Bear, a war mastiff, 6 Last Watch Sentries, Nils, an aging Northern steward arrive, following Darren.

Poor staff. Poor everyone! "Ahem, sorry, no need!" The Redrain smiles very sheepishly at Tikva, color quickly rising to her face. Busted. Deva taps Alantir's nose again and nods as she shoves off the couch and does a circle around the table to check out the place settings, as if she cares for such things. Eventually, she plants herself by the entrance to personally greet people as they arrive. "Hi, so glad you could come, Princess! I hope you like boar." The room smells like roasted meats, which probably doesn't surprise anyone expecting standard Redrain fare. There's nothing fancy about the room, and definitely nothing fancy about her attire. In fact, she's wearing bunny ears with her usualy leathers. Has she forgotten to take them off, or is it intentional? Who knows. A small group of musicians does settle into a far corner to provide some gentle tunes for eating along to.

"Who doesn't like boar?" Tikva gives Deva and Alantir a discreet thumbs-up. Well, no, it's not discreet at all, but it is lowered to around hip-level, and she doesn't accompany it with any more dorky verbalizations, so it is discreet _for Tikva_. "I'm glad you invited me!"

Kenjay arrives with Bahiya on his arm, the swordsman wearing... his usual outfit, scarlet and orange silks that somehow manage not to clash with his hair, along with pieces of steel and leather armour never designed by an Arvani smith. "Your Highness," he greets Deva with a smile as hostess, before starting to greet others already present.

Coming to the dining room on time is super easy for Gwenna, being one of the villa residents of course. "Oh, Deva, the table looks wonderful and the room smells amazing," she offers once she is past the threshold and takes in things a bit. More of those things are no few familiar faces, which causes a bright smile to tug up both corners of her mouth considerably. "Hello everyone! This, truly, is going to be an epic evening," is decided and she gives a wiggle of fingers cheerfully. Looking back to Deva, she notices something and opens her mouth to say something, but grins and apparently decides not to.

The doors open with Cirroch leaning into them, at least he's got a tunic on this time. A somewhat forced smile, though keeping his head up. Not filling the room as much. He's here for dinner. Fine. No cakes to be thrown... Just a perfectly normal dinner. Clasping his hands together, "Food smells good. How is everyone tonight?"

Walking into the dinner with heavy footsteps, the Lord Sigurd Nightgold is exhaling heavily while his eyes are in search for both somewhere to sit and something to eat. Bowing lowly to the hosts, the Princes and Princesses then soon the Guests, Sigurd's gravelly voice lifts, "Yes how is everyone? Timed the arrival well to match dinner then."

Bahiya is indeed upon Kenjay's arm, her hand tucked into his elbow. She is -not- wearing her usual Eurusi stylings and jewels and colors, opting instead to rather match her companion; crimon and rubies and gold adorn her, the slim ribbon around her eyes the same beautiful red. Her dark hair is drawn back to fall down her spine and about her shoulders, held in an artful pile at the back of her head by a gold flower best with a ruby at its center. Earrings that drip more crimson corundum set in soft, malleable gold match the pendant that sits on her clavicle.

Bahiya's head tilts as they enter the dinner, listening for those she might recognize. "Gwenna," she remarks with a smile. "Deva. How wonderful."

Rupert, the Laurent Archivist, 2 Valardin Knights, 1 Laurent veteran guards arrive, following Cristoph.

Shouldn't Darren be here? He's the head of the house after all. But eventually, he does show up, looking freshly washed, in fresh clothes. There's a warm smile for all those present. "Good evening everyone," he greets, moving over to give his twin sister a one-armed hug. "The boar smells amazing. You have the best ideas," he says cheerfully.

There _is_ an etiquette to how a visiting princess should behave herself in the dining room of another Great House, but it has clearly been awhile since Tikva brushed up, because what she does is swarm up to Gwenna's side in a one-woman swarm of beads and go "Hi it's been a dog's age how are you!" like that's all one thought.

