Cufre has joined the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

Lisebet arrives to settle quietly into a seat wherever there' sroom.

Ryhalt comes to join the others at the vigil. While not a paragon believer, he is still an Oathlands Duke. Seeing his sister's dark head, he goes to sit next to Lisebet and offers her a warm smile.

Light footsteps carry Caprice into the simple shrine, an expedient route taken to the nearest available seat with the intent not to delay proceedings.

Caprice has joined the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

Cufre quietly finds a place to sit among those gathered.

Sabella enters the shrine quietly. Looking around and finding Apollo, she moves to sit with him. "My lord," She murmurs in greeting with an easy smile. It fades quickly, however, settling into something more solemn.

The time comes, and Giada steps away from the altar; her steps move closer to the not-that-far-away-at-all pews. The woman waits as people find their seats and settle, an easy calm on her features. Around the shrine, braziers have been lit, and smoke from the incense hangs in the air overhead.

"Welcome, gathered Faithful," the Archlector finally says, a small smile on her lips. "At the outset, let me thank you for your commitment to our Faith and our protectors. Tonight, we will progress through the pantheon, offering a prayer to each. You are welcome to pray along with me in corporate or else to pray on your own. Should you wish guidance as you pray, there are Godsworn and Disciples of all shrines here to assist. Do not be afraid to ask for one of them."


A flock of ladies-in-waiting, Advocate Robert, a fastidious well dressed assistant arrive, following Alarissa.

Lisebet smiles at her brother, and leans against him briefly. Then she straightens, her attention going to Giada up near the altar. She smiles a bit, and then inclines her head, murmuring to her brother briefly.

Alarissa slips in quietly, the haggle of guards and retinue with her. She slips off to the side to find a place to sit and pray.

Ryhalt gives his sister a comforting hug before they murmur to each other. When Giada starts he listens to her with a nod.

Zoey listens attentively to Blessed Giada as she sits quietly with Cecilia, ready to follow along with the prayers she leads.

Abbie, a gangly legged fawn have been dismissed.

Apollo has a quiet word - or a dozen - with Sydney and Princess Zara, at the bench he's sitting at, but his attention is largely on Giada, as she gets things underway.

Cecilia sits quietly with Zoey as she listens to the Archlector.

Sydney is couched in solemnity for the occasion and the location both, and seems to be keeping her words quiet when she speaks, audible only to those who are nearby.

"Let us begin, then, with Lady Gloria as we gather in her shrine tonight to pray over the battles at hand."

Giada lifts her hands a little, bending parallel to the floor at the elbows with the palms facing up. Her voice carries with with ease, but the tone is almost tender. "Gloria, Lady of Battle, your people lift their voices to you in supplication and praise. It is you who have taught us the glory of honour, the importance of mercy, and the fierceness of devotion. You have given us your Rite, a moving meditation of skill and humility that brings us closer to your heart." Olive green eyes are lowered to the floor, though she holds her head aloft to better project into the simple, open air shrine. "We thank you for your many lessons, your protection, and your example."

"For our fleet and armies, we pray that you give them steadfast hearts and the mettle to see their work through. Give them strength of arm and sharpness of mind; give to them courage and a clarity as they fight in your name against the enemies."

"Lady Gloria, we offer our prayers."

Aelgar sits up straighter, if that is possible, face serene as he watches Giada and fingers the the symbol on his chest briefly before clasping his hands together in his lap and lowering his eyes a little.

Apollo's prayers, head bowed, are kept private, the barest whisper on his lips.

Zoey whispers the prayer after Giada, eyes closed and head bent slightly forward.

Lisebet smiles once more at her brother, and then bows her head, hands folded in front of her, as she murmurs her prayers to Gloria, starting by repeating Giada's prayer, and then adding her own bits, quietly. "Glorious Gloria, help our warriors, loved ones, family, knights, sailors, healers, all of those in harms way today, help them to meet what comes with bravery and honour. And victory. Please."

