Reedy, a King's Own aide arrives, following Corban.

3 Proscipi veteran guards, a soft grey rabbit with huge floppy ears, Sunshine, a golden peach blonde palfrey arrive, following Cassiopeia.

ST: The celebration has been going on for three days and it continues into it's final night. The sun has begun to drop low and torches light the way to and from the Lodge and Arx Gate. The maypole dance is going to start soon, lanterns lighting the area and the stage.

Aconite is out in the circle that's been cleared out for dancing. Helping to arrange the last few details of the ribbon dance.

The Garden Party at the pavilions has wound down into something quiet and almost intimate. Anticipation budding for the act of the ribbon dance and the destruction of the flower sculptures. Some people have been here for days; some slept nearby.



Sir Corban has not slept here for days. Duty calls. So on and so forth. But he has come out for this, the final day, and he bows his head to the hostess that is here helping with the arrangements for the ribbon dance. "Whisper Aconite," says the First Captain politely. "Is there anything I can help with as you make the final preparations?"

Gianna has definitely not been here for days. Or slept here. This is about as close to nature as Gianna tends to get. There are rumours she went camping once but those are a bit hard to believe. Regardless, this event is nature refined to a point she can participate comfortably in. Also? Tiny cakes. Big fan. Though she's branched out to finger sandwiches. Sometimes she pauses to give instructions to random hired bards, or they fuss at her with questions, which she answers.

Flowers. Each one unique. Even when they are same, there is always a nuisance, something that makes that one exceptionally special. Cassiopeia is already here, the tall Marquessa towering over many of those around her. The young woman wears a bright smile, it is easy on her lips, natural. It's not hard to be taken by all the beauty, and it provides her with a sense of whimsy. Moving between tables and arrangements, sandalled feet glide easily, though she seems somewhat unaccustomed to a traditional skirt. It requires some navigating and careful planning. "Welcome," she would tell people, her voice laden with a distinctly southern accent. Somewhere deep in her expression is tension, brought on by the state of things, but today she is here to celebrate and to host. Two things, the Arakkoan woman takes very seriously. "Please come, enjoy yourself, let me know if you have any questions," she murmurs, she doesn't speak to anyone in particular, rather she mingles.

ST:
Aconite is just finishing helping one of the dancers to get her flower chain crown into place before she dashes off to join the gaggle of people eyeing the ends of the ribbons excitedly. She smiles to Corban, "You can help being the sculptures in closer and out of the fields in preparation for their sundering." The dark-eyed Whisper suggests.


The Tiny Cakes tonight have been added to, in addition to the lush curd filled lemon cakes and the delicious spongey honey cakes there are also flower flavored concoctions. Rose and cardamom, lavender and lemon, hibiscus and berry meringues. Many of the juices have been mixed with liquors to encourage the flower festivals finale to be truly enjoyed in Lycene style.


Gianna is almost constantly being interacted with by fans. Curious people who want to know all about her song, if she'll be dancing or singing again and all the typical questions of people enamored with the Nightingale.


Cassi too has people who gravitate in and out of her presence, congratulating her on the festival or various accomplishments over the last few months.

Gianna lives for this sort of thing. The adoration of fans. She is, of course, very gracious. Is she singing again? Oh, probably not at the festival. Will she dance? She did hurt her ankle recently at the Saikland Vineyards, but she might! The Nightingale mingles, drink in hand. She inclines her head to Cassiopeia, giving her a curious top to bottom and back look.

Cesare drifts into the floral utopia greeting those he comes across, with a gracious nod for everyone and a faint smile for a few fortunate individuals. It was a long night last night, between his performance and the Assembly of Peers, but the Softest is still warm and willing to engage, and he finds one of the lemon curd filled cakes - more tangy than sweet! - to munch on as he peruses the sensory delights.

3 Proscipi veteran guards have been dismissed.

a soft grey rabbit with huge floppy ears have been dismissed.

Sunshine, a golden peach blonde palfrey have been dismissed.

When the Whisper asks Corban to help with bringing the sculptures in closer and out of the fields, Corban nods his understanding. He is, after all, big and strong. He can do this! And so it is that he marches out to the outer fields and wraps his arms around the sculptures, liiiiifting the up to carry back in closer to the maypole. Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.