2 Redwood Initiates arrives, following Rosemary.

"You know, some people shock me with their taste!" Deva beams at Tikva and tries to stifle a laugh while gesturing toward her choice in chairs. "Would you like a drink? I asked Jasper to make sure we're covered in that regard. He's kind of a snob so you know it's the good stuff." Smile bright, she gives Kenjay and Bahiya both an arm squeeze. "I'm so glad you could come, both of you. Ambassador, your outfit is so beautiful," she insists with wide-eyed wonder. "Darren and I found dinner ourselves!" She sounds exceedingly proud of this fact. "Thank you Gwenna, it's really all Elsie's doing, the table that is. I can't remember which side the knife goes on half the time. Does it -really- matter?" Things to whine about another day. At any rate, she is completely oblivious to anything Gwenna might consider saying. The bunny ears flop as she flits from person to person in greeting, like she's using every ounce of energy to play the part of a social hostess. "Marquis Sanna, hello. Lord Sigurd! Gods, it's been an age. Hi there," she waves warmly at the gentlemen and starts guiding everyone to seats. "You all heard that everyone, right? You heard Darren say I have the best ideas? Remember you said that. I have witnesses." The smile she beams at her twin is a radiant one.

Rurik, a prodigal assistant, Aegis, a large red Oakhaven bloodhound arrive, following Mirk.

Turning up just a little late to this event is Cristoph, cleaned up and washed from activities earlier in the day. He strolls in with his assistant, murmuring something quietly to him and moving as if he's just slightly stiff. Maybe he should have stayed in! But regardless, he turns up. There's likely a good amount of people greeting the host and heads of House Redrain, so he quickly makes his rounds: "Princess Deva, High Lord Darren, Princess Gwenna." Bam, bam, bam. Hello and moving along to find a place to sit that's nearby but also not in anyone's way.

With Tikva and Cristoph's arrival, Alantir feels less out of place. He has just finished a joust and remains adorned in muddied platemail. Rather than make a point to introduce himself, he permits the northerners to greet and go about their business -- content to observe routines and attach names to unfamiliar faces. He takes a seat at the far end of the table, bending down to rest heavy helmet between his sabatons, and brings his shoulders to rest against the high backed chair.

Gwenna picks up her name and turns toward the voice. She rests a hand on her heart and makes her way a little closer to Eurusi diplomat "Oh, Ambassador Bahiya, that outfit is /beyond/. The reds are stunning with your coloring. I am both ashamed and envious, as it is a dreadful hue on me," she says, a laugh on the heels of the words. The Grayson princess's swarming up is met with an equally bright smile. "Princess Tikva! It has, indeed, been a dog's age. Too long! I'm so glad to see you. I'm well, I think. And you? Your skirts are amazing. You looks and sound like spring." Looking back to Deva, she bobs her head a couple of times. "I only know where the knives go because mother was relentless about it. As well, there's a trick to putting them on the left sometimes, as most people are right-handed. Redrains. You know." Cristoph's familiar voice draws her attention next, and she waves to him, and the other arrivals too!

Bahiya is smiling brightly by the time Deva touches her with affection, her cheeks going a little rosy at the praise and the welcome. Gwenna's further words and affections worsen the rush of blood but Bahiya is far from put out. "I will have to take your word on it," she tells Gwenna. "I was told the rubies were perfectly matched with the outfit by coincidence. If Prince Kenjay's speechless response is anything to go by, I daresay I must believe you." Deva's comments on dinner have the Ambassador taking a deep, long breath. "Ah. Boar? Is that what I am smelling?"

"Aw! What a nice compliment." Tikva beams, and then rustles her way to one of the seats. She waves at Cristoph across the table. "Well ridden today, Duke! It was great to see you and Norwood at the tilt!" she says, and then her voice breaks louder (inevitably, she has poor volume control always), "I'm very excited to eat what you and His Grace have hunted for us, Deva. Petrichor's grace to this table so directly!" She laughs and claps her hands. "Gods, it's been forever since I went on a good hunt."

"Well. You shot it, I clodded around until it ran," Darren demurs to Deva with a half-grin. He offers a smile to Cristoph in response to his greeting. "Duke Cristoph, a pleasure to have your presence here," he says. "I rarely get out to hunt," he allows to Tikva, as if telling her a huge secret. "I think I was quite lucky not to just fall off my horse."

