The courtyard at Seawatch Sanctuary is bright with early spring blooms and refreshed topiaries after the long winter. Event staff have been hired to assist guests, providing blankets and cushions for those who wish to stake a claim on the large lawn. They are also there to provide drink refills and keep the courtyard clean. Several carts of varying types of food have been arranged along the path leading to the Sanctuary's entrance, where a bar has been placed to ensure staff can keep an eye on who enters the building. Those who wish to eat can find fruits, cheeses, sliced meats, cookies, pickled vegetables, nuts, and tiny chocolate tarts. Medeia and Klavdiya, her assistant, are standing just before the carts to greet guests.

Grady is in high spirits, chattering cheerfully away to Mortimer with a genuine spring in his step as the two of them come into the courtyard, flanked by Grady's two guards. "... wonderful poets in Arx, simply wonderful. I have been looking forward to this, you know. And you see, here we are. The weather has turned for the better, the sun is shining. I really do think everything is going to be okay." Mortimer's looking at him like he's not sure if his employer's slid off the edge of sanity for a moment, until Grady laughs, pats his shoulder, and sends him off.

Merek walks along and into the sanctuary, while he takes the time to pull his scarf along his face, and will find a place to settle in and relax, lifting the flask he keeps his whiskey in to his lips to take a sip, then he's leaning back to listen to the discussion that's on poetry.

2 Prodigal reavers, Mykael, Oswyn, Raven arrive, following Haakon.

A soft melody of jingling bells echoes through the Upper Boroughs, then rolling into the courtyard at Seawatch Sanctuary with a bounce in step is Mattheu Rivenshari. Almost upon the heels of Grady's assistant, "Hello again Lord Grady!" The young Rivenshari might be yelling on purpose to watch Mortimer bounce. Turning towards the carts with assortment of treats and filling an entire plate with chocolate tarts and one single slice of meat, and several cookies. As he nibbles upon a cookie there's a nod to Medeia, giving additional chimes of the bells tied to hair and upon his scarves. Wiping for any crumbs from the cookie at his lips with part of said scarves then smiling to their host. "Lady Medeia, it is good to see you again as well." A turn to Merek as his jaw nearly drops open, "Why are you so dark!?"

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

Merek checks dexterity and stealth at normal. Botch! Merek fails completely.

Haakon arrives slightly late, his steps steady, save for a brief wobble when he turns too sharply. His left hand holds a faceted glass bottle, and he is mid conversation with Raven and Oswyn when they arrive.

Raven has an arm around Oswyn and is leaned companionably against him. She laughs at Something Haakon says and then turns her head and mutters something against his ear with an added giggle as he steers her oblivious self around hazards.

Oswyn is but mildly flushed when he arrives with Haakon, sort of supporting Raven. Because out of the two of them, he is not the strong one that goes leaping into battle and climbs up rigging and stuff. "Mmm, maybe later," he tells the Blackheart.

Mortimer has years of experience dealing with his employer's nonsense and is, as a result, pretty good at keeping his composure. He neither bounces nor jumps, but does take himself out of the way.

Grady, in the meantime, turns on his heel towards Mattheu and beams a smile at him, so pleased to see him, apparently, that he borders on giddy. "Lord Mattheu! I don't suppose you've come to recite a poem? Or will you be providing musical accompaniment?"

Cesare drifts in, as much as someone who is clearly in a hurry can drift, from his meeting at Whisper House, doves fluttering behind him. "Lady Medeia, I'm so sorry for my tardiness - Lady Saccharin showed up at our meeting and we got to talking about all sorts of things. Hello, Klavdiya." He purses his lips, looking at Loryk. "Hello....Loryk."

Medeia is summarily embraced and kissed on the cheek. "Lord Haakon, have you remembered how long you've been married to this vision of grace, beauty, and loveliness?" Cesare asks, leaning in to give Haakon a kiss on the cheek too. "Blackheart. Brother Oswyn - I have to show you what I've done with that pearl! Lord Grady, hello. Sir Merek."