As people greet each other and chat, Cassiopeia walks over towards the snack table, to make sure everything is in order. Oh look, one of those tiny cakes is not where is should be. The young woman looks aghast. There is only one solution. Long, slender fingers reach for it and it less than a moment, cake between lips and problem solved. Cassiopeia looks around, as though she was committing a great crime. She is sure to wipe any evidence from her mouth before she is back within the crowd, all smiles and warmth. "What a beautiful day, perfect for something like this!," she exclaims. A smile is given to Gianna, "Nightingale, so lovely to see you again," she tells her. Cesare is blown a kiss when she sees him pass by. Corban is given a polite nod of recognition and appreciative look for his sculpture lifting. The Marquessa returns to her mingling, making sure people are aware of all the festivities for the day.

ST: Given the hour the people who are here are partaking in libation and the dance area is crowded safe for a space that's being policed by Apprentice Whispers who wrangle the tipsy dancers away from the ribbon weaving event. But it looks like it's gearing up. According to the people helping attend it will start shortly after the sculptures are moved into place at the center of the celebration. They are -heavy- though and it's taking a lot of manpower to slowly move the massive magnificent wicker and floral creations towards the core of the party. Smaller sculptures are being handed of to stronger back that offer themselves. Corban is loaded with a floral sculpture that looks like a marble statue of a woman and despite the fact it's made of flowers it feels about as heavy.

Cesare isn't without his flock of fans either. Many people interested in the song and performance that the fashionable Whisper had given. People wondering if the Softest is going to engage in the wanton destruction of the art at the end of the evening.

The wine flows so freely a few people have already passed out amidst various flowerbeds. Dreaming in the embrace of the wild blooms.

Aconite is pulled away to yet another background problem that needs sorting in the way of all party planners.

Corban checks strength at hard. Corban marginally fails.

"Oooof!" says Corban as he puts the very heavy sculpture on the ground near the maypole, rubbing a bit at his lower back as he does. He must have tweaked a little something when he was lifting that. Lift with your //legs// Corban, not your back! "I'll need to take a very warm bath tonight for that," he mutters to no one in particular, raising a hand to the marquessa. "Marquessa Cassiopeia. Fine to see you."

The Softest will absolutely be participating in wanton destruction. In fact, he takes the opportunity to illuminate a few of the festival goers about the Shrine of Jayus's tradition of destroying the shrine at the end of the year to rebuild a new one. It /seems/ like an overtly Lagoman tradition, but the whole of the Pantheon is invested in the idea of opposing ideals, really. Jayus's disciples must all understand intimately that there can be no acts of creation without destruction also.

Then ... maypole dancing. Oh yes. Even if he ends up absolutely tied up, Cesare will be ribbon dancing. Maybe they can invent Rhythmic Gymnastics. Whispers are known to be very innovative, after all.

Cassiopeia is standing there when Corban nearly drops the statue and her eyes go wide a moment. It's that moment of panic where you either fight or flight and Cassiopeia choses to stand still and watch. Granted the man is not crushed to death by a giant flower woman, so she doesn't really have to intervene, rather she gives him a warm smile. "Hello Sir Corban. It's been a terribly long time, or maybe not, things have a funny way of blurring together. I feel like it was worlds ago. Don't hurt yourself!," she says, that's a greeting of sorts before the young woman wanders off. There is dancing and while Cassiopeia is not at all familiar with the dances of the compact, the young woman does enjoy trying new things. Which is good for a foreigner. A smile grows on her features, lighting her up, eyes sparkling by the time she gets there. A look over at Cesare, it seems like she is going to watch him first, before she tries anything, putting faith that the Softest Whisper will know what to do. The young woman looks excited to par-take, it's brimming within her.

ST: The first bit of destruction of the night happens when a very tipsy minor Oathland's Lord finishes his glass of spiked juice and wobbles and promptly crashes into one of the smaller tables of cakes. Cake and limbs fly everywhere much to the stunned o's and then quick laughter of everyone involved. The frosted nobleman starts lobbing the ruined cakes at various people for their trouble.

The bull and rabbit are finally pushed into place with a final universal grunt as shoulders are put into the world. The smaller sculptures dot the space as well. The human sized white 'marble' statuette wobbles when Corban puts it down, threatening to simply fall onto him before he steadies it.

The Maypole Dancers have already begun to pick their favorite color ribbon to be tied to their wrists. Each one is reminded that they have to weave in and out of the other dancers and then offered a bit of wine prior to their choreographed frolic. Cesare and the Marquessa are no exception and poor Corban appears to have been standing too close because someone has tied a ribbon around his wrist, it's green.

They are -really- pushing the drinks. Someone must be trying to clear out their cellar.