Mirk strides into the dining room late, though he doesn't appear to be in a rush. He takes his time approaching the table, where he nods in greeting to the familiar faces there. "Your Grace," he says to Darren. "Your Highnesses," that to Gwenna and Deva. "Cousin." That last to Cirroch. "It's been some time since I've seen most of you, but it's always good to see friends and family." His pleasantries made, he finds himself a seat and immediately helps himself to a drink.

The little red pear enters at her signature waddle, a parcel wrapped underneath her arm to bring as a party favor. She finds the hostess by listening and watching the other people just ahead of her, even hanging back just so she can hear the conversation. The four foot woman makes her way with purpose to Deva with a confident curtsey, "Your Highness." She rights herself and lets out a *phew* with the effort. " My name is Rosemary Hawkeye. I hope I'm not intruding, I did bring schnapps and rum cake.. With the banners called I wanted to attend so I could find out what the North's response is going to be and how I can be of assistance."

"Too long Princess Deva. All these old friends are appearing out of corners of the city." Walking towards a seat, Sigurd is laughing across to Deva, "Fortunate for me it seems. Lord Sigurd Nightgold if we've not met before. Or I've been forgotten." Nodding his head to the room generally before placing himself behind a table.

"Princess Tikva, one of the cooks is positive that she could hear your cheering today all the way inside of the kitchens," Cristoph calls across the room as he finds a spot at the end of the table near to where Alantir has placed his helmet. He drops into the chair and looks over the man's still muddy attire. He seems to think about it and then asks, "What are you going to be drinking with dinner?"

Petroc, the most unassuming man you have ever met, 2 Sanna House Guards, Bear leave, following Cirroch.

"I have some silly games for us to play that do NOT involve mess or violence, promise," Deva shares in a tone that rings clear through the room. What she has -not- forgotten in her years away is how to make herself loud enough to be heard. "We can play once we get settled in after a drink or two anyway. The boar is almost done! I think the rabbit stew will be out in...?" A questioning look is flashed toward a very patient server who holds up a hand. "Five minutes!" She greets both Cristoph and Rupert with a quick smile, "Hi, hello, good show earlier!" Darren's earlier side-hug is absolutely returned, warmly, and she nudges him to the table and mutters something about 'relaxing' to her brother. "It was a great morning venture that did not involve any paperwork! A nice change," she grins at Tikva and gives Darren a pointed look. "You did all the hard work." She greets Mirk with a smile and a bow of her head, and Rosemary's arrival elicits a wider grin and a surprised gleam in her eyes. "Rosemary Hawkeye, hello! So nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. This smells absolutely divine. Please, make yourself comfortable!" Indeed, she lifts the rum cake to get a better inspection and eye it hungrily.

Kenjay chuckles at the conversations nearby. "Lady Bahiya's outfit is most beautiful," he agrees. "And yes, I was struck silent when I first saw it. Which did not entirely amuse the lady, because I could not tell her how lovely it was." He offers polite nods to the other arrivals, and smiles as well.

Gwenna chuckles at Bahiya's words and turns to grin at Kenjay. "It is gorgeous and I was nearly struck silent myself. Without doubt," she replies and moves to find herself a seat. "I'm so sorry I missed the joust. I planned to go! But apparently the ledgers seemed like pillows long enough for me to have taken an unexpected nap," is explained. "Lord Mirk, it's so great to see you. I feel like a lifetime has passed since we had a chance to catch up." Turning her attention to Deva again as her cousin speaks, she laughs a bit. "It seems my morning barely involved paperwork as well. I'm almost as excited for the games as I am the boar."

"Whatever they're serving, Cristoph -- and I doubt it's water," the knight murmurs, flashing the duke a small smile. "I saw you give Baron Norwood a run for his money. Take solace in knowing I didn't last longer than a single round, much to my dismay. Do, uh," Alantir continues, pausing briefly lean closer and lower his voice, "do you think we should use utensils? Or would it be more fitting to use our hands?" An earnest, if not slightly embarrassing, inquiry.

Tikva cackles out loud. "Good!" she says, raising her glass. Does she have a glass? Of course she have a glass. "EVERYONE should hear me ALWAYS."

