Felix arrives without entourage this evening, striding along the fa

Gianna picks her way down to the beaches in a flutter of plum-coloured silk, gittern in hand. @rs

Fluffy, a wild nanny-cat, 2 Eswynd shieldbearers, Loryk, a cocky but amiable reaver, Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a reaver, Butterpup, a Graypeak Mountain Dog, Haakon arrive, following Medeia.

Merek walks along and into the beaches of Arx while he takes the time to adjust the dark linen attire which he wears, while he takes a look to everyone and finds a place to relax and watch.

ST:

The festival is in full swing. The skies above have begun to deepen blue as the sun has passed its Zenith and is making its way to its eventual descent into the ocean. This latter half of the day has throngs of people out. Watching a beautiful dancer in a precisely folded kimono and wrap move with steady grace through an unhurried fan dance as she's accompanied by a singer who appears to be telling the tale of a mythical type of fire feathered bird.

The center tent is slammed. People not only come to check in for their gifts but also to ask for directions to various performances or foods. There's now an almost ring of food tents where cuisines from all over Arvum and beyond are being served. The prize piece is a massive pair of spitted boars that will be ready for the grand final ceremonies that potentially boast encore performances from the Festival favorites. Otherwise, the various food options are many. And perhaps surprisingly for some a tent that serves no meat at all has become a favorite with their fragrant sauces and well-made legumes.

The fashion bar has been set -high- by the previous days' showings and Courtiers and Nobility have come up with grand outfits and jewels. Each set to outdo the last and display the very character of their cultures.

Off in the Horse Ring, a quartet of Ostrian riders in smart military attire lead their four beautiful Ostrian stallions in a magical dance and display of horsemanship. And it's rumored next there will be a free-riding example from one of the Prodigal Houses of the north. There are performers on stilts, tumblers with ribbons and acrobats that perform for clusters of enchanted carnival goers.

Blankets dot the sands along with small fires and preparation for bonfires farther out. People still play in the surf and the calls and screams of people at play contend with the shriek of the hungry gulls overhead.

OOC: If I miss -anything- please page me, I am Page OK! If you want to perform I try to keep track of this with Line. Have any questions or something you'd like to accommodate, same thing. I'm here to help things keep moving and will be largely Posing ambience and reactions.

OOC: Please don't forget to take a prize from the Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove arrive, following Cesare.

Merek gets Lightly floating nearly dancing silk scarf from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.

Medeia takes Tightly woven crown of ivy from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.


Felix arrives without entourage this evening, striding along the familiar beaches towards this evening's gathering. Dressed... much as he always is, albeit in the cleaner option of standard shop clothes, not standing out much from the general crowd save for those who know him. An easy pace around, before meandering in to the central tent for those gifts being given out as well as check for any schedule of particular events or performances to attend. Otherwise, a quirked grin as he regards those ongoing performers that keep the crowds entertained in between.

Gianna gets Lightly floating nearly dancing silk scarf from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.

Felix gets blue standing drum from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.

Michael gets Tightly woven crown of ivy from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.

Entering the festival, Isabeau strides in, adorned in copper seasilk and high sandals. Though she is not in Oathland fashion, her gown includes and incorporates the metal that is usually worked into the style of her homelands. She makes her way through the crowd with a word aside to one of her attendants who goes off immediately to seek refreshment for the blonde woman. A winsome smile draws upon the full lips of the Duchess as she opts to settle down on one of the benches.

Medeia and Haakon make their way down to the beaches, their small entourage following along before being sent off to enjoy the evening's festivities. Someone hands her a crown of ivy, which she dutifully places on her head before looping her hand back around Haakon's elbow. "Let's find something to drink and then a spot to settle, hm?" She leads the way, offering smiles and nods to those she knows, a more respectful bow of her head to Felix. "Archlector, good to see you!"

Not one to miss a party dedicated to music, Nina is here for the second night. She's wearing the scarf that she picked up yesterday, though it's not a direct match for her current dress of peach and white flowers. It's a more Lycene silk cut without the Eurusi influences of her previous garb, but with Nina's own embellishments of embroidery. The choice of color makes it look a little translucent from moment to moment, but it's a perfectly suitable cut for an evening of dance and spectacle. Nina has her instrument case on as well, considering the possibility of playing tonight.

Gianna picks her way down to the beaches in a flutter of plum-coloured silk, gittern in hand. Those looking forward to her appearing in some grand new outfit may be disappointed that she's clad in things she's worn before... like an actual person who wears things more than once. Though once she's arrived, she immediately adds a new piece to her collection. Selecting a long purple scarf from the ivy-engraved chest, she looks pleased as she touches the soft material. She murmurs a word of thanks to some attendant or another, winds the scarf loosely around her shoulders, and continues on her way. She pauses again to buy a bit of meat on a skewer from child of perhaps thirteen years, passing over a coin.

Isabeau has joined the garden bench with gilded arbor canopy and rose trellis.

Gianna is overheard praising Aconite.

Savio stands out in this crowd (though perhaps not as much as he might on other, non cultural festival days) in that he is not wearing any sort of Arvani style, but instead is draped in the finery of his homeland. Lots of fabric is involved, making a sort of tunic/robes situation all folded and pinned and tucked just so. He had arrived with Orland, as per usual, but as his partner slips off to other tents after an exchange of brief words, Savio is solo for now! Some faces he knows here; a wave is cast in the direction of both the Eswynd pair of Medeia and Haakon, and towards the incomparable Gianna. Claiming a good place to sit is paramount at these things, and he swoops on the spot that worked out well yesterday!

Savio has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

"Mmm," Haakon agrees with Medeia in a wordless grunt, giving the sociable lady a short nod to underline that sound was an 'mmm' of assent, rather than an 'mmm' of discontent. His stony expression offers no clue. When the lady greets an 'Archlector' he glances in the appropriate direction, overlooking the plainly dressed Felix, before recalling: oh yeah, the smith is an archlector, now. A short dip of his head to Felix, before his eye is pulled further by the flamboyance of Savio. "There is nothing folk can say that will be louder than that one's garb. Still, fair met," he mutters to the priest.

