hand with some market business, so the Admiral and Marquis managed to leave without me." A hand settled on Leonel's shoulder, giving a nod, "Be well and try not to get into any predicaments, hm? I can only bail you out once."

Bianca steered Sorrel toward the hostess, pausing before Medeia to deliver a bow of her head in greeting and a small smile for those that inevitably surrounded the woman. "Harlequinn Medeia, you certainly know how to throw a party."

Tyche shifts to take Alessandro's arm, no longer needing to drag him forward as a victim, as he's a willing participant in her desire to dance. She swings to stand in front of him when his arm moves to her waist, and she smiles up at him, hands finding their places at his arms. "I will forgive you for the lack of messages returned, I promise." And then her voice drops, words shared just with him as they begin to move with ease about the floor.

Yuri takes a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Bianca takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Yuri puts a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass in Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

The gentle sniff that Irisa gives of the whiskey makes Kalani laugh; quietly - for what it's worth - but it's a cheerful laugh all the same. "As though I would find something that isn't up to snuff, here, of all places?" is said in a quiet voice as she uses her folded fan to lightly swat Irisa on the shoulder. "inconceivable."

Mabelle takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Yuri takes a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Yuri puts a mug made of sturdy Saikland glass in a simple white linen bag.

With four children and so much to do and see it was bound to happen eventually, The tragic story of one left home tending to the little blessings and witnessing the chaos sometimes visited upon the world by them. Such a thing had certainly transpired to leave Niklas to attend the ball alone, But the man ever the socialite and seeker of lifes beauty had found it in himself to head off and join others in celebration. With the possibilities limitless and the night taking hold the Grayson Prince had found his way in, his ever trusty Madrigal held steady by his right hand as the instrument remains slung across his back..for now.

"Lady Medeia! Everything looks great! This ballroom! It's exquisite and awe-inspiring and a little unsettling," Sorrel offers with genuine excitement to the hostess, since that is where Bianca guided her, and she seems quite enthused at the idea of a party. "I do hope there will be dancing."

"Thank the Gods." Clearly this is very important. Or at least, on some level -- though Alessandro's eyes hint at amusement even though the voice is more solemn. As they begin, whatever she says more lowly to him has him listening more intently, and he replies in kind.

There was a broad grin from Lore as she approached and he bowed his head just a touch. "And I'm sure it likes having you back. But uh..yes. Thankfully, there's no pool here to get into trouble with tonight." He stepped forward and kissed one of her cheeks, then the other as Calista greeted him. "Oh yes indeed, my duchess. Of all the places one might have expected to find me tonight, who would have figured /this/ is where I would be? And if no one else is brave enough, I'll take you for the first twirl, my lady." Again, kisses to one cheek then the other. He settled into comfortable silence while Calista greeted Scylla, looking down briefly to the admiral, then responding to Adrienne in turn.

"Yes, I've decided to stop cutting it as often," Cristoph offers to Calista when she finally makes it to the bar. He drinks long from his glass before glancing curiously to the dance floor, then he returns to her. "I've meet some of the guests but definitely not all of them. If you find yourself still looking for a dance partner, I'll go out with you for a song. I've learned some dances that are not strictly Oathlands formal."

Irisa looks over to Kalani, muttering something, before shooting her a wink. There's another gentle sip taken and she seems pleased with it. The fan is opened and she flits in front of her face, moving the warm air. "If you would like to mingle, my Lady, please don't feel anchored by me. I'll just keep watch for the moment."

Saverio smiles at at his patron and waves, "Lady Mabelle, please do join us." He gestures towards the couches.

Scylla relinquishes Marquis Gaspar's arm to take her seat at the bar, not far from the stool Lord Romulius has claimed. Of course she notices him, though what greeting she manages to summon for their acquaintanceship is delivered with friendly tones, a smile paired with, but no small degree of hesitation clouding what might have otherwise been a more earnest and forthcoming gesture. "Lord Romulius, good to see you," the admiral murmurs, her bare hands folding comfortably on the pristine bar top. Before anything further passes between them, Scylla's attention is summarily captured by the introduction of the Duchess to her person. She swivels in her chair and stands to her feet in one fluid motion to oblige. "Duchess Calisa, the pleasure is mine. Lore Artiglio." The words fall pleasantly from the admiral's smiling lips, all the while dipping her head in a proper curtsy. "I'm Scylla, Admiral of the Blackshore 2nd Fleet, and Marquis Gaspar's protégé. Or...one of them, anyway." A brief smile is flashed in the man's direction

Irisa mutters, "I represent Malvici. I have to at ... show ... can tell the difference, my ..."

Offering smile and a brief bow towards Scylla, Lore inclines her head, "A pleasure, my lady. I -love- your dress." Looking aside briefly as Calista goes to greet Cristoph, she offers a smile and respectful nod to the Duke, "Duke Laurent. I know of you, though I'm unsure if we've ever met. Its certainly a pleasure to do so. I hope you're enjoying the evening." The mention of dancing has Lore laughing and shaking her head, "I must beg off, Duchess, please. This outfit could be deadly on the dance floor. At the very least it could change the tone of the evening for me." She moves in to accept and return the cheek kisses with Gaspar, smiling up at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes, "Be careful what you say, my lord, or I may find a body of water just for more antics." Looking back to Scylla, she smiles, "AH, excellent! You are in good hands, my lady. I must admit some amusement as my own patron is Lord Wash Kennex."

Mabelle reaches the black couch and greets those present, "Lord Inverno, Baroness Redreef, Marquessa Eswynd and Zeekhar", she finally pronounces his name corrently and lowers herself to the couch, "Good evening everyone". Her fingers wiggle to the other time to greet her cousins Cristoph and Calista. One would hate her outfit, the other will delight in it.