"When Prince Kenjay goes silent, I am always worried first," Bahiya agrees, her lips twisting into a rueful smile, her head tilting towards Kenjay. "I thought for a moment he'd fainted, and then I was worried he ran from the room to acquire help in redressing me and amending my poor choice in fashion." The red ribbon over her eyes glimmers mutely as her head lifts, trying to follow the many conversations blooming about her. "What a lively setting. It has been a long time since we have attended one of these dinners. I will make a point of reminding the Prince." Her hand squeezes gently at his arm.

"My love-" Bahiya's head turns to address the red-haired gladiator at her side, pausing for a moment. Her voice drops a little, nearly contrite, and she says softly, "Might we find a seat?"

Brigid, the Barred Owl, Karal, Sigurd's Valet leave, following Sigurd.

"In the last joust some months ago, I fell off in the first round and well- Tyche has been saying her favor was bad luck ever since. I think she might be somewhat mollified now. Being unhorsed is simply the nature of the sport though," Cristoph replies to Alantir as he folds his forearms onto the table. "I'm disappointed that we didn't get to meet on the field, maybe next time." When the man leans closer to speak to him in that lower voice, he does similar. His body inching over to him. The question seems to freeze his expression, like he's about to say or do something. His eyes sweep across the room to Deva, where they linger. Then he sighs quietly and looks at the utensils. "I'd suggest just forks where reasonably appropriate."

"We do not have them enough," Darren says in response to Bahiya. "A failing on my part," he says with a small smile, his head tilting towards her for a moment before Tikva's voice breaks through his thoughts and he shoots a grin over at her. "I can *certainly* hear you now!" He accepts the table-wards nudge from Deva, letting himself be shoved in that direction.

Tikva points a finger at Darren with her thumb in the air. It can't be a fingergun, because Arx has no guns. "I take requests, Your Grace," she says on another laugh. "Though I won't put your fine musicians out of work, I haven't even brought my balalaika with me."

Deva gingerly sets the rum cake provided from Rosemary down near the center of the table, so it can be properly admired. Once guests are settled, she circles around to the other end of the table and settles into the seat on Alantir's other side. The official big chair at the head is left open for Darren, and she nudges it away from the table for him with the toe of her boot. The staff start to bring in an appetizer of small bowls of rabbit stew, piping hot from the kitchen. As if she just remembered something, she pops up from her chair and taps her fork lightly against the side of her glass before speaking. "So before we eat, I just want to thank all of you for coming. I, ah--" Her voice falters a bit, and she takes a moment to steel herself with a steady breath. "I was gone a really long time, and in truth I never thought I'd be back. I missed those of you I knew before so, so much. More than I can ever say." Her expression softens as she scans familiar faces, fingers tightening around her glass. "And I'm very grateful for those of you I've met since I've been back. I know I'm frustrating to deal with and probably drive most of you mad, but I am so glad you are all in my life again. I'm glad to be home." Is she... crying? It kind of looks like she might be crying. Awkwardly, she lifts her sleeve to dab her eyes with, rather than the napkin that is -right there.- "So yeah, food!" Luckily by the time she's done, there are bowls for everyone. She sinks into her chair and buries her attention into the stew before her.

The line has been dismissed by Deva.

Kenjay smiles at Bahiya's request. "Of course," he replies, and, with a nod for Deva and Gwenna, escorts Bahiya to a seat. And then the food starts, and the oldest man in the room looks relieved.

Forks. The multi-purpose tool. To stab, impale, secure, and transport. The Oathlander gives his utensil a onceover before offering Cristoph a single nod in affirmation. "Next time. And I'm sure there will be a next time, circumstances permitting. If not the joust, then the ring -- or a martial tournament, if one is ever hosted. I'd like to think I'm more skilled with a sword than on the back of a stallion," Alantir muses, scratching stubbled chin. "A favor is a favor. A shark could not be more befitting. Ruthless predators. Frightening, too. I'd like to see one in person some day." Deva then stands and offers a speech. His features soften at the sound of her voice nearly faltering and the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks. When she sits, he brings a gauntlet to rest atop her thigh and offers a reassuring smile. "You did wonderfully. Do not be ashamed."

Cristoph has joined the line.