A flock of ladies-in-waiting, Advocate Robert, a fastidious well dressed assistant leave, following Alarissa.

A flock of ladies-in-waiting, Advocate Robert, a fastidious well dressed assistant arrive, following Alarissa.

Alarissa's real hand slips to her neck and the pendant that hangs there, holding tight to it as the woman looks to the altar and lips move in prayer.

Giada waits in silence as a Godsworn burns an offering at the bonfire.

She moves along smoothly, transitioning to the next of the gods. "Lord Vellichor, God of Histories, we come before you to speak our grateful stories. We recount times past in which you came to our fathers and gave them wisdom, and we are humbled by the memories we have vowed to keep." Still her hands are lifted slightly in supplication. "We ask you to once more impart wisdom to your people. Give foresight and insight to our leaders, give wit and awareness to our soldiers and sailors. Allow them to see the vulnerabilities presented before them, and guard them with full knowledge of the risks."

"Lord Vellichor, we offer our prayers."

Sabella offers a quiet prayer. Those close to her may catch an entreaty to Gloria pass her lips.

Ryhalt bows his head and prays silently with the others.

With the prayer to Vellichor, Lisebet's fingers find her copper brooch. "We remember," she says simply, reverently. Those words vibrate with meaning and heartfelt determination. It's as much a prayer as anything else might be.

Jerrica sits with her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her only detectible movement is from her lips as she silently prays.

Aelgar looks up during this part, probably for obvious reasons, and his hand returns to the symbol around his neck in an unconscious-seeming gesture as he inhales and then lets the air our slowly with a small mile before returning to his meditative prayer.

"Beautiful Lord Jayus, Prince of Stories, your people cry out to you."

Giada continues on with the next prayer after a few minutes. "The craftsmen and artisans of Arvum have invoked your name in every sail, every board, every weapon, every bit of armour, every lucky trinket carried by your children. With every movement they make, they sing the praises of your many, inexhaustive gifts. We thank you for your bountiful kindness."

"For our loved ones, for those who carry the prayers of us all in the edge of a blade, we ask for inspiration. Spark creativity in them, give them ingenious solutions, guide their hands, and imbue your blessing into every creation wielded, worn, and used. Strengthen them, Lord Jayus."We offer our prayers."

"Beautiful Lord Jayus, Prince of Stories, your people cry out to you."

Giada continues on with the next prayer after a few minutes. "The craftsmen and artisans of Arvum have invoked your name in every sail, every board, every weapon, every bit of armour, every lucky trinket carried by your children. With every movement they make, they sing the praises of your many, inexhaustive gifts. We thank you for your bountiful kindness."

"For our loved ones, for those who carry the prayers of us all in the edge of a blade, we ask for inspiration. Spark creativity in them, give them ingenious solutions, guide their hands, and imbue your blessing into every creation wielded, worn, and used. Strengthen them, Lord Jayus."

"We offer our prayers."

Zara has left the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

Alette, a discreet lady's maid, Isabel, a calm diplomatic aide, Elena, a solemn knight attache, 4 Valardin Knights leave, following Zara.

Ryhalt prays more fervently this time.

It seems Sabella isn't paying much attention to the prayers around her, but if anyone is listening to hers as she fervently whispers them, they'd know she had asked Mangata to send her wind and waves to the Compact's aid.

Lisebet is quiet as Giada continues with the prayer to Jayus, the creative muse and inspiration. She settles her hand back on her lap, playing with the ring Harlan gave her for their wedding. It's a beautifully creative piece, and Lisebet thanks Jayus regularly for the crafter who created it. She repeats the words very softly after Giada does, and then she adds again, her own bit. "Bring creativity to our people, Lord Jayus, give them stories to tell when they return to us, of the glory and creativity that they all found within them to honour you."

Sydney reverently draws a hand over one of the rings on her fingers, and closes her eyes to murmurs a quiet prayer. "May their works not fail them. Their armor steadfast, and their blades unbroken."

Aelgar continues his quiet prayers, lips occasionally moving but mostly he is absolutely still, breathing very slowly, totally focused on the internal supplications he presents to the gods.