Michael Bisland had disembarked a carriage on the inside of the Seawatch Gate dressed in the far more drab and demure Iron Guardsman's garb. Added to the outfit an adornment of an ivy crown atop of his head as he moves through the tents with a smile. The Main Tent has to be the center of attraction for the whole festival and he'll find a space to stand tucked in the corner out of the flow of traffic for the moment.

Haakon has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

Cesare's dressed in the same swathes of silk the color of the gathering dawn light as he had been the previous night, but whatever weird energy he was putting off seems to have dissipated. He's fully at the height of his Whisper game tonight, stopping to greet people he knows as he appears upon the path down from the city gate, receiving compliments from festival-goers who saw his performance the previous night, and so forth and so on. He appears in the midst of the main crowd before the stage with that weird, spooky ease of someone used to moving through groups of people, putting a hand on Savio's back and leaning to murmur something to him, and then settles onto the picnic bench beside him, lyre laid aside for now.

Savio tsks as he overhears nothing folk can say will be louder than his garb. Caught that, HAAKON. Who is now over near his table. "Hello, what, sorry? I can't hear you over my outfit." Preen.

Gianna seizes the meat on her skewer between her teeth and bites it off, getting a little smear of herbed glaze on her mouth. She delicately dabs it off with the back of her hand and raises the empty skewer hand in greeting to Savio. She inclines her head to Nina, too, and nods toward Medeia and Haakon.

Cesare has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

Savio blows Gianna a kiss from a far. Like ping-pong of greetings, there. Cesare is briefly embraced, if he allows such a thing, with a chaste kiss to each cheek, quiet words exchanged as the Whisper comes to join him. "Are you performing again tonight? I hadn't meant to, I felt that Arx somewhat deserves a break from me."

Nina has joined the line.

[ST:

Felix is greeted warmly among the many artisans here who are busily selling elevated products that highlight their folklore and customs. They cry out, hawking to bystanders and in some cases enticing anyone who will witness with demonstrations of their craft.

Isabeau's arrival is met with a ripple of excitement and a press of curious bodies to see what she's wearing today. After her first outfit almost no one believes she can top it which makes the reaction to what she's wearing that much more electrifying and courtiers hurry off to groups of friends to fawn and fan over her ensemble. Nina's arrival and exotic influenced clothing are met with equal curiosity and even some bold enough to ask about the unique style, begging to know her muse and if it will be something that might be available to the public.

Food and Drinks are plentiful and free! Some of them are unique or bizarre and a few are an acquired taste but there's something for almost all tastes and even some jugglers working the crowd who've gathered around the fire pit and are eating in the aura of aroma that wafts from the spit-roasted boars.

Those who performed previously are met with great cheer and calls for another performance even though it's already rumored to be the case. The crowd seems to compose of a beast hungry for more, made all the more ravenous by the knowledge that tomorrow the tents and capering dancers in the sand will be no more.



Juba'al'samara, a Suj'abbati royal guardsman, A dutiful Valardin aide, 2 Valardin Knights leave, following Katarina.

Medeia gives Savio a vibrant smile, wordlessly fawning over his attire even as Haakon mentions how loud it is. There's a wave to Cesare and Gianna to follow, before her gaze lands on Isabeau. The already high-spirited lady brightens. "Duchess, hello! Have you met my husband? Lord Haakon Eswynd, Duchess Isabeau Telmar. You share a patron." Quickly after, drinks are procured, one pressed into her husband's hand.

Cesare's shoulders ripple in an easy shrug. "In case," he says, indicating the lyre. "You know - as a Whisper ought, to make sure there's no gap in entertainment." He snorts and shakes his head at the latter half of Savio's statement. "I think withholding the People's Choice from the citizens would only break their hearts. But you don't want to spread yourself too thin. Nobody likes toast with too little jam."


"Lady Medeia," Felix offers a return with a smile and bow of the head, considering for a moment the drum that is his prize, before he shrugs and accepts it. "I hope you have been well?" a bow in return to Haakon. Shouldering the drum for now, Felix meanders off into the crowd to see who else might be here, and maybe seek out somewhere to sit and listen.

Nina looks around with a few bows and a few nods. "I really should-" she says to one passer-by - "Do another round of gowns for sale, before summer is over! But the little embroideries take so much time." She does serve as her best advertisement, during these events. She gives a wave to Gianna, and a little curtsey as well. "How fare things at the college? I'm planning a new concert at my new performance hall and so I haven't been by!"

Savio hahs at Cesare, a touch dryly, and shakes his head. "The People's Choice is a commoner. I guarantee that I am no longer favored among anyone in particular, though you're kind to say so." He rests an elbow on the table, chin in his hand. "I'll make something up impromptu if I need to help you with a lull. On-the-spot is a particular favorite of mine, truth be told... I like the immediacy and context, and it's a handy excuse for my rhymes being garbage."

So beckoned by Medeia's words, Isabeau smoothes the glittering copper skirts of her gown down and stands, heading towards the woman from her spot on the benches. Stepping over she looks at Haakon and offers an inclination of her head, while saying to Medeia, "I have not. Though I've heard his name several times now." To Haakon, she turns her cobalt blue eyes and offers a richly cadenced, "A pleasure to put a face to the name, my Lord."

Haakon accepts the offered cup fromk Medeia with a muttered thanks, before his eye turns onto Isabeau. "Lady," he greets plainly. As to what she's heard of him, the reaver rumbles deadpan, "Nothing good, I hope."

"They're going well," Gianna tells Nina, inclining her head to the Mockingbird. "Evaristo has a concert coming up about the fall of Cael'alfar and it should be interesting. I'll be playing Primeria." Which, well. It's pretty good casting there, at least attitude-wise. "I'm still hoping to attend your concert, of course. Try the little meats on the sticks over there. They're delicious." She waves vaguely in the direction of the kid she got hers from.

