This is a more or less private banquet, as it's intended for those who are at least the rank of disciple. But discipleships can be very large! And so this hall is packed with a number of people from all walks of life. While this is not the most formal of occasions, people are dressed reasonably well. This includes Porter! Who is definitely not wearing a variety of different armor pieces along with his Knights of Solace tabard. Instead he's put together rather smartly in silks and decent shoes, almost as if he does remember how to clean up (in truth he never forgot. Before the food was served, everyone was led in a very appropriate prayer for this sort of occasion and at this time of the year. He's seated at the table for the godsworn now, engaging in conversation with another member of the clergy, as one does.

Oswyn ducked in at some prompt point (probably a few minutes early) and... possibly hasn't been in here before. He's squinting at his surroundings.

1 Templar Knight guards, a playful black tortie kitten arrive, following Roran.


Felix arrives with at least a few of his disciples in tow; Syeira included, and sends them all to drift off and enjoy themselves rather than trying to cater to himself. Taking a moment to look around the room for a moment before taking up a position for the prayer. And while he isn't dressed as fancy as some, his working leathers have been tended to, and the clothes under them freshly laundered.

If there are any doubts as to what kind of disciple Sir Bhandn is, his own Knights of Solace tabard should put them to rest. He saunters in in full rubicund, dressed for his profession from head to toe. No silks or nice clothes for him today; he wanted to make it clear who he represented. His arrival is a bit subdued, however, as he does not approach the Archlector of Gild upon arriving, but rather tries to make long-distance eye contact and offer Porter a bowing of his head as a sign of acknowledgement. He'll settle in at one table meant for disciples, but for the moment is keeping to himself. He wants to eat first. He's STARVING. It's been a long day.

Caprice is seated amongst disciples, intentionally engaging with less familiar faces whether or not that includes leaning into the personal spaces of those seated nearest her. All family, here! There's enough on her plate to be polite but her interest is clearly on conversation over food.

Mathis definitely hasn't been in here before. Considering he seems to only own two outfits and did not own plates until recently, this place is way too fancy for the likes of him. Maybe that's why he seems a little jumpy tonight. Ill-at-ease. Particularly disheveled, not that he doesn't always seem like he could use a haircut and a shave, but tonight it is especially evident. And he's drinking! Oh, is he drinking. Let the waters of blessed Mangata flow, right into Mathis's mouth and down his gullet. Truthfully, this is not out of character for followers of Petrichor, any of it, so those who don't know him are probably apt to think it's just how he is.

Oswyn pauses by Caprice when he nears the disciples table. "Messere Artiglio, good to see you. You look very golden this evening. I hope you're well?" Oswyn is dressed in his own work clothes, with the exception of having slightly less ink on his hands than usual.

Meow. There's a cat that is jumping up on a chair to claim it while two others sneak in quickly past guards to find a perch to either sleep on or twirl and wind themselves at the feet of some godsworn. And in walks Roran, go figure! "Hello, wonderful people!" he calls out in a cheerful tone and a warm smile on his face with a wave. "Mathis! You sporting that pilgrimage look really well tonight, I like it!! Makes you look busy."

Porter senses it! He senses the feeling of someone trying to make long distance eye contact with him from across the room. But at first, he doesn't know where it's coming from. He's not a master detective after all, he's just Porter. So first he looks across the table of Godsworn peoples, nothing. No one is looking at him. Then he stares over at the people who are serving food. Nope, no one there cares about Porter either. Terrible! Finally and with great deliberation he turns his head and peers across the room wo where the disciples are situated. There are so many. A sea of people! And then he spots Bhandn, "Ah ha!" he says outloud triumphantly. The person he was just speaking with seems to not be confused and so he's forced to flash them a smile. "Not you, sorry. I mean. Unless you liked that, then yes, you too. Sir Bhandn!" he calls out.

Making her way to the main hall, down the stairs from her quarters, Wilhemina cuts an elegant figure in her gleaming white robe. Her hair has been unbound, to cascade along her back in perfect waves, with not a strand out of place. She dips her head once she arrives where the Faithful are gathered, though her features remain impassive. Her hazel eyes roam the room, taking in the different faces with a studying eye.