Everpresent, the Godsworn are unobtrusively placed, moving here or there to sit with a man struggling to find words or to pray alongside a woman pleading with the gods.

Giada continues. This time, a hand lifts and draws the sigil of a tree in the air as she continues to lead the vigil. "Lord Petrichor, Patron of Farmers, we come before your holy presence in prayer. For those fighting outside of Piero, those who stand on the grass and rock of your creation, those who pass under your trees, those who fight on this land you have given us, we beg your protection. It is you who gave this land to us, and it is you whom we implore now. May our loved ones, your children, find steady footing. May they find cover in your abundance, healing herbs in your shade, and may the enemy regret ever stepping foot upon your creation. Bless us, Giver of Dominion, as we protect what is yours.

"Lord Petrichor, we offer our prayers."

Everpresent, the Godsworn are unobtrusively placed, moving here or there to sit with a man struggling to find words or to pray alongside a woman pleading with the gods.

Giada continues. This time, a hand lifts and draws the sigil of a tree in the air as she continues to lead the vigil. "Lord Petrichor, Patron of Farmers, we come before your holy presence in prayer. For those fighting outside of Piero, those who stand on the grass and rock of your creation, those who pass under your trees, those who fight on this land you have given us, we beg your protection. It is you who gave this land to us, and it is you whom we implore now. May our loved ones, your children, find steady footing. May they find cover in your abundance, healing herbs in your shade, and may the enemy regret ever stepping foot upon your creation. Bless us, Giver of Dominion, as we protect what is yours."

"Lord Petrichor, we offer our prayers."

Taking a break from praying, Sabella looks up and gives a few small smiles around to those she knows.

Alarissa has let the pendant down, let it hang from her neck against the fabric of her dress even as it slips into a pocket and settles there. The false arm, it's hand resting on her lap and her eyes close and she prays quietly.

Apollo prays quietly. It's clear he's following prompts from the little glance up, every now and again; perhaps he thinks that everyone praying at once will be louder, or some such nonsense. Whatever the case, he does seem intent. A sidelong glance is cast to Sabella, and he answers her little smile with one in kinda.

Raising her head for the first time since arriving at the shrine, Jerrica takes a deep breath and looks around at the other attendees. She decides that she would rather not be alone and goes to sit near her cousin Sabella. As she sits, she nods to those around her but offers no words before she starts praying again.

"Beloved Lagoma, Our Lady of Change,"

"Your children come to you. You bring change to our lives in the smallest, most seemingly insignificant ways as we in our foolishness look elsewhere, and you nurture that change, allowing us to become refined through the process. We are better for your gifts and we thank you with the greatest of humility."

Giada inhales, eyes turning up to the sky above and the tendrils of incense smoke that lace the air. "War never comes without Change. For ourselves, we beg strength and grace for the changes that lie ahead. For those who fight and for those who heal in your name, we beg your protection. They will come across change. Plans will change in an overwhelming manner simply by nature. Help them to embrace those changes, and teach them how to bend to the change so that they might try something even better. Give your children comfort and clear sight when the changes rage around them. Remind them that you are still Lady and that you hear our prayers."

"Beautiful Lady Lagoma, we pray to you."

Sydney can be seen ducking her head and praying a bit more ardently when the call comes to visit prayers upon Lagoma. She whispers it beneath her breath, undecipherable but to the goddess herself.

Still and silent, but still awake, Aelgar lifts his eyes to watch Giada a long moment as she prays about change.

Caprice's prayers are quiet, but not private. Anyone seated close enough might hear a few snippets now and then from the Disciple of Jayus who sits with her hands relaxed and turned to leave her palms up. She's repeating Giada's final words for each prayer, that formal conclusion used as the opening for her personal requests for essentially the same things. On occasion, she mentions the name of an individual or a family who couldn't attend tonight but sent along their own thoughts for loved ones, for their beloved Compact.