"Lords Grady, Mattheu, how lovely of you to have come," Medeia smiles brightly, making a soft motion toward Klavdiya. "Will either of you be sharing a poem today? If so, please let Klavdiya know so she can help me call upon poets to present." Merek gets a nod of recognition as he enters, but her attention quickly shifts to Haakon and his surprising entourage. Her brows lift, and as Cesare approaches her - embrace and cheek kiss returned, she murmurs to him, "No apologies needed. It seems a good thing there are so many couches and spare rooms within, hm?" Her gaze flicks to Raven and Oswyn. "Good to see you both. I see you've been in the company of my husband... May I suggest some food and tea?"

"Hello Lord Mattheu!" Cesare adds. "What a lovely breath of spring color you are."

Raven dips into a bow, nearly faceplanting on the deck but managing to stagger forward and upright again before doing so, "Good day, m'lady." She blink-blink-blinks at Cesare, "I do not have words." She returns to stand beside Oswyn, callused hand gripping his shoulder for support. She bahs, " I went to make amends but the salty bastard FORGAVE me. Can you believe that?" slightly indignant for reasons which only make sense to Raven.

Mattheu smiles back to Grady, trying to eat that cookie a little faster before answering. "Possibly both Lord Grady. I hadn't thought of adding music to the poem, though could be. I have taken to bringing my violin with me more often as of late." He turns his head quickly in over hearing Cesare's greetings to the others, catching his tongue in mid slip, "My grump... erm. Raven Blackheart. It's good to see you again." He speaks a little more cautiously before wiping more crumbs from his face with a nod to Medeia. "I do have a poem."

Oswyn murmurs something to Raven. He shoots a broad smile at Media and Cesare. "Thank you. That's... probably a good idea. Especially if there's bread. And I'm pleased you found a use for the pearl, Softest. It has a far better home with you than me." He squints at the others present and nods his head. A nod for Mattheu as well. Yes. Definitely bread.

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

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

Merek nods a little bit to Mattheu, while he chuckles. "Ah, nice to meet ya, I really like the style," the man admits.

"Poetry with music! You know, I never thought of... Wait. Isn't that what a song is? Except the poetry is called 'lyrics'?" Grady furrows his brow at Mattheu for a moment before Medeia approaches them. "Oh heavens no," Grady laughs to her. "While I'm not opposed to looking foolish in general, there are limits, and making an attempt at poetry falls far on the far side of those. No, I have come only as an adoring audience, but I think you will find me more than adequate in that role. Softest Cesare. Hello."

Raven draws in a deeeeep breath and turns her glassy-eyed gaze to at Cesare, "Whisper." she greets before her lips purse and her gaze returns to MAttheu. She bows politely and still somewhat unsteadily, "Raven, or blackheart, my lord. Blackheart is a title not a name. If you must be formal Blackheart Raven." She gestures towards Oswyn, "Have you met the DELIGHTFUL Brother Oswyn? IF you have not today is your lucky day. Brother OSwyn, This is lord Matteu Rivenshari."

Cesare holds up one finger and disappears into the sanctuary, which is...where he lives. He returns a few moments later bearing an earring, which he deposits into Oswyn's hand with a small smile, curling Oswyn's fingers around it. "I'll share a poem, of course, my darling lady," he offers to Medeia. "With the caveat that I will go last so I have time to revise - I've only scribbled something down without much chance to fine-tune it."

Haakon chuckles to Cesare's greeting. "So I have, Whisper. Some folk say it feels they've been we'd forever; to me it yet felt fresh." He adds to Raven's introduction of Oswyn, "He's a Churchman with a sense of humor, if you can believe it." A call to Klavdiya, "And I for the list, as well." Lower words are given to the hostess.

"Oh, very nice," Oswyn says, examining the earring Cesare's placed in his palm. "Much better with you. My ears aren't even pierced. And hello, Lord Mattheu. You're very... bell-y. With the bells." Slightly flushed means Oswyn possibly also had a bit to drink. "Very bright." He makes an amused noise when Haakon declares him to have a sense of humour.

Medeia's head tilts, a glow of amusement as she watches Raven bow and explain. "My lord husband is /not/ a bastard, but I can agree on salty." One corner of her mouth twitches as she tries to retain some formality. Loryk, who had been standing watch at the entrance to the sanctuary proper, tries not to pay attention to Cesare. He fails. Medeia also fails at not smirking. With the shake of her head, she claps her hands together and gives Mattheu a grateful nod, and then a soft laugh for Grady's response. "Of course, my lord. Please, make yourself comfortable wherever you like. This /is/ a picnic." Klavdiya is making notes, nodding to Cesare about letting him go last, frowning at Haakon. One of the lady's arms slips behind Haakon, her head tipping to hear him. Whatever has been said leaves a faint flush of pleased pink on her cheeks. "Right, well, shall we get started?"

