The ceremony itself was a private affair, with only family members on both sides in attendance and presided by a Mangatan of the Mourning Isles - priests who are equal parts disciples and seafarers who have devoted their lives with deeply devout rituals of sacrifice for lifelong sailors and entrenched deeply in Islander tradition. Despite the unique rites involved, the ceremony itself was brief - only an hour before the members of Houses Thrax and Blackshore were released to the grand hall just before guests started arriving, with most of them taking up the head table situated in the front of the room.

Both the bride and groom are greeting the guests as they arrive, both clad in shades of blue, with the former dressed differently from her typically austere (and some would say blatantly unfashionable) silhouette, resplendent in starlight silk and fine lace, a formal coronet settled upon her dark-haired head arranged in a soft curling upswept coiffure, and a pair of heels that boosts her already significant height a few inches more - thankfully she's managed to stumble and figuratively faceplant into the arms of a man who's somehow even taller than she is despite her preferences for imposing footwear. Settled by her new husband's elbow and pale fingers curled loosely into its offered hinge, Natasha Thrax may be smiling more visibly than her usual wont, but even her happiness is spun out of subtler stuff when it is more present in her near-black eyes than the rest of her ivory countenance.

...said near-black eyes might *also* be somewhat bloodshot, but nobody pay attention to that. It was just because of the beautiful ceremony. It has certainly nothing to do with whatever excessive revelry that occurred the evening before after her 'kidnapping.'

At his position beside Natasha, the newly named Prince Romulius Thrax manages to strike the same figure of imperious austerity that his bride does. His new title seems to have carried with it cracks in the man's universally monochrome fashion palette, his typical gloomy black leathers replaced by a longcoat dyed to a deep royal blue. The rest of his ensemble is, predictably, colored in familiar midnight hues, broken up only by silver accents and the occasional flash of what little ornamentation the man allows himself beneath the thick cuffs at his wrists. Even the scabbard strapped to his back by a leather baldric is an impossible black, the star iron crossguard of the blade it holds gleaming a lustrous jet. For all of the ostentation, though, the most blatant must be the stygian coronet crowning his head, the symbol of novel authority nearly lost in the ebon curls that fall from its wearer's head.

Accusations that his severity is a front would be forgivable, however, when an occasional glance down to his new wife on his arm is accompanied by a hushed whisper that comes along with a flash of white teeth into a grin. The expression is banished almost immediately each time it appears, however, to bring the cerulean gaze that serves as a distinct signature of his bloodline back towards their guests and well-wishers. If the tinge of blood in the princess's eyes are owed to any sort of nocturnal revelry, the newest member of House Thrax must not have partaken or else is simply more resistant to its effects. Either way, nothing seems to mitigate his ability to offer a polite smile and dip of head towards every address save for some small apprehension at being in the direct forefront of such a grandiose affair.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Margothas finally found an occation to wear her fancy gown to without feeling horribly pretenxious and contrary to her usual restrained nature, the duchess of Tyde actually may have shed a tear during the ceremony. In the greeting line after she happily congradulates the new couple, leaning in to whisper to each of the couple.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise nothing suspicious about the man; wearing purple silks, a bowl kind of haircut that might look out of place with careful inquiry. Half of his face is a glorious moustache and black glasses with large rims. He slips in with a crowd, meandering for a bit. Once the music starts, he seems to slides at rhythm towards the refreshment table. The man tries to avoid as many people as he can before he reaches the bar and gets himself a drink.

Giorgio gets a small lantern with four intertwined serpents and stained glass insets of alternating blue and red panels from chest full of wedding favors - please take one.

Somehow, the gods only know how, Ian's wife has managed to talk him into leaving his ratty old coat somewhere else, and in a fairly nice vest and a shirt that is, for once, not designed to be as cheap as possible so no one will mind too much if he gets blood on it, he looks... I mean, it's not fancy, right, but he does at least halfway look like he belongs at a wedding. Or if you just look at the clothes, he does. The lessons in civility that whispers have apparently (????) been giving him haven't caught on well enough for him not to look just awkward as hell, trying to make like he's not just totally out of place here.

Azova enters the grandiose celebration on the arm of her spouse; looking giddy, of course, to be able to make it to both a lavish and much anticipated affair. And for once, she is not wearing white robes, gowns, or armor. "Such lovely lanterns, and so many of them!" Yes, of course that would be what she takes notice of, continuing to look around and make quiet comments about the ambiance until they have their chance to greet the newleyweds.

Margot pats Romulius' shoulder and gives him a bright, toothfilled smile. "And that is why I approved of you to begin with." She winks and looks between the both of them. "Now don't feel you need to stay at the party too late. Babies need to be made!" She winks and moves on to find the alcohol.

It's a bit odd to see the Prince of Maelstrom walking anywhere without a an armed detachment, or at least with any implication that he'll be perfectly safe by himself. Yet, here Victus is. No guards and no armor, dressed down in a jet black waistcoast that'd been edged in samite, along with a pair of matching pants and formal boots. 'Formal' in this case meaning shinier and newer than his usual ensemble that walked a path between sailor and noble. Overtop all of that, he's still got his snakeskin coat hanging off of his shoulders. Sleeves dangling at his sides, while his bare hands are working at an unopened oyster. Double jacketed for this occasion, it seems.

"Anyway, it was about /this/ big." Victus speaks aside to a servant, who is doing their best 'I not only know what you're talking about but I also care' face. "Mouth full of teeth. At /least/ two hundred teeth. At LEAST." The High Lord slips the sharp end of a knife into the shell's crevice as he continues to talk. "Should've seen Scarf. He almost got ate, not that any monster would be able to keep 'em down."

Scythia dips into a smooth curtsey that holds for a few moments before she straightens towards Natasha and Romulius as she comes in, likely with the rest of her family and with Giorgio. A soft, velvety murmur is offered to the pair, "Congratulations Highnesses," before she slips away to allow them to give their attention to other guests, murmuring to Giorgio, "Where would you like to sit?"

Well. If the newlywed couple isn't going to wear their traditional blacks, Lianne and Apollo can make up for it, the both of them in umbra for the evening, his accented in a magnificent golden jacket, hers in pearls and moonstones. The marquessa wears a smile that only brightens as she catches sight of the couple, delight dancing in her--maybe just a teensy bit bloodshot--eyes as she lifts a little wave toward Natasha and Romulius. They'll make their way over there eventually, but for now, mm. Drinks? Maybe. Lianne seems to be looking for something or, more likely, someone in the crowd as she murmurs softly to the marquis at her side.

Neither rain nor sleet (nor lightning nor krakens..) stays this clothier from her rounds at the reception; Caprice is an early joiner of the reception line, patiently waiting a turn to greet the newly married pair to offer her congratulations and well-wishes. In the meantime, she feasts visually, taking in other guests' attire from a fair remove while they see to enjoying refreshments.

Reve might not be commonly seen out and about, especially if there is a seafaring journey to be had, but when he is? He is typically found in the company of his wife. Thus it is unsurprising that he is found at her side, his arm formally escorting her. Now, this is Reve that we are speaking of, and while typically he is behaving he is leaning in and murmuring something in Azova's ear, following it with, "Oh yes, very lovely," as he takes in the lanterns, and so forth. In fact, Azova gets a teasing whisper and side commentary for each point he says aloud, and by the end he very well may be pressing a kiss to her cheek and look as though he was tempted to steal her away. Weddings, you know. "There is also the - ah, drinks!" Reve acquires two, thank you very much, and shares with his spouse.

Oh, this is strange. There was a time when Volya figured he'd never come back to the Isles. But, stranger things have happened. But, since half the family seemed was going, he went along for the ride. But he's still wearing his black frock coat. But that tends to be a Malespero thing, so at least he's dressing accordingly, but really, when isn't he wearing black? He hangs back for the time being, deciding that it's just easier to watch than interact just yet, perhaps still not quite used to the idea of where he is at the moment.

A woman in pitch black fireweave enters the hall with a smile stapled on her lips, though half of her features are covered with a black mirrormask. She awaits her turn like any good guest, remaining patient and respectful as ever. "Congratulations, your highnesses." She dips her head when she approaches the married couple, her voice war and melodic. She adds something quieter when she leans in.

Entering in at the side of his bride to be is Marquis Giorgio Proscipi. The Marquis is outfit in a dapper affair of luxury velvet and pyran fireweave. While a known neo-noble and prodigal, if the man feels any shame at all for those facts it does not show on his features. He walks at Scythia's side as regally and proud as any prince of the Compact and he dips into a graceful bow to both Natasha and Romulius as they enter. "My congratulations, Highnesses. May Limerance bless your union," he intones in a pleasant voice, then glances about to the various seats before murmuring something aside to Scythia.

Apollo is sporting a gold jacket, shiny enough that maybe it's responsible for Lianne's eye condition. Who can say? He glances toward the refreshments, then around the celebration - nods at whatever bid was made by his wife. "Shall we go offer our well-wishes, meanwhile?" he suggests, gesturing toward the newlyweds.

Cesare appears dressed in tones of twilight purple and looking lively enough that it's entirely possible everyone at the wedding should fear his need to set the dance floor on fire tonight. Maybe literally - but no, he has a Whisper's reputation to uphold, particularly in the triumphant re-opening of the Receiving Room in its glorious redecoration. So, all-glimmerful, he joins the reception line to offer well-wishes first. Before the be-liquoring.

Ember was stoic throughout the ceremony, but not stern. Now, at the reception, she is stern, but not stoic. The exact difference is something that may require extended time around Ember to truly understand, because to the untrained eye, it just looks like she spent the ceremony and is spending the reception standing around not enjoying herself. She has a cup of rum in her hand, and is not part of the line to well-wish the royal couple. Instead, she hangs back for the moment, watching those that do approach and half-heartedly listening to nearby Victus's story about a big monster. The Princess of Parties, everyone.

Zoey also has bloodshot eyes; clear evidence of her involvement in last night's kidnapping of the bride. There is no dampening her mood though, and she smiles warmly for her beloved patron from her place at Ian's side. She gets in line to properly congratulate Natasha and Romulius, taking in the surroundings and the company,

Denica carefully navigates her gown as she enters the room with familiarity, fingertips grasping at the folds as she moves with ease. There is a smile forming on her features as she is met with the faces of friends and family. There is a mix of emotions that play across her, which is often the case when one returns home. Met with memories, but the festive occasion and the colourful decor has her all smiles. Stopping to greet Natasha and Romulius, she offers them a genuinely warm expression. "Congratulations, and many times over," she murmurs to them collectively. "What a joyous occasion to bring us all back together here," she offers to them. After which, she looks from Natasha to Romulius to add, "and welcome to the family," with a quirk of her lips, forming that smile once more. Seeing the line of people waiting to greet them, no doubt, the young princess doesn't take up too much time, but rather she offers her positive wishes, before she turns to the room proper, eyes darting around to see who might be next on her list.