Gianna has joined the line.

In the ring with the horses, a cheer goes up as the quartet pulls off a particularly fine maneuver. The gifted riders and well-trained horses hardly seem to react at all to the crowd giving them an air of aloofness that makes the performance even more interesting.

Another pocket of verbal awe escapes over near the large tent as a large man with a throwing ax manages to knock an apple off his companion's head and land the ax in the throwing board behind him. A few people sucking in breaths they didn't know they were holding to cheer.

And in the distance on the main stage the danger begins her final, technical crescendo to her performance, the weighted and bladed fan in her hands flipping and twirling with sharp dexterous movements. The diva accompanying her rises into a warbling note until suddenly the note cuts off and the performer bows and they prepare to leave the spotlight and a tall man in dark clothes capers his way up the stairs to conduct the crowd.

Clowder of nine 1-year old cats, Shekies, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell arrive, following Zakhar.

Zakhar has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

Harkles, an Andalashari tradesman, Keme, an Andalashari musician arrive, following Vashtalyn.

Isabeau has left the garden bench with gilded arbor canopy and rose trellis.

Ian turns up at the beach, probably dropped off by the carriage, looking a little the worse for wear. He's favoring his left arm, which probably has something to do with the bandage partially covering his left hand, and also favoring his right side a little bit. He's not big on stumbling through sand, especially right now, so he hangs back where the ground is still solid and has a look around.

"If it were ill, I wouldn't repeat it. It's mostly regarding fact rather than opinion." Isabeau tells Haakon, a demure smile gracing her lips as she folds her hands together in front of herself, "And that you've either volunteered or been volunteered to assist in a future event for Heart in Hand." She makes a softly amused noise, and then notices Morgana approaching with a plate of a different sampling of food and a cup of something cold and juice-like. She glances down at the table then gestures with a cup-holding hand, "Might I sit here? I will share the snacks."

Zakhar returns to the beach with the small cock wearing a bell sitting upon the top of his head. His silk shirt has been ripped open, and the old man doesn't seem to give a care to it. His marks are mostly on display as the silk swishes in the wind, a torn faded red silk scarf appears to be tied to his wrists. He nods to those assembled at the picnic table then looks around to see who else might be about. Seeing only a few, he is then lighting up a small leaf and taking a long pull of the smoke.

"Whoever tells you your rhymes are garbage will find themselves at the pointy end of my trident," Medeia says as she overhears part of Savio and Cesare's conversation. "Unless its Haakon. He'll say it just to test us both." Her eyes flick up to the man beside her, a coy smile curving her lips. "If she has heard nothing good about you, it did not come from my lips." It's true, the Eswynd lady shamelessly praises her husband at near every turn. Her attention is pulled to Gianna, then, eyebrows raising. "Does he? He didn't mention it when last I spoke with him! It sounds so interesting. And how have you been since last we spoke?" As she settles into the flow of socializing and watching the performances, she gives Nina a wave in greeting before briefly dipping her head in Michael's direction. Ian and Zakhar are invited to join as she tells Isabeau she'd be delighted to have her join them.

Isabeau has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

Savio clarifies for Medeia, "It's me saying it! I'm now threatened with both oceanic misadventure, and stabbing. Truly dire!"

Ian hesitates for a moment when he notices Medeia waving him over to the picnic table, but whatever caused this hesitation is less compelling to him than his desire to fucking sit down. He eases onto a bench with a tensing of his features, and immediately takes the flask out of an inner pocket of his coat.

Ian has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

ST:

"What a captivating performance that was!" Alejandro calls out over the crowds with a deep voice that carries. "Up next, we have a performance from one of Arx's brightest Bards, she is here to give us today a feast for the ears and the eyes no doubt.." A soft laugh ripples through the crowd, "The Glass Butterfly, Bard Nina Autumndale.." With a flourish and a quick jig off stage, the crowd is left to wait with baited anticipation for the next performance.

Barkers sound like seals as they try to out-do one another for the attention of people passing by on their way to one performance or another. Those mingling around the crafter's stalls are charmed and beckoned from their perusal by merchants eager to share their trade.

Over near where the wine is kept there's a quiet shout as one of the binders snaps and a few barrels go rolling down their stacks and into the sand. Thankfully the sand prevents them from going far but the people hired to ensure the drinks keep flowing are quick to get everything back in order.

A young woman approaches the festivities, riding out of the city gates and down to the beach on the back of a beautiful chestnut mare with a long black, flowing mane and tail. The jingle of bells accompanies her arrival, from the bells on the horse's harness and decorative brocaded reins, to the bells jinglng on her scarlet and black costume. Vashtalyn's long dark tresses are pulled up at the back of her head in a tight ponytail, allowing the luxurious raven locks to tumble to her waist in a cascade of dark ringlets. A floral ornament of crimson blooms adorns her hair, clustered over her right ear.

As rider and mare reach the area set aside for the festival, Vashtalyn draws the horse to a stop, and then swings out of the saddle in a sweep of layered skirts. Leading the horse by the reins, she circles around with a smile on her face as she watches the goings-on, while heading toward the ring set aside for horsemanship displays.

Gianna sniffs at the mention of oceanic adventure. Bleh! She recovers quickly though and inclines her head to Medeia. "He hasn't? I hope I haven't ruined a surprise, then. I've been well. I haven't sung at an event like this in far too long, I think. And I have a new scarf." Gianna executes a turn, showing off the purple scarf she claimed from the gifts. "I trust you've been well. Any new projects I should know about?" Isabeau is given a thoughtful look, her gaze appraising. Could be the dress.

Vashtalyn has joined the line.

Aconite has joined the line.

Zakhar has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

Vashtalyn gets green standing drum from Dark cedar chest with engraved ivy lid.

Zakhar has joined the a large circlular ring of cordoned off beach surrounded by decorative fencing.

Zakhar has left the a large circlular ring of cordoned off beach surrounded by decorative fencing.

