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Salon Discussion: Gloria at Pieros

The war with Skal'daja is ended. Many are wounded, many are dead, many mourn... but Arvum is safe for a while, and Gloria, goddess of war, has been honored by the Arvani's courage and valor. The Arvum Philosophical Society for the Empowerment and Enlightenment of Curious Minds invites those who fought, those who supported, and those who prayed to discuss the battles at Pieros and to highlight the acts of those who truly honored Gloria in their efforts. Come prepared to praise the deeds of others; talking up your own self would be a bit gauche.

(OOC: And if you weren't part of the big battle scenes, feel free to use this event to establish what you were doing just left of the camera frame.)


May 13, 2021, 8 p.m.

Hosted By

Katarina Hadrian


Aconite Isabeau Cirroch Calypso Jerrica Sydney Alban Thea Alaric Kiera Cesare Raimon Drake Gawain Klaus Cerys


The Salon


Arx - Ward of the Compact - The Empirical - The Salon

Largesse Level


Comments and Log

Aconite has joined the scattered chairs in various elegant styles.

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

Winter, A Highhill Puppy arrives, following Kiera.

Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant arrive, following Thea.

Chairs are set out. Drinks are made available. Servers tend to the needs of the noble of title or just the noble of soul. The atmosphere is as relaxed as Princess Katarina Valardin can possibly achieve it: there's a bard playing the gentlest of lute music off to one side, at the most inobtrusive of volumes, and one would not be amiss for accusing the Princess of having someone mist the air inside the Salon with some faint lavender scent. (She did in fact have someone do this.)

As people begin to filter in, Katarina is standing in an informal 'head of the class' position relative to the seats. She's quite small, so her presence isn't a very imposing one, unless one considers Princesses to just be imposing in general. "Welcome, one and all," she trills in her Eurusi accent, lips hidden by an aeterna veil. "I am both glad and honored to have you all here with us tonight, to discuss the battles at Pieros, and the work done in them to honor Gloria~."

Aconite drifts in, the canary-clad Courtier heading for one of the chairs turned to face the rest of the room. She drapes herself into one of the chairs without a word. Alejandro taking up a place at the bar while he keeps an eye on his charge.

Isabeau makes her way in quietly, a hand directed to wave off her entourage as light steps guide her towards one of the low couches. A deep curstey is given Alaric, and nods to other familiar figures before she settles, a demure smile holding on her bow-shaped lips.

Isabeau has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Cirroch was able to come early, not going to be late this time, sending advisors packing - he just got up and walked out of the previous meeting. Which is why there are more guards following him, no one was sure of his direction, in middle of a shift change no less, everyone followed. Currently lounging on a couch, showing that he is much more comfortable in silk now. A leg crossed over the other with an arm stretched out over the backside of the couch.

Calypso's heavy boots beat out an unhurried rhythm as she strolls into the salon with a long, easy stride that sets a sway into her hips. She goes out of her way to collect a drink before seeking out Cirroch by the couches and settling herself in.

Calypso has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Princess Jerrica Grayson arrives on the arm of Lord Alban Farshaw but even the casual observer would notice that she was perhaps dragging him to the event. "This will be fun. You know how to be social." she says quietly to him. She finds them seats near the Duchess Isabeau giving her a warm "Hello!"

Jerrica has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Despite her uncharacteristically impeccable grooming and equally fanciful garb, Sydney the Waterfall does not glide elegantly about with all the grace of nobility. The pugilist's hands are bare of gloves, which puts her bruised and swollen knuckles on full display as she plucks a drink from one of the server's trays. Let's call her 'noble at heart' for the sake of argument. She seats herself firmly down, one lanky leg folding neatly over the other, eyes fixed forward. She's not even sipping her drink, yet.

The Salon is not where one might usually find Alban, but the subject seems to at least be agreeable to the man, and he has come on the arm of Jerrica, so he cannot complain TOO loudly about the Grayshore Princess wanting to be seen out in public with him. He nods to a few familiar faces, giving Katarina a slight bow in passing, before he's lead to the low couches, "I am perfectly social, in small settings..." he murmurs to Jerrica, before he gives Isabeau a greeting as well, "Duchess Isabeau."

JUST in time for things, Thea makes her way into the salon. Dressed in her leathers naturally, she grabs a drink and makes her way to her cousin. Because nothing brings family closer together, right?!

Alban has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Thea has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Alaric has joined the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Calypso blows Thea a kiss while she's still on her way over. Her ice colored eyes sparkle with a self-satisfied amusement, like someone keeping an especially amusing secret all to herself.