Scythia has joined the Serpent Table.

Giorgio has joined the Serpent Table.

Zoey has joined the line.

Alarissa is flitting about, dressed in red and coronet on her head, a driftwood arm on her left and has without a doubt been orchestrating everything and ensuring that everything goes on without a hitch. Nothing left undirected, nothing left unattended. Is someone frowning? There's a suddenly a servant at their side to ensure that the frown goes away as swiftly as possible. She's standing off to the side right now, eyeing Victus with a lofted brow and then a smile before she's back to scoping the crowd.

Ian has joined the line.

Aedric Blackshore stands idle near the great assembly of foodstuffs, arms folded neatly across breastplate and an index finger resting thoughtfully against a gaunt cheek. He surveys, of all things, a mass of oysters stacked neatly atop one another -- their presence unexpected but no less appetizing. After several long seconds of contemplative silence, he draws a small knife from his boot, collects one of the molluscs from the table, and sets about removing the top half of its rocky shell. "Waste not," the sailor murmurs, content to surrender himself to the mindless nature of the task.

Margotfinds wine and then looks around spotting Scythia, "Lady Scythia, congradulations on your impending nuptuals, though you will me missed in the islands."

Azova has joined the line.

Scylla has joined the line.

Margot's arrival lights up dark eyes, Natasha craning her head to listen to the soft whisper before whispering back in turn, reaching out to squeeze the duchess' hand. "It's lovely to see you, Margot," she greets softly. "And thank you again for everything." Releasing the Tyde's hand, there's a smile and an inclination of her head to Scythia at her greeting. "Thank you, my lady Scythia, and my congratulations to your recent betrothal as well. My lord Proscipi." A greeting to the Redreef lady's escort, before a few other well-loved faces are glimpsed; it *might* not be all that unexpected that the princess is keeping her older brother within her periphery. Lianne and Apollo get a returned wave, and so do Azova and Reve, a brief press of a kiss in the air close to Denica's cheek with an "It's lovely to see you, cousin," before the woman in fireweave approaches them with a curious look on her features. Delenis doesn't look familiar, and whatever she whispers to her and her new husband draws a brief ripple of confusion. There is, however, an inquiring look to her new husband.

The blonde soldier will also hang back a bit, let others get their greetings and congratulations in first. She, too, has the bloodshot eyes of a very long night, but her mood is not terribly subdued. There are once again free food and drink, and she is availing herself of both. She sort of flits in and out of Ember's orbit, giving greetings to friends and acquaintances as they pass near--a grin to Zoey, a nod to Lianne, a slightly knowing smile to Scylla, and a cheery wave to Giorgio and Scythia. Then it's down to the serious business of eating, for at least a moment. She'll make her way to one of the tables for a bit to accomplish that.

Cesare has joined the line.

Martinique has joined the Serpent Table.

Victus has joined the line.

Ember has joined the line.

As Apollo makes his suggestion, drawing Lianne's attention toward the front once more, she finds what she's looking for, smile brightening upon catching sight of Zoey. With a nod, she agrees, "Of course," with a squeeze to his arm. Her head dips in greeting to a few others, to Giorgio, to Margot, Martinique, a smile for Scylla, for Ember. "Though I could detour, first, for dancing. Drinks?"

Aedric has joined the line.

After a quick hushed exchange with the Duchess Tyde, Romulius gives an amused look to Margot at sight of the toothy grin. Surprise and relief play in equal parts on the man's face, though any contentment with her assessment fades immediately at the insistence that he and his new bride find an early escape from the party. Composure holds enough for his tongue to escape to wet his lips, the motion seeming to wipe away the expression of dismay and replacing it with a more polite smile. There's a quick glance towards Natasha at his side to judge the princess's reaction, but it's only a moment later that attention returns towards the greeting of their guests as they continue to filter through. Familiar faces are given a quick dip of head and perhaps the occasional flash of a grin. When Scythia and Giorgio offer their words of congratulations, a brighter look appears when he gives a quick nod of appreciation. "Thank you, my lady, Marquis. Congratulations to the both of you as well."

They're off, then, and cerulean gaze drifts back towards the continuing throngs of well-wishers and those who've simply come to enjoy the spoils of a royal wedding. The sight of Delenis in her mirrormask gets a curious look, but the congratulations she offers see a smile forming before the quieter addition draws out a more severe look, eyes looking aside to Natasha before giving his own response in a far lower voice.

Martinique has joined the line.

For the festive, royal occasion, Scylla has garbed herself in finery far beyond her comfort level, and yet she seems to wear it well enough, and carries herself with poise. Her black ankle boots percuss against the polished floor, well hidden beneath silver lace and crimson seasilk. She arrives with no date to speak of, though it seems to suit her just fine; she's smiling as pewter eyes raise to appreciate the decorous interior of the grand hall, then lower to behold the newlyweds flanking the entrance to greet arrivals. Naturally, a line has formed, and so she joins it and properly waits her turn to shower the bride and groom with congratulatory words. She catches Martinique's gaze, returns a nod and similar smile. Another for Marquessa Lianne and her husband, Lord Apollo. A cursory glance, filled with curiosity, is spared to the half-masked woman. Huh, oh well...

Ian sticks with Zoey in line because that's what he's supposed to be doing. Probably. That's his assumption, anyway. His electric gaze wanders the room, however, eyes moving fast, taking in details of people present, where they're standing, where the exits are, where potential weapons are... All that good stuff.

There's a sharp straightening in Delenis' posture at whatever she hears from the prince, her blue eyes flickering around the hall and she simply murmurs something and slinks away. She stops by one of the trays to lift a glass of rum, draining it as she glances around the room before heading toward one of the seating areas with purpose.

Delenis has joined the Serpent Table.

Her dark eyes trailing to Margot, her answer is easy and polite, though her features remain in a pleasant neutral. Her head gives a gentle dip in acknowledgment, "I thank you for the congratulations. The Isles will ever have my help when called, no matter where I am."

Zoey's turn comes and she steps up to the bride and groom, beaming. "Congratulations to you both," she tells them. "Princess, you looks positively radiant. And *Prince* Romulius, I suppose I will have to get used to calling you 'Highness' now. I think this is the happiest I have seen you, and I hope it is only the start. Best of luck to you."

Azova angles herself and Reve into the lineup of people, with a subtle swish of her gown as she nudges him lightly about something he's said quietly to her. "Perfect. Hopefully I won't be drunk before we get to greet the bride and groom." is joked, though she is probably not actually kidding, when the drink is placed in her hands. "We can test my balance afterwards by attempting the dance floor if your toes are feeling brave." she chimes next, waving now and then to those she recognizes.

Giorgio catches Apollo's eye and he flashes a smile back his way. "Let's go catch Marquis Giorgio, tell him congratulations," he says, and glances sidelong at Lianne. "Less of a line for that, mm?" He may have caught some similar well-wishes, though, as he amends, "Perhaps not none." And he gives a squeeze of her arm, then moves toward the Proscipi marquis. As they pass those waiting to wish Natasha and Romulius well, he gives a little tip of his head, murmurs something to Lianne. But it's back to bright smiles and a bow offered. "Marquis Giorgio, good to see you. And Lady Scythia. Congratulations."

Another pair enter the room, somewhat later than all the guests. It's not any kind of showmanship, despite the fact that both Sebastian and Tyche are dressed in a variety of star iron, steelsilk and precious stones: anyone who knows the Pravosi prince knows that his late habit is hard to break, even for one of his closest cousins. Sebastian's elbow is crooked, and he's talking quietly with Tyche, in the midst of some story or other: "...so of course, the sailor's stuck trying to explain where his pants are, and why he has these rope burns, and of course no one believes this utterly mundane explanation," he laughs: the sound is bright and brilliant, even as sky-blue eyes flicker around, taking note of both familiar faces, family and otherwise in the space. He pats Tyche's arm. "Shall we go and speak to the happy couple? Once we secure a couple of glasses, of course."

"Prince Romulius. Princess Natasha." Ian's either greeting the newlyweds or noting to himself that yes, these are the people who just got married, these two people standing at the head of the reception line right here. "Congratulations." And that's it. Zoey said all the nice things. Now he can go away with her to places where he can be more blatantly asocial.

Giorgio has claimed a seat alongside Scythia and Martinique, though he rises respectfully as Apollo and Lianne approach. "Ahhh, it is good to see you as well, /Marquis/ Apollo!" he says, a notable enunciation upon the other man's title. "I am sorry that we have not yet had an opportunity to get together. We will have to make sure to get you and Marquessa Lianne over to the Tremorus Manor soon. Perhaps for dinner? And thank you for your congratulations. Exciting changes are afoot!"

Whatever took place in the exchange with Delenis sees Romulius tensing, and a more perceptive eye might catch the shifting of his weight to put his person between Natasha and the mysterious lady. There's nothing more said, though vivid blue gaze trails her motion off even as the next guests step forward - it's a longer moment than could be considered polite before he realizes that Zoey and Ian are offering their wishes. He forces a smile, at least, though his typically over-bearingly polite tone has lost some of its warmth. "Lady Zoey, Lord Ian." He manages a polite nod, at least. "I will need to grow just as used to it, I'm afraid. I'm pleased that the both of you were able to attend." Ian is given a more pointed look, then, a more wan smile crossing the face of the former Blackshore as he regards his former patron.

Alarissa has joined the Serpent Table.

Alarissa circles and makes her way to the serpents table, a smile on her face for the people present.

"Never," murmurs Reve, who remains easily at Azova's side in line. "You are just having a few sips and keeping it in hand for me to finish off." Yes, quite likely Lord Darkwater is just trying to get a rise out of his wife if that sharp grin he flashes her is any indication at all. He tips his head to her and remarks, "We can take a spin on the dance floor, or we can choose some other company to trouble for a bit." He peers about, searching for a potential target as he sips his beverage.

Tyche's fingers rest easily in the crook of Sebastian's arm, and while she is not one to be notoriously late, she doesn't seem to mind that her cousin's lack of acknowledgement of time has caused them to miss the beginning of the festivities. Her smile is wide, and when he comes to the conclusion of his tale, she admits, "I have heard the story, and /I/ still don't believe this mundane response. We all know what this naughty sailor was up to." She tchs her tongue, brown eyes dancing with delight. His request has her nodding, gaze seeking out the newly minted couple. "Indeed. I'll allow you to choose my drink, too. Make it a good one, Bas. Let's take this night to celebrate and set aside everything else." She moves with him toward the line of people.