Zakhar has joined the In the Water.

Felix has joined the Quiet Strand.

Medeia has joined the Wooden Picnic Table.

Ian has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

Ian has joined the Quiet Strand.

Ian starts towards the picnic table, and then change his mind at the last minute, and joins Felix under the trees. He takes out his flask and takes a drink.

Nina ascends to the stage with a skip and a bounce in her step. The crowd has been warmed up by the dancing, and now she wants to keep the energy levels high. Once she is center stage, she gives a long bow, her scarf sweeping. "Hello! Welcome one and all. Tonight I represent both the Bard's College, and the school of the Suspires of Setarco. All of my thanks to the Whispers for accepting me as one of their own as well, and for putting on such a fabulous event! Now we have seen many dancers at this event, but it is my pleasure to entice you to dance as well. So please, clear a space, line up, and grab yourself your favorite partner... or two, if you can manage!"

Nina nods a sign of readiness to her flute-player, who stands at her right side. Though many do believe that he serves primarily as a bodyguard for her, he does indeed at least know how to play the instrument.

Nina then removes her fiddle from her pack, and plays a very lively folkdance, the kind that is common at parties at the Setarco docks. Nina often carries herself with the elegance of nobility these days, as befits a trained courtier. But when she is playing the fiddle - a skill she is mighty talented at - her common roots do show as she stomps her feet a few times and is mindful of the beat. She demonstrates a dance by spinning so her skirts flare out, and there is a joy to the movements of her feet as she gives one final stomp, the flute and fiddle in time, and finally letting the flute lead a bit as she spins faster, encouraging those out in the audience to do the same.

Her hair is a bit of a mess by the time she plays one last strike of the bow, and gives a final bow.

For one reason or another the old man is sitting on the edge of the beach as the waters lap at him.

Nina gets Dark Wood Fiddle from Instrument carrying case.

Merek has joined the line.

Gianna claps along with Nina's song, tossing her hair back and swaying in place. It's not quite dancing, but it is enjoyment.

Harkles, an Andalashari tradesman, Keme, an Andalashari musician leave, following Vashtalyn.

Harkles, an Andalashari tradesman, Keme, an Andalashari musician, Astaari, an Andalashari chestnut mare arrive, following Vashtalyn.

The invitation to dance is met with a roar of approval from the crowd and there is even room made for those who choose to dance. Not all dance with the familiat Setarco flare but they all seem to be carried by the upbeat melody. A true sense of delight that carries beyond the dance floor around the stage and into the throngs of celebrants that are gathered. Even reaching as far as to the food area where a few couples break off from the area to dance in the sand as well.

As Nina's Setarco folk dance starts, whatever Cesare's laughing at in the picnic table conversation gets set aside. Tugging Savio up and into the cleared space, Cesare obviously knows the way this one goes, spinning and stomping along with fleet movements of the feat as the song starts at a pace that's already fast and growing only faster, holding onto each of Savio's hands as they whirl and whirl about!

ST:

The invitation to dance is met with a roar of approval from the crowd and there is even room made for those who choose to dance. Not all dance with the familiar Setarco flare but they all seem to be carried by the upbeat melody. A true sense of delight that carries beyond the dance floor around the stage and into the throngs of celebrants that are gathered. Even reaching as far as to the food area where a few couples break off from the area to dance in the sand as well. Nina's performance sets a mood for the night that is to come...

There's a sudden burst of activity as a group of youths who have pilfered an entire cherries jubilee for themselves being chased by the chef past the picnic tables and off down through the sand. The middle-aged confectioner cannot keep with youth, however, and the thieving magpie teens are able to settle against a dune to feed their faces.

In one of the tents behind a screen, a shadow puppet play enthralls those who've used the tent to escape the unrelenting rays of the sun. Peels of laughter escape as the performer's joke hits a good note.

Savio does not lead in a dance. Nope! That's for Cesare to do, he's the one that knows it anyway! But Nina's music is irresistible, and it's with laughter that he joins in. Fast and faster. How does he not trip over that ensemble he's wearing -- unknown. It's Arakkoan magic.

Medeia has found herself a comfortable spot at the picnic table with lovely company - and Haakon. It gives her a great vantage point to watch the performances from.

Vashtalyn hovers near the edge of the horse ring, securing the mare's reins, and for a moment, she quietly confers with a pair of men who were here ahead of her, whispering softly. One of the men has a drum, and the other a fiddle. Then, as Nina begins to play her own fiddle, the merchant turns to watch, her features lighting up in a bright smile. She grabs one of the two men by the sleeve, and they laugh and dance together as well, the young woman's skirts flaring crimson around her legs, bells and charms tinkling merrily. Then she exchanges a few soft words with the man, before she drifts closer to where others are gathered, for now content to enjoy Nina's fiddling, and the dancers dancing.

Nina steps down off the stage with a hop, happy to have been able to get the crowd moving. Then she flits into the audience, shaking hands, giving bows, and finally getting a sugared pastry to help get her energy back after the dance!

Cesare and Savio are certainly a sight to see, between Savio's exotic garb and the buzz still on the lips of the festival-goers from the day before about his performance, and Cesare's self-assured poise in the speedy, athletic dance. And luckily for Savio, even if he wasn't a good dancer, which he totally is, it's Cesare's sacred duty to make sure that he looks good. A Whisper would never let their dance partner fail! So around and around they whirl, Savio's draped garment and the golden-rosy tones of Cesare's silks spinning like a mandala, until the song comes to an end, leaving them both slightly winded. "I need something to drink after that," Cesare says. Glistening. Not sweating. "Maybe not the scorpion whiskey - although I have to get a bottle of that stuff."

ST:

"Wow, wow, wow, Eh?" Alejandro asks the crowd as he spins on his heel with his arms out. "We were truly blessed by Nina Autundale's performance. It's going to take some real talent to go after that enlivening display. And in the right fashion, we have a Nightingale of the Bard's College, a true star sparkling in out evening, Gianna Delvecchio." A cheer goes up from the breathless crowd still high from the previous performance.