"Ooooo." The sound comes from Gwenna as the rum cake is put within sight on the table. "That looks like something that shouldn't wait until after dinner," she murmurs mostly to herself, but maybe loud enough that someone might agree and cake could be had. Then the bowls of rabbit stew start making their arrival and she seems quite pleased with as much. "The Crovanes have a wonderful recipe for shark soup," is noted toward Alantir, she having apparently caught the word when he spoke. "We have the recipe, but rabbit has a much more pleasant flavor, in my opinion." Her regard settles on Deva as she makes her pre-dinner speech, her own features softening as she listens. "You are a joy in this world, cousin, and we are all very fortunate to have you in our lives. Thank you for arranging this dinner. To Deva!" She raises her glass at that.

Tikva checks composure and etiquette at normal. Botch! Tikva fails completely.

Darren checks composure at hard. Darren fails.

2 Redwood Initiates leaves, following Rosemary.

Deva drops Butter Rum Pudding Cake served in silver serving dish.

When Deva starts to tear up, Tikva reflects her empathetically with wide, bright eyes. She flaps her hands in the air above her plate and glass and covers her mouth and nose with a little strangled squeak. "I never thought you'd be back either!" she says, "I thought you were gone forever and I was so mad about it I wanted to go and punch Niccolo in the nose! Oh shit, you can't say that about people who died, but I did! Oh shit, I said that out loud too. Fuck, shut up!" And she mashes her face in her hands so that no one can see her, except for the very red tips of her ears, which definitely clash with her hair.

Darren takes the seat the head of the table, perhaps a little reluctantly, and settles into it, watching the food start being served. The sound of his sister making an announcement draws his gaze and he watches her with undivided attention as she speaks. He's not even drawn aside by the *cake*, that's how important this is to him. His eyes soften as she speaks, and for a long moment his emotions war on his face, a mixture of grief and pride and the look of a man who has had half his heart torn out of his chest and shoved back in. He might even be about to cry, reaching out to squeeze his sister's shoulder. "I..." he starts, voice choked. And then Tikva makes her feelings well known and he gets himself under control, raising his glass to her. "Well said. I wanted to punch him too."

Bahiya listens to the emotional recounting, catching love, and the wistful desire for violence. Her lips twitch and her focus shifts to Kenjay, and she speaks quietly and quickly to him.

Bahiya says in Eurusi, "Your kinfolk are quite wonderful. There's much of you that comes straight from them. Do you see that?"

"I have no idea who Niccolo is," says Kenjay, "But by the sound of it, not knowing is a good thing. Then again I have no idea who most of Arvum is, so I'll shut up and enjoy my rabbit." And then he's looking to Bahiya with a smile, and murmuring something back to her.

It's a very moving speech for the beginning of the meal and Cristoph is appropriately quiet for it, even as he watches Alantir considering the utensils set in front of him. He very helpfully doesn't encourage him to use the wrong things to eat with. When Deva is done speaking he exhales softly and with a fond expression for her. Then he pats the charm that's been affixed to his clothes. "A new one. To make up for the old one being bad luck," he explains. But there are toasts to be had, so he takes up his glass and raises it to cheer the moment. He freezes briefly when Tikva starts to go on about Niccolo, watching with wide eyes and then clearing his throat and looking down into his glass. Yes very fascinating contents. "Maybe we could meet for training sometime? I haven't really worked with my weapons properly in a very long time," he says to the other Oathlander.

Kenjay says in Eurusi, "They are, and I do. I have always known it, and I am blessed that they remember."

Rurik, a prodigal assistant, Aegis, a large red Oakhaven bloodhound leave, following Mirk.

Oh, dear. Deva stares wide-eyed at Tikva for a long moment, like she might just bust open with a flood of more emotions that probably no one wants to see at this moment. Between the Grayson's blurting, Darren's hand on her shoulder, and Alantir's on her leg, she freezes for a long beat with her face half-buried behind a napkin. What makes her crack with movement is seeing Bahiya and Kenjay out the corner of her eye. Slowly, she drops her napkin in her lap and takes a deep breath. "Thank you," she shares warmly, sitting up a little straighter as she puts on a much more pleasant expression. "You are all very kind." In an effort to smooth over the awkward moment she created, she gestures with a wave of her glass. "I thought it would be fun to play those games where one person starts a story, and we continue it around the table. So..." She lightly clears her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a very cheerful jester who tragically lost his job when the castle he worked for just VANISHED into nothingness." Her finger snap for emphasis. "Alone, he wandered down the spooky road alone until..." And then she points at Cristoph with her spoon.