Alaric occupies a stool along the cypress bar locale, a glass of wine held in hand as he converses with another guest of the Empircal, content to linger in the periphery of the gathering salon members. The Crownsguard are a frequent fixture in his entourage, scattered about so as not to intrude upon the activities.

Sydney has joined the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Kiera sits down next to the marquis cirroch trusting the man will move to allow he room if needed ans sits arms folded in her lap as her eyes move among the others in attendence with polite nods of greeting

Cesare drifts in on a summer breeze and looking very much like one as well, hair pulled back in a neat chignon this evening, wearing dusk-colored silk. He pauses for a moment to take in the many faces present, eyes alight with curiosity and interest, before stepping to retrieve a glass of something honey-colored and folding down into a seat, retrieving a small journal from the inner breast pocket of his doublet.

Calluna, A Young Highhill Mastiff arrives, following Drake.

Isabeau has left the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Jerome, a bodyguard have been dismissed.

Elaine, an older courtier have been dismissed.

Morgana, a proper secretary have been dismissed.

2 Valardin Knights have been dismissed.

Isabeau has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Raimon watches as the guests file in from his station near the clear glass bookshelf. He holds a wineglass in his gloved right hand. The wineglass contains a Juniper Port dessert wine from '08 -- the Blood Moon year -- and Raimon takes occasional sips from therein. When Alban explains he's "Perfectly social . . . in small settings . . . " Raimon raises his wineglass in an unspoken toast to such sentiments. Hear - Hear, Raimon -doesn't- say, being an Introvert himself. As this is -not- a 'small setting' by any means, Raimon steels himself for what's to come. *sip* Talking.

Kiera has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Thea squints at Calypso for a moment, actually confused. "What'd I do,"she murmurs, before sitting comfortable on the couch. Seeing Kiera, she offers her sister in law a smile as well. And anyonr else sitting nearby.

Raimon has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Drake has joined the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Katarina clasps her hands together. The gleam in her golden eyes gives away her smile, even though her face is covered. "I must point out, as though anyone could help but notice, but we are joined tonight by no less than the King of the Compact, the Sovereign of Arx, and the Ruler of Arvum, His Majesty King Alaric Grayson IV. You honor all of us tonight, Your Majesty, by your very presence." Katarina dips herself into a deep, respectful curtsy toward the King. To the rest of the crowd, she says: "...and we shall all of us be on our best behavior tonight -- but then, we always are, even when not among monarchs... yes~?" Katarina doesn't wink, but she might as well have.

"For now, I put the call out to all of you -- what tales of honor, courage, bravery, valor, sacrifice, and all of those wonderful things have you witnessed?" Katarina's hands cross in front of her lap, and she remains standing for the time being. "I only ask that you speak of the deeds of others, tonight. We have fought hard and lost lives to stand united -- and so in this spirit of unity, let us honor one another, or those not present~."

Drake slides into the event a little late. He's had a few things to handle. He sees Thea and Kiera made it already, but, since he was already a little late, ends up retiring to the bar. He's just here to listen in anyway for the most part.... though there being a bar here is of course nice.

Aconite lifts her hand to Thea and Katarina and a few others who enter. The Apprentice Whisper however blinks when Katarina mentions that the King is present and leans in her chair to look the direction of the Eurusi Princess' curtsy. She rises to dip into a bow along with others recognizing the King before settling herself back down to listen with an earnest glance cast around the room.

Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a reaver arrives, delivering a message to Drake before departing.

As Katarina brings attention to his presence, Alaric raises his glass of wine high in the air in gracious acknowledgement accompanying the short bow of his head. "Tonight, we are all inquiring minds seeking to expand our mental horizons. You needn't moderate yourselves on my account," he says in affable amusement, leaning back into his seat at the bar.

Thea follows Drake with her eyes and gives him a smile of her own, as well as Aconite. She murmurs something to those to at the couch and--sighs at the messages. Thea shrugs off Rocco and starts to listen instead.

Drake literally didn't realize he sat close to where the King was sitting until he looks up from getting a messenger, and then... the King speaks out. Drake looks, slight embarassment on his face at the lack of perception, normally uncharacteristic of the Wyvernheart. But he nods to the King's message, and then, Drake also leans back, mirroring only when the permission to act casual seems to be granted.

Jerrica offers a deep nod and smile to her royal cousin before addressing Alban's question. "I think the idea is to talk to people. Specifically about the war." She pats his leg reassuringly. "I'm going to listen for a bit. All I did was sit in the cathedral and pray."