Out in the water, Zakhar isn't exactly alone. There are all kinds of bathers jumping into the surf, splashing each other and frolicking with not a care at all.

Off in the ring, there's a rider giving a performance that is a mix of showman's archery and bareback riding skill. The talented Northern Woman draws coos of awe from those watching.

A bellow comes from the food as the head cook, an older woman from Saik comes out to test the bores with an adroit flick of a knife. She nods once to her assistants who hurry to get the serving gear. The sign that the spitted Hog is finally ready after what feels like an eternity of roasting and basting with various liquors is ready gains a swell of hungry revelers.

Gianna ascends the stage, plum silk rippling about her legs. She comes to a halt, pulls her hair over one shoulder, and twists it in place. Then she plucks out a tune on her gittern, manicured fingers moving swiftly with a plectrum over the instrument's strings. "A bard named Frances Ellen Watkins Harper taught me this song. I think we can all agree this evening that music appeals to us, no matter where we're from." That said, she begins. Hers is a clear voice of singular quality which carries easily.

"Let me make songs for the people,
Songs for the old and the young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.

Our world, so worn and weary,
Needs music, pure and strong,
To hush the jangle and discords
Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

Music to soothe all its sorrow,
'Til war and crime shall cease;
And the hearts of the men grown tender
Girdle the world with peace."

It's not a long song, or a complicated one, but it showcases the talent of the singer. Gianna tilts her chin up with a serene air when she finishes, the corner of her lips lifting slightly. Her hair is already untwining from its loose coil.

Saikland

Savio does seem like a reasonably competent dancer, awhirl in the athletics required by the music! Is he though? Or is it juts that Whisper knack for making onlookers never question whether or not he is?! No one will ever know. Unless he starts dancing WITHOUT Cesare. As they finally stop, he laughs, "What, you don't like my Scorpion Whiskey?" in tones of, how could anyone not like that. "It has a real scorpion in it." Like that's a selling point.

Up on the stage comes Gianna, and Savio ahs! "The Nightingale! Oh, she's so lovely... she's a legend! I met her my first week in the city and about had a brain bleed at the fame of it all." Definitely someone to shut up and listen to, and while she sings, he is rapt.

Vashtalyn applauded Nina as she left the stage, of course! Smiling brightly to the woman, she turns her attention then to Gianna as she ascends the stage. She watches with a raptly curious expression as whispers of 'the Nightingale' ripple through the onlookers. As the Bard begins to sing, Vashtalyn listens with an appreciative smile.

Isabeau applauds each performer in turn, her hands resounding gently as she shows her appreciation to Nina, Gianna and the other assorted performers in turn, watching and listening each from the table.

Soaking wet from sitting with the waves lapping at his back, Zakhar gets up and chases after the rooster that is now running across the beach frolicking with the cats and attempting to ride upon the black and white marbled one known to some as Shekies.

Zakhar mutters, "Look it's no... ... to under...stupid ... WADDLES ... 'ERE..."

"I am absolutely sick that I will never be that talented." This is Savio's assessment of Gianna's singing, at its conclusion -- remarked aside to Cesare. "Or that pretty!" Both hands lift as though ah, despair! But he is grinning, and overall the tone is nothing but fond admiration. His applause is surely joined to the rest of the crowd of slightly tipsy people who are likewise delighted to have heard her, and who are already planning to go home and brag about it to their friends who missed it. That's his plan, anyway.

ST:

Gianna has the Audience's attention. Waiting through the foundation of the coming performance with a quiet murmur as people discuss the story amongst themselves that silences the first gilded note that emerges from the Nightingale. They are rapt, some swaying with the music and others lose themselves for those too short moments of the song.

The Multitudes press together and move. As is expected a few fights break out but they're always separated before they can get too heavy, either security or clique members pull them away from each other and off to find something to occupy the irritated mind.

The Festival seems a diverse pocket of reality. A certain determination for gaiety to push away the ever heavyweight of the world outside that is demanding and in mourning.

Medeia's head tilts at the sight of the woman from Saikland coming out to test the pig. There's a flicker of recognition, but no attempt to interact as she turns her attention to the performances. Nina and Gianna are given enthusiastic applause.

Still at the edge of the crowd in front of the stage, Cesare cheers loudly, holding his hands aloft and clapping. He rolls his eyes and grins at Savio, then puts his fingers to his lips and whistles his appreciation, a sound so clear and piercing that it rises above the din of the crowd. "Excellent choice of song too," he agrees. "Also I love your scorpion whiskey, I want some for myself."

Marjolaine, a spirited sellsword arrives, following Maren.

Gianna bows at the waist, straightening up again with one of her rare smiles, her eyes alight. If there is one thing that makes her happy, it seems to be performing. She waves graciously before leaving the stage, pausing by one of the vendors to collect something to drink. Possibly something with mango. That done, she heads toward the quiet strand.

Gianna has joined the Quiet Strand.

Zakhar has left the In the Water.

Clowder of nine 1-year old cats, Shekies, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell leave, following Zakhar.

Maren drifts into the festival, likely in the ebb and flow of many others, her steps unhurried and elegant. Having enjoyed the festival off and on during the days it has been going on, today she is a little slower, perhaps most interested in the performances and the peoplewatching, rather than finding her way through the hawkers and food stands. To that end, she settles rather quickly at a shady place to sit, though her expression is warm and curious to those nearby.

Maren has joined the garden bench with gilded arbor canopy and rose trellis.

Vashtalyn has joined the a large circlular ring of cordoned off beach surrounded by decorative fencing.

Savio has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

ST:

After Gianna's arresting performance there are a few moments for people to take in and absorb the beauty of the performance. Alejandro is caught a bit off guard and drinking from a large mug on the side of the stage. When he's prodded to go attend the stage he bounds back up. "We have all been blessed by the majesty of the Nightingale's performance.."