Mabelle has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

The server brings Medeia her wine and she has a few moments to breathe and hold the glass before she spots Mabelle. "Lady Mabelle, thank you, please enjoy yourself!" And then there's Bianca, who gets a warm smile and a dip of her chin in greeting. "Mother Bianca, thank you for saying so, and thank you for coming. And Princess SOrrel," A curtsy that is slightly awkward with wine glass in hand is given, "There will be dancing!" Spotting Niklas, Medeisa calls out, "Prince Niklas! How surprising to see you. I thought you were away in Bastion. Welcome!" She then starts looking around, her husband is here /some/where. Ah, the table with blue candles. She makes her way over to sit with Haakon.

Romulius gives a quiet look of surprise at the almost-collision with Natasha. She's halfway through the awkward apology before he can regain his bearing, surprise replaced by a warm smile directed towards his childhood friend. "Your Highness." His eyes fall down to the black marble below, a quick note made of her heels before he answers again, "I think I have escaped skewering, for now. A drink?" Even in his surprise, the bar hasn't been forgotten and his eyes look past her towards its siren call, and long strides once more carry him in that direction, the princess in tow.

There's little more than a fraction of a moment after Romulius takes a seat at the bar after Natasha and offers a polite nod to those already seated before he orders a Saikland whiskey, the drink gratefully accepted after being poured. It will be a necessary anchor, given the nature of the evening, for the man to have any chance of surviving longer than a brief while in the din of the ballroom. He's left to a quiet appreciation for the aesthetic of the bar and the surrounding chamber, possessing perhaps a bit too much fondness for the color - or rather, the lack thereof. He quickly sets to work on the amber liquor in an attempt to steel himself for whatever other horrors the night may bring, after his near-trampling. Scylla's greeting demands the drink return to the bartop, a nod offered first to her and then towards Gaspar. "Admiral. Marquis Tessere."

Marie, chef of Keaton Hall arrives, delivering a message to Mabelle before departing.

Amusement rose to the placid pool of her features as Medeia replied, dipping her head graciously. "Come," Bianca said softly to Sorrel, giving her arm a light squeeze. "Let us leave the harried hostess to her duties. "I believe I just spotted Lore Artiglio across the room and I could certainly use a glass of wine."

As more of the guests are settling in and the trickle of arrivals has slowed, Medeia makes a hand gesture towards the stage and the music begins to play for those who would like to dance.

"I will hold you to that, Cristoph. I will certainly save you a dance." Calista slips her slender, bronzed arm in Gaspar's before he leads them to the dance floor. "Thank you for taking the first strike, Marquis." She tells him with a playful tone to her voice. "Many have accepted and failed to impress me with their dance skills. Somehow, I feel you will be different. Let us see, shall we?" As she begins to turn, she catches Mabelle in her periphery and blows her cousin a kiss from her luscious crimson lips.

Yuri wandered along toward the mirrored bar, once greetings and all manner of familiar faces at departed; treating with a tender to get himself a bit of a heavier drink.

Yuri has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Cristoph raises his eyebrows when Adrienne laughs at his joke, lifting the glass for a brief drink. "Yes, I'm quite the traveler. Who needs horses when you can just blink and be wherever you want, hm?" Clearly more joking! Surely. His head briefly tilts at her mention of the honey mead. "Is it? That's good to hear. It's been awhile since we've made a good specialty mead though. Maybe next year, time permitting." Lore's introductions aren't missed in all of the chaos of conversation. "Well met, Mistress... Artiglio? Did I get that right?" As his cousin slips off for a dance, he waves to her and returns to the bar once again.

Gaspar has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Gaspar has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Calista has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Princess Graziella arrives wearing a two piece outfit of Saffron influence that is dripping with exotic stones imported from Caldera and afar. The gauzy half cape of Grazi's ensemble glitters with shards of bloodstones and wafts softly in the air behind her as she moves. Her eyes glide over the gathering and an aloof smile slides onto her face as she takes note of a few familiar faces in the distance. Her long blonde hair is piled atop her head in a crisscross series of braids that looks like it took several hours to weave.

When he is greeted by Medeia there is a lifting of Niklas's head as he seeks out the source, A warm smile offered to the woman as he calls back in a voice brimming with warmth and amusement, "Lady Eswynd, I fear if me or my love ever missed a ball we would never forgive ourselves." The man giving a little shake of his head before the Prince is swept away by the moment and the sight of drink. His eyes flitting here and there taking in the looks of people and the expressions they wear, the man seeking out something as if searching for the heart of the ball and the pulse of that moment.

Sorrel has been directed to go find Lore and some wine, and thus that is where she leads Bianca, grinning cheerfully as they go. "Greetings," she says brightly to Lore, nodding her head to the woman.

Tyche and Alessandro are managing their dance quite well, swept into a sphere of genial conversation and movement. She smiles up at him, lips moving occasionally to perhaps flatter him on his skill - or maybe she's threatening his life? Who knows with a woman of the Lycene, but they seem to be having fun.

Gaspar checks charm and performance at normal. Gaspar is successful.

Turning towards Cristoph as Calista absonds with Gaspar to the dancefloor, Lore offers a smile and inclines her head towards Cristoph, "You are correct, my lord. I am Lore Artiglio. Merchant, cartographer, all around mischief-maker and adventurer. I understand the Oathlands have been seeing some... interesting... times of late. If there is anything I can do to assist, please don't hesitate to reach out." Turning towards the greeting, she lights up at the sight of Sorrel and Bianca, "Your Highness! Legate! A most welcome surprise! Hello!" She leans in to press a kiss to Bianca's cheek, then offers a small bow to Sorrel. "I'm certain you both know DUke Cristoph Laurent, but by all means, allow me the pleasure of the first greeting." She draws the man easily into the conversation, smiling towards him with a nod.