Briar, the fleet and agile shrike, Narciso, a tall light rose-grey Jennet stallion with tiger eyes and a dark mane and ombre tail, Azure and Azul, a singing pair of icy white and deep blue tits, Alejandro, a gravely sober middle-aged Torean arrive, following Aconite.

Briar, the fleet and agile shrike, Narciso, a tall light rose-grey Jennet stallion with tiger eyes and a dark mane and ombre tail, Azure and Azul, a singing pair of icy white and deep blue tits, Alejandro, a gravely sober middle-aged Torean leave, following Aconite.

Alejandro, a gravely sober middle-aged Torean arrives, following Aconite.

Ryhalt sighs lightly at the start of this prayer, but continues following Giada's guidance.

Lagoma is one that Apollo... tilts his head at, thinking for a long moment before settling in to concentration.

Lisebet takes a breath, concentrating hard on her prayers, fervent with them, as she concentrates on the deity who is currently on point. Lagoma. Lady of Change. "Blessed Lagoma, you have been known to help in dramatic changing ways. Not how we expect, but how we need. Please help those you favor and those who are in greatest need to move with change, to follow the ebb and flow of the battle, and to succeed in this critical endeavour." She continues to add her own words, speaking aloud, though not officially and only loud enough to be heard by those near to her.

"Lady Mangata. How can we approach you?" the Godsworn at the front prays. "You give us life with the water you bless and the winds that you whisper. You are our sustainer. How then, do we thank you for the very gift of life? By living a life that is worthy of your gifts. For those that sail on your seas, we ask for favourable winds, quick hands at the sails, and guide the fighters in the movements of your domain. Make their feet sure, and cause their hearts beat with the purity that you give us. We beg you to rest your hand of favour upon our fleet, for they fight in your name as well."

"Lady Lagoma, hear our prayers."

Alarissa stands after a spell and her entourage with her as she starts to head for the exit from the open air shrine.

A flock of ladies-in-waiting, Advocate Robert, a fastidious well dressed assistant leave, following Alarissa.

"Lady Mangata. How can we approach you?" the Godsworn at the front prays. "You give us life with the water you bless and the winds that you whisper. You are our sustainer. How then, do we thank you for the very gift of life? By living a life that is worthy of your gifts. For those that sail on your seas, we ask for favourable winds, quick hands at the sails, and guide the fighters in the movements of your domain. Make their feet sure, and cause their hearts beat with the purity that you give us. We beg you to rest your hand of favour upon our fleet, for they fight in your name as well."

"Lady Mangata, hear our prayers."

Jerome, a bodyguard, Elaine, an older courtier, Morgana, a proper secretary, 2 Valardin Knights arrive, following Isabeau.

Aconite slips in quietly amongst the gathered. She quickly finds a place to settle with Alejandro not far behind. A seat out of the way to add her voice to those raised in prayer.

Ryhalt prays softly under his breath to Mangata, adding an additional prayer for his brother.

Apollo, head bowed through most of the prayers, lifts his head to look outside. It might seem silly, this little thing, but of course such a visual creature might need that to say his prayers to Mangata.

Aelgar @me is nodding slightly with the prayer to Holy Mangata and the references to those forces so dear to anyone hailing from the ocean-going lands.

Isabeau arrives at the Shrine, her lovely features set in an unusually solemn expression. She carries a toddler in her arms, who is looking around with curious, wide blue eyes and sucking on the foot of a doll held askew in her chubby little hands. The Duchess-Consort of the Telmarch takes a seat unobtrusively near the back of the shrine, setting the toddler in her lap. After a brief glance around, Isabeau bows her head, quietly and respectfully observing the prayers and following along as best she can, being late and all.

Cecilia continues to pray quietly.

Lisebet follows along with Giada, murmuring those prayers quietly. She includes a quiet prayer for her brother - same as Ryhalt, the two worrying about their brave sibling. As that prayer comes to the chance for everyone to pray, Lisebet adds her own bit. "Lady Mangata, send fair winds and good seas to our fleet. Favour our fleet, guide their winds and aid them to be successful. And bring my brother home safely. Bring all our brothers and sisters home safely." Or at least as many as possible.