"Brother Oswyn," Caprice turns from light chatter about fainting goats to the man, smile light to match her attire. "Never better than when it's not so bloody cold out, my friend. You're looking well! What have you been keeping busy with?"


A lifted hand is given greeting, as Felix settles in - offered to Wilhemina with her arrival, and a quirked grin to go with it. The tall Archlector otherwise settles in and just works on relaxing, enjoying the meal and the atmosphere without worrying about doing much of anything.

"The usual," Oswyn tells Caprice. "Books, research." He squints an eye and adds, "Er. Punctuated with time at Saving Grace and a scouting mission to Bastion. And you?"

Busted. Bhandn averts his eyes when Porter finally notices him, the old man hurriedly shoveling food into his gob. He can't just say NO to an Archlector calling out his name after all. With a bit of reluctance, Bhandn will get to his feet, tromp all the way over from the Disciples to the Godsworn, and give Blessed Porter a very deep bow (as far as his armor will take him) and then, in a grossly exaggerated tone of innocence, ask, "You summoned me, Blessed Porter?" There's a suggestion of mirth in the knight's features (because he's carrying his helmet under one arm now), and it's clear that Bhandn is resisting the urge to make further commentary.

Mathis's head goes up! And he spots his fellow Archlector immediately. "That's an awful diplomatic way of putting it, Roran," he says, patting a spot next to himself for Roran to join, cats and all. Just been - you know. Took a trip out to the Gray Forest once the weather broke, to see what was what. Turns out it's an awful big forest. Shocking." He hears the name 'Bastion' echo across the hall like an omen, and grimaces. "And digesting what I've heard about those scouting missions folks are on."

Roran waves to Wilhemina, "I like the way you've done your hair sister Wilhemina, it's like aged mahogany that brings out your eyes like two acorns full of potential on what they see." He sits down next to Mathis and listens, nodding. "I've been trying to pray and encourage those with the scouting and work on Bastion the best I can. Telling them not to hide that grief or hurt, that Lagoma can help blunt the sharp sting of pain in their heart and heal with time. And to use those feelings to spur to action in some little way they can to help heal more hurts beyond just them, whether to scout, or fight, or sew or farm. It's a shame, I love walking the Gray Forests and going to little towns and villages off the beaten path. Knowing that they're threatened by that terrible foe makes me....well, it makes me want to hop out of this chair and start walking north."

"No, no-!" Porter begins to protest when poor Bhandn gets up and starts crossing the room. So Porter gets up too and really they end up meeting about halfway there. "I didn't want you to get up, I was just saying hello! I saw you looking. I'm interrupting your meal!" Bhandn is *this* close to getting Porter to drag his chair down over to wherever his chair is and taking up residency.

"Goodness," Caprice's mild tone is at odds with the sharp lift of her eyebrows, surprise rolling briefly across her features. "Busy, busy." A drink in one hand, the other lifts to touch to her chest, "Me, I've only just fully thawed, so mostly research, organizing. Drafting plans for adventures I have no business embarking upon." Her voice lowers just a little, "Do you know if there's any reason for this dinner besides socializing?"

Oswyn looks vaguely embarrassed for whatever reason. He leans over a little and tells Caprice quietly, "Not a clue. I've never actually been to one of these before."

"Two acorns? Roran, I don't think a girl wants to be told her eyes are like acorns," Mathis says. "They're like ... clear water running over golden sand or something like that. Not nuts a squirrel eats." He nudges Roran with a shoulder. "Your hair does look very fine though, Sister." He continues to Roran, "I went to the Saving Grace that night they called for Healers. Mother Bianca told me some awful sh-stuff. Had a bite on her shoulder from some nasty bug. It had /eggs/ in it, Roran. Eggs." Blech.