From her seat at the table with blue candles, Medeia waves to Graziella. "You look stunning, princess!" She calls out, before offering Niklas a smile. "Well, we at least got one of you two splendid personalities." Her gaze skims over the pairs taking to the dance floor.

"Goodwoman Lore, I was disappointed I was unable to spend more time in your company the other evening. I hoped to amend that before the hour grew too late this time." Bianca smiled, the gentle upcurve of her lips barely betraying the placidity of her features. As she realized the man in her company was indeed Cristoph and Lore added to that certainty her head inclined another bow, hints of surprised and warmth emanating forth. "Duke Cristoph. It is so good to see you."

"Legate Bianca, good to see you again, it's been far too long" Cristoph offers smoothly to the woman of the Faith when introductions are offered all around. Spotting Sorrel, he nods to her as well. "And good evening to you, your highness." A smile is turned onto Lore and he utters a short laugh. "All of the Compact is seeing interesting times as of late. But if you've heard of something interesting in my neck of the woods, I'd be happy to sit and speak with you about them sometime. A merchant-cartographer-mischief-maker-adventurer," he takes a deep breath, "Must see a lot of exciting things. Look me in back in Arx."

Calista is led to the dance floor and taken up immediately into the Marquis' arms. If she's never said it, she quite enjoys it when her dance partner not only knows how to lead but can command the steps to guide her through. Calista steps in time, in sync, and with perfection, as the curves of her sensual body ebb and flow in their dance. She tips her head up as he leans his down in order to better hear those hushed words. She smiles at his compliments. "Thank you. You are quite dashing this evening. The ladies will have a difficult time keeping their hands off of you."

As the dance begins to come to an end, Tyche's voice lifts a fraction, her words traveling beyond Alessandro, "And what have I been? Out of sight out of mind, or absence makes the heart grow fonder?" She lifts a forestalling hand, shaking her head. "Do not tell me. I will imagine the answer of my choosing, because I know it is the only correct one." A quick smile, and she slips to his side, arm sliding through his. "Thank you for the lovely dance. Shall we return to the Duke?" she asks of the Greenmarch, but then her gaze shifts to where Cristoph seems to be holding court. "Although maybe he has no need of us any longer," she laughs.

Jennyva has joined the glass top table with purple candles.

Niklas seeing more couples and pairs taking to the dance floor makes his way over to the side of things where those local Saikland Greens musicians perform, Sitting down nearby he motions a nearby server over murmuring softly to them to get a glass of brandy. That little request made Madrigal is drawn off Niklas's shoulder and the man sets to making sure the archlute was tuned as he leans down lightly plucking the strings while adjusting the tension in them as he looks out over things.

"Duke Cristoph happens to be the salt-father for my children," Sorrel notes brightly to Lore with a nod as the woman greets them, then glances to the man himself. "We seemed cursed to live during interesting times, I fear. Thought..." She glances back to Lore. "I am quite interested in the talents of a cartographer, I must say."

Princess Graziella offers Medeia a curtsy and a polite inclination of her head, uttering out a softly spoken, "Good to see you again, Lady Medeia." She pauses for a few seconds by the Lady's table to add, "Oh how kind of you to say, I think everyone looks so wonderful tonight, perfectly splendid... each and every one of them." Her speaking voice lilts along in an emotionless monotone but there is a softness to it all same as she adds, "We're all very greatful for a chance to enjoy the end of summer together, I think."

Mabelle chimes in to the nearby table at Sorrel, "Should he not be at least the Sugar-Father of your children?", yes, she heard exactly what it sounded like.

"It has been quite some time. This is fortuitous, there was actually something mentioned to me by Lady Mabelle I wished to discuss with you, but not tonight. I'd hate to disrupt the festivities with the endless draw to responsibility. Another time." Bianca echoed his sentiments in leaving work back in Arx, her smile returning to Lore and Sorrel as her cousin spoke her interest in the cartographer. She leaned, murmuring to the evergreen eyed Thrax, "What would you like to drink? You stay and socialize. I'll go fetch it."

"I will be certain to do so, my lord." Lore dips her head towards Cristoph with a smile. Looking back to Bianca, her smile warms and she inclines her head, "Well, you are certainly in luck, Legate. This is not an outfit made for dancing so I fully intend to stay well back from it and simply enjoy excellent company and excellent wine." Lifting said glass for a sip, she glances towards the dancefloor to smile towards Calista and Gaspar before returning her attention to those around her. Turning a grin towards Sorrel, she chuckles, "It seems my talents in cartography are in high demand these days. I am, of course, delighted to assist. I've been assisting with some of the mapping expeditions through the Society of Explorers, I am always happy to extend that out."

The strategic lifting of the hand stays Alessandro's reply to Tyche very well, whatever it was. As it is, he laughs. "I have no doubt of your imagination, Marquessa," he replies as he leads them from the floor. "And the pleasure was all mine. I'm happy to leave you with all your extremities intact." He turns back to Cristoph then, his eyebrows raising, and another laugh escapes him. "Need, maybe not, but perhaps //want//. I'm at my very most interesting just when I've returned. I have to capitalize on that before it wears off." With that, he moves back toward the mirrored benches, inclining his head to those newly arrived.

Niklas takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

Graziella takes Saikland's Finest Peach Brandy from Medeia's Bag of Event Goodies.

For the benefit of those present, "One of Princess Sorrel's children was born in my study in Artshall during a spring fete. It was quite the introduction to the world, I look forward to seeing what sort of mark that child leaves in their wake." As his drink is finished, he slides the empty glass across the bar. His now free hand runs along the outside of the cast encasing his right arm, tapping at the plaster absently. "Of course, Legate. When you return to Arx, don't hesitate to write to me. I'll make time in my schedule to meet you for lunch." His hand splays out finally, fingers moving as if to do something and then being stilled by force of will. "You'll have a case of the first of whatever bottle we happen to produce," he replies to Adrienne with an easy smile. Mabelle's joke is met with a polite smile and a call for another drink.