Margot nods to Scythia with a smile, having an almost motherly delight at all of this coming together as planned. Oh! More wine. Which she collects from the table pausing to give the wedding crasher a rather curious look when they're not immediately recognized. Her brow furrows and she looks about for one of her sponsorees to ask who she's over looked, a slight floundering look touching her features when she realizes she is entirely without them all for the moment.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has left the Area near a refreshment table.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Lianne regards the exchange between the Kennexes and the newlyweds on their way past the receiving line, some minor detail caught that inspires her smile to brighten. And it is that lovelier expression that she carries with her on toward, "Marquis Giorgio," and his betrothed, "Lady Scythia," head bowed respectfully to each in turn. Is that a hint of pride at the emphasis added to Apollo's tight? Maybe just a teensy bit. "I would very much like that," for the invitation. "It's good to know the world is looking a bit brighter tonight." Her curiosity tugs toward the half-masked woman nearby, but doesn't linger, drifting toward the other guests as well with an easy smile.

Color drains visibly from Natasha's features as Delenis moves off towards the Serpent Table, dark eyes fixed on the woman in the mirrormask and fireweave. Lips press in a thin line, fingers curling tightly into the fingers tucked into Romulius' elbow - dark eyes search his cerulean ones from where she stands, but no words are uttered just yet. Either apprehension or simply to stay the man before he moves, it's presently difficult to say. What she *does* next, however, is forcibly turn her head away from the Serpent Table where their mysterious visitor has parked herself, and smiles faintly when Zoey and Ian greet them. "It's so wonderful to see you both," she greets warmly. "I hope we'll find a moment or two to chat during the festivities, yes? And thank you so much for coming, I feel like I've not seen you an age, my lord." The last to Ian.

Sebastian and Tyche's arrival catch her eye also, and they are given a wave as well - doubtless they'll be steering in that direction once she's done greeting the other guests.

Turn in line: Zoey

Turn in line: Ian

Turn in line: Azova

Sebastian has joined the line.

Azova flashes both Natasha and Romulius one of her brightest smiles when they finally reach their turn in line. "I am so happy for you both. Congratulations!" she cheers, lowering her voice only to comment. "Lord Reve and I would like to make a donation in your name to the charity you hold most dear; so when the revelry has ebbed, please remember to let us know. But for now, we hope you enjoy your evening of celebration." This, despite the slight scoff and roll of her eyes at her spouse's notion of drinking the rest of /her/ glass of wine. "And as we tend only to see one another in dire or dangerous circumstances when a healer is needed, I don't think I have had the joy of introducing you. Lord Reve, this is Princess Natasha and Prince Romulius. Your Highnesses - Lord Reve Darkwater."

The man slips between the people, joining the dancing.

Zoey bounces into a brief curtsey before leaving the newlyweds and leading Ian to a place where they can sit.

Zoey has joined the Comfortable seating by the hearth.

Victus has joined the A grand table at the head of the room.

Volya has joined the line.

"Oh, I believe him," Sebastian counters. "But only because /I/ know his tell," the prince confesses with a knowing smile. His brows go upwards as Tyche indicates he can pick the drink, and he laughs. "Well. Being that we are in Maelstrom, and being half-Thraxian, we /must/ choose rum," the Pravosi declares. A servant passes, and he peruses the offering, waving the man away. "The trick," he tells his cousin in a low voice, "Is to find something with a serpent on it. Ah, here-" he spots a likely servant carrying a bottle, and gestures for two glasses, offering one to Tyche, before claiming another. That done, he steers them towards the line; Natasha's wave catches his eye, and he winks at her, content to wait in the line as they scope out the other attendees.

Where was the brother of the groom? Somewhere off quietly watching all of those who arrived and marking each guest with tumultuous blues weighing heavy. An idle thumb was hooked into the sword belt that the infamous Thraxian reaver couldn't part with and a glass of what could only be rum swirled idle in a tumbler glass. Dycard nodded with a bounce of loose chestnut curls towards those he knew, kin he could stand, and a smirk towards those he could tolerate being around.

What a lovely event!

Reve's on the cusp of offering some idle commentary more to his wife when the moment comes that they are presented and he must, of course, dip into a low bow that manages to be courtly. You know, there is even a little bit of flourish to it. "Congratulations to you both," he says. "And a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My wife regaled me with fine commentary about both of you on the boat ride over." He draws back and pivots after that bow, most dramatically pulling his wife back in toward him and away from the line once they have spoken to the newly weds. He might be initiating that dance of theirs, you see.

Margot frowns a touch to herself but noting Victus finishing his rounds, she heads over to the grand table and dips her head to the High Prince, "Your Grace. I think your sister looks lovely and your new brother is suitably accepting that his failure to keep her happy will result in his dimise. It is perhaps the happiest Island wedding I have ever attended."

Evensong, a twittering songbird arrives, delivering a message to Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise before departing.

Margot has joined the A grand table at the head of the room.

Cesare's eyebrows rise at an aside whispered to him by a wedding crasher, but he remains where he is, in line, like a good and polite boy should. He has not yet had enough alcohol to be tempted to misbehave. Really, though, alcohol has very little correlation to his tendency to misbehave. What such tendencies are based upon is entirely a mystery.

Dycard takes a small lantern with four intertwined serpents and stained glass insets of alternating blue and red panels from chest full of wedding favors - please take one.

Romulius's mood seems to be brightening a hair, at least, though he is far from being able to offer any of his usual grins to Azova and Reve as they step forward. At the offer of a charitable donation, his smile takes on a more genuine bent, and there's a quick nod in gratitude for it to Azova. "It's far too kind of you to offer, Lady Azova, but I will be glad to let you know." The introduction to her spouse has a nod delivered in Reve's direction, too, thickly accented voice adopting its familiar politesse, "Lord Reve - a pleasure. You'll need to forgive that I was not able to offer proper congratulations after your own marriage. Your bride had just seen to returning me to good health and my mind was far from where it ought to have been. Thank the both of you for coming, please enjoy yourselves."

Ian says something brief to Zoey on the way to swing by the refreshment table. The conversation continues there and on the way over to take a seat.

Denica spins around ever so slightly, deft fingers lifting a glass from a passing tray without so much as a look to see what it is. Holding it easily in her hand, she uses the other to grasp the weight of her skirt and lift it just enough to allow her to cross the floor, heading in Margot's direction where she's settled at the table at the head of the room. Eyes scanning around the room, she's focused on the minute details. The flash of a jewel, the shade of a gown, the curve of one of the hung garlands. This seems to amuse her, at least long enough to take her somewhere in particular. Passing the dance floor, she raises her brows ever so slightly, noticing something else, but she then finds herself approaching her sister-in-law. "You look lovely," she murmurs to her in greeting. Denica looks up and offers a greeting to Victus as well, "as do you of course," she adds with a growing smile in turn, slipping into one of the chairs, before she leans in to say something to them both.

Denica has joined the A grand table at the head of the room.

Ian has joined the Comfortable seating by the hearth.

"Then you must introduce me to this sailor, so that I can show him what ropes are really for," Tyche decides with an innocent flash of a smile. Surely she means climbing. Or tying things. Talk of rum has her lifting her brows, because she had expected wine, but she does not protest. "A serpent? Why is that?" she wonders when he produces a glass, and she lifts it in a toast to him before bringing it to her lips for a slow sip. "Mmm. Other than the delicious taste, that is?"

"Soon as we're back in the city," Apollo agrees. "Put off too long. My fault really, I meant to reach out. I'm sure we'll have lots to discuss." Another smile for the Proscipi-soon-to-be-pair, his attention flickering toward Romulius and Natasha, catching her dimming expression. He didn't even catch who inspired it, behind the moment. "We should get a drink," he says to Lianne. "Shall we tip Islander tonight? Rum?" He smiles, drifts on with her.

"Azova, I'm so glad to see you," Natasha greets warmly when the Darkwaters arrive. "I'd hoped to see the Countess, but please do extend my regards when you see her next. As for the donation, it's extremely thoughtful and considerate of you, and we'll certainly send you word." Dark eyes turn to Reve at his formal introduction, subtle mischief flaring within them. "Oft mentioned but finally met in the flesh. It's lovely to meet you, my lord, and thank you so much for coming. I owe your wife a great deal in the last few months, not in the least for bringing my husband back to life. It's heartening to see her all smiles and well attended. I hope to see you both drinking, if not dancing, yes?"

Margot looks over Denica as she leans in to give the Princess a polite kiss on the cheek. "You do too, red suits you so well. Now that Natasha's happy Princess Denica, I hope you're alright with yourself becoming my next project. I think I rather like match making."

"Oh, Ty," Sebastian utters, as he gazes at her all-too-innocent expression, looking mournful: "I can't. You'd simply destroy him for anyone else. How could I possibly live with that?" He takes a brief sip of the rum, looking pleased with the selection. "You can be sure anything with a serpent is aimed for the attention of a Thraxian, of course. Who better to filter out the best rums?" His gaze passes over the crowd while they wait, with interest, stopping here and there as he murmurs something quietly to Tyche.

Victus has fortunately stopped mingling with random servants to force stories of sea monsters onto their ears, and eventually comes to settle at the grand table. He's more relaxed here than he's ever been. Not a touch of guardedness or an air of indifference about him. He's even smiling. Happy and showing it. When Margot comes around to speak, he lets out a hoarse cackle. "They do look nice together, aye? I can't wait to see his sword-arm in action. Lethality to compliment her smarts." Nodding over to Denica, he rests his chin in his palm. "You're opening your gallery this month too, aren't you? I'll have my quota for 'parties' filled for years."

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise checks charm and performance at hard. Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise marginally fails.

Dycard has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Caprice has joined the line.

Turn in line: Scylla

Azova considers engaging in the back and forth that usually accompanies talk of 'owing', but this time she just clucks her tongue at the words and shakes her head slightly. "Hopefully in the future we can have you both over for dinner at the Manse." There is no small amount of mischief in her gaze when she extends the offer, and then inclines her head. "I will pass along your well wishes to the Countess, of course. Eat, drink, and be merry!" With a wink, she waits for anything Reve may have to add before they sweep away to allow the next in line.

"Mm, no," Lianne answers with certainty. "Some of that New Hope wine for me." With a sweet smile, a dip of dark lashes, she adds, "Oysters?" A few other faces catch her curiosity, mental notes made to say hello as the party slips from introductions and well-wishes into proper revelry, but she seems content, for now, to keep close to her marquis and murmur something to him that doesn't carry over the crowd.

After gathering up some of her hefty skirts, Scylla strides forward to replace Lady Azova and Lord Reve - not before nodding and smiling in their direction as they depart - and steps in perhaps a little closer to the newlyweds than is seemly for generic, yet friendly, greetings. "Princess Natasha, Prince Romulius," she enunciates clearly, bending into a proper curtsy for the occasion. When she stands upright and lifts her chin, her jawbone appears tightly clenched, as though forcing back some pain or perhaps an unfriendly emotion. She manages to smile through it. "The hall looks beautiful, my compliments to your decorators. And as I suspected, your highness, you - and your dress - are absolutely /stunning/. The coronets, as well. Perfectly suited." Scylla's left hand, adorned to the knuckles in silver lace, gestures out to the items in question, and then she steps near to the pair to convey a private message. Levity is subdued for the nonce, at least until her whispers cease, and then her lips part to grin once more. "I hope you both have a fantastic time; make sure to eat something, you'll need the energy."