Sydney eases up from her comfy stool at the bar, clearing her throat and lifting her chin, "...I was not at either front, but what I did witness firsthand is one of the most admirable efforts I've ever seen by the physicians and mercies that tended to the wounded at Saving Grace Hospital. They rendered expert aid, bringing back many of our wounded from the brink, and rendering comfort to the..." She pauses, and her eyelids briefly flutter, "Many, /many/ who made their way home with wounds too grievous to be saved. They are owed a debt that can never be repaid, in my eyes."

Kiera begins softly "I actually have a favor to ask. I was at the saving grace to tend to the wounded as well. I have heard that Duke Aiden Rubino gave his life saving another but i have no details. Was anyone present there who could share them?"

Calypso tips back her glass and drains its contents, a little bit of the smile vanishing from her eyes.

Cirroch takes another long pull of his drink before speaking. "Lady Kiera, I was on the sea where the battle was both strange and bewildering." He shakes his head a little, "I know of a beaver saving sailors, and that whatever was fired from the sky nearly blinded some of my warriors, the decimation of the ships was both stunning and terrifying for a single shot."

Katarina brightens up in Sydney's direction: "Indeed. We must not forget those who saved lives that might otherwise have been lost, were it not for the heroic mobilization of the Mercies and Physicians~." That brightening-up almost instantly fades at Kiera's request. "I apologize, my Lady. I was not on the same front as the late Duke -- I know little more than you, it seems. Did no one here fight alongside Duke Aiden that night...?" Katarina gives the room a curious look, but her tone of voice makes it sound like she's prepared to push past it if no one can help.

Alaric has left the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Zelda, the royal messenger have been dismissed.

13 King's Own Guardsmen have been dismissed.

As a server walks by, Jerrica snags a couple of glasses of whatever is on offer taking one for herself and one for Alban. Cirroch's statement grabs her attention. "I have heard of the incredible things from the sky in the sea battle. What is the consensus? Was this magic? Was it divine intervention?" She takes a drink of warming liquid and looks concerned. Is she concerned with magic? Divine intervention? Who knows?

Aconite hums and offers, "I had heard it was a flying ship that.." She pauses as if what comes next is hard for her to believe let alone speak, "Atacked with Rainbows." Aconite's expression is pensive as it has been since the discussion started.

Having offered Jerrica and Alban polite greetings upon their approach, Isabeau, having little to add to the discussion, remains quiet and simply listens. Her gaze is drawn to the nearby princess at her question, causing the Duchess to shift a little uncomfortably at the notion.

Did someone slip out and fetch Gawain? Was he loitering in the back? Either way, he's there and on his feet not long after Aiden is mentioned, and he speaks up, "I was the man that Duke Aiden Rubino stepped forward to save. I don't know that I would be here if he had not." For anyone familiar with the Blanchard, he's more muted than the usual liveliness, as he goes on, "I was thrown from my horse, my shield ripped from my arm, and the foe about to strike, only they didn't find me. The Duke came up behind and though he had no weapon himself, he put himself between the enemy and I, without hesitation at all. It was only moments before his soldiers and mine caught up, but moments I did not have. I never met him. Wish I could have."

Thea leans back, quietly, to listen now to others stories. She drains the contents from her glass before conviently seeing someone walk by, leading Thea to grab another. Hearing Sydney, she just nods her head silently.

Kiera smiles, if a bit sadly "I wish I could have known him better as well Lord gawain. Such regrets remind us to cherish the living. I am pleased to see you back safe and thank you for sharing"

Drake looks over at Gawain with widening eyes. It's a vivid tale. "A sad story, but good to still have you with us," he says to Gawain, nodding to him. "Such a sacrifice will be remembered."

It may be more of a listening night than a speaking night for Cesare; his expression is rapt with interest, though politely tempered with seriousness befitting the occasion, and the tales of strange and inexplicable happenings clearly pique his curiosity even further. Looking to Gawain as he speaks, Cesare leans his chin in his hand, a line drawing itself between his brows. He chews at the inside of his cheek for a moment, and takes a long sip of his drink.

Katarina bows her head respectfully as she listens to Gawain's tale, and no doubt sounds just a bit affected by it when she speaks next: "Thank you, Lord Gawain. The memory of Duke Aiden shall endure, and words such as yours are key in making it so." She looks to those who discussed the beam from the sky: "I was there for that strange thing -- a beam like a rainbow, coursing out of the clouds and striking the Skal'dajan fleet, reducing warships to splinters. I have no explanation -- but it is my hope that it was someone's prayer being answered. Just as it is my fear that the fleet of... dead things... was... /also/ a prayer answered."