"Blessed Felix." Wilhemina approaches the man where he sits with a steady stride, her lips quirking faintly with the familiarity. "It's good to see you again. You look well. Unharmed." She nods at this before Roran's words capture her attention. "Oh, that's very kind of you to say. I figure a /change/ was needed to my usual style for my occasion." Emphasis on the appropriate word for Lagoma's Archlector. She settles down on a seat, her eyes following Porter as he makes his way to Bhandn, before she turns to Mathis. "Acorns can be a source of sustenance. Once their leached that is." She says simply, her eyes a little faraway as though she speaks from experience.

Oswyn looks up and squints over at Mathis at the mention of the insect bite and the eggs. Which were gross. "Did Lady Rosalind recover? Do you know?"

"You're not interrupting, otherwise I would have stayed sitting down." Still trying to play innocent, Bhandn says that with a faint quirking of his lips for the Archlector of Gild. "I didn't think you owned anything silk. I must say you should go to the House dressed like this just to see what everyone has to say about it." More quirking at the mouth, as if Bhandn doesn't know /exactly/ what people will say at the House (spoiler alert: heckling Porter A LOT). "Besides, I wanted to thank you for all this."

Roran blinks. "Wait, acorns aren't nice? Think of the potential!! Leaves that are emeralds, golds, russet and rubies. They take in what they see and those ideas take root in the mind, right?" to Mathis. Thankfully Wilhemina seems to like it and he nods, pointing a finger pistol at her "You get it! Exactly." Hearing about eggs and bugs makes him get a little heebyjeeby and says "Burn the fiends with fire, if I was asked what to do."


"Sister Wilhemina, I have as yet managed to avoid further injury, be it from teeth and claws or landslide." humor laces Felix's tone. "Though not for lack of trying with the first two. It is always a pleasure to have your company - and if I look well, you - as ever - are radiant." an impression of a wink in there, before he turns his attention to finishing the meal and listening to the various ongoing conversations. His attention catches somewhere for a bit longer than usual, though not with any intensity, before moving on.

Roran has joined the a tall table for godsworn.

"I went back to check on her next day and she wasn't there," Mathis says. He squints at Oswyn. "Brother... Oswyn. So I guess she was right enough to be taken back home." He looks like he wants to give Roran a noogie at the mention of fire. "You always want to burn everything, Roran. You can't burn the bugs when they're /on/ people."

"You didn't think I owned any silk?" Porter repeats that as if the idea of it is very surprising to him. And he actually stares at Bhandn for a few long seconds as if he needs to process this. "I--" still processing. "Oh, oh I see." And he straightens up a bit to his full height and starts running his hands over his beard. "My gods. You never really knew me as /Lord Porter/, did you? No, Sir Bhandn. I own things that are silk! I just am not often in them. I started with the Knights of Solace and that was a few years ago now and I've just never looked back, I suppose. And even after my promotion--" he gestures around, then shakes it all off. "I just kept up with being a knight as well. I suppose I never realized how that it appeared to anyone that didn't know me well from before."

"Oh, good," Oswyn tells Mathis. He glances over at Roran and then back. "Insects should be set aflame, yes. Otherwise I am not a fan of fire. Especially given my natural habitats."

"Thank you, Blessed. You are too kind. It wouldn't do present myself when not at my best." Wilhemina nods at comment on her own radiance, resting her hands on the table before her. "Were these... eggs safely removed?" She asks Mathis, her voice calm, yet one cannot quite ignore the intensity in her eyes as she asks this.

Entering with the not-uncommon combination of bluster and shrink of someone who is late to an engagement, Cufre winces in imagined pain before skirting her way around the tables. She relaxes at seeing Caprice, smiling and waving before joining her table. "Don't get out this way much," she explains. "It takes longer than I thought."

Cufre has joined the a tall table for disciples.

"Oh that's right. You were. I'm old; I forgot." With perfect aplomb does Bhandn say that, completely at ease in this particular conversation. His mouth does suspiciously twitch again, though. "Well, don't let me interrupt your conversations with anyone, Blessed. My stomach will throttle me soon enough if I don't get back to my eating. I'm also looking forward to our little competition, as well. We'll see how knightly you're feeling by the end of it." There's a suggestion of a wink to go with those words, before Bhandn backs up a foot or two so that he can give Porter a brief bow.