"But it would be oh so worth it, Bas," Tyche promises, although she gives up the fight for his shielded sailor, a grin lingering as she takes another sip of the rum. "Mm. Well, it has caught the attention of a Pravosi tonight." She taps a finger against the glass, and dips her head in to listen to his murmur. Her gaze slips to the dancefloor, and she's nodding as she murmurs some amusement in return, still waiting in line to greet the happy bride and groom.

Denica has the unfortunately luck to take a sip of her wine at the moment Margot speaks to her, and she finds herself having to struggle for a brief moment. Her eyes dance with laughter, but her smile shifts to something devious, "oh my dear sister, there are challenges and then there is the impossible," she winks at her in jest. The smile grows as she looks at Victus, his words seeming the cause for it. This time she takes a more proper sip, letting it settle her. "You heard," she seems quite pleased about this, "I was going to send you a proper invitation. I am very excited, admittedly." Denica relaxes seeming content to speak with Victus and Margot, her attention drifting to the party from time-to-time. A beat as she takes another sip, glancing over at Natasha and Romulius, "a sharp match, indeed," she agrees sincerely.

Dycard seems to be swimming around the room and pauses just on the edge, hawked gaze zoning in on the peculiar dancing which causes the second youngest Blackshore to cock a head with pup-like curiosity. The rest of Dycard's drink is tossed back with ease before stepping forward, extending a hand in offering of a dance - this is his brother's wedding after all, "While you are moving remarkably well on your own. Do you care for a partner?" Husked eloquence, those family trait blues sparking with something.

"Baroness." It's impossible for Romulius to hide regard for Scylla as she steps forward in the line, and if there is any discomfort at her proximity it's certainly not visible anywhere in the newly-anointed prince's expression. He seems to have little interest in responding to her opinions on the Princess-Consort's uncanny ability to put together a party - and to dress his new wife - favoring instead a lean forward to speak in a hushed tone lost in the din of the great hall.

Striding into the occasion more than fashionably late, it is fitting that Venturo lacks the showy dress and attire many attending do so well in showing off. Instead, the long leather coat with its rakish, doubled backed cuffs has been left open, offering an easy view to the black breaches and white shirt whose top few buttons have been left undone. The showman pauses to survey the scene, soaking in familiar faces and those not, but it isn't to the line to greet the lucky couple that he goes. Instead it is to lurk around the edges, pausing at the refreshment table to take a look at the drinks being served.

Reve's eyes glimmer and he flashes a sharp, easy smile toward the newlywed couple. That former Halfshav is absolutely delighted, but he manages to refrain from further mischief or comment. Scylla is the recipient of that grin of his too though, pearly whites in full display. His attention moves, as it mostly is prone to doing, toward his wife. He has to twirl her, you see, and midst that finish the remainder of his beverage. Worry not, the empty glass is placed on a passing server's tray before he makes as though to steal Azova's wine away.

Scylla's turn in line suffuses more visible warmth on Natasha's usually, mostly inscrutable veneer, though there is also a brief flutter of concern and a quick once over; perhaps she's looking for inspiration with how the Baroness Stormblood is dressed, but whatever she seems to be looking for doesn't manifest. "I see we've both recovered just in time," she quips to her friend. "It's so good of you to come, and thank you so much for the kind words. I think I would've been relegated to sartorial hopelessness if Alarissa hadn't decided to rescue me. Do have a drink or several, yes, and please enjoy the evening." The soft murmurs exchanged prompts a faintly more serious expression, but one that she tries to quell at the return of her smile.

Turn in line: Cesare

Margot gives a sympathetic look to Victus, "Agreed parties enough after the gallery, old ladies like me can't be out all the time." She loops and arm around Denica's and leans closer to herself and the high prince.

Cesare steps up smoothly to greet the newlyweds with a deep bow. "With all the neutrality that is the lot of Whisper House, let me nonetheless offer my best wishes for a joyous union, and may it be steady and long-lived as well." He straightens. "My congratulations to you, Princess Natasha and Prince Romulius. Thank you for inviting us all here to celebrate this happy occasion. As always, Whisper House will be at your service should you find yourself in need."

"Balance. /Balance/!" Azova squeaks, when she is twirled and her drink stolen away from her by her scoundrel of a spouse. "Now you owe me another drink." she quips, both eyebrows raised while she fights back an amused smile. "So, somewhere to sit and converse with others? Or, the dance floor. Ohhhh, or food. That's a good idea too." Yes, she's finally caught sight of the bounty laid out on the refreshment table.

Scylla casts her pewter eyes toward the long line forming at her back, perhaps focusing on someone in particular, then turns back to offer the newlyweds a firm nod. "I plan to do just that," she replies to Natasha, but does not, in fact, bee-line for the drink table. Instead, she opts to take up an idle stance between the greeting line and the decorated tables, her eyes scanning the room idly in search of familiar faces. They pause upon Dycard on the dance floor, then hold, waiting for acknowledgement.

Oh no, first the Duchess and now Scylla? The man side shuffles out of the dance floor, hiding among another group.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has joined the Harpoon Table.

Apollo nods aside, and - once he has a drink in hand (having opted for rum) - he turns to start searching out a certain Guildmaster of a certain Arx guild. A step apart has him slowing - and a brief word with Lianne, a cavalier smile, and Apollo shakes his head, the body language all _go right ahead_.

"Good," Sebastian declares, in response to Tyche, "But you should, anywhere else, publicly adore the Pierosian rum much more," he says, with a quiet laugh. That laughter extends at her whispered words, amusement lighting his gaze. As it turns over the crowd, his attention settles on the man standing not far from them, waiting to greet the newly weds. "My lord," he says to Volya. "I don't believe we're acquainted. Prince Sebastian Pravus. Are you family of the bride, or groom? Have you met the Marquessa Tyche Inverno?" he introduces, easily.

Reve laughs. "Owe you another drink or another dance?" This query is punctuated with a fine mark of his brow and a flash of that scandalous grin. As noted, he really is a scoundrel. That said, he offers his arm more formally and does indeed make a fine display of escorting Azova to the refreshment table. He's even kindly offering his (or her, depending on viewpoint) wine to her as they go.

As Cesare approaches, there's a moment of contemplation from Romulius in an attempt to place him, a quick glance given sidelong towards Natasha for some rescue. It's just as quick that realization dawns and attention returns to the Whisper, a brighter smile appearing along with a dip of his head. "Master Whisper, we're grateful for Whisper House's kind words. And more personally, I am pleased you could find the time - we've not had the pleasure, but I am familiar with some small bit of your work. I hope that the evening provides all the joy it can." It seems genuine enough of a sentiment, even after the earlier stumble to identify the man.

Reve has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Whatever her wine-ward intentions, Lianne opts for something enjoyed more swiftly instead, one of those chilled vodka shooters dispatched with efficiency. She presses a kiss to Apollo's shoulder, eyes bright with mischief, and dashes off toward a particular brewer she's spotted lurking on the outskirts. "Venturo," comes with a held out hand, an invitation. No, expectation, plainly stated. "Dance with me, darling."

Cesare's deep bow may immediately mark him of the Whisper House with how flawlessly he executes it; his face is a new one in Natasha's recollections, but the princess' slight smile is a ready one regardless. "Thank you so much for your well-wishes, Messere Whisper, and for your attendance. I hope you enjoy yourself this evening, and I will keep Whisper House in mind. Hopefully as the evening progresses, I may hear more about your work that my husband speaks of."

Turn in line: Victus

"Huh?" Volya had been standing in line, getting lost in maybe staring aimlessly at the corner of the room when Sebastian speaks towards. "Oh. Uh," he starts, turning slightly to face the other man. "Yeah, I think we met, haven't we. As for me, it's less to do with family and more to do with the fact that I'm co-workers with the bride. And I just wanted to give my congratulations. Happened to be travelling with family anyways, so, might as well come along for the ride, right?" A nod of acknowledgement is thenoffered to Tyche. "I haven't, but I have now. Hello Marquessa."

"A singer, your highness," Cesare replies, but then he's dipping off with the same ease as that bow was given, toward a certain Marquis. "I've seen that jacket before," he teases Apollo. "Though not for a while. I should have worn my black and gold too. Come on, dance with me."

"Oh, of course," Tyche says very seriously, her lips flickering with amusement. She takes another sip to show just how much Pierosian rum is better. Yup. Mmhmm. She hooks her arm more tightly with Sebastian's as he agrees to whatever whispered words she offered, but something he says makes her gasp, and she doesn't even have the thought to quietly respond. "Bas, if I thought our wardrobes would be brought into question, I would have never suggested. Agreed. Off limits, all of it." She makes the promise to whatever, and then turns a brilliant smile on the man behind them. "Lord Volya," she greets, dipping her head in greeting. "From the way you talk about it, one might think you didn't enjoy such wonderful celebrations. Come, if you treat this like some business transaction, you'll never enjoy yourself. Have you tried the rum?" she lifts a hand to indicate to a servant that the man needs a glass of his own.

Cesare has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Given Venturo's look over the drinks on offer, one might well think he is judging the choice of both alcohol and the breweries they are from. It's only when the familiar sight of a Marquessa coming towards him that his eyes focus upon her, a faint smile curling to the corners of his mouth. "You know, you can tell the luck a couple will have by their choice of alcohol at the wedding. A dance? of course." But briefly, his gaze cuts over towards Caprice, and up his hand lifts, a single finger pointing towards her in a sign of 'Soon', but given that she is waiting her turn in line? Lianne is escorted off to the dance floor.

Venturo has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Lianne has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Alarissa has left the Serpent Table.

There is a check of brow at scuttling walk away from the estranged dancer, giving a shake of his head does Dycard then raise a mouth to check his breath. Did he offend? Goodness. But then he feels the storm brewing, he feels blood rising. And looking off over his shoulder? There is Scylla looking absolutely stunning, "Well, well." Is exhaled, already a lupine grin finding it's way, "Don't you look like a star that tumbled straight down from the dazzling sky above." It was hard to keep a straight face, but Dycard managed.

Alarissa has joined the A grand table at the head of the room.

Departing from the serpents table, Alarissa still maintains an eye on all, pausing near a servant to gesture toward a table of people looking dour and with soft instructions. But then onward she goes, a smile for the dance floor till she comes to stand behind Victus and settling her hand on his shoulder and the table there.