Lowering her glass as Tikva speaks, Gwenna appears briefly caught off guard. Briefly, because she's been trained to smile and drink from some dead animal's bone horn when presented and all that. Darren's agreement brings a hint of a smile to her lips and she nods in agreement. "I imagine we all did, to be honest, which I think is okay to admit. Perhaps we should all make promises to ourselves to punch people more often, even if it's just in the arm so as not to cause political incidents." Then Deva begins the word game and she straightens up, eyes widening a little as she turns from her cousin to Cristoph, expectantly.

Tikva scours her face, shoulders trembling a little as she fights to regather the scatter of her wits after she blurted _that_ all over Deva's dinner party. She clears her throat, and says, "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just. Yeah. You know." Her rueful, hangdog look slides between the twins and then the rest of the cream of the North circling the table. "Please feel free to punch me in the arm, if you need," she tells Gwenna, and laughs a choked little laugh, her face still burning. She round eyes at Cristoph, waiting curiously to see where the story will go next.

There is a staggering amount of emotion at the table and emotion is not the prince's strong-suit. Gwenna's commentary regarding shark soup is a welcome relief and temporary respite; he cannot imagine how shark must taste, but this wouldn't stop him from trying it. And then the game begins. Grey gaze settles upon the Duke Laurent, who MUST BE UNDER A LOT OF PRESSURE AT THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT.

Bahiya listens, head tilted. "I am not very good at punching, I am afraid, but ... there is something I aspire to do, the ability to talk a person into consuming themselves with their own guilt and shame using words alone. The Ambassador I mentored under was quite good at this. It was far more effective than violence, but the people she spoke to would often disappear." Her voice trails off, wincing. "...perhaps this is a bad example."

Somehow Cristoph did not expect this moment to come so soon, he stops with the spoon partway to his mouth and looks around as if surely Deva is pointing at someone else. Like Alantir, who he turns to expectantly. But no, he's looking at /him/ expectantly. Realization sets in. This is a do or die moment. This is possibly more harrowing than facing off against Norwood when he's planning on hitting you with a gigantic glorified stick while riding a horse. "...he encountered a man made entirely out of sticks that was somehow alive and very well read. He explained to the cheerful jester that he'd been cursed by a scorned lover. And so now he was searching for..." and he shoves the spoon into his mouth, eats some of his stew and points to... DARREN.

"I certainly have no issue with punching people in the name of diplomacy," Darren mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. He turns as Deva starts talking about *games* and there's a slight touch of worry on his face. And then it goes to Cristoph, and Darren sighs in relief. Relief which is short-lived, however, as he ends up being the next victim. There's silence from the Highlord for a moment before he nods and continued "...a great wizard, who would be able to put his mind to use and find a solution for the man's curse. The jester and he continued down the spooky road before being stopped by a knight in armour, except where his face should be there was nothing, and he said...." he pauses, looking around before grinning evilly and pointing at Tikva.

Gwenna laughs and shakes her head to Tikva. "I mean, I don't feel the need /now/, and I promise if I ever do, I'll warn you first. That way, when you feel a flicker of wind on your arm, you'll know it was actually me punching you," she remarks with a mix of wryness and mirth in her tone." Her attention then shifts to Bahiya, and there's a flicker of intense interest and /very brief/ worry on her expression. "That sounds...exceptionally effective. Terrifying, too, but we can't all cut down our enemies with swords, after all." But! The story unravels further and her brows arch as Cristoph expands on it. "Oooo," she murmurs before enjoying a bit more of the rabbit stew, looking next to Darren. Another small laugh escapes her lips at Darren's words. "The new tool of the northlands - punching in the name of diplomacy. I like it." She listens as the High Lord adds to the tale and then glances to the next teller: Tikva.

Deva flaps her napkin at Tikva in what is hopefully a reassuring, 'all good' gesture, complete with a smile. She's fine. They're fine! Everything is fine. "I feel like we all have a lot of aggression we need to get out. Maybe we -should- go brawl after this. Just not on the table, I don't want Elsie to yell at me over broken settings," she flutters her fingers down the table with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. Bahiya's comments elicit a very curious look, and she watches the woman for several long moments. "That sounds so, so useful. The disappearing part is a little troubling though. But fascinating all the same." There's a mental pin in that for later. She seems pleased by Cristoph's continuation of the story, and her gaze snaps to Darren expectantly. Leaning back in her chair, she glances around the faces gathered with such pleased fondness in her eyes.