Caprice is listening, painfully, to the ongoing conversation about eggs, small plate of food still untouched. Possibly forever untouched now. There's similar relief when she notices Cufre and the other woman gets a quick grin and a wave, "I came early to account for getting lost. Good to see you!"

Roran finger guns towards Oswyn too on insects should be burned as he nods. "The creepier and evil they are, the more I'm inclined to see them lit up. It's just downright gross. Nothing wrong with spiders, and who hasn't played with pill bugs when they're sitting on a musty log in the summertime to pass the time away? And heavens, I absolutely love fireflies as they dance around and glow their little light bright against the darkness. Creepy bugs acting not like bugs? It's corruption and corruption should be cut out."

"How about right now? Well, we're both here. And I feel as if my knightliness has been called out by you pointing out my silks." This is a very ridiculous suggestion and Porter seems to recognize that, because there's a fleeting twist to his lips and a glimmer in his eyes that indicates he is certainly pulling Bhandn's leg a bit. If he truly wishes to go eat his meal without /arm wrestling/ at dinner, Porter isn't going to stop him at this point. He won't starve Bhandn!

Oswyn squints at Cufre and offers a quick smile her way. "Glad you can make it. They have... entirely too much food. Which I should probably get some of. Be well." He nods to Caprice and Cufre with another smile and scuttles off to collect a plate.

"Same. About seeing you, not about coming early, of course," Cufre comments to Caprice, punctuating with an upward turn of her wrist. "Where that's concerned, I should learn a thing or two from you. I spose I'm a bit comfortable in knowing how to weave around the flow from home to the market, I just took it all as the same. Next time, I may just come along with you." She doesn't seem to catch the nod directed their way.

There's a brief, unmistakable moment where Bhandn grins. It's a very feral thing, teeth bared at the Archlector as though Bhandn were giving that suggestion of wrasslin' in the Rectory some serious thought. "We'd both get murdered by the others for not letting them be here to see the show. I was thinking we do it at the House, Porter. They'll want to wager on the outcome, I'm sure. Besides, I haven't eaten much today and I'd be at a disadvantage." There's that attempt at sounding innocent again. "Plus, I don't think it'd be appropriate for us to do it here," Bhandn continues, expression and tone both turning a bit more serious. "But gods, I'm tempted."

"Yeah, they got all the eggs out. Mother Bianca's recovered now, far as I know," Mathis answers with a nod. "Anyway, the area of the Gray Forest just north of here looks fine, about a day's ride out. Nothing touched there that I could see. Didn't get further than that, though." He pokes at a piece of bread. Takes a bite of it. Sets it back down.

"Good. I mean, some of the time it'll simply just linger and cause no harm." Wilhemina adds reassuringly on the subject of those eggs before her lips down turn. "Other times. Well, better not get into that before dinner." And then a nod to Roran's words. "I couldn't agree more. I've witnessed many instances where Lagoma's flame was all that could cleanse..." A pause as she glances around at the many priests around her. "Wounds."

"Wallflowers do bloom brighter with company," Caprice chuckles softly, looking from Cufre to the rest of the room with a low, thoughtful hum. "I don't know if there's a special reason for the dinner, but I thought I might wait a few more minutes to see if there are toasts or announcements before -crossing tables- and introducing myself to some Godsworn. What do you think? Anyone interesting-looking over there we should go meet?"

Oswyn has joined the a tall table for godsworn.

Oswyn finds himself a seat at the Godsworn table. He unslings his satchel from his shoulder and settles it beside his seat. He then proceeds to look vaguely lost.

Mathis stares at his bread as though it is the cause of all the ills in the world. "You know what," he says to the bread, "I really just, I have to go. Uh, sorry everybody, you can - write me a letter anytime if you want, or I live in that one townhouse that looks like it was squished into an alley, I have to - I gotta get out of here, goodnight!" He stands abruptly, chair knocking back with a clatter, and fast walks as only a man who is six and a half feet tall can fast walk toward the entry of the rectory.