Aconite has joined the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

Cufre has left the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

3 Thrax Guards, an ostentatious curator named Sivas, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, a reserved assistant named Stojan arrive, following Denica.

Giada pauses for a moment, stepping off to the side while the Faithful continue their earnest vigil. She takes a moment to pat her face dry from the heat of all those fires sprinkled about, and yes. The Archlector of the Thirteenth, Blessed Giada, is taking a wine break. She sips a few times to wet her mouth before walking back to her place.

Aconite murmurs quietly to echo the words of those around her, her inky eyes glassy witha far off expression.

Sabella gives Jerrica a lingering look before turning back toward the altar. If one were to look close, they might see the shine of tears in her eyes - but they do not fall.

slips in, there is a serious look on her face, eyes naturally sad though full of many scattered emotions. The young woman looks distracted by her thoughts as she quietly makes her way into the room. There is no need to look for anyone, it's not a social call, rather she finds a place to sit with her collected staff and guards. Denica doesn't look like she knows just what to do, but seems to be here out of some sort of need or collective desire. The young woman lets out a quiet breath, teeth grazing on her lower lip.

Reconstituted, Giada lifts her arms once more with the palms turned upwards. "Lord Limerance, your children have come to speak with you. We hold tight to our oaths, cling to our word, and emerse ourselves in the truth of love. We follow your law and hold true to our word because it is this that you have taught us. We need you tonight."

"Our loved ones, the ones to whom vows and promises and oaths have been given and taken, are in danger. They fight to uphold their vows, not only to us, the ones left behind, but to the Compact, to Humanity, and most importantly to you. Remind them of their words. Remind them of why they fight, of what oath of fidelity drives them to sacrifice so much for others. Embolden them. Make them remember."

"Lord Limerance, we offer our prayers."

Denica has joined the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

Noticing Sabella's look and the tear in her eyes Jerrica offers one of her hands to her cousin. The Grayson princesses sit hand in hand praying softly.

Zoey glances up as more people find their way into the shrine, then looks forward again as the prayer to Limerance begins.

Sydney remains quiet and still during the call to pray to Limerance, her hands slowly unclasping for a moment to rub at an aching shoulder. Extended seating in a bench is far from the comfiest endeavor, especially hunching in prayer for too long.

Apollo bows his head again, resuming prayer for Limerance. There might be a glance toward Giada and her wine; perhaps it's that he was born in the Oathlands, but he manages to make that look only a -little- longing.

But still. A little longing. Then he turns his thoughts to prayer, seeming to struggle with it. Resolve gets him through.

Ryhalt continues to pray along with Giada, sitting beside his sister, Lisebet.

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

Lady Gild. You who cultivates and protects civilization. You who watches the traveller's steps, who moves us to generosity and hospitality. Goddess of Fellowship, we gather before you as we are under attack by those who have no respect for compassion or protection. They only seek to destroy us and break our souls." Giada is quiet for a bit now, letting that image sink in, perhaps, before she lifts her voice, the sound bolder and more powerful beside that bit of silence.

Rise for us, Beloved Gild, and stand against those who would destroy and harm the helpless. Embolden our protectors with memories of their duties and of their homes. Remind them why they fight and encourage them in your Kind way to continue in their work with a fire in their belly."

"Lady Gild, hear our prayers."

"Lady Gild. You who cultivates and protects civilization. You who watches the traveller's steps, who moves us to generosity and hospitality. Goddess of Fellowship, we gather before you as we are under attack by those who have no respect for compassion or protection. They only seek to destroy us and break our souls." Giada is quiet for a bit now, letting that image sink in, perhaps, before she lifts her voice, the sound bolder and more powerful beside that bit of silence.

Rise for us, Beloved Gild, and stand against those who would destroy and harm the helpless. Embolden our protectors with memories of their duties and of their homes. Remind them why they fight and encourage them in your Kind way to continue in their work with a fire in their belly."