Gawain bows his head in acknowledgement to the words spoken to him. A moment's silence on his part and he concludes, "I spoke with Duchess Rubino, though briefly, and what she told me was to be magnificent. Best any of us can strive for, and the best way to honour such sacrifice going forward." That seems to be all for his part though, and he withdraws thereafter to sit and listen.

Aconite listens to Gawain and nods solemnly at his story. Princess Katarina's more in depth explination of what happened during the battle at see makes her wrinkle her nose and her shoulders lift a bit at the mention of the dead rising.

Sydney quietly lifts her drink to Gawain, and takes a long drink after so toasting. A brow lifts rather pointedly at the talk of rainbows and the dead, and she chuckles, "...Gods, I hope we're so blessed as that. Remind me to be more fanciful in prayer more frequently in battle. My prayers weren't half so wild as that, that's to be sure."

After a quiet aside at the couches, Cirroch looks to those gathered, with a nod to Alaric. "Forgive me, I realize his highness said not to worry of censoring ourselves. And knowing that the idea of this forum is to praise or remember the actions of others. What of the Tremorus? What was the tactical reasoning for the whole of the Compact to leave them to defend for themselves?"

Katarina's mention of a fleet of dead things" forces Jerrica to make a choice. Is she going to gulp her drink or spew it across the room? She chooses the former and grasps the arm of the couch beside her. After her loud swallow, she manages to speak "It sounds that there were many brave people there. Duke Aiden, the others who did not survive. I have heard rumors of the forest joining in the battle nearer to Pieros. What is known about that?"

Kiera offers "As long as we are on the subject of the inexplicable, what are the whispers i heard of moving trees. Did we get assistence from forests as well?

"I'm not sure that anyone in this room was responsible for deciding to make that trade," Calypso comments to Cirroch. She looks down at her now empty glass and decides to rise and make her way to the bar to refill it.

On the subject of the Trees Aconite shakes her head and explains. "No, the forests were attacking our forces for a time. Though there are rumors that someone turned them back." The Courtier lifts her recently delivered and quaffs it in one go.

Katarina's eyes move to the drinks being downed with increasing speed. Her grip on her own hand tightens very slightly, her hands still folded in front of her lap. "...I apologize, Marquis Cirroch, but I believe Duchess Calypso is correct. I could speak of being admiral of the Valardin fleet -- but even as admiral, I sailed where directed." She draws in a breath that makes her veil flutter, but the looks in her eyes becomes one of faint confusion at the talk of fighting trees (which one can parse in whatever way they choose).

Kiera purses her lips in a pensive silence at both cirroch's question as well as the answer to her own

Drake listens, looking confused for a moment as the business of ambulatory trees comes up. He makes a brief nod toward his sister when her question is answered.

Calypso lingers at the bar for a few minutes, long enough to take several swallows from her newly refilled drink and have it topped up again.

Cirroch nods a little to Calypso and Katarina, now realizing that the king is not where he thought he had been. "Another discussion for another time then. I understand that we were all following orders of where we were stationed. I'm unable to sit well with what happened upon the sea." He laughs lightly, "My entire March is landlocked, I had a marriage possibility end poorly due to not having enough sea available. And yet, I have a navy. Our Admirals were unavailable--" He shakes his head a little. "I ended up at sea. I'm not complaining, I will lead my warriors where they are needed. Though let it be known that for the Compact to leave one of ours hanging with its rear end in the wind. It doesn't sit well."

Luigi, 3 House Mazetti Guardians arrive, following Hadrian.

Katarina dips her head. "I understand, Marquis. And I do not deny you your feelings -- but it is a problem I do not think that we can solve in this moment." Katarina scans the room again with her gaze. "I would like to, if I may, highlight another mystery of that battle... the mystery of myself, she of stubby limbs and whose illusion of fighting fit shape is naught but clever corsetry, drawing my blade and thinking that I might slay an Anointed Master." Katarina lifts her brows. "For my trouble, I was swiftly stabbed. She is not here tonight to hear this, but Lady Ivy Blackram pulled me up when I fell, and tended to my wound afterward. As well, Messeres Samira and Raja Culler and Lady Veronica Keaton fought by my side aboard my ship, and without them, I would be in a much sorrier state -- if I was here at all."