Nonsense, a hunting dog, Noise, a lively black hunting dog leave, following Mathis.

Moonsilver, the pale-feathered raven arrives, delivering a message to Oswyn before departing.

Her shrug is already beginning when Cufre looks over one shoulder, then the other, craning. "Hm. Well, there's Guildmas- Archlector Felix... " Another look, a completed shrug as her attention returns to Caprice. "I don't know anyone else. Not that that's much of a surprise. So I didn't miss why we were invited here, then? I'd never noticed something happening here for the disciples of the Queen before, so I thought to come..."

Moonsilver, the pale-feathered raven arrives, delivering a message to Oswyn before departing.

"I suppose that you're right about that," Porter has to agree with Bhandn. "If Bree finds out that I'm in large public spectacles with you without her present to cheer /you/ on in our contest, then I'll be in a lot of trouble at home." He holds both of his hands up as he has relent on the matter due to that alone. "It would be unfair to compete when you haven't had anything to eat. Alright, alright. We'll find a time when you're well rested and fed."

Roran has his cheerful demeanor just ever slightly change with a mix of a frowned concern seeing Mathis play with his bread and bolt. There's a long sigh given out before he pulls a kitten from some pocket and gives it some pats on the head. The purr is audible as Roran is looking across the tables at this face or that face. A nod towards Porter and Felix. Hearing about the disciples of Death, he says "Some would say death is the simplest of cures, a return to the Wheel to try and try again like a carnival lucky wheel to see if you're going to spin closer to the right goal. But with Bastion and places of such revolting and vile taint of the abyss, Lagoma's fire cleanses and purifies to a level like no other."

"Yet one must know how to use this." Wilhemina adds gently, taking a sip from her water as she studies the Archlector. "Without proper knowledge of invocations, you simply have a fire that you cannot control." She rests the glass down, her eyes flickering to the exit where Mathis had left. Her brows furrow in thought.

Oswyn examines the bread basket on the table in front of him. Then he squints in the direction Mathis went. Back to the bread. Indecision. Oswyn opts against the bread and tucks into some vegetables.

Cufre turns toward the godsworn tables upon hearing the mention of death, not necessarily marking the source of the comment, but looking to those in Roran's vicinity. Her expression is thoughtful, considering, with a press of the lips that might, in some, indicate words being held back.

Roran says, "Knowledge without wisdom is a dangerous thing, I completely agree. Knowing of a thing doesn't mean knowing how to do it. And knowing how to do it doesn't mean you know when to do it, right? While Lagoma spurs us to act, that doesn't mean acting in a way that isn't furthering the good work of the gods, nor saying you're acting to act and try scooting out of accountability for your choices. Beloved Sentinel keeps us accountable, Skald encourages us to choose wisely, even the Thirteenth has us give pause to make sure we're not just leaping to whatever idea pops in the old dome. You're absolutely right, sister." towards Wilhemina. "Did I ever mention that Mathis makes a most delicious roast beef? You'll have to find a way to invite yourself to his home on roast night. Beautiful. And how did any of you spend First Bloom?""

There's a quirk of an eyebrow from Bhandn in Porter's direction, when Porter mentions Bree cheering Bhandn on, but the older knight doesn't press that particular point. He noted it, though! "Getting in trouble with a woman you live with is the fastest way to sleeping alone in the rain," Bhandn says, trying to sound sagacious now. But that's all he says, and doesn't go on about the subject. Instead, he lifts a hand to Porter as if in farewell and turns to go back to his seat to eat. He's said his piece and his stomach is rumbling, so he withdraws from conversation and spends the rest of his time filling his stomach.