"Lady Gild, hear our prayers."

"Lady Gild. You who cultivates and protects civilization. You who watches the traveller's steps, who moves us to generosity and hospitality. Goddess of Fellowship, we gather before you as we are under attack by those who have no respect for compassion or protection. They only seek to destroy us and break our souls." Giada is quiet for a bit now, letting that image sink in, perhaps, before she lifts her voice, the sound bolder and more powerful beside that bit of silence.

"Rise for us, Beloved Gild, and stand against those who would destroy and harm the helpless. Embolden our protectors with memories of their duties and of their homes. Remind them why they fight and encourage them in your Kind way to continue in their work with a fire in their belly."

"Lady Gild, hear our prayers."

Denica closes her eyes, like those lids are heavy and she has a hard time keeping them open. It's easier this way, the emotions are better contained and she listens to the words of the prayer. The young woman finds herself fidgeting, uncertain what to do in this situation, but she seems keen to be here. Maybe she thinks it will help, maybe she seeks that help. It's hard for her to sit still, she tries clasping her hands, then putting them at her sides, then back in her lap, nothing satisfies her and so she just listens.

Apollo takes a deep breath, and lifts his head, and gives Giada a smile. Gild, perhaps, is his easiest prayer.

Isabeau continues to sit on that back pew, holding the distracted toddler, who doesn't seem to understand what's going on. The little girl is quiet though, gazing about with big blue eyes while sucking on her doll. Isabeau gently rocks her, while keeping her head bowed in respect for Giada's prayers.

Sabella gives Jerrica's hand a soft squeeze, grateful for her cousin's closeness.

"May the Sentinel guard the righteous."

The famous words from trials by combat segue beautifully into the Godsworn's next prayer. "Faceless God, Silent Watcher, we are joined today in imploring you to guard the righteous. Our Fleet is locked in battle. Our armies are locked in battle. They are locked in battle with those who despise justice and even handedness. They come to commit attocities for which they doubtlessly expect to be held blameless, for to them, they are bound to win. We, the Faithful, know that this is not so. Sentinel, come to our aid. If there be dark before them, strengthen them for what lies ahead. Keep them from the tricks of the lawless Skal'dajan, granting them impartial sight and a clear vision of justice served."

"Silent Watcher, we offer our prayers."

Sydney has left the a sturdy pine wooden bench.

When the prayer to the Sentinel begins, Zoey shifts in her seat slightly. She lifts her eyes and scans the faces around her, as if looking for someone in particular. Apparently not finding them, she bows her head in prayer once more.

Apollo, too, lifts his head and looks around at the call to the Sentinel. There's a moment where he catches on Zoey, looking around, but then he rubs his mouth, takes a deep breath, and settles into a prayer to god of justice.

Ryhalt furrows his brow with this prayer, but continues praying with the group.

At this point, Giada takes in a soft breath before letting it out and continuing. "Queen of Endings and Mother of Beginnings, Death, we call to you. Your children have gathered to beg for your guidance and kindness. It is inevitable that some will not return alive from the field of battle, but we know that you are there in that very moment with the soul of our beloved. You gather them to your bosom, carrying them back to the Wheel that we might meet them again one day. We ask that you help our sailors and soldiers to face Death with clear eyes and burning hearts. Remind them that to return to you is not the worst of all fates. Give them courage when it's needed, and give gentle grace to those who fall."

"Queen of Endings, we offer our prayers to you."

Aconite's dark eyes flick up towards the front of the room, brows lifting before she looks back down at a spot in front of her and focuses back on her own words murmured quietly.

Apollo's eyes traverse those around him again. He seems troubled, uneasy, one hand rubbing the fleshy part of the other hand at the base of his thumb, an absent gesture; surely the sort of place where muscles cramp when one is bent too long at a bench, tools in hand. Perhaps the notion of some not returning from battle sits uncomfortably in him.

Zoey's lips keep moving after the initial prayer for some time. It seems she has more to say to Death than just that.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Apollo before departing.