The pace at which spirits are being consumed in combination with the volume of consumption this evening is difficult /not/ to notice, for someone whose profession involves making sure that parties don't end in violence or ...other socially undesirable outcomes. Cesare now has the faintly discontent look of someone who hopes he can trust everyone present to behave as an adult, but is girding his loins for all possibilities nonetheless. After all, if fighting trees and rainbow beams destroying are real...He sits up slightly, tucking his notebook away and folding his hands on one knee, looking between Cirroch, Calypso, and Katarina.

Aconite flags down Aleandro for a refill of her glass. The tall Apprentice Whisper looks back to those involved in the discussion and her lashes drop for a moment hiding her inky eyes while she takes a few quiet moments to listen.

From beyond the doors of the Empirical arrives Duke Hadrian Mazetti, with a whole gaggle - or whatever - of Ducklings following after his brisk strides. Luigi strives to stay abreast of the Duke, while the armored and masked Guardians of Ostria march at double-time to keep up with the long-limbed man. Though they come to an abrupt halt as Hadrian turns to regard Luigi with a sudden abruptness as he asks with a squint and narrowed eyes, "75? It was originally in the hundreds of thousands. Tell her I want her to be compensated fairly, plus the stones, plus the interview still". Luigi offers a stiff nod back, turns, and begins to make his way. The remainder of the Ducklings and Hadrian are left to continue in their stroll, deeper into the Empirical. Without ceremony Hadrian drops down into one of the elegant chairs in a pile of relaxation, honeysilk, umbra, damask, and leather. He exhales a long side as he begins to look throughout the gathering and those who have joined it, seemingly settling in to hear out the tales of others. Absently one hand rubs a palm across the upholstery of his chair's arm, as though inspecting and feeling it for the first time and, judging by his smile, he likes it.

It might be some kind of psychic radar tuned to the frequency of disapproval that Calypso has, because over by the bar, where she's still trying to decide if she wants to stand here longer and drink where it'll be easy to refill her glass or return to the couches, she turns towards Cesare, flashes him a devil-may-care smile, and lifts her glass in a toast. With the eyes of someone who absolutely should not be trusted to behave like an adult, she knocks back a considerable amount of the once again full glass and then tops it up again.

Sydney has left the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Hadrian has joined the scattered chairs in various elegant styles.

Alban rises to his feet and says plainly, "I cannot say more than what I saw in the distance, as me and my men were tasked to guard a part of the line that saw little fighting, but I can say that whatever the provenance of trees, or rainbows, or armies of the dead, it felt as if Gloria were with us on the battlefield. Her benevolence can be seen in the way in which we were able to drive our enemies before us, and slaughter them with relatively few losses of our own." And, with that said, the Knight of Gloria returns to his seat. Salons are fun!

Gaze drawn to the movement of Hadrian and his Ducklings, Isabeau remains at her seat one of the couches, remaining largely silent on the current topic. Her blue eyes drawn from the former man, they move to fix on each speaker in turn.

Katarina lifts her brows and listens as Alban speaks, before nodding to him in gratitude for his words. "Thank you, Lord Alban. I think we might draw the formal part of the evening to a close by putting it to the room: we obeyed the tenets of Gloria by going to war... but did our fight do enough to satisfy our duty to her?" She asks the question with as much of a lack of judgment as she can muster.

Calypso sets down her glass of rum and disappears behind the bar for a moment. She selects and pours brandy into a glass, and then, brandy in one hand and rum in the other, angles over towards where Hadrian is sitting. Her hands, hardened by the work of war, are graceful carrying the two glasses, very different in shape, of alcohol.

Suzette - a Westrock Aerie Page arrives, delivering a message to Alban before departing.

After Rocco delivers one last message, Thea nods her head. Quietly excusing herself, she silently steps out. Possibly taking the drink with her.

Thea has left the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant leave, following Thea.

After another quick draining of her win, Aco adds quietly, "Thank you all for sharing your tales of the battle. Anf thank all of you who went and fought." Aconite glances at the window and stands waiting for Alejandro to join her before heading off quietly.

Aconite has left the scattered chairs in various elegant styles.

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.

Petroc, the most unassuming man you have ever met arrives, delivering a message to Cesare before departing.

Cesare has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

As a messenger discreetly arrives to Cesare to murmur something which makes Cesare's brows rise incrementally, he stands and makes his way over to the couches where he's apparently been invited. With a half-bow, he settles down in the remaining space with a slightly expectant expression.