Jennyva Shepherd arrives, bright-eyed, garbed in bronze silk, and comporting herself with a grace that bespeaks no small amount of training in social niceties. With the usual formalities observed in curtsies and friendly nods, the noblewoman presents herself to Medeia with another of those well-polished curtsies. She doesn't introduce herself yet; Medeia seems to already be engaged by other greetings and conversations.

Niklas checks charm and performance at normal. Niklas fails.

Niklas checks composure at normal. Niklas is marginally successful.

"Yes! I'm quite impressed by the outfits, tonight," Medeia says to Graziella as a server brings a new glass to her. "Please, enjoy yourself." Her eyes turn to Jennyva, noding in acknowledgment. "Hello! I am Harlequin Medeia Eswynd nee Saik, Minister of the Hearth for House Saik. Welcome to the Grand Mirrored Ballroom of the Thirteenth."

"I imagine you are a man who grows more interesting with each meeting," Tyche wipes away Alessandro's attempts to suggest she, or anyone, might lose interest in him. Just before she abandons him for Cristoph, so perhaps some mixed signals there? But purely coincidental, really! She waits for Cristoph to order another drink before she slips from the one Valardin's arm to extend her hand to the other she arrived with. "Our turn?" she asks of him, inviting and warm as she looks to those gathered. "Unless you wish to dance with him, Princess?" she asks of Adrienne, amusement thick in her tone.

Satisfied things are tuned just as he needs them to be Niklas leans back once more, The archlute taken up as the man begins to play the large instrument. Something seeming to sound off as if one string were perhaps a bit tighter than he meant to have it given that sharper sound only to have it snap, the string recoiling quickly from its taut position before sending his fingers to rake across the rest of the coords going very much off key. The Grayson Prince's hand quickly recoiling from Madrigal as if it had just bitten him and then smacked him with the way it quickly draws away and he is brought to give a soft cough. Niklas's head giving a little shake as he lays the lute down across his lap looking down upon it as if suddenly his old friend had betrayed him.

Graziella moves on with a polite smile as Medeia moves on to greet other people and she takes her time letting her eyes look over the decor of the mirrored ballroom as she moves to find herself a place to sit down.

Duarte tosses a single rose in Niklas' direction and applauds any way.

Graziella has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Adrienne is but one member of Cristoph's court, it would seem, and the promise of a case of honeyed mead draws a fond look. The princess sits with her back to the bar and fingers laced around one knee; it's the best way to observe the dancing. A sharp look is spared toward Natasha, pale eyes sparkling, but Tyche claims her attention first. "I wouldn't dare. I'm a poor and pale substitute for a Tyche Inverno." The gallant answers carries a note of sincerity.

"I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations, Marquessa." Alessandro inclines his head to her as their arms unlink, turning to Christoph a moment later. "Please try not to make the comparison too embarrassing for me," he says. "I'd hate to have to leave the city when I've only just arrived." He takes a seat then, reaching for a glass to take a sip.

"Ah, wine or whiskey," Sorrel says to Bianca with a grin as the Legate wanders off, then looks to Mabelle and shakes her head slightly. "There's more salt than sugar in the Mourning Isles I'm afraid," she notes with a bright laugh, then winks at Cristoph. "We're trying to convince her that pocket fishies are a bad idea. It's been trickier than it should be."

"Not so, your highness," Duarte says to Adrienne at the bar. (Whoa how'd he get there?) He offers her his up turned hand. "Allow me?"

Jennyva's smile is warm and winsome in reply to Medeia's greeting. "Thank you for the welcome, Harlequin Medeia." She rustles the silk of her skirt as she rises, all the better to make it lie in better arrangement. "Lady Jennyva Shepherd. Also a Harlequin, in fact! It's so lovely to meet you." She barely even blinks at the discordant note in the background. The smile remains in place.

There's a certain skulking shadow at the periphery of all the reverie, with permanently ink-stained fingers and a scowl. Baz, a drink in her hand and a watchful hungry somewhat scornful gaze over the party-goers, roams, eyes swiveling this way and that with all the frenetic energy of someone who hasn't slept in too long. She tugs at her faded velvet dinner jacket, twitching the cuffs lower and lower with her free hand like they might obscure all of her that way.

The newly refreshed glass is just being pressed into Cristoph's hand by the bartender when suddenly there is a different hand being extended to him. He looks from the drink, to the fingers, hand and then along the arm to the woman presenting her offer to him. The smile that comes is easy and natural. He quickly pushes the glass away and abandons his seat at the bar to take Tyche's hand in his own. Though he does pause to see if Adrienne will lay claim on him, when she doesn't, he graciously nods his head to her. "But perhaps another time? Meanwhile, Marquessa, yes. I think it's our turn." Alessandro elicits a short laugh. "I'm afraid you won't be allowed to escape the city so easily, Lord Greenmarch."

When a rose is tossed towards him landing near his feet Niklas's gaze is brought to rest upon it, A little smile playing along his soft full lips as he lifts his eyes noticing who threw it. Finding Duarte he laughs softly and watches as the man moves to offer his hand up to the Pravus Princess. The Grayson Prince's focus only stolen away when that brandy arrives not in a glass but a bottle, clearly the server had seen the bad journey into musicial endeavors of the Prince. With the bottle in hand Niklas checks the seal before opening it up to take a sip of the Peach Brandy and then another. With nerves once more settled he sets the bottle down and begins the process of removing the old broken string from the lute.

Jennyva has left the glass top table with purple candles.

Looking to ALessandro as he switches places with Cristoph, Lore smiles at him and offers a nod, "My lord, always a pleasure.