"You give me far too much credit," Cesare says, shaking his head at Oswyn and laying a hand on his shoulder. "You would have done fine on your own, and you're the one who deserves the accolades for getting the documents out of the tent in the first place." He chuckles, grinning at Medeia, grinning at Haakon, grinning in general. It is a fairly rare expression, for Cesare, but much more likely around certain people in his presence. "Yes, I want to hear the poems. Has anyone written one for me about trying to escape the tentacles of a giant sea beast? Because that's the one I want to hear first." What? Just...what?

Mattheu bobs his head towards Oswyn, giving another soft singing set of chimes from disturbed bells. "Brother Oswyn." A smile on his lips, "The bells are a mark of the Rivenshari, and my colors are that of the wind." He doesn't pay any attention to the flushing nor drunkiness of the three. Simply nodding to Raven. "I'll get it right yet." as he slowly mouths not all at the same time, "Raven." Mattheu finally slips to sitting under the tree with his horded plate of chocolates and cookies, the single slice of meat is currently being nibbled upon.

Haakon eyes Cesare, before muttering to Medeia: "You can't blame me that one. He's just that way."

Raven bobs her head, "OF course, my apologies m'lady." She looks to Cesare, "I reckon I owe you, Cesare. IF I may ever be of service you need but to ask. Probably best you wait til I'm sober though. Full disclosure." She blink-blinks and eyes Cesare. Softly to Haakon, "I thought this was a family friendly event?"

Something seems to dim Grady's mood just a tad, but not enough to wipe the smile from his face; he started out pretty spirited to begin with. He ambles away, off in search of a cup of tea and some crackers or something.

Grady has joined the bench near an octopus topiary.

"Not even pierced," Oswyn tells Cesare, like a vague sort of protest. He turns his head to squint at Raven's earlobe curiously, then clears his throat. "Best to find a seat. And food." He starts steering them toward such things.

Raven has joined the picnic and games lawn.

Haakon regards Raven evenly. Family friendly? "It is. I've family," a tilt of his head toward Medeia. "And she's friendly."

Oswyn has joined the picnic and games lawn.

With the shake of her head, Medeia glances at the list Klavdiya holds and then moves to the center of the lawn with a smile. "Hello everyone and welcome to - what I hope will be the first in a series - the poetry picnic! Today I have chosen to highlight an emergent poetic form called the 'Triad' which I hear is inspired by the Faith: three lines, thirteen syllables each. I'm rather taken with this form, given how /compact/ it is, and yet can express so much." There's a sparkle in the lady's eye as she looks around at the guests. "I wrote one, which I admit is no award winning poem, and shared it in the whites this past week, but I will share it here as well to get things started!" She takes a breath and then recites:

"A poem can lift the sunken spirit, truth written,
bringing to light those hidden wounds, healing balm spoken,
allowing growth to flourish in those who will listen."

Once done, Medeia smiles again. "Alright, enough from me! Lord Mattheu? Would you share your poem with us?"

Mattheu looks up from wrapping that slice of meat around a chocolate tart and is in mid bite as Medeia calls to him to be next in sharing a poem. With bells sofly singing out as he stands, then taking a long and slowly exaggerated feline like stretch with arms over his head and feet slipping until he's nearly reaching the ground with feet still planted firmly in position. As if to defy the will of the gods and gravity he is then perching upon one leg with the other tucked to inside of thigh in a quick motion to stand upright. A deep breath is taken, with a poem of interesting and cryptic message.

"Declaration within traditional difference,
brings a positive determination of messenger,
where delivery comes invisible position."

There's a sing-song motion to the young Rivenshari's poem, small breath and pauses between each line. Then settling upon the last words, / invisible position / where a faint smile curls upon crook of lips and he brushes his hand through bells tied into his hair. Curiously, as fingers first touch each bell, they begin to sing out, then become very quiet as the next starts to chime, until all bells that his fingers have passed over are silent.

Mattheu continues to hold his perched stance with a small smile and turn to Medeia where bells upon his scarves chime but the ones in his hair do not. "I hope that was alright?"