Raimon stands: "I am a soldier. I kill people. I don't like it. It's better than dying." Raimon pauses. Raimon breathes. Raimon, slowly and softly at first, cants a Lament for the Fallen: "For -all- those that -did- die, I honor their memory. Honor and Tradition require this."

"Is there no one here that would answer the Princess's question?" Cirroch speaks up again, having dropped most of his agrument from before, if only to a quiet discussion now. "Gloria is the one that asks for honor in battle, yes?" He's actually asking this.

Calypso pauses beside the scattering of chairs. Fixing Hadrian's harlequin green eyes with eyes the color of ice, she takes a sip from the glass of brandy and sets it on a table within his reach with just enough force for the glass to make a very soft 'tink!' on the table's surface, before turning towards the couches, where the space she left, near Cirroch, remains for her. She has rum to finish up, after all.

"I believe, my last comment holds the answer to the final question as well: we won, in glorious fashion, by the benevolence of Gloria. Were it not for her, we would not have routed our enemies and killed and captured so many. By going to war we fulfilled her command, and she was pleased by our honorable actions on the battlefield. So much so she smiled upon us, and made us victorious." A bit circular, but, Alban's never been accused of being a deep thinker.

"It seems to me at least as if Gloria and her cause was served well. To fight with honor and bravery are the values she upholds." Drake weighs in on this at least, though it's not a terribly profound thing to say either.

Glory, the Prestigious Warhorse, Doreen, the Red Squirrel, 1 Thrax Elite Guards arrive, following Klaus.

Hadrian's eyes seem to meet Isabeau's for a moment. His widen, wider and wider and wider, his eyebrows even arch higher. His neck begins to crane to one side, though his eyes remain fixed upon her. His expression shifts from one of relaxed neutrality, grows, and grows, until he wears a too-wide smile that's quickly ascending to the levels of the six-time winner of the Best Smile of Southport Competition. Only when Duchess Isabeau begins to look away anew, does Hadrian's attention turn ahead to regard the approach of Calypso. The grin shrinks to a smile that shrinks to a neutral, flat line. Then as though the rope holding the catapult in the ready position is cut, he springs up to his feet at the announcement from Katarina that the official portion of the evening would be drawing to close, "I do wish to apologize to our hostess, Princess Katarina, as well as all of the Empirical's members and guests for my tardiness. I was delayed, obviously. I just wish to mention the recent updates to the furnishings were achieved through the inspired mind and talents of now-Guildmaster Caprice Artiglio, through generous donations made to the Salon by Duchess Cambria Mazetti. That is all, thank you," he concludes with a warm smile before he drops right back and into his seat.

The arrival of Calypso with the brandy, her drink from it, and his gaze follows her hand to the point that the glass is set nearby. Hadrian's lips purse as Calypso turns and begins to move away once more. This, it seems, is enough of an interaction to result in Hadrian's thoughts turning inward.

Calypso comments something to Cirroch in a soft tone, with more than a whiff of dry amusement in its inflection, while she settles into place beside him.

It was a rumor only, a wisp of a word passed from person to person to person so the original words likely did not match what was put into Klaus Thrax's ear, but he was a near eternal optimist, one to believe in hope where there was none, so he arrived here, at the Empirical, his feature a mixture of jaded guardedness and hope beyond hope. He slowly made his way to a person passing out refreshments to all here and made a question sound almost plaintive in its tone. "Brown nut ale? Please say you have it, please?"

Jerrica has little to say on the subject of Gloria and war as she is not particularly a fan of either. She passes on answering the questions and listens instead to all the others.

Kiera nods "tonight we should honor and rember all who paid the cost for that that victory that we might not soon face another

Cerys had entered quietly, though mostly remained away from the others. Her brow arches upon hearing the all too familiar voice of Klaus and then a soft knowing half-smirk flashes across her lips.

Katarina straightens her back, and even though her face is covered, she's obviously smiling to the room. "I think there is wisdom in what has been said -- and the questions we ask will be what spur us onward, to finding wisdom in the future. After all, that is the point of the Salon." A sly look to Hadrian: "...and no doubt why Duchess Cambria saw fit to so lavishly renovate our furniture. I will have to thank her profusely once I've had a chance to make use of it -- which is my cue to sit down. The formal part of the evening is ended, my friends. Enjoy the amenities, converse among yourselves, and know that I am grateful for your participation tonight~."

Isabeau flicks her gaze back at Hadrian as the discussion winds down, her button nose giving a playful little crinkle in his direction, should he catch it, as she leans back from murmuring something to Jerrica. On the subject, she gives another little shake of her head, remaining a silent listening party to the most of the conversation.

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