Irisa and Kalani are mostly standing off to the side, looking over the crowd and speaking quietly.

How DID Duarte get there? Regardless, Adrienne glides to her feet with a few final words exchanged with Natasha. "Count Duarte, I should know better than to be surprised by you. Please." Her hand rests easily in his, though she does manage a quick "Of course, Cristoph" before finding her way to the dance floor with her partner.

Gaspar guided Calista back through the crowd after their dance had ended and it seemed the marquis was all smiles as he held close to the duchess. "Prince Leonel, Lord Yuri? Are either of you bold enough to follow /that/ performance?" He eased close to Scylla once more and smiled down to her and Lore, exchanging muted words once more. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from the quick waltz recently performed, but he was in fine enough shape not to let it affect him too greatly. "Lore?" He held out a hand for the exotic beauty, half-expectant, half-playful. It was dancing time, yo. And Gaspar had boogie fever.

"I have a mind to throw off the Duke and invite you to dance for such comments," Tyche admits to Adrienne when she makes such a comparison. "But it seems someone has beaten me to it," she murmurs as Duarte, her vassal, swoops in to escort the princess to the floor. She grins, turning to move with Cristoph toward the center, a casually mentioned, "We shall say that if there are any mishaps tonight, your arm is to blame, hmm?" The plan hatched, she takes her position, a bit closer to this partner than the last, fingers curved more tightly against his arm. He's injured, he needs more help, clearly!

Medeia's expression brightens as she hears Jennyva's introduction. "I'm to be Duchess Delilah's midwife, actually. And it is always a pleasure to meet another Harlequin. Please let me know if there is anything I can assist you with." Her eyes flick to the exchange between Niklas and Duarte, amusement curling up her lips. But then she's looking to the dance floor again, keeping an eye on the performance of Gaspar and Calista with special interest.

Calista has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Alessandro takes a sip from his glass as he studies the room, though Lore's comment has him looking her way. He smiles, replying, "Mistress Artiglio. How nice to see you again. I hope you're well?" He shifts, turning more toward her.

Duarte is pleased Adrienne seems to not remember the Golden Hart dance floor disaster of 1014. "You should. I am terribly mundane," he coos to the princess as they are directed to the dance floor where Duarte's faith in the pantheon may be made, or broken.

Then Adrienne mutters something to him. Duarte shakes his head and replies - showcasing complete honesty - "I've been practicing."

Calista graciously thanks Gaspar for the dance but sees to finding a seat in the vicinity of her cousin Cristoph where she might have a drink and socialize for a time. "Oh, yes, yes, Lore, dance. Enjoy! He is so light on his feet." The duchess Fidante shimmies herself down near Cristoph and offers a friendly hello to the others at the bar.

Bianca quietly departed from the small group she was with to retrieve drinks for herself and her cousin, meandering at a steady pace around the dance floor. Silvered gaze observed the dancers as she passed, a small smile tracing her lips and mirth and grown reflected in her gaze. She paused her procession at the Count seated over at one of the glass top tables, leaning briefly to murmur something to him.

Duarte has left the glass top table with purple candles.

Duarte has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Turning towards Gaspar when he offers a hand out to her, the man simply knows her too well. Put into the form of a challenge, Lore is unable to resist. She reaches out and lays her hand in his, but adds, "If this outfit falls apart on the dancefloor I get to claim your brocade as recompense." Flashing a grin, she nods to Alessandro, "I am, thank you. Recently returned and grateful to be so. I do hope Greenmarch is still treating you well, and remind me to stop by with a new whiskey soon! I think it will really catch on here." Then she's apparently being lead to the dancefloor, despite having not meant to do so.

Calista has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Adrienne has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Adrienne has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Lore has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Duarte checks dexterity and performance at easy. Critical Success! Duarte is spectacularly successful.

Adrienne checks dexterity and performance at easy. Adrienne is successful.

Departing from the bar, Cristoph offers a quick, "I'm going to be back!" to his cousin. This is promise to Calista, hopefully he doesn't leave it empty. Meanwhile, he's slipping into the frame with Tyche, their steps seeming to be well timed to one another. Initially, at least. But it does appear that the arm that's slipped into the sling is causing him some sort of... balanced related. There's more than one or two times where he needs to lean into her much more competent dancing skills so as to not wipe out on the floor. It doesn't seem to affect the easy conversation that's flowing between them. Words spoken low and saved for just them.

Gaspar checks charm and performance at easy. Gaspar is successful.

"I am sure that Duchess Shepherd will be in fine hands," Jennyva replies. With a dip of her head, utterly gracious, she shines that smile upon Medeai once again. "Thank you. I'll be sure to come pester you should I need anything." With that being said, the Shepherd noblewoman goes off to mingle so that Medeia can attend to other guests.

Bianca has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Bianca did not go and talk to Duarte at the table as he was already on the dance floor, OOPS! So we'll just say she kept on moving toward the end of the bar to find a more reclusive area to place an order for both wine and whiskey.

Duarte gives a flick of the wrist, a nearly imperceptible thing, and suddenly Adrienne is twirling with grand elegance - aeterna and silver beads spinning in a pattern that would make Fibonacci weep.

The particular style of dance is not terribly involved. But if anyone looks amazing with his feet planted in more or less one location while swaying and moving and lightly stepping around in time, it might be Duarte.

Graziella has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

"Not to worry, cousin!" Calista calls to Cristoph while she sprawls out a bit. "I'll hold your seat for you!" Her easy smile is made even brighter at Yuri's greeting. A double air smooch for the Tessere nobleman in greetings while she gestures to the tender or servant for another wine. "Are you limping, Lord Yuri? I am willing to bet the other person is in far worse condition."

Lore checks charm and performance at easy. Lore is successful.