Something about brawling and punching in the name of diplomacy catches Cristoph's attention and he shifts forward in his seat, waving his spoon to get Tikva's attention. "Do you remember that story about the brawl at the Badger Boardinghouse? I told Deva the story of it and since then I've been working it into all of my conversations." Maybe not /all/ of them. But he brings it up now! His eyes shift from Darren to Tikva as the story moves to her and he waits to see where it goes.

"Every. Single. Conversation," Deva insists, sliding a grin between Cristoph and Tikva.

"He saiiiiiiid," Tikva says, and sets down her spoon. She looks a little caught, like someone who only half paying attention and is scrambling quickly to come up with something. "If mage ye seek, then mage ye find, if you can quiet unruly mind," she says, "and the jester said, 'Why, it must be easy to quiet your mind if you haven't eyes to see how bleak the world is,' so the knight said, 'Thine eyes trouble thee for truth, trade them to me in saying sooth, so quiet will come upon you there, should thou walk the wizard's winding stair.'" She looks pleased with herself, and then puzzled, as she looks around the table trying to decide who to point at next. "Uhm," she says. "Gwenna, you go!" and then she sits back in her seat. "I love the brawl over the hat! I must have shoved that story at ten different people in every pub in the city when I first found it. Bless Zara for asking about it in the first place!"

Bahiya goes back to eating, clearing her throat and sipping her drink after. Listening as the story unfolds, muttering something about how this is much better than the dinner she attended where she confused her desserts for sexual metaphors.

Gwenna almost snorts a quick laugh at Deva's remarks about the brawl being brough up. Almost. It's a snicker around her spoon, really. Then Tikva is saying her part, unweaving the tale that has the Redrain caught up. So caught up that it takes a moment for her to register that it's now her turn to continue. "Oh. Oh!" She sets her spoon down and purses her lips a moment as she thinks on how to go forward. "...The jester considered, for quieting his mind wasn't the worst of ideas, after all. 'Maybe, instead, we shall find you a heart so that you can feel the world rather than see it. Not all of the greatest things can be seen, or cause a troubled mind. The world may be bleak, at times, but not so bleak as a quiet mind.'" She looks rather pleased at managing a bit of a rhyme. "Now it was time for the knight to consider, which he did, and then..." Here she pauses to, like Tikva, see who remains. "Prince Kenjay, if you might continue?"

The boar comes out for everyone, or pieces of it anyway, served on plates with a vivid crimson edge. There are surely other sides to go with it, but really, that's the main attraction. Servers offer refills for everyone as well, with strict orders to make sure everyone is as topped off as they like to be. In the meantime, Deva leans to ask Alantir something, gesturing toward the table with the glass in her hand. Her expression is positively delighted as each guest responds with their own creative flair.

There's quietly chuffed laughter from Cristoph when Deva makes her follow-up remark to him repeating the story in numerous places. He seems ready to say something else when an attendant dressed in Laurent livery arrives to him a messenger. He gives a quick look over with narrowed gaze and then leans over, speaking across Alantir to relay his apologies to the hostess. "Something came up back at the manse, I need to attend to it. The dinner has been lovely. Let me know how the story ends? I'm going to leave Rupert behind." Really, Rupert is having a good time over in the corner. The man deserves a night off.

Tikva mimes a silent clapclap for Gwenna across the table, beaming, and then dives into the crisped skin of the roast boar with knife and fork. She waves the fork at Cristoph in farewell, mid chew.

Rupert, the Laurent Archivist, 2 Valardin Knights, 1 Laurent veteran guards leave, following Cristoph.

Alantir seems content to eat and listen to the collective storytelling exercise, careful to refrain from utilizing utensils unless absolutely necessary. As one could imagine, this is quite difficult to accomplish with a soup. He resorts to lifting the bowl to his lips and sipping slowly, the heat of the dish posing an acute risk to tongue. "Good evening, Duke Laurent. Until next time!" he calls after the man, offering a wave of his hand as one of the last familiar faces departs.