The crowd agrees in a thunderous roar of applause before the M.C. lifts a hand and gestures for them to silence. "Good people, friends, if you would please turn your attention to the ring here to the left of the stage. Here we will witness the glorious display of skill gifted to us by Vashtalyn Andalashari."

It's a titanic effort to portion the massive roast pigs but the small company of cooks under the no-nonsense direction of the older woman manages to be enough to keep the surge of voracious revelers at bay.

The booth where the collection of various beers and ciders is packed as well. People are starting to enjoy the party more as the sun continues its slow plunge towards the water.

Snippets of conversation continue to hint that there may be some encore performances. A few people hope that before the dance in the evening they'll get to enjoy some fabled performance that they missed.

Savio bids a quiet farewell to his tablemates and then slips off to find drinks, food, and trouble among the festival atmosphere, letting the music and revelry of the performances wash around him as he departs..!

At the announcement, the silvery-haired elder's attention obediently turn towards the indicated area. Maren gently folds her hands in her lap as she eagerly awaits the next performance.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and ride at hard. Vashtalyn marginally fails.

Vashtalyn checks command and animal ken at normal. Botch! Vashtalyn fails completely.

Isabeau slips out at some point, with a respectful nod to Aconite in passing.

Isabeau has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

Nina is overheard praising Gianna.

Cesare is overheard praising Nina.

Cesare is overheard praising Gianna.

Nina gets a platter of food to watch the rest of the show, now that her own dance is over. The flush of hard work is finally starting to fade a bit from her pale cheeks.

As Savio escapes to find refreshment - and probably a break from the heat and crowds - Cesare confers with him, the consensus apparently being that he's going to stay and watch the next performance and will catch up shortly. The Whisper is starting to wilt a bit himself, probably a product of too much excitement and late night the night before, the oppressive humidity, and the exertion of the dance, which combined are enough to have even a native Setarcan feeling worn.

When the time approaches for Vashtalyn to perform, she approaches the ring, untethering the reins of the mare and then leading her inside. The horse is saddled and bridled, and her decorative harness jingles with bells. There are numerous stirrups, loops and other accoutrements that seem to at first have no purpose, though they are well hidden. The horse's coat glistens as if freshly combed, and her long black mane and tail have been brushed to feather softness. Mane and tail drift and shimmer in the light as the horse is led by the Andalashari dancer into the ring, just at the edge. Her two musicians, Keme with his hand drums, and Harkles with his fiddle, also dressed in Andalashari traditional attire, take their places outside the ring, setting up with their drums and violin. Vashtalyn steps up onto a set of wooden boxes that form makeshift steps, and smiles, before shouting, "Come! Come closer," she calls, her voice pleasant, yet clipped with an unfamiliar accent. "I am Vashtalyn Andalashari, and I will be doing a horse dance. Now, bear in mind, Andalashari horses are not used to saddles and bridles so much, so this may not go as planned!" She gestures to the mare. "My people have a special bond with our horses. This is Astaari! Isn't she beautiful? I have been her companion since she was a foal. To my people, horses are more than just beasts of burden - they are our companions. We ride together, we hunt together, and today... we will try to dance together," she says, her dark eyes sparkling.

A nod is given to the musicians, and a slow drumbeat begins a low stacatto, beating out a cheerful chiftitelli beat. As the drumbeat increases, Vashtalyn mounts the horse, and rides slowly out into the ring at a gentle trot, skirts spread around her gracefully.

The notes of the violin swirl upward into a blend of notes, heroic and reminiscent of long days riding through the wild plains. As the notes and the drumbeat twine together in a slow build of music, the mare begins a side-step dance, hooves making mincing, dainty little steps to the south of the ring, where she then stops at a mere touch of the rider's crop and a slight tug of the reins. The notes of the music continue to build, and as they mingle with the other sounds of the festival, the horse is set to a canter, circling the ring in a stream of black mane and tail, the mare's body glistening in the light. As the horse prances around the ring, the dancer rises to her feet upon the saddle, using one of the loops around a foot for balance as she holds the reins with one hand, and raises the other in a theatrical pose of showmanship, crimson skirts flaring and fluttering behind her as she smiles up into the sky, as if greeting the clouds on the wild plains. So far so good.

Yet, the speed of the mare picks up as the music does, and as the mare speeds up, the dancer upon her back appears to fall....

... and at the last heart-racing second, her hand grasps for one of the loops, but misses, and her foot slips out of the stirrup. A look of shock and terror suddenly darkens her lovely features, and she is falling, falling,... crash-landing in a tumbling pile of silks on the sand as the horse gallops for a few more paces, then stops abruptly, whinnying and trembling in her jingling harness, as if she knows something is wrong. The crimson-clad dancer lies still, unmoving, upon the sand.

Gianna tips her chin up to peer over at Vashtalyn's performance; she winces at the fall and murmurs something to Ian and Felix.

Merek checks composure at daunting. Botch! Merek fails completely.

There is a moment where Medeia's nose wrinkles just slightly as Vashtalyn and the horse take the attention of the crowd. She's not overly fond of the large creatures. But the promise of some sort of dance with the animal has her interest and curiosity. Her eyes are locked on the unfamiliar woman as she stands... And as she falls. The lady's combat and medical experience kicks in instinctively, and she's abandoning the picnic table and running for the Prodigal woman with a shout to Klavdiya to bring her medic bag - wherever in the crowd her assistant is. Careless of her seasilk dress, she makes her way to the side of Vashtalyn to check on her.

Merek stands up and all of the sudden memories come racing back to him. He remembers that he had a friend, not long ago, who was killed exactly in the same way as the woman was just flung to the ground. He begins running to her and seems a bit panicked, "ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?" He will kneel next to her and try to assist, literally everything else about the situation forgotten, while he takes the medical physician kit he keeps with him.

ST:

Everyone is excited to see the performance. The crowd presses a bit in around the decorative fence ready to be astounded with yet another amazing performance. However.. There's a sound from the crowd that build in concern and then turns to worried shouts and calls for healers echo all along the crowd line a flash game of 'Messenger'. But the message doesn't become garbled, the concern for Vashtalyn is real.