Niklas seems soley focused on Madrigal, the man's fingers freeing the old broken string of the archlute moving to slip down reaching into his boot to pull free one lone last string for the instrument. The man carefully restrining it with the new string looking upon Madrigal as if hoping that this string might not break and make him the fool of the end of summers galla season. The Grayson Prince's eyes lifting to look upon the dance floor noticing the either skill or passion driven performance by the man as he moves with the Pravus Princess.

"I'll let no harm come to you," Adrienne promises Duarte with Valardin assurance. If she's fortunate, none might come to her either. There's a care to the way she steps into Duarte's arms - and then a delight as she finds herself neither injured nor bloodied. She's content to show off his skills and clearly more at home on a dance floor than she is sitting at a bar.

Jennyva has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Graziella, whiskey in hand, moves to the exit to enjoy her drink in the cool summer night air just outside the party's exterior.

"Obviously, I am going to need to find a dance partner soon," Sorrel remarks to her little social circle as she looks out at the very lively and perhaps quite spectacular dancing going on on the ballroom floor.

Duarte has Adrienne in his grasp now. No more of that twirling stuff. His dancing is still very good. Does light gleam off his mustache? It's possible. He murmurs things that are probably benign and rudimentary matters of state to his dancing partner.


Ember stands up from where she's been sitting next to Saverio at the velvet couches, and after a moment scanning the crowd, strides rather purposefully toward Sorrel. Did she hear Sorrel's spoken comment? Or is the Baroness simply possessed of great timing. She offers one hand to the Princess of Thrax, and the other motions with an open palm toward the dance floor, in a silent but pointed invitation.

Calista has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Zakhar gets up from the velvet couch and wanders back out to the crowd. The blue haze of smoke follows him

Yuri has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Yuri has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Calista has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Niklas checks charm and performance at normal. Niklas is successful.

Saverio takes Mabelle by the hand and leads her with a confident stride towards the dance floor, sharing a small secretive smile with the Laurent noblewoman as he leans close to murmur to her.

With the instrument restrung Niklas sits up fully and brings Madrigal into position slung across his chest, The man's left hand moving to the neck of the archlute as his right moves to the larger base. With his eyes falling closed and a moment taken to listen to the other musicians the man finds his way in as his fingers begin to work along the strings plucking along to join into the song played by the local saikland musicians.

Adrienne has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Mabelle walks beside Saverio with an experssion donating some of her amused enjoyment of the situation. Her gaze falls upon his as she nods to something he said, "Preferably", and murmurs something in return.

Calista finishes her glass of wine just in time to accept Yuri's invitation to dance. The Duchess of Roses slips her hand in the young nobleman's, letting him lead her as she murmurs something quiet to him. Amusement dances in her eyes as they take their place on the dance floor which is quickly becoming full. "Tsk, tsk. Now, show me what you can do while wounded. I will do my best to take it easy on you, but that's not generally my style."

Duarte slips away from the dance floor. He catches Niklas shredding on the lute and stands and watch with some appreciation. This time he retrieves a fist full of roses and confetti's them in the prince's direction on his way to....Lady Jennyva at the bar.

Duarte has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Duarte has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Sorrel sees Ember coming and swallows her beverage far more quickly than she probably should. "Baroness. Good evening. Would you like to dance? You look like perhaps you'd like to show off that dress a bit, though I promise I'll be very careful so as to avoid ...wardrobe mishaps."

When Bianca realized her cousin was in the midst of deciding her path to the dancefloor, she left the princess to her merriment and instead began her procession toward what seemed one of the quieter areas. That just happened to be the table Leonel found himself at!

Bianca has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Bianca has joined the glass top table with red candles.

Servers continue to circulate among the guests at the bar, tables, and comfy seating - leaving the dance floor clear for dancing. The bartenders are keeping up with demand perfectly while the band plays on intermittently with Niklas to keep the dancers appeased.

At her table, Medeia engages in quiet conversation with Haakon, while keeping an eye on things to ensure anything that needs attending gets addressed. She smiles softly seeing Ember and Sorrel dancing, seeming pleased with how her guests are faring.

Saverio checks charm and performance at easy. Saverio is successful.

Mabelle checks charm and performance at easy. Mabelle is marginally successful.

Saverio has left the black velvet couch and chairs.

Saverio has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Mabelle has left the black velvet couch and chairs.

Mabelle has joined the ebon marble dance floor.


"I would curtsy," Ember says to Sorrel, "but to greet you properly, Your Highness, would become rather improper with the wrong motion." One of her dark brows lifts slightly in lieu of a smile. "It would be an honor to dance. And if there is anyone here I would trust to be deft enough to avoid... mishaps... then it would be the Bladesong herself." Ember waits for Sorrel to lead the way toward the dance floor, since a Baroness leading a Princess would just be /ridiculous/.

The marquis guided Lore back to the gathered and smiled, looking down at her once more. "Two delightful dances in a row. The pressure is mounting for me to continue." He settled in near Scylla once more and spared her a lingering look. "Thank you, Lore, for the indulgence." He winked and reached for a glass of red wine nearby.

Gaspar has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Gaspar has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Yuri exhaled a bit cautiously as he met the Duchess's eye with a chuckle, bowing his head to her. A particular rhythm in the arrangement by the orchestra brought to mind a particular step. He drew in Calista close, flourishing a bit with a spin outward before he drew the woman back in to his chest. "Let us see if I still remember how to do this." He soon began to start slowly, gliding along the floor but more deigning to the steps of Calista and keep in line with her rhythm. His body swung to one side, drawing in close before spinning, shifting the couple about but not too lavishly as to disturb the other guests and dancers on the floor.