Victus steps up to the newlyweds with a languid gait, one hand dipped into his pocket while his other arm swings freely. Once he's in front of the pair, he stalls, his expression turning toward a blank slate. His boots carry him toward Natasha first, and his hand reaches just over her shoulder and to the back of her neck. It's at least 27% of a hug in front of all these /people/. "We didn't get to be kids." He begins, bowing his chin to meet her dark eyes. "But I'm glad we still ended up friends, to share the what's left of everything."

Craning his head toward Romulius then, Victus side-steps to place himself in front of Blackshore's Sword. "Brother." Lifting a closed fist from his pocket, Victus lightly bumps it into the center of the warrior's chest. Right in the sternum, where it could linger with just enough force to be uncomfortable. "I got a lot riding on you. Let's cross swords when we're in less fancy clothes." Opening his hand, an already shucked oyster is offered. "I already opened this one for you. Enjoy it." It did not sound like a request.

Martinique has left the Serpent Table.

Martinique has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Well, he searches, he finds - and Caprice is in line. So when the Whisper asks a dance, Apollo considers a moment the rather full glass of rum in hand. And he tips it back - oh, not so fast, no. Half, then a face, then the other half. Rum is -not- his usual drink. "Alright," he says. "But not so fast this time, mm?" He'll catch her after.

Tyche's acceptance of Sebastian's whispered words -- her reaction to it -- earns a bright, contented laugh. "Yes, never touch the wardrobe -- how much of the Inverno estate have you taken over with your clothes? I think," he muses, "You and Bella would compete in that regard." The warmth remains in his gaze and voice as he regards Volya. "Ah, yes. An inquisitor, correct?" There's a recognition, now, in Sebastian's gaze. He nods encouragingly at Tyche's words. "The rum is really quite good. And you cannot come to Maelstrom without tasting someone: it would be like traveling to Setarco and never tasting a drop of wine." The Sin looks genuinely distressed at the idea of someone doing that, brow wrinkled.

Apollo has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

"Is that so," hardly sounds like a question the way Lianne says it. A placeholder, really, pin put in the conversation until she and Venturo are properly on the dancefloor with hands all in their appropriate places as they start to move. Brows loft to shape proper curiosity at last as she follows the brewer's lead and insists, "Tell me what you've divined of their future from the evening's selection, mm?"

Delenis has left the Serpent Table.

Delenis has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Scylla has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Delenis leads her dance partner to the section of the hall sectioned for dancing, her gait confident though steady. "I hope you will pardon me, I haven't danced as much in a while." She says with a friendly smile, wrapping an arm around the woman. "So I'll follow your lead."

"Confessor, actually, but yeah, more or less." Volya replies to Sebastian. "I'll admit, Natasha and myself haven't spoken nearly as much as I'd like, but I know enough that I respect the woman's work ethic. Which to say, it's a helluva lot better than my own." But a self-depreciating grin appears on his face. "Oh, Marquessa. I know plenty well how to have a good time. Too much experience likely, it's more that," he gestures around the hall, pausing to take the offer rum. "me and the Isles...have a history. I was originally from the Isles. And I haven't been back since my family decided to make a mess of themselves. Just a lot of memories wrapped up. But that's my baggage, I shouldn't let that drag me down. So, thanks for the reality check, Marquessa."

Martinique seems surprised by Delenis's request; she's no experienced dancer herself. But she is a soldier, accustomed to challenge, and she rises to it. She is visibly counting under her breath to find the beat, before launching into a fairly simple step--for her own sake as much as her partner.

Victus Thrax towers over almost everyone within the room; for all of their estranged childhood, he has always been larger than life. The effect is still the same, no matter the age or manner of dress. Natasha's expression softens palpably when her eyes meet the High Lord's identical own, her much paler appendage lifting up to fan light fingertips over his wrist from where he has extended his hand to her nape. "What's left is already more than I can ask for, brother," she murmurs, affection brimming briefly in her stare and giving his wrist a squeeze. "And we can always make more to share in also - I'd like to think neither of us are devoid of creativity." A brief spark of her subsumed impishness, before her expression changes again in a more solemn and grateful cast. "Thank you again for everything."

As the man turns towards her new husband, the offered oyster gets a blink. She might actually be trying to smother a laugh, amusement suddenly brightening her countenance. She leans in to murmur softly towards her brother once the shell is relinquished.

"Mmm." Comes Venturo's singular note of thought about his observation, his arms lifting in a hold that is rather close, but not intimately so. Round he and Lianne go, even as a soft snort comes from him for her last words, "And spoil the journey? I thought we'd already decided the destination isn't the fun, but the path there. Of course, places that serve my brews do have the best luck."

The approach of the Prince of Maelstrom and his Princess-Consort see a straightening - if that were at all possible, as stiff as he already is - from Romulius to give a dip of head and a straight look towards his new brother and sister in law. As Victus has his exchange with Natasha, the newest prince gives a smile to Alarissa, but then the High Lord is just as quickly addressing him as brother. He at least manages to keep his posture with the fist in his chest, any unease visible only in the vibrant blue of his eyes.

He's likely just not used to Victus, yet.

"Your Grace. You need only name a time and place." Whatever he might have expected to come from the extended hand, it certainly wasn't an oyster, and there's a beat's hesitation before he accepts the offering. "Natasha's told me that you tend to think poorly of those who imbibe without shucking the shell themself. I pray this is meant to be an exception." There's no waiting for any confirmation of that, though, and it's turned up to empty liquor and flesh into his mouth before the empty shell is deposited into a pocket of his coat. "I'll prove worthy of the name and of your sister, I promise that."

"Not nearly enough," Tyche takes his question as challenge, realizing she needs to continue to grow her wardrobe until the entire estate is one giant closet. That's the dream. She turns back to Volya as his job is illuminated, and her smile remains, "The Master of Questions was my teacher when I first came to the city." The connection made, she listens to his 'baggage,' a faint flicker of sympathy for that. "Well then, you can celebrate this night as you facing whatever demons from your past, as well. Which is extra deserving of fine rum." She lifts her own glass in a toast to him, taking a long sip. "Will you dance with me tonight, Lord Volya?" she invites him to some further revelry. "Perhaps you can assist me in earning a confession from another..." Her gaze flits around the room, searching out a face, and then she grins at Sebastian. Is she enlisting help? Maybe!

There's a brief moment where Victus glances toward his sister, his expression showing a hint of pained annoyance. Nonetheless, his smile returns in earnest. As awkward looking on a scarred and bearded mug like his as it could ever be. "That's great." He says aloud to Natasha, before turning his eyes back upon Romulius. His expression unflinching as he takes his offering of oyster. The only movement on his face being the slow rise of his brows, on a steady incline the more the groom reacts. Once his gift is savored for all its worth, the High Lord looks pleased.

"Yeah." The Prince remarks to his new brother in law. "I know you will." There's a parting pat to Romulius' shoulder, one for Natasha as well, before the High Lord is receding back toward the grand table.

"Yes, she is rather determined, isn't she?" Sebastian remarks fondly in response to Volya. "Perhaps that's also where I get my stubbornness?" he muses aloud, his gaze traveling to Tyche as if expecting -- daring? -- her to contradict him. Volya's offering turns his gaze back towards the Confessor. "Indeed? Then you should be credited for such. One's origins forever sticks with one, no matter how far we run." His smile is content as Tyche seeks to entice Volya into a dance; it quickly turns to dismay as she reveals her plans. "Ty: such a sly one, you are," the words come out more admiring than chastizing. "Don't let her draw you into her schemes, Lord Volya. Not without sufficient compensation, anyway."

Margot checks composure at hard. Margot is successful.

Something Martinique says prompts a melodic laugh from Delenis as she spins her partner around, with her left arm, moving through the steps slowly but effortlessly. She says something in response quietly, yet her mirth is clear as day, even with that mask covering half her face.

Martinique gives something of a watery smile in response, though she speaks quietly to her partner between the steps, steadily. She is, perhaps, glad to have been of amusement at least.

Denica checks composure at hard. Denica marginally fails.

"Oh, I'll need far more rum that get over those particular demons." Volya says maybe a little too easily. "But they made me what I am." There's a mild sound of amusement at the attempt at conscripting him. "Depends on the kind of confession you're looking for. Buuuuuut, I could probably make do with whatever's laying around. Though a dance? I could probably oblige you at some point tonight. "Oh, I have no doubt of that. I do appreciate deamination." he agrees with Sebastian. "However, in my experience, that usually means you won't at all be bored."

When Ember approaches the Princess and newly-named Prince, she dips herself into one of those deep, deep, military-precise curtsies -- the Bloody Baroness practices a kind of etiquette that's just as physically well-honed as her swordplay, the result of endless drilling of herself. She's even able to do it without spilling her rum. As she lifts herself up, she looks to Natasha, her patron. "Your Highness." Then, her gaze shifts to Romulius, and a long beat passes before Ember speaks.

"Don't fuck this up."

Ember waits nearly another half-beat's worth of silence before she adds: "Your Highness." Then her lips spread into a grin. Seeing Ember grin is a rare thing. With her bright amber eyes, her sharp stare, her scarred face... her grins can be so intense as to be uncomfortable for some. But no matter how sharklike her smile is, it's sincere. She has a sip from her glass while keeping eye contact with Romulius, and bobs her eyebrows once while drinking. When it comes time for her to walk away, Ember looks about for Martinique -- she's not going to pour her own drinks, is she? -- and when she spots the soldier on the dance floor with the masked woman, the Bloody Baroness stands at the edge. She watches Martinique dance, and seems faintly but visibly displeased, like her soldier is betraying her with this dereliction of duty.

Ember has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

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

Tyche laughs and holds up a hand as if to suggest she wasn't going to make some witty comment about his stubbornness. She let's it go, turning back to Volya as he speaks of the amount of rum. "Some other pleasures, then, to ease the weight of the past? I have many suggestions on that, Lord Volya. One of them involves ropes." She speaks this so dryly, and with a look to her cousin by her side, that it is clear it is part of some earlier jest. "And do not listen to my cousin. My company is compensation enough," she says, her turn to give him look as if daring him to contradict her. "Perhaps after we greet the bride and the groom, then?" she waves a hand to the line of individuals still anxious to speak with Romulius and Natasha. "I may be finished with my first glass of rum by the time we reach them."

Ember's approach sees a smile given in the direction of the Bloody Baroness from Romulius. It's not quite *overjoyed*, but she's hardly the sort who anybody would ever be thrilled to see. Pleased is enough, and there's a dip of his head given along with a, "Baroness." before she makes the demand of her patron's new husband. A brow raises at the address, though amusement is plain enough that offense surely isn't taken - the hall has no shortage of those protective of Natasha, the new prince perhaps chief amongst them. "Of course not, I owe as much to you and Baroness Stormblood for returning her in one piece." His own bit of mischief, there, with a glance between his wife and the Baroness.

Denica is sitting at the head table, talking quietly with the others. She briefly is looking down at her dress, using her ever-present ink-stained fingertips to draw the skirt out, as it referring to it briefly within her conversation. After which, she takes a sip of wine, but she struggles briefly in actually swallowing it, face going red for a moment. Disaster mostly averted, she returns to her quiet conversations with her family.