Kenjay sits, eats, drinks, helps Bahiya unobtrusively, and listens to the conversations going on around him with a smile. The track of the shared story is listened to, his smile growing - and then his eyes widen when his name is announced as next. "Ah. Um. And then he said, 'But a quiet mind is not bleak, and just because I cannot see it does not mean I have no heart.'" Kenjay exhales. "But the jester did not listen. 'Would the eyes of a cat perhaps avail you? Or the eyes of a dog, or of a potato?'" And then Kenjay's looking at Alantir. "Over to you, your Highness."

Alantir checks composure at normal. Alantir is successful.

Deva wiggles her fingers at Cristoph, nodding as the Duke departs. "I hope your house isn't on fire! At least people know how to get out now!" She manages a serious expression for only about five seconds before she cracks and laughs into her stew. "You can use a spoon if you want," she whispers to Alantir, fondly bumping his shoulder with her own. "I had a fight with the Duke and Her Grace over eating sandwiches with forks. As long as you don't do that." Kenjay's addition to the story makes her burst into a giggle, "A potato eye!" She finds this deeply amusing for some reason, and has to take a moment for her fit of amusement.

The knight hadn't signed up to participate. When Kenjay calls his name, he freezes mid-drink -- eyes wide, as if a deer caught in headlights. After returning the bowl to the table, he clears his throat, folds his arms across his breastplate, and nods. If not obvious, this was intended to buy him time. "The eyes of a potato, if you would. I cannot say that I truly should, and yet who can complain when stuck in mud? I am, after all, a simple spud." It was painful to say, but it /did/ rhyme. This explained why the Oathlander pointedly avoided all manner of creative pursuits. His job was to swing a sword, not entertain a table of strangers. "And then the jester woke from his dream? To live a life we'd call pristine?" Oh, no. He didn't know when, or how, to end the story.

Tikva laughs and cheers around a mouthful of roast boar, and then chases it with wine. "Oh no," she says. "I can see Sally out there and I know he's looking for me. I have to go. So sorry, but thank you for a lovely dinner and a lovely tale."

Confessor Imori, Confessor Warren, 5 Armed Confessors leave, following Tikva.

Gwenna gives a little dip of her head and grin at Tikva's silent clap all, thank you thank you. Really, she looks mostly relieved to have managed something at all. The Duke's departure makes her look both a touch sad, though certainly understanding. "I love these plates," is a quiet remark as the boar is set around and she doesn't hesitate long before cutting a small piece off with her fork to sample. Bliss, or so her expression seems to suggest. Looking back up as Kenjay furthers the story, she makes another 'ooo' sound and then a laugh. "What has eyes but can not see? One of my favorite riddles." Then she's looking to Deva again, her own fork pauses over her dish. "Sandwiches with...forks? That seems to defeat the purpose of it being a sandwich, doesn't it?" That wondered, she listens as Alantir completes the story and she sets down her fork to offer a few claps all around. "That was wonderful! Deva, what a great dinner game. What a great dinner, period. Thank you so much for putting this together."

Gwenna is overheard praising Deva: For hosting a Redrain family dinner along with a great storytelling game!

Kenjay is overheard praising Deva.

Darren is overheard praising Deva.

Bahiya is overheard praising Deva.

"And the jester never touched a bottle of absinthe ever again." Deva clasps a hand to Alantir's shoulder to tidy up that end with a silly little ribbon. "Thank you all for indulging my whims on that. I quite enjoyed how different and creative everyone was! Poor jester." She waves in an exggerated fashion toward Gwenna with her spoon. "Right?! It defeats the point!" A loud sigh follows. "They were messing with me. I finally figured it out when they were joking about drinking the holy wine with straws. I THINK they were kidding anyway. You never know with the Valardin," she insists, crinkling her nose at the Oathlander next to her with amusement in her eyes. "Please, enjoy the boar, and I think they'll pick up with some music...?" A curious look is cast over her shoulder toward a small band of musicians in the corner. They're ready to provide calm tunes for the crowd to finish dinner to. "Thank you all," she adds gratefully, beaming a smile around the table.

Alantir is overheard praising Deva.