"It is..." Porter agrees grimly, staring off over Bhandn's shoulder as if trying to imagine a circumstance where Bree would lock him outside for longer than five minutes. It's a grim future that's being suggested to him! He shudders. "I'd have to sleep under a tarp." No. He has other places he could sleep, surely. He's hassled Bhandn for long enough so when the man makes with his departure, he waves the knight off and finally returns to the table with the rest of the Godsworn. He seems surprised by Mathis' quick exit and lifts a hand but- he's gone already. When he takes up his seat at the table again he remarks, "I still haven't met the newest Archlector! I'm afraid I'm not being a very good host. Gild would probably be disappointed. Tsk, tsk." He reaches for his cup.

"I'm glad to hear this, Blessed Roran." Wilhemina's features seem to warm at this, as if greatly reassured. "There's a concern, what with many writings becoming known to people once again, that people will act without temperance." She takes a bite from her plate of food. As to the question, her voice is fainter than normal when she responds. "First Bloom? I... did some ceremonial plating in a village I was once the Seraph of." She pauses, blinking. "A very long time ago." Odd thing to say since she seems pretty young.

"Some gardens in the Lowers," Oswyn says after chewing a mouthful of food and swallowing. "A little project near the orphanage."

Rising from the table on the excuse of getting something to eat, Cufre overhears Oswyn and pauses to insert herself into the conversation. "A new project? Or that old one for the garden on the hill?" She remains standing, so it seems to be a temporary disruption on her part.

Cufre has a pastel shadow, as Caprice follows her with drink in hand to get-more-food-and/or-eavesdrop on other tables; for now, she's content to stick with the listening part, though she shifts focus briefly from Roran to acknowledge Felix with a more familiar smile - a bob of her head in greeting to the others.

Roran pops the kitten in the pocket as it's snoozing and begins to help himself to this or that to make little piles on his plate. Before he takes a bite he says "We thank you gods for the bounty we're about to eat, may it nourish our bodies as we nourish our souls with communion as we're gathered here today. Bless those who can't make it today for reasons of health or duty, we remember those recently parted and look forward to the time we're reunited. May Dominus Aureth continue in good health and strength as he leads us to do your good works. Lagoma, let us forgive the slights today to blunt the sting of harm so we might mend."

Then Roran pops a bite of meat in the mouth to chew and listen on what they've done on First Bloom. A ceremonial planting, gardens in the lower by the orphanage. Each get a nod of approval. "I love spring, that feeling of newness you can feel. That warmth of the sun, the smell of the rain on freshly tilled soil. Forests alive with songbirds. Rather merry time isn't it. I feel it'll be important to look after the wildlife and wilderness around Bastion and the forests that normally are the bounty of life for so many. It's looked after us for a very long time with sustenance, time for many to help look after that around Bastion. Very much looking forward to helping Mathis and following his lead there. That's the lesson from spring, little things grow into big things. A small bud today is a beautiful Torian rose soon. That little acorn?" looking at the sister's eyes with a smile. "A tall oak. We're not expected to move mountains with our faith, we're expected to move though."

Aendal, a jumpy and introverted bookworm leaves, following Bhandn.

"Lovely prayer. My eyes will grow into a tree?" Wilhemina asks with an arch of a sharp brow at the Archlector's words before she turned to Porter. "Blessed. Thank you for holding this. I had hoped to speak with you one of these days. Both of you." She glances between them before taking another drink. "I'll send a message in due time."

"Oh. Another prayer," Oswyn says. He smiles and nods along. Then he squints over at Cufre, picking his satchel up from beside his chair. "I'm not sure if it was new or not. There was dirt there and things needed to be planted, so I'm sort of hoping it was a new thing and not something that suffered some horrible fate to cats lying down on it or something."

"Your eyes are growing into trees?" Porter is now looking between Roran and Wilhelmina with equal amounts of confusion for the pair of them. He starts to inch his chair away, "I don't want to interrupt your private conversation, by all means." He doesn't know what's going on here, but he's not going to try and interfere in it! A glass of wine is taken up and he drinks from it while staring up the ceiling. When it seems Wilhelmina is addressing him however (and not about her eyes), he looks down and blinks a few times. "Me? Oh, of course. Please! I enjoy getting letters. Write away."