"He's been getting so many of these," Natasha quips towards Ember. "But I think it's the grin that makes it. It's wonderful to see you, my lady. I hope you're drinking for the both of us this evening - believe me when I say you'd be doing me a favor." Because she's still hungover, floundering at her blatant lack of tolerance, and with full intent to live vicariously off someone who knows how. A brief squeeze given to Romulius' arm, she watches the Bloody Baroness move over to the dance floor, and drops a few soft words to Romulius.

"That is one thing I can say without reservation: a Thraxian doesn't stint on rum, so you're covered there," Sebastian assures Volya with a laugh. "And, that is, at least, true. I don't think I've ever met a boring Pravosi, that's for sure." He's sipping from his rum -- nursing it in fact, given the level has changed only marginally since they've joined the line -- and swallows it too hastily when Tyche makes that comment. Clearing his throat, he returns her look with amusement. "We can resolve /that/ at least," he says, of the rum, waving over one of the servants. "No, the other bottle, the brown one with the sea serpent -- yes, that." It's only when he approves of the bottle that he holds out his glass for a not-really-needed refill.

Azova has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Aedric approaches the newly wedded couple and offers a polite dip of chin in greeting. "Your highnesses. When I was a boy, my father impressed upon me the significance of punctuality, integrity, and love for family. By today’s standards, many of the methods that he used to teach these concepts would be considered cruel or, in some circles, outright inhumane. He and my eldest brother are long buried, now, but the lessons endure. I suppose that is a sufficient means of describing the past, at least when it comes to this troubled bloodline – it persists, clinging desperately onto the deeds and words of our forebears, for good or ill.” The mariner pauses, cerulean orbs regarding the pair carefully.

“But in my nephew, I see an opportunity to close one blighted chapter of our history. I was a stranger to pride until I watched him take his first unsteady steps under the roof of a keep long-since destroyed. I witnessed the power of his childish and innocent laughter in defusing open hostility between warring parties. I recall the light of wild and boundless wonder that glimmered in his eyes the first time he set his gaze upon the sea and its endless horizon. Truly, there are no words to meaningfully convey the weight of these memories to a sailor once lost at the edge of the world." Another break. Briefly, his composure buckles.

Fortunately, the recovery is swift. “Though your father and sister could not join us for the ceremony, I can assure you that my sentiments are shared. It has been my privilege to watch you grow into the man that you are today, Romulius, and should the wheel spin for me tomorrow I will leave this place contended with the knowledge that we managed to do one thing right.” He raises a glass of amber liquor. "To the health and collective success of Natasha and Romulius Thrax, and to the continued security and stability of our houses. May the blood of their enemies forever stain the Isle's shores."

Scylla checks dexterity at normal. Scylla is successful.

Raimon raises his own glass, in full support of, and agreement with, the Toast just offered via Aedric's fine efforts.

Volya was about to remark towards Tyche insinuation, likely with a joke, when a servant asks for a moment of his time pulling him aside, talking to him quietly. "Really?" Pause. "Yeah, okay, I'll be right down." A look back to the pair. "Hey, sorry. Something came up at the boat I came in on. Do give the bride and groom my best for me." And he has to hastily move off to take care of....whatever it is he needs to do.

Margot has left the A grand table at the head of the room.

Delenis turns to watch Ember, a curious smile on her lips as she lifts a left hand to greet her. "I shall leave you to your... duties." She says to Martinique with a merry voice before slipping away from the dance floor without another word.

"Your Highness, you shouldn't be worried about anyone doing any drinking for two yet. You haven't even had your honeymoon night yet." Those are Ember's parting words before going to the dance floor and frowning at Martinique. Another wedding, another successful address of newlyweds.

When Volya makes his hasty exit, Tyche is left to sigh. "And there goes my secret weapon. Remind me to write him when we're back in Arx?" she makes the request of Sebastian, as if he might have a better memory than she after tonight. She takes the second glass of rum, smiling to the serpent, and clinks her glass with her cousin's. Her lips part to engage in further nonsense with her fellow Pravus, but Aedric's words carry, and she turns her head to listen, brows lifting. The toast is made, and she lifts her own glass, echoing only one part, "To their health."

Martinique has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

In the midst of swinging the beautiful Stormblood about with whatever skill he could summon, Dycard let's out a holler, "To Natasha and Romulius!"

Leaning over the serpent table, Delenis says something quietly to Scythia with a dazzling smile.

Scythia breaks from her quiet conversation with Giorgio to raise her glass at Aedric's toast, before taking a sip of her rum.

Scylla also raises her voice, in concert with Dycard's, "To the newlyweds!"

Zoey also lifts her glass in toast, and reminds Ian to do the same from where they sit.

Martinique gives a bow towards Delenis as she is released, then makes her way back over to Ember, perhaps drawn by that slow glower. Ah, empty cup is it? With a faint air of resignation she will make her way to the drinks table and refill it, bearing it back to the Baroness with the faintest of smiles. Oh, and she somehow found a new drink for herself while she was at it.

Delenis has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

And indeed, Ember's frowning at Martinique is interrupted by Delenis waving at her. Ember stares at Delenis for a long moment, watching the mystery woman leave the dance floor, and tracking her with amber eyes as she walks over to Scythia. She misses the toast entirely in her staring, holding up her glass off-time with the rest of the room. Then Martinique is there with a new drink and Ember looks at her. "It seems every time I take you to a wedding, Commander Barlinnie, you find a new heart to break."

Thus nudged, Ian raises his glass.

Cerulean comes to find its mirror as Aedric approaches the couples, and Romulius regards his uncle with unfettered familial affection - and perhaps something like relief? Then, the elder Blackshore is recounting the Sword's youth and their family's sometimes public troubles. When he nears its conclusion, there's a twitch of facial muscles on his nephew's face, and in that flash it looks as though he might actually express something like vulnerability. He collects himself, though, and where's a wan smile given to Aedric after the toast.

"It would be easy, Uncle, for Oswald's ghost to linger and carry on his torment even after the last traces of him were reduced to ash." Eyes shift away from Aedric, there, to regard some other part of the great hall for a moment. "It's not something that I've ever been truly worried of, though. You were seemingly always gone when I was a boy, but you'd always return with some grand story or another. More than any lessons with Father it made me want to take to the sea. You've always been my favorite uncle." There's a quick pause and a huff of breath before he continues, "Our family has made many mistakes, Uncle. Losing you would be amongst its worst."

From their spot at the refreshment table, Reve and Azova lift up their own beverages by way of a toast.

Alarissa has left the A grand table at the head of the room.

Ember has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Martinique also comes in a bit late at the toast, having been drink-fetching, but she'll lift, and drink nonetheless. Ember's comment earns merely a philosophical shrug. "It is not the fault of this soldier if the ladies of the realm are sadly neglected and in need of attention. That said, who was that person?" Her eyes follow Delenis's path out of the room before flicking back to her Baroness.

Scythia looks up at Ember, lashes fluttering as she offers her cousin what is almost an overly sweet smile, breaking her neutral expression just to do so. "Having fun?" she poses the all too innocuous question innocently, perceptive dark eyes likely having caught her cousin's mood. Time for tale-tweaking.

Alarissa has joined the Harpoon Table.

Away from the head table eases Alarissa, a glance to the dance floor, thumb finger rotating the signet ring on her right finger as she thinks. Another stop to speak to a servant and take up a glass of wine before she finds herself at the Harpoon table and eases down into a seat.

"My lady!" Natasha gasps, though it's exaggerated at Ember's parting salvo, but her smile widens at that canny wit, flashing the woman a look in her direction before attention drifts to another pair of cerulean eyes and an older visage. Whatever heightened color was already growing on her cheeks threaten to become all the more so at Aedric's speech and the calls and toasts from the rest of the hall spurred by his eloquence. Gratitude cast among her guests, she dips her head to the collective in acknowledgment of their kind words and well-wishes, squeezing Romulius' arm briefly. It's only when he's finished that she adds, "It would be a pity to do that now, indeed, when I've yet to call you uncle. May I also call you uncle, now?" More mischief, buoyed by good spirits, flares visibly on the young woman's expression. "I'm very happy to see you here, my lord. Know that I'll do my best and damndest to take care of him while he isn't looking."

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise checks charm and performance at hard. Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise is marginally successful.

Venturo has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Ember gives Martinique an askance look. "You didn't ask?" she says. She seems genuinely confused that Martinique would be asking /her/ the name of the blonde general's dance partner. Ember's gaze then turns toward Scythia. "Always," she says, in a tone that might be sarcastic and might be serious. With Ember, sarcasm is a dangerous bet to make.

"I trust that you will, your highness -- and yes, you may call me whatever you deem appropriate. All the best to you both, sincerely," Aedric replies, reaching forward to rest his palm against nephew's shoulder for several long moments before he pivots upon his heel and makes room for the next guest to make their well wishes. As he departs, he extends a hand in greeting to Raimon. "Thank you for your kind words. Any friend of Romulius' is a friend of mine. Do not let me keep you from the happy couple." Another polite dip of chin.

"She just said "Delenis" and I didn't recognize it." Martinique gives a shrug. "Well--anyway--" There's a gap among the revelers greeting the bride and groom, and the soldier slips into it, employing tactical maneuvering to slide up and offer a graceful curtsey to bride and groom. "My congratulations to you both--I have fought beside the both of you, multiple times now, and your union seems a natural one to unite strength to strength. May it be always powerful, through peace and war." She is no grand public speaker, but she is at least sincere. And then she'll sort of scurry away from the spotlight, and move back to her more comfortable hovering position at Ember's shoulder.

With her dance partner slipping off to make good on his threat to catch up with another, Lianne drifts from the dancefloor, past her marquis and his glittering partner with a delighted smile for them both. And a note of, "I'm drinking the wine." She might've caught some of their conversation. When she makes for the refreshments, it's the cherry wine she goes for, as threatened earlier, a moment alone claimed to consider the receiving line, the disposition of a few of the guests and where she means to head next.

Lianne has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Lianne has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Smile finds no waning as Aedric pivots to take his leave, Romulius watching his uncle's departure up until Martinique appears to offer her well-wishes. The smile offered to her is one a bit broader than Aedric had received, though that's almost certainly due to the more serious soliloquy the elder Blackshore had delivered. "Messere Barlinnie, I'm pleased that you could attend, if for no other reason than to assure that the Baroness doesn't cleave any of our guests in twain. With any luck, the gods will allow for more peace, but I suspect there's far more war necessary before we can ever truly expect that." A more serious nod is given as he adds, "I'd be glad to have you at my side, as it comes."