Elsewhere feasting has commenced, only momentarily paused by the distant calls for a

*healer.

Merek checks wits and medicine at normal. Merek is successful.

Octavian, a silken spaniel, Ruslana Stormshead, an aide in Kennex livery, 3 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Zoey.

Maren's delight is unguarded and open as the young Andalashari takes to the ring, looking upon each of the musicians and the beautiful mare as well, taking all in. Her gentle smile warms further into a grin as the beckoning shout is made and she watches many in the crowd obey, enjoying the energy of expectation. It doesn't take long for her to pick up the rhythm of the drums, elegant fingertips of one hand unable to resist from tapping it out softly on her knee as she is transfixed in her observation. Perhaps she knows a little of the risk of this performance, but she is approving--at least until the acrobatic fall turns into a dangerous one. She is unable to keep from gasping, or rising to her feet--though for the moment she remains under the shade, perhaps wisely knowing that she would merely be in the way should she try to assist. Bright blue eyes scan the crowd, her demeanor relaxing only as there seems to be a cry from one healer, and then a run from another. Slowly she sits down again, but it's at the edge of her seat; there's little to disguise an attentive mother's instinctive protectiveness in seeing a youngster take a fall like that.

The silk-clad Ravashari performer is unmoving, but she is breathing at least. The horse stands obediently some distance away for a moment, then turns, and clops across the sand, toward the fallen Vashtalyn. The mare nudges her and whinnies, then shies away and backs up a few steps, shaking her mane. As Merek and Medeia rush toward her, Vashtalyn doesn't seem to be aware of their presence, her body crumpled in a heap on the ground, her arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Her breaths are ragged, her eyes closed in mortification as much as pain, a low groan escaping her. Tears of humiliation and pain run down her cheeks, and as she tries to roll over, a gasp of pain escapes her as she moves her arm.

While Cesare is startled by the abrupt twist to the performance, he can do absolutely nothing to help and he knows it, so he hangs back, letting the more qualified have access to the fallen horsewoman in her puddle of red silks. It's such a shame - her performance was so enthralling before it went wrong. He rises onto his tiptoes, trying to see if Vashtalyn is okay.

Medeia checks intellect and medicine at normal. Medeia is successful.

ST:

The press of the crowd parts for the healers who are heading for the fallen performer. No one has any real thought for the performance failed, not everyone is together - bound by the law of the festival - in a singular concern... They wait with bated breath almost as if the healing itself was a performance. Offering support and even cheers when Medeia and Merek are swift to lend their skills.

AS twilight hovers and the light grows dimmer, torches that smell strongly of repellent herbs are lit and the fires that dot along the beach begin to manifest. Flaring to life in a variety of sizes adding smoke to the savory and assaulting scents of the Rhythm of the World Festival.

As the light goes down the performers with more daring acts begin to appear as their crowd becomes older and less incorrigible. Fire Jugglers and sword fighters find their places elsewhere to entertain pockets of people who couldn't handle the press of the main stage.


Nina is shocked to see the performer fall... she was off to the sides when it happened, and remains there, so as to be out of the way of the medics coming in. It's a bit of a damper on the festivities, but, a relief when things are cleaned up, and Nina gives a polite applause when she's grateful to see that all will be all right. A few drinks cheer her mood back up again as the night begins to settle on the beach. Eventually, she'll have her assistant help her home from here.

As day shifts to night and those fires are little, Zoey arrives at the festival. She takes her time, watching performers at least as often as looks up to find a familiar face.

"Please stay still," Medeia murmurs to Vashtalyn, quickly assessing the woman and noting the arm at an odd angle. Klavdiya comes and kneels beside her, opening the bag and ready to assist. "Messere Merek, can you get someone to bring clean water?" She then leans down close and says something more quietly to Vashtalyn.

After having dodged the person trying to patch him up back home, this is apparently where Ian went, possibly because he figured that nobody would think to look for him here, and he could get drunk in peace. That's what he's doing at the quiet strand, with Felix and Gianna.

Medeia takes fresh gauze bandages for one's arms from Scary Leather Lady Doctoring Bag.

ST:

Even with the drama at the main stage, the fair is far from quiet. Raucous laughter and roving groups of dancers and those who want private moments make a busy hive of activity even outside the lines of the massive seaside celebration.

It draws on for a while but between Aconite and Alejandro, nothing is left to linger too long. While concern and trouble are certainly humanizing drama they cannot let people linger on Vashtalyn's precarious condition and immaculate care.

After a time Alejandro heads up to the main stage and the quiet is easily heard as he coughs to draw the beginnings of the crowd's attention from the fenced circle and back towards the stage. though there are still plenty who are watching that happens in the ring.

A quick scramble of rearranging acts has Aconite taking the stage as twilight sinks in. There are a large number of distracted people but despite this, the tall, impeccably dressed courtier starts her own attempt to perform.

Aconite checks dexterity and performance at normal. Aconite marginally fails.

Aconite checks dexterity and performance at hard. Aconite is successful.

Felix pushes to his feet from where he'd been sitting, talking with the others out on the strand, looking out over the crowd and offering a wave to some of those here and there, before he heads off back towards the city.

Ian lifts his flask towards Felix in a silent goodbye.

Eventually Zoey notices the people on the strand in the firelight and heads that way to greet her husband, the Nightingale, and the Archlector as he departs.

Zoey has joined the Quiet Strand.

While Medeia and Merek hover over Vashtalyn with their med kits and their healer skills, Vashtalyn's performer companions rush out into the horse ring. One gently takes the reins of the abandoned Astaari, and leads her out of the ring, while the other hovers helplessly behind the healers, looking distraught. Luckily, there are other performances to draw attention away from the failed attempt at a daring horse dance.

Maren is overheard praising Vashtalyn: Artistic risk is worthy of reward, she will conquer it in the future.