Roran says, "Letters are nice, I prefer chats over a cup of tea. I might forget to write back as I tend to be out and about more than I'm around any given place for long.""


Felix gives Caprice and Cufre a smile, and a bow of his head. "Guildmaster, Mistress Cufre. A pleasure to have you both here. I hope the day has found you well?" falling quiet for the prayer, before something in the mixed conversation brings a laugh from him.

"Not a private conversation. Blessed Roran compared my eyes to acorns earlier and now he's speaking of acorns turning into an oak." Wilhemina says to Porter with what seems to be the faintest hint of amusement. "I may have been razzing him a little." She rises from her seat. "Sure, messages. Meetings. Some things are better discussed in private." Is all she says before giving a nod around the table. "I hope to see you all soon enough. Thank you for the meal but I have some work to finish up before I turn in." She gives Felix a familiar pat on the shoulder before she heads off. She doesn't walk back upstairs though, but outdoors.

The rise of color in her cheeks chases the realization that in her hurry to get food, Cufre missed the prayer while catching the solemnity that followed. This realization softens her response to Oswyn, the words coming more gently than her interruption, "It could be both, but if no one is bothered by it," she shrugs. "There's nothing to be bothered by." The calm in her tone lifts the shortened vowels that mark many of the Lowers-bred. "If you haven't already, it might help to speak with the Council." That would be the Commoners' Council, probably. She shrugs again, then looks to Felix, smiling. "It has, Archlector. Well enough, thanks." Pleasantries before she heads back to her table, where her focus quickly shifts to the food on her plate.

"It finds me increasingly confused," Caprice replies to Felix, amusement bright in green eyes. Her attention follows Wilhemina's exit briefly before sweeping back across the table, "Eye-trees and insects and letter-writing.. tea, I'm unfamiliar with generally, but less puzzled by," she directs to Roran. "Do you have a favorite brew, Archlector?" She turns out a bit as Cufre moves back to the other table, lingering a bit longer at the Big Kids one.

Oswyn rises from his seat, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. "That's a good idea," he tells Cufre with a squinty smile. "I should do that. Maybe more gardens would be possible." To the room at large, he gives a little sort of half bow. "Please excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. Also I'm afraid of the bread."

Oswyn has left the a tall table for godsworn.

Porter is overheard praising Bhandn.

Roran waves goodbye to folks needing to head off, he's still eating the food on his plate. The bread is picked up, sniffed at, and then plunged into scooping up gravy with bits of meat before eating it and considering the question posed towards him from Caprice he says "Oh it depends on the company really, doesn't it. I've a soft spot for this chamomile citron tea for late evening chats when folks are bothered by something and can't sleep. Helps relax them. Or a spot of black cherry tea in the afternoon. A strong black tea with milk and honey in mornings though to brisk the mind on brighter and better things is a favourite to face a new day full of new challenges."

Cufre takes the opportunity of being around strangers at the Little Kids table to work her way through her plate. It's not exactly scarfing, pacewise, but she clears the thing. She engages in light conversation, polite smiles, and is soon saying her goodbyes.

Cufre has left the a tall table for disciples.

1 Templar Knight guards, Ralph the wrecking messenger goat, Alatess, an angry hairless tan cat, Syeira the Rivenshari shop assistant leave, following Felix.

"Does it?" Caprice answers the rhetorical question with a question of her own. But she listens to Roran's list, attentive to it, for all that there's no sign of familiarity with the choices. "I'll try to keep that in mind," she promises him, beginning a retreat, "in hopes of finding you for a chat sometime when it's less crowded. I hope you enjoy the dinner!" she bids him before returning to the disciples tables, to finish her own small plate and eventually depart, as well.

Caprice has left the a tall table for disciples.

Fiore, the elegantly long-limbed androgyne leaves, following Caprice.

Roran finishes his food and gives thanks to the disciples and other godsworn that helped serve and make it. heading to the door, the cats seem to get up and follow him out. Mostly.

Roran has left the a tall table for godsworn.

1 Templar Knight guards, a playful black tortie kitten leave, following Roran.