"Through peace and war," Natasha echoes with an acknowledging nod towards Martinique, her smile lingering effortlessly - it's difficult not to when the room is so lively. "Thank you, Messere Barlinnie, for your kind words and coming to share this day with us. I'm very pleased to see you take thorough advantage of the dance floor also, and certainly we'll have more adventures together, considering." A brief glance is shot Ember-ward. "Still, I hope you have a wonderful evening and I'm certain that I'll be seeing you again sooner rather than later, and repeatedly at that." A glance towards Romulius. "Though perhaps not side-by-side bearing arms. Maybe just *very* slightly behind."

"Remind my assistant to remind /yours/," Sebastian counters to Tyche. There's a reason he's late, and also a reason he turns up to events at all, and his assistant is paid handsomely for such a job. He lifts his freshly refilled glass of rum in salute to Aedric's toast, tracking the man's progress for a moment, murmuring quietly to the Marquessa. And then it is their turn in the line to greet the newlywed pair. He leads Tyche forward alongside him.

"Your highnesses," Sebastian's smile is quick to light his features as they take the place of woman in front of them within the line. And then of course formality goes: he is Pravosi after all -- he steps forward to lean in and air kiss Natasha's cheek, blue eyes bright. "I'm very happy to see you looking so radiant, cousin," he says, with genuine warmth. "And with, it seems, an excellent match." Romulius, despite being a virtual stranger, is offered the same greeting from the Sin. "I have had Briar deliver my gift to your rooms; I think perhaps you might want to consider it in private." The bride and groom both each are given a quiet murmur from the Pravosi, before he glances at Tyche.

Tyche steps up beside her cousin, a warm smile for the newlyweds. "Princess Natasha, Prince Romulius," she greets, but she allows Sebastian the first moments to speak. She nods to his sentiments, and when he finishes, she simply adds, "Warmest congratulations. There's a treasure in finding a match that strengthens your family, your fealty, and your heart." Simple words, but she knows neither well enough for the more personal that Sebastian gives.

Cesare has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Cesare has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

"Do try to enjoy yourself" Alarissa offers as she rises, to the masked individual and then starts to walk away with her wine still in hand and circles the room again.

Alarissa has left the Harpoon Table.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has left the Harpoon Table.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Someone wearing Wedding Crasher in Disguise slips away, nodding to Alarissa and heads toward the refreshments.

"Your Highness, Marquessa." Sebastian and Tyche are each given a dip of head in turn along with a polite smile, Romulius glancing towards Natasha at the Sin's compliment, the expression soon taking on a more genuine bent. "Thank you both for coming - I should hope that in the months to come, we might be afforded to opportunity to know one another better." And then Sebastian is offering something in a lower voice, and the newly-minted prince finally flashes white teeth into a grin before offering his response in a similarly hushed manner.

Apollo gives Cesare a 'who, me?' look, brows high, as the Whisper departs his company. On the way to watching a look his wife gives him from over at the refreshments, he catches a look from Dycard, dancing with Scylla, and gives the man an apologetic smile. Then he moves to take a place in the receiving line, hands slipping into his pockets.

With the Pravosi contingent arriving forth, Natasha's expression brightens visibly at the sight of familiar eyes. "Sebastian," she greets, warmth stitching over her Islander's cadence, her head leaning in to press her lips in the air next to her cousin's cheek. "For a moment, I thought I dreamed your arrival when you're even busier now than the first day I've come to call on you here, and my lady Inverno, welcome - thank you so much for coming, and for your kind words. May I present my husband, Romulius - also my oldest friend, and my constant companion since childhood." Words of a gift sent directly to their rooms prompts a quick flare of that familiar curiosity, lips threatening to part to make her teeth visible...and treading just shy of actually doing so. "You do know how to tug on me cousin. I can't wait to discover what it is."

Silence descends at the Pravus Voice's murmur, before she slowly reaches out to extend her hand to his, if allowed, to give it a squeeze, and whispers to him in return.

Apollo has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

"You'd be forgiven for thinking I'd appeared and slipped out: it is indeed, an accusation that can often be made of me. But I couldn't help but to see you both," Sebastiaan replies to Natasha with a smile. "And of course, to make sure you've made the Marquessa Tyche's acquaintance, as she is a woman without compare." He allows Natasha to take his hand, his expression warm, only a slight dimming at her words, barely notable. "I look forward to that, Prince Romulius," Sebastian replies, without hesitation, after the quiet exchanges. "We will leave you to it, and seek to drain your halls of all your rum." With his hand patting Tyche's where it rests on his arm, Sebastian seeks to steer her towards the dance floor. "I am going to pull rank and claim your first dance," he tells her, as he leads her in that direction. "And then, the games shall begin." He finds a place to set his glass down, doing the same with Tyche's, before he leads her out to join the couples dancing.

Rising from his seat at the Serpent Table, Giorgio extends a hand to take Scythia's and then leads her out toward the dancefloor. He nods at something she says and continues his murmured conversation with her as they are in route. Once they make it to the dancefloor, Giorgio takes Scythia in his arms and begins to move about the dancefloor at a graceful clip.

Giorgio has left the Serpent Table.

Giorgio has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Sebastian has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

Scythia has left the Serpent Table.

Scythia has joined the A sectioned off dance floor.

And there's an opening. One that has Alarissa swinging by toward bride and groom with a smile one her face. "Lovely. Can I say that? That you both are just so lovely?"

Scythia's hand is given as much as it is taken as she mirrors the standing of Giorgio, following him to the dance floor with lithe graceful steps and obvious delight at the very prospect of dancing.

"A pleasure to meet you," Tyche smiles to Romulius, clearly warmed by the adoring introduction Natasha made. "Perhaps when we are back in Arx, we might host a dinner? Pin the cousins down so that they can cross paths within the city, and not simply on these elaborate trips?" The offer made, she allows herself to be swept away by Sebastian, his claim of the first dance earning a laugh. "I will allow it, but only because you have charmed me so well this evening with the choice of rum and your witty sailor tales." She steps easily into his arms, a comfort between the two cousins that shows a clear enjoyment of one another.

Seeing the line clear - well, save for Princess Alarissa, who he offers a smile as she finds her way to Natasha and Romulius ahead of him - Apollo approaches. "I'll second that," he says, smile warming yet further. "I'm glad for you two. May the sun shine as brightly on your love for each other as it does today."

When Martinique returns to Ember's side, Ember gives the soldier a sidelong glance. The Princess of Parties has a long drink of her rum, lost in thought for a moment. "Delenis," she repeats, to the infantry commander. "A mystery." Ember scowls slightly. "Too many of those lately. Absolutely aggravating things."

Lianne has left the Area near a refreshment table.

Sorrel has totally been lurking here somewhere, being relatively quiet. But now seems to be a good time to congratulate the bride and groom, so she practically bounces in their direction with a big smile. "Princess Natasha! Prince Romulius! Congratulations! I'm so happy for both of you!" she says brightly and with enthusiasm, peeking up behind Apollo as he offers greetings. "Welcome to the family, Romulius! You're going to love family dinners."

Alarissa's approach is met with a broad smile, Romulius more familiar with the Princess-Consort than most of Thrax thanks to the princess's patronage and friendship to his younger sister. "Alarissa, you've outdone yourself. Just as well, I suppose, when I've already told Natasha exactly how hopeless the two of us would be in putting such an affair together." Any self-deprecation is washed away with sheer contentment, whatever shadow had loomed over his high spirits having passed now as the receiving line is nearly at its end. "And thank you for the coronet, I like it far more than I'd expected to when you'd first written about it." The stygian ornament crowning his head must be the object in question - how many coronets could he possess, after all?

Then there's the Marquis Malespero behind her, and Apollo is given a warm smile and a nod of gratitude once the Princess-Consort is properly addressed. "Marquis Malespero, I've still not dragged you away from the Marquessa long enough to be sure your company is just as enjoyable outside of hers. It's a problem that demands correction." All mirth, now, between looks of affection directed to Natasha.

With an entirely new drink in hand, decorated with a slice of dried lemon and a sprig of rosemary, hand-crafted by a rather pretty Whisper, Lianne hurries away from the refreshment table and slides up beside Apollo as if she'd been there the whole time. Even if that flash of wide eyes she casts toward Natasha says otherwise. She has no verbal well-wishes, no grand fanfare or toasts. But she *does* pull from her pocket--all fantasy dresses deserve pockets--a piece of folded parchment, offered over to Romulius. "You should," she encourages of kidnapping her husband. Then, "A preview," regarding the page. Of what, she doesn't say. She just smiles, sips her drink, murmurs a fond, "There you are," to Sorrel.

Tyche's remark about cousins passing like ships in the night brings forth a smile that's faintly sheepish - because it's true. "I wouldn't mind you conspiring with the Marquessa if the two of you could bring that about," Natasha remarks in an exaggerated whisper towards the taller man next to her. Watching Sebastian claim a dance from Tyche, there's a lift of her fingers in a wave towards the Pravosi pair, a pivot turning her to face Alarissa. With pale hands extending in an effort to take her hands if allowed, Natasha moves to press her lips against the Princess Consort's cheeks. "We are lovely, and everything is lovely, but only because you rescued us, as Rom says," she tells her. "I don't know how you do it every time but I'm as always in awe of your talent for aesthetic transformations." And with a lower voice, "And thank you for the oysters."

Apollo sidling up threatens to crack that composed ivory facade into further ebullience. "You made it!" she says, voice implicative of a laugh, reaching out to take his hand if allowed, and give it a squeeze. "Which means your lovely green-eyed partner isn't far away. I'll have to snare her before I lose her." And sure enough, not one, but *two* green-eyed women move towards them. "And look, no chance of that when she's right before me. Sorrel, Lianne, I'm so happy the two of you are here. The secret's out, then. I *definitely* did not dress myself today." A wink to Alarissa at that.

"When one is being made prince, one should have something lovely to wear." Alarissa looks over her shoulder to Apollo and smiles. "This one knows. Though I should have one made for him as well." But there's kisses to give. To either cheek they are returned for natasha. "I live vicariously through others who have weddings. For there is no haste, like there was when I wed Victus." natasha didn't dress herself today, Alarissa handled that as well and takes a deep breath, letting it out in a satisfied sigh. "I shall set you loose once more upon the populace so you may endlessly shake hands. I'll send more oysters by."

As Sebastian guides Tyche around the dance floor, he spots Giorgio, his gaze flickering to the woman with him. It doesn't take long to guide Tyche nearer them, calling out: "Marquis! Excellent to see you here, and with what I presume is your lovely new fiancee?" He slows in his dance for a moment, fingers touching Tyche's arm as he murmurs something quietly in that moment of not-so-hapstance bumping into each other. And then they are off again, twirling around the dance floor and, surprisingly not long after, slipping away from the festivities.