Merek nods a bit, "Can someone bring water?" he asks, while he calls to the side, and looks back to Vashtalyn: "You will be alright," he says, when he notices that she's speaking, then he takes a moment to check her arm, while he thinks about it, moving to bring the water, then to tie that off to assist Medeia, and nodding.

Felix gives Zoey a faint grin and a bow on his way out.

Felix has left the Quiet Strand.

Medeia takes a few more quiet moments to speak with Vashtalyn before looking up at Merek and having him aid her in getting the performer's arm popped back into its socket. "This is going to hurt, you can squeeze my hand, okay?" She lifts the woman into her arms to brace her, giving one hand to her to hold before giving Merek the go ahead to do what needs to be done.

Merek has joined the a large circlular ring of cordoned off beach surrounded by decorative fencing.


The Drummers are perfect, the singers that match the pendulous beat Singing perfectly a song in Rurusi as well. Despite the perfectly played music, the first part of Aconite's performance is meager. Almost as if the distracted concerned energy of the crowd were keeping the Courtier weighted. She is not unaffected by the concern of serious injury at her event. It's not smooth or sinuous like she might wish.

But there's a grander performance that comes from the tailspin of the introduction. The lead up meant to build into the second part of the performance. This more ponderous beat and low-pitched song cause Aconite to begin to move and wind, as if she had no bones, undulating like a serpent over desert sands with almost impossible bends and flourishes of honey silk that simulate the harsh sands and winds that the snake slithers through in the Eurusi words of the song.

ST:


Water is brought, not even seawater. A large jug of clear cool water had been buried nearby to keep it cool in the aggressive sunshine of the day. The Northern woman who had been riding bareback has moved in to calm and tend Vashtalyn's horse. Anything the practiced Harlequin and physician knight as for is brought as immediately as possible.

The night is close to falling and the food pit area is prepared to receive more of the people from the festival and the merchants put out their best wares as the main shows come to an end opening the floor for anyone who wishes to place for those who have come to dance. A mass of fires has mapped out a large semi-circular area around the stage and circle to accommodate the massive dance that has been promised at the end of the Festival.

Medeia has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

Medeia has joined the a large circlular ring of cordoned off beach surrounded by decorative fencing.

Cesare exhales a breath as Aconite takes the stage, and the crowd returns its rapt attention to the performances rather than the possibility of disaster - which has clearly, between Medeia and Merek, been averted. He makes a mental note to check up on the performer sometime later, and as Aconite's serpentine dance comes to an end, applauds warmly for the Apprentice Whisper, before slipping off into the evening.

Cesare has left the Wooden Picnic Table.

Gianna rises from her seat with a quiet farewell and slips away, gittern in hand.

Gianna has left the Quiet Strand.

The new drumming is a perfect distraction, and Maren's attention is once more claimed by the performers, her fingertips finding the rhythm again. The dance draws another smile to her lips, as she enjoys the intricacies and the imagery. Occasionally her eyes close, as if she dips into an exploration of the song as well. But for the moment, her eyes belong to the dancer. And when the performance concludes, she applauds enthusiastically with the rest.

"Good catching up with you," Ian says to Gianna as she leaves.

Rodrigo, the Surprisingly Large Flautist, 2 Ivory Shields, Romeo, a love sick bird who wouldn't be free leave, following Nina.

Once the arm is all slinged up, and the salve applied, Vashtalyn gives Medeia a grateful look. "I'll be sure... to give a generous donation... to the Physicians Guild," she says, still somewhat breathless. She gives a grateful nod to Merek too, and then her dark, angular brows furrow together as she attempts to sit up. "I... think that I can stand," she says shakily, and starts struggling to her feet. Her costume and her hair, and her cheek are all covered in bits of grainy sand that are going to take forever to wash out. "Where is Astaari?" She glances around, and spies her horse in the care of the Northern woman and her musician friend, and seems to relax.

Ian exchanges a few word with Zoey, then puts his flask back in his coat. He seems to steel himself for a moment before using his cane, upper body strength, and no small amount of willpower to get to his feet. He looks over at Zoey. Time to go, apparently. Probably was time for Ian to go a long time ago, honestly.

ST:

The festival will go out with a peak of activity. Performers and the Multitude of Arxians are released from the invisible borders of the festival. Some even gravitate to the nearby Shrine.

People crowd onto the dance floor and are entertained by various bands who rotate out after playing one or two songs plucked from their cultural roots that have a beat that can be danced to.

The hogs have been almost entirely stripped in record time but the last sizzling flanks are carefully marinated by a steady gnarled hand. Eventually, it too will be completely devoured. Spots of sand helping soak up spilled booze and in the morning the gulls will peck clean any edible remnants of the party.

In the firelight, the tied silks are whipped like banners caught in the cooling breeze off the oceans. Once more focus goes to outfits and talk of the marvelous victories in cloth that surely have sparked interest in clothes influenced by Eurus, Weijen and Tremorous, and all places in between.

The party and dance will continue well into the evening...

Vashtalyn is overheard praising Aconite: A lovely event, and a charming Whisper.

Her husband collected, Zoey starts back into the city proper. Her guards close in around them as they depart.

Vashtalyn is overheard praising Medeia.

Vashtalyn is overheard praising Merek.

Zoey has left the Quiet Strand.

Ian has left the Quiet Strand.

Octavian, a silken spaniel, Ruslana Stormshead, an aide in Kennex livery, 3 Kennex corsairs, Ian leave, following Zoey.

Maren has left the garden bench with gilded arbor canopy and rose trellis.

With Vashtalyn back in (mostly) good repair, Medeia has Klavdiya take the medical bag away and collect the rest of the guards that accompanied the Eswynds to the event. "Do let me know if you have need of anything in the coming days, hm?" She gives the Prodigal woman another reassuring smile before brushing sand and dirt from her dress and making her way back to the picnic table to collect Haakon. "That's enough excitement for one evening, I think. Shall we?" Her hand lifts to take his arm once he stands so they can make their way back to the city.