Lore has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Lore laughs and shakes her head, "You are incorrigible. Truly, it was your leading that allowed me to move so well, I am really not one for dancing." Except, apparently, tonight. Accepting the ushering back towards others, she claims another glass of wine since her first was left... somewhere. Inclining her head towards the Marquis, Lore responds, "You are welcome, my lord. It was quite scintillating." Her eyes move around the room, perhaps seeking someone out?

Jennyva has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Jennyva has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Duarte has selected the next poor soul to dance with him in the person of Lady Jennyva who takes his hand at the bar. No doubt lulled into a false sense of security but a lucky outing. They make their way to the dance floor.

Duarte has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Duarte has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Duarte checks dexterity and performance at easy. Duarte marginally fails.

Jennyva checks charm and performance at easy. Jennyva is marginally successful.

Zakhar shouts from nearby, "How's da nights gones?"

Duarte leads Jennyva in another simple dance but this time his rhtyhm is a little better than slightly off. But surely it's the music's fault and not the man's. Who can waltz in 3/4, amirite?!

Following in Yuri's steps is easy because he leads Calista so beautifully. Their steps are matched and complimentary. When he pauses to spin her, the split skirts of her crimson gown fan outward. Her body is then brought close to his and she pulls out her hand fan from the thin garter she wears high upon her thigh and whips it open to flick a cool breeze across her blushing cheeks. "Oh, it's been a while since I've done this particular dance, Lord Yuri. Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all!" Her laughter is sweet and tantalizing as she is pulled through another couple of steps, careful not to bump into anyone else.

Offering an arm to Ember with a wry smile, Sorrel leads the way to the dancefloor with a merry laugh. "I shall do my best, at the very least. Dancing is usually something I can do," she offers brightly.

Sorrel has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Ember has left the black velvet couch and chairs.

Ember has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Tyche has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Tyche has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Cristoph has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Finished with playing the song Niklas slips the Archlute onto his back as he raises up having spotted Steve crashing into a departing guest with a message just outside. The man unable to contain the laugh that slips free from his lips, his head giving the smallest of shakes as he retakes the bottle of peach brandy heading for the exit. A look given to Medeia and Haakon lifting the bottle to the pair. "Lovely dance, I would stay but I fear Stev..." His words falling away with the noise of the music and other conversations as he slips to the exit and beyond to deal with the pelican.

Cristoph has joined the ebon marble dance floor.

Jennyva has taken Duarte's hand gracefully, and follows him to the dancefloor with an impish smile. When the dance begins, the smiles remains. Even if the count isn't showing off the stellar moves from before, that doesn't mean they can't enjoy themselves. She manages to move in time with him as best she can, light glinting off the bronze silk of her dress. In a conversationally lilt, she asks, "So, how has life been treating you, Count Duarte?"


Ember slides her arm into Sorrel's with comfortable ease. As Baronesses to keep on one's arm, she's certainly a fine choice -- she walks with regal bearing, and her stern expression and innumerable battle scars are compensated for by sheer singular presence. (Whether the presence Ember exudes is a pro or a con is up to the beholder, but 'singular' remains accurate either way.) She leans in to say something to Sorrel, allowing the other woman to assume the lead.

Zakhar has left the black velvet couch and chairs.

Ember checks dexterity and performance at easy. Ember is marginally successful.

Medeia gives a wave to Niklas as he heads out, her expression dawning with understanding. She's heard stories about Steve. She doesn't want Steve in her party. At least marble is easier to clean than a pool.

Sorrel checks dexterity and performance at easy. Critical Success! Sorrel is inhumanly successful in a way that defies expectations.

Niklasslips out the door reaching down to draw a cigar from somewhere on him tucking it between his lips before vanishing into the night.

Niklas gets A fat rolled cigar that emits a blue haze when lit from Fine tailored codpiece of the Mysterious Prince.

The nervousness in Yuri's steps seemed to ebb away as it seemed to be going swimmingly, for now. There was an occasional misstep, for fear of forgetting the proper steps but all in all, Calista was able to correct him in most regards. He chuckled gently, bidding his head to the Duchess as she whipped out that hand fan. "You are telling me? I thank you, for I may look a proper fool. Do I pass this test?" Yuri grinned vibrantly at the woman, drawing her in a bit closer now that more folks had begun to join the floor around them; the time for flourishing spins was over. There was room for another, just one. Yuri spun Calista to have the Duchess press against his chest, sweeping her out towards the floor before correcting their posture to face one another, enacting a soft dip to the floor.

So Ember opts to dance with Sorrel, which may or may not be a dangerous thing. Because the princess can dance. The music and the woman are one. She knows just how to move her body to best show it off, and her dancing even manages to make Ember look better -- without flashing anyone. The princess swirls the baroness, then spins herself, practically orbiting Ember for a moment as she turns in tight circles. It's a magical experience, and as the music starts to come to a close, there is a spectacular finish in which Sorrel lifts Ember into the air, spins both of them around together, and then gently lowers the woman to the floor gracefully with nary a fashion mishap.

Irisa is watching the crowd. As Niklas departs, she watches him draw a cigar from.. oh. "Well then. Bravo to that man's confidence!"

Meanwhile on the dance floor, somewhere along the line, Duarte just gave up. He stops dancing and drops hands off Jennyva to watch Ember and Sorrel. He face tenses with suspense wondering if there will be an incident of the warbrobe kind. It relaxes when there isn't. But then she's picking Ember up! Omg omgggg...whew! Man that was spectacular. Duarte loudly applauds.

Jennyva stands next to Duarte, and she's watching Ember and Sorrel too. Her eyes are wide and a small smile plays across her lips. That is some GOOD dancing right there, to say the least. She applauds as does Duarte, with equal enthusiasm, but not quite as loud. "Bravo!"