"Be you blessed, Lord Skald, God of the First Choice," Giada says, her voice taking on a more plainspoken sound that highlights the back alley qualities of her Lenosian accent. "The fleet has sailed, the armies are pitched in a fight against those who would shackle us all. Our fighters have chosen to use your blessing by fighting against these would-be slavers. Make the options clear for our leaders, give confidence of choice to the fighter who decides between two targets. Ignite your passion in our people that we'll never stop taking it to any who would enslave another."

"Lord Skald, we offer our prayers."

More complication. Apollo rubs his face, and - pauses. There's a messenger hovering at the edge of the shrine, someone he recognizes, and he lifts his chin to acknowledge so that they stop hovering, bring their message. He reads it - very brief - and smiles. Sometimes, maybe, a message comes at just the right time. He prays.

"To the Dreamer and the Nightmare, we pray together."

The priestess holds her hand out and a mirrormask is brought over. She takes it, but does not yet don it. "Ineffable Majesty, Aion the Dreamer, source of all the gods and creator of us all. To you we ask simply for the chance to keep existing, to keep birthing new life and adding to the stories of your dreams. May we be vibrant in your mind and care, for we are most truly your children." Now, the Archlector lifts her mask and ties it into place.

Ryhalt continues to pray along softly.

Aelgar is deep in meditation now as befits the place and the hour.

One last set of prayers. To the dreamer, Apollo seems easy, loose. Strange, perhaps, slouching back on the bench, looking around the room.

Zoey watches, fascinated as Giada puts on the mask. Apparently it has been some time since she last saw one.

Someone wearing an artfully concealing stygian mirrormask pulls her hands back from behind her head, the Archlector now wearing the mask of His devotees, and they return to their previous position with the upturned palms. "To the Dark Reflection," she says, voice heartbreakingly tender, "We ask only for the chance to prove ourselves more than what we fear. Remind our protectors that they fight with your name, that it is you who allows them to see their greatest fear come to life... and then to learn how to master that fear so that they can continue. Give them true sight, Lord Tehom. Reveal truth to them that they may learn."

"Majestic Dreamer and Dark Reflection, we offer our prayers."

Apollo's eyes settle on Giada in her darkly silvered mask. There's an affection, there, in the way he looks at her; who can say who it's for. Tehom? Giada herself? His reflection? Maybe all of the above. Such a solemn occasion, so quiet and subdued and weighted with feeling, but that's perhaps as it should be. His eyes fall, and there's another length of silence, and then he looks down at the missive in his hands again. Folds it, tucks it into a pocket.

Aconite is still quietly focused on what she's saying. She seems to have quite a lot to focus on, Alejandro has looked up from his quiet devotions. He puts a hand on Aconite's shoulder supportively.

One last grateful look is given to Jerrica before Sabella somewhat abruptly stands and excuses herself, her fingers resting fleetingly on Apollo's shoulder before she leaves. It might be the tears she's silently unable to stop from falling, now, or it might be something else entirely, but either ways, Princess Sabella Grayson has had enough public.

6 Grayson House Guards, Maureen, an unflappable nanny, Clark, an exasperated guard leave, following Sabella.

When the prayer to Tehom is finished, Giada removes her mask again.

"To all of the Pantheon, we lift our voices. We are your Faithful. It is to you that we give the days of our lives. Intercede for us. Bless us. Continue to guide us and make your favour known before the world. We pray to you, our Greatest Hopes, and place our trust in your care. We are your children."

"Blessed Pantheon, we offer our prayers."

As Giada puts on the mask, Denica catches the sparkle out of her eye, she looks up and watches in silence. There is little expression on her face, rather a stoic look that is more bred into her, than practiced. Hands now are clasped in her lap. As one prayer ends and the other begins, she murmurs her own, with silent expression.

Giada lowers her hands and looks around those gathered. "The service has ended," she says gravely. "Go and prepare."

Zoey nods to Cecilia and murmurs a reply to whatever she said.