Raven Settles down for a snack, listening to poetry and talking now and again to Oswyn.

Cesare applauds Medeia's poem. "A good message too," he agrees. "Jayus-approved, I imagine." He slips over to obtain a glass of wine before moving to stand with his patron and her husband, looking over the assembled guests at the picnic. When Mattheu performs his poem, Cesare is delighted by both the musical aspect and the words of the poem, raising his hands to applaud again. "Very nice, Lord Mattheu! A wonderful and timely message."

Oswyn puts the last bite of cookie into his mouth so he can raise his hands to applaud.

Medeia settles down, leading Haakon to take a seat next to her on a blanket upon the lawn. A quick smile is flashed to Cesare before she watches Mattheu with interest, taking in the dramatics of his movementsand peculiar jingling and silencing of bells. "My lord, I'm not sure poetry can ever be wrong. Yes, it was alright." A warm smile is given. "I am glad to have heard it." She leans in to say something quietly to Haakon before nudging him gently. "You turn."

Raven applauds and then her eyes widen at something Oswyn's said. Her glassy geen-eyed gaze starts sweeping the scenery and she clutches at her satchel.

Oswyn says something quiet in reply and pats the Blackheart's shoulder in a reassuring manner.

Haakon mutters to Medeia, before she tells him it's his turn. "So be it then. A cheerful little line to mark the new season," he notes in preamble, before drawing a deep breath to speak. His voice is loud, rough, and none too sweet.

":mutters to Medeia, before she tells him it's his turn. "So be it then. A cheerful little line to mark the new season," he notes in preamble, before drawing a deep breath to speak. His voice is loud, rough, and none too sweet.

"As white isles grow green with spring and as the days grow long,
Once more to oars and foeman's shores, to raise a steel song.
So we hail our Goddess fair, and so our house grows strong."

With a raise of dark brows as Haakon is urged to participate, Cesare watches with great interest, chin resting on knuckles. "Well done!" he cheers, applauding when the poem is finished. "Oh no, mine is sort of about spring too. I suppose that's a reasonable theme, though."

Raven blink-blink-blinks and her brow furrows while she peers at Haakon. She lifts her hands and applauds politely but she looks SO confused.

Oswyn brushes some cookie crumbs out of his beard and also applauds Haakon. He looks less confused and more pleasantly surprised.

There is a beaming smile on Medeia's face as she notes the confusion and surprise on people's faces after Haakon recites a poem. "Thank you." She slips her hand into the crook of his arm and rests her fingers on his upper arm. A glance to Klavdiya to get the next poet. "Oh! Cesare, dear, it seems to be you."

Cesare steps forward. "Well," he says. "I've done three sets of three as one poem, because I'm used to expressing my thoughts in longer form. They /could/ be taken separately, but they're meant as one." He shrugs, looking to Medeia with a little lift of the corner of his mouth, before straightening his shoulders and folding his hands in front of himself.

"A touch of breath, soft as a spring breeze, upon my cheek:
A whispered word, so low its meaning can't be found;
But meaningless though it may be, in this too is art.

The silver glow of the glass-smooth sea just before dawn
Exhalation turned to frost-smoke by birth of spring
The sublime hides in even these smallest of moments.

A gentle kiss of eyelids which heralds sleep to come,
A miasmal spectrum behind, teasing out unknowns:

Rise from this renewed, ready to hope, ready to dream."

Raven is distracted by the poetry by something Oswyn says and there's a look of shock followed by an expression of abject horror.

Mattheu has taken back to sitting under the tree and is enjoying the tarts, instead of clapping after a poem he shakes his head in a wobble which gives the bells a chance to sing out in their soft melodies.

Oswyn applauds Cesare and innocently munches on a cookie in the face of Raven's horror. Crunch crunch crunch.

"A triad of triads!" Medeia exclaims, looking at Cesare in delight. "How interesting!" There's a look around. "Cesare, I know I promised to let ou go last, but I'd be a terrible hostess if I didn't ensure everyone who wishes to share had a chance. Would anyone else like to recite a poem?"

Oswyn squints an eye at her. "Conversataion," he tells her, shrugging a bit and looking toward Medeia as she calls on the rest of them. He doesn't volunteer!

Grady has left the bench near an octopus topiary.