After some quiet chatter with others near the refreshments, Azova turns to whisper something to Reve and offers a smile to the others that are there. "I'm a bit fatigued I'm afraid, but all of our compliments to the hosts of the evening, as well as the bride and groom. Hopefully we will see you all again soon." Not that she requires her spouse to guide her out; she just knows that he's going to regardless. So she tucks her arm under his before waving prior to them making their way out.

Sorrel, though, is another familiar face, and no worse received when she makes herself known. "Thank you, your Highness." Romulius, naturally, has yet to grow fully accustomed to his newly elevated station. Best to resort to his usual formality. On family dinners, there's a less serious smile and a nod as he adds, "I look forward to the first. I've had a head start on growing a taste for octopus, though." And then another pair of green eyes as Lianne appears as though manifesting from the air itself, the Marquessa given her own smile and nod. "Marquessa, it's always a pleasure, and I'm glad that you approve." There's a quick glance at the folded bit of parchment, but something gleamed from it deems it better consumed when not receiving their guests and it's quickly deposited into the breast pocket of his longcoat. On his bride's ability to dress herself, though, there's a laugh and a half-shrug of shoulders. Alarissa's tastes will find no complaints from her victim's husband, predictably, and the Princess-Consort is given another warm look as she makes to tend towards other guests. "There are far too many dangerous women in this family." It's hardly a complaint, though - he married one, after all.

"You look fantastic! That color is gorgeous on you," Sorrel says approvingly of Natasha, beaming at her brightly. "The Princess Consort is very good at dressing people." She reaches out to wrap an arm around Lianne helpfully. "I caught her! Anyway, I am delighted to see you all so very happy, and I hope for many beautiful blessings today and as we all continue into the future. I should take you out to see the East Light fortress's murals while we're on Maelstrom. You especially, Romulius. Your Highness." She grins at him impishly.

Sebastian takes a small lantern with four intertwined serpents and stained glass insets of alternating blue and red panels from chest full of wedding favors - please take one.

Absolutely Reve is going to escort Azova. Just like that, _all_ priority is on her. With a flourish of a bow to their hosts and another round of well wishes, they are off.

Tyche is easily guided into this not-so-happenstance bumping, a smile for Giorgio and his new fiance. "Marquis, Lady Scythia. I hope you're enjoying the evening?" When Sebastian speaks quietly to them, she dips her head in, nodding to whatever he speaks and adding her own few words. "Until we have more time to get to know one another," she offers her farewell, and then is swept off with her companion for the evening, who just so happens to be the steelsilk clad prince.

Reve has left the Area near a refreshment table.

Azova has left the Area near a refreshment table.

Tyche gets a small lantern with four intertwined serpents and stained glass insets of alternating blue and red panels from chest full of wedding favors - please take one.

Sebastian has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Apollo grins at Romulius. "I'll be sure to put up a proper fuss so that it looks like the abduction you intended, your highness," he says. He gives Natasha's hand a return squeeze, the look on his face sympathetic - perhaps for all that well-wishing they've yet to do. He offers an odd look to Alarissa, curious. "I'm perfectly happy with your company, Princess Alarissa - I'll put up a proper fuss for you, too, if you like." A smile for Sorrel, and he turns to Lianne... and then to her drink. "Had enough of the wine?" he wonders, like that's somehow funny.

As Scylla practically drags Dycard to procure food, there is a pause as everyone in any line is surpassed as the Minister of Loyalty makes his way to the newlywed table. With a scrutinizing look over the table and the undoubtedly untouched food on his brother's place, the younger Blackshore brother grabs at a chicken leg and takes a healthy bite, "Rom, you need to eat something." He mumbled in between gasps for air and a gulp of chewed chicken. A nod of chin towards Natasha, his gorgeous sister-in-law, "You too."

With that is the sea mongrel dashing away to embarrass his favorite Stormblood after he's already seen to it with is own kin.

Scythia continues dancing a couple more dances with Giorgio, light on her feet and delightfully apt at dancing. The pair engage in soft conversation as they move together before mutually departing the dance floor and the party with a little wave cast to Ember and a curtsey presented to the Highnesses, new and old.

|"Painting a picture? Yeah, that sounds nice." Victus has adopted a very laissez faire attitude for the evening. The party favors influencing him just as well. "There's just so many subjects to choose from. And this room. So damn big." It's as though his imagination can't capture it all on one canvas. "You should at least try to include an oyster. I have absolutely no further advice that could be possibly construed as helpful." Setting aside his now empty cup, the Prince leans forward and slowly works his way to his feet. "I should be making rounds myself. Small ones. Enough to remind everyone of my existence and strike fear in their hearts. So on, so on."

"Snagged," Lianne confirms as she leans into Sorrel's capture, her smile bright. It dims a bit, more warmth than brilliance, as Romulius tucks that page away to save it for later, a shallow nod marking approval of that conclusion. Verdant attention settled then on Natasha, she informs her, "I expect I'll be by around the same time to lament my marquis' absence. With some whiskey?" Impishness glints in her eyes, a hint of mischief lingering as she lifts her drink, tells Apollo and Sorrel both, "Cesare is mixing interesting libations. Shall we see what other magic he might muster?"

Raimon patiently awaits his turn in the receiving line. Rai's good at waiting, because Rai is patient. At very long last his turn does arrive. Rai looks at Rom. Rai looks at Nat. Rai looks back to Rom. A single firm nod. "_Good._" he pronounces. That accomplished, Raimon bows with full courtesy and goes back to where there's few people. But: he's smiling. Fully smiling--- Y'know, that thing that never happens? Happened. Here. Now. Shhh.

From where he's loitering near the refreshments and eavesdropping whilst mixing a pair of other bespoke cocktails, Cesare catches that last /hilarious/ line of Apollo's and turns a truly forbidding gaze upon him. And then it turns right back to the beverage at hand, which receives three adroitly skewered, syrupy cherries. Speared, even.

Scylla has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Dycard has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

"I have no doubt that you would fuss over me dear Lord Apollo. But those days are long gone. Now, you should fuss over your wife," And away Alarissa meanders.

Alarissa is overheard praising Thrax.

Alarissa is overheard praising Natasha.

Alarissa is overheard praising Romulius.

Zoey is overheard praising Natasha.

Zoey is overheard praising Romulius.

Lianne is overheard praising Thrax.

Denica's lips curl into a little smile at what Victus has to say, "I do think the oyster will be my source of inspiration," she confides with him. As the man works his way up to his feet, Denica decides that she too will go face the festivities once more. "Cousin," she nods in brief parting to Victus, the sparkle in her eyes seeming to show agreement for the need to strike some fear. Denica navigates her dress forward, as she sets her sights on indulging in some familiar treats.

Raimon is overheard praising Romulius.

Lianne is overheard praising Alarissa.

Denica is overheard praising Natasha: A striking bride!

Victus is overheard praising Natasha.

Victus is overheard praising Romulius.

Whatever thoughts might have been returned towards Romulius's current company is set aside a moment with his brother's interruption. There's an amused look given to Dycard, the elder of the two seeming to manage a dramatic look down towards the younger despite them being a few hairs off of the same height. "You're incorrigible." The duty of acting as a host (the feat made infinitely easier by Alarissa, thankfully) demands attention return towards Sorrel, Lianne, and Apollo in their exchanges. "It's a small wonder I ever convinced any one of you into tolerating me. I'll be sure to find the time to visit the ruins, of course." The last more directly to Sorrel, and with mention of the Order's fortress it's impeccable timing that Raimon appears. "Cousin, now, is it? I feel as though we've been like family far longer. I'm pleased you could escape the capital long enough to come. I trust you'll be sailing with us, still?"

Denica is overheard praising Romulius: Welcome to the family!

Sorrel is overheard praising Natasha.

Sorrel is overheard praising Romulius.

Apollo's brows loft at that and he offers Lianne an arm. "I guess I'd better," he says, tipping toward her and flashing Sorrel a smile as he turns them toward Cesare. He might like to see what the Whisper might invent, himself. Wine or not.

"There's plenty of abductions going on these last two days," Natasha observes, but not without a twinkle in her eye, though that ever-curious look remains when Lianne passes Romulius a folded piece of parchment. There's a question there, when does she never have them? But she is also, thankfully, patient. Upon releasing Apollo's hand, she turns so she can give her cousin Sorrel a proper greeting - lips pressing on the air next to her cheek, and one given to Lianne as well once she ventures closer. "The two of you look magnificent as a matched pair," she observes, with the Marquessa and Marquis Malespero both dressed in umbra.

Her spellsinging cousin's compliments turns a faint smile that's also visibly pleased. "You know, I don't think I've ever worn anything made of starlight silk before - or anything that was made out of something *new* in the season. This may be the most fashionable I'll ever be." There's no chagrin there, however, comfortable in the fact that she's somewhat unimaginative in that arena. "But I'd love to see the murals - perhaps we could make a trip out of it in the next few days, yes? While we're here in Maelstrom, I'd been promising him the same."

There's a blink when Driveby Dycarding happens. "Come back here, Dycard, I haven't accosted you enough just yet," she calls out, clearly with good humor. But there's no stopping the sea mongrel when he's got someone to chase. Turning back to Lianne, her smile broadens. "Whiskey sounds *lovely*," she confirms, peering Cesare's way. "I'm-- what is he doing, I wonder? Is he--"

With Raimon's arrival, a smile is turned towards her cousin. "It's lovely to see you again, cousin, I thought I'd see you more often but it seems that you've been keeping yourself rather busy as well? Thank you so much for your well wishes, and for coming to celebrate with us."

Apollo has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Lianne has joined the Area near a refreshment table.

Victus has left the A grand table at the head of the room.

Denica has left the A grand table at the head of the room.

Giorgio has left the A sectioned off dance floor.

Scythia is overheard praising Natasha.

Scythia is overheard praising Romulius.

Scythia is overheard praising Thrax.

Romulius is overheard praising Thrax.

"Yes, absolutely!" Sorrel agrees to Natasha with her brightest grin after the air-kisses. "I'll give the tour! It's fantastic. Come! Let us all go sample the drinks. Have you had enough to drink yet? It's easy to get distracted and not get to enjoy any of the food or drink at your own wedding." She motions to the bride to shift with them, because she seems inclined to follow Lianne's suggestion of getting beverages with Cesare. She also seems to assume that the groom and the marquis and the rest of the men will simply follow the women.

Lianne gives Natasha's shoulder a brief squeeze as she leans in close for that near-kiss, her smile warm. There might be a quiet murmur to the brid. When she withdraws, asked after what Cesare's doing over there, she gives a little waggle of her drink that might extend invitation to the newlyweds. They, too, should come get some of these magic drinks as the line draws shorter, nearly at its end. And, with that, she joins Sorrel on the way toward drinks.

Lianne mutters, "Last night was magnificent. I'll ... to send my regards to ... ... ... their stellar ... for ... something ... ... and seeing to ... that we all survived."

Scythia has left the A sectioned off dance floor.