Calista's enticing crimson gown was meant for movement and Yuri does not disappoint with allowing her such across the dance floor. She uses the opportunity to be a little extra with the fan as a prop; fanning herself here, and there, twirling it over her head before she is dipped. "You are doing wonderfully, but I am not surprised. The men of Iriscal are known for their 'moves' and you are a duelist, are you not?" Calista quickly finishes the thought as to not allow other thoughts to seep through her words. His hushed words win him her infamous Tehom-may-care smile and she replies, almost as if she's paused in the dance. "Is that so? Why I've always been told it was the opposite."


Ember dips her head in a nod to Jennyva in turn, but before she can even say so much as a 'thank you,' she's swept up in the hurricane force of Sorrel's dancing ability. There's a brief moment where Ember's eyes are wide and she almost falters, as though the thought written across her brain is 'I knew you could dance, but I didn't know you could dance like /this/' -- and then she does what she typically does when faced with a challenge, which is refuse to back down. Ember's body has been honed in the name of martial pursuits, and that fitness serves her well as she hangs on by her fingertips, so to speak, while Sorrel leads her in a fast-paced, dazzling dance. The Baroness is so focused on keeping up that she's easy pickings to be suddenly lifted, but when she finds herself off her feet, she doesn't even let her surprise show -- she's so locked-in that she just arches herself to go with it, and lands with the only thing askew being a lock of her hair that she blows away from her face. "...Your Highness," she says, with a deadpan matter-of-factness, though her eyes betray her delight as that dance being much more of a workout than she apparently expected.

Irisa speaks quietly to Kalani and moves for the door. She fingers the peacebonding for a moment before stepping outside, where it looks like she will keep herself stationed.

Duarte dips a bow to Jennyva and smiles. "Thank you, Lady Shepherd." He parts ways with her on the dance floor and goes to a table for a breather.

Duarte has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Duarte has joined the glass top table with purple candles.

"I am solely managing that little mixed drink called Confidence you properly gave heed about. Glad to see it is working for the better." Yuri smirked a bit as the Duchess was allowed to shine from the exaggerated movements of the dance. Slowly, the lord began to cease in the grandiose efforts; settling back more to a light sway, "One of us should have due surprise on our faces, no?" He enacted her into another dip toward the floor before he settled her back onto two feet, Calista having right of motion again if she so chose to exit. "Thank you for such the kindness, Duchess." His head canted curiously at her latter comments, "Hm? What would give you such impression?"

Sorrel offers Ember a bow with flourish at the conclusion of their dance, slightly breathless but quite enthused. "Baroness, that was delightful," she says with a pleasant smile, nodding once to the woman. "And I'm so glad that you managed to keep up with me so very well."


"I think I might have torn a muscle in my hip," Ember says, with just enough wryness in her tone to make it at least sort of clear that she's joking. She bows in return, and adds, "But even if I did, I will say until my dying day that it was completely worth it."

After dipping into a tidy curtsy to Duarte, smiling, Jennyva wanders off to mingle again!

Jennyva has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Their dance comes to an end and Calista is back on her feet, somewhat steady, somewhat managing on wobbly knees from the rush of adrenaline that courses through her veins. She presses a kiss to Yuri's cheek. "I am so very glad my little chat with you that evening helped. It looks good on you, confidence, that is." She dips into a curtsey and cants her head towards the bar where they might take a moment to catch their breaths and get a drink. "What impression is that?" Calista inquires as she begins to saunter away from the dance floor.

Calista has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Jennyva has joined the glass top table with purple candles.

Jennyva has left the glass top table with purple candles.

Jennyva has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Yuri has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Medeia was sitting contently, but the dance between Sorrel and Ember was captivating. The hostess stared, mouth slightly agape, as the pair spun around each other. The final lift? A round of applause seems inadequate, but it is what they got. She did manage to see Yuri and Calista, who looked fabulous in their own right, while she watched the dancing.

Yuri bowed his head lightly, a bit of color rising to his cheeks and ears soon after Calista had pressed her thanks to his cheek, "I am utterly thankful for the gracious word. And does it? I think I may try it in a few different hues, too." He walked alongside her, back to the positions they had originally forsaken at the bar, to which a drink was ordered and one for the lady, herself. He canted his head with a smile, "Why, that you were guiding my every step with your radiance. Surely, it was not all my doing."

Yuri has joined the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

When Cristoph and Tyche finish the dance, they sweep off of the floor to find Alessandro. The Marquessa draws him from his stool, a quietly murmured word, and then all three make their farewells and vanish into the night!

Norah has left the black velvet couch and chairs.

Closer to the bar now, Calista stops in her tracks. She presses the pads of her fingertips to her cheek and squeals "Ouch!" In a moment's breath, she laughs and lightly shoves Yuri back with the same fingertips. "You're giving me a toothache with all that sweetness. Save some for the other ladies present, Lord Yuri." Another wine is in order at the moment.

Tyche has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Alessandro has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Mabelle is overheard praising Calista: If dance moves could win us the war, we found our leader.

Cristoph has left the ebon marble dance floor.

Calista has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

Mabelle is overheard praising Ember: If her might is as strong as those hip moves, I pity our enemies.

Medeia is overheard praising Sorrel: The Queen of the Dance!

Yuri paused a moment as he glanced back to see if Calista was alright, chuckling soon after as a brow rose to her plight, "Oh, no. You may need to have that checked by a physician. Lady Eswynd is one of the best, perhaps she has a remedy to settle that toothache?" The attendant at the bar settled down a glass of whiskey and the lord took it upon himself to offer Calista's wine to her as she retreated to a comfortable seat a few paces off.

Merek watches the people while he takes the time to relax back wherever he was at, and looks to the place, into the mirrors of that ballroom.

Jennyva has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Yuri has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

Yuri has joined the black velvet couch and chairs.

Natasha has left the mirrored bar with black leather stools.

As the party wears on, the staff of the event continue to provide exceptional care tot he guests, and the musicians play until the dance floor empties completely.