Cesare checks dexterity and performance at normal. Critical Success! Cesare is spectacularly successful.

Cassiopeia checks dexterity and performance at normal. Cassiopeia is successful.

Corban checks dexterity and performance at normal. Corban is successful.

Something is in the air, or in that lemon curd tart, because Cesare looks like he's /meant/ to be attached to the golden ribbon he's chosen, weaving in and out of the other dancers with an easy grace like he's not even trying. (He is.) At some points he even seems to have his eyes closed, simply feeling the rhythm of the music as though it's in his soul somehow, letting his feet and body lead him along.

Cassiopeia picked the right person to watch and she is amazed and yet not at all surprised at how graceful Cesare moves. Having selected a pink ribbon, perhaps to match her gown, she decides at the last minute to forgo her sandals, seeming to murmur some unpleasant words about shoes before she is moving with bare feet. The dance itself is enjoyable and it's clear on her face, she moves her body easily, swaying and spinning and whatever else one does with the Maypole. It's whimsical and she is obviously having fun, the smile on her face is wide and she is forgetting her problems in this moment, laughing and tossing her hair about, because that seems appropriate. "Bravo!," she says of Cesare before her eyes glance about to check those around her, making sure to offer words of encouragement to those that need it.

Sir Corban is not, it must be said, a particularly //talented// dancer. One might forgive him for not taking dances classes in Knight School or wherever it is one learns how to become a King's Own. Yet his skill with his sword makes him nimble enough to navigate the initial steps of the maypole dance, even as he rather looks like a football player ringing around the rosie. "Well done, Whisper Cesare!" calls out the First Captain, duly impressed by the Softest's footwork.

Cesare checks dexterity and performance at hard. Cesare is successful.

Corban checks dexterity and performance at hard. Corban fails.

Cassiopeia checks dexterity and performance at hard. Cassiopeia fails.

ST: The band begins to play something likely, a boisterous Northern tune that encourages everyone to dance not just the Maypole dancers. There's a controlled madness to the dancers motion and the slowly ramping party. The world is frustrating but the festival is just a tiny bubble meant to remind people to enjoy the transitory nature of Spring and Summer and flowers.


The first part of the dance is simple, a few steps forward, a few steps back, then a few steps forward and weave past the person in front of you. And that simple step is easy enough to maintain and everyone seems to keep their footing and no one drops or trips on their excess ribbon. There are only a few minor collisions but nothing yet to completely derail the forming colorful p[lait.

But the harder part is yet to come. For when the plait is formed it then requires, for successful completion, for the ribbons to be unwound in -perfect- reversal. And for most the liquor has worked through their systems with the physical efforts.



Simple enough. At least it seems so, for Cesare, who is reversing through the steps with fleet feet even as the dancers around him fall, stumble, or get tangled in their own ribbons. Cesare is just dancing, okay? Keep your falling down stuff away from him, he has a pole to unwind. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Ohhh dear.

That's when things get complicated. While no one has seen Cassiopeia drinking at the festival, she's probably had a few in the background, to help deal with all the social responsibilities of hosting. There are so many ribbons and people moving with Ribbons and Cassiopeia's ribbon is long, but she's especially tall and her legs are easily trapped. The woman is mid-dance when she feels that fatal tug, having got caught in something or other. It takes her a moment but she is loosing her balance, knocking into people, or they are knocking into her, she's especially tall, so hard to miss. "Oh my goodness!," she exclaims with flushed cheeks as she gets all tangled up.

Okay. One way around done well. But then all you need to do is //unwind// it and although Corban attempts to be kind and unwind, he can only get so far before he is tripping over his own feet, his tweaked back unable to help much in these circumstances. So it is he seems to be hurtling towards Cassiopeia, crashing into the marquessa and ending up next to her on the grass in a tangle of ribbons and limbs. "Oh dear," he breathes, letting out a heavy sigh. "That is no good at all."

ST: The Softest Whisper dances through the sudden clambering and flailing of bodies. Like a Summer breeze flitting over and round people as they catch, tumble and fall. Some in chain reaction and others just because the tight movements of the dance and the free flowing liquor have set them off balance. There are a few survivors though none quite so graceful as Cesare.

Long story short there's a lot of rolling, twisting and attempts to crawl rather than dance to get the maypole unwound. Some people simply giving up to lay on the ground while people unwind around them. This is their life now.

A few people attempt to offer help to the Marquessa though poor Sir Telmar is left to his own devices. Likely because of his near miss earlier with the flower sculpture.

The band has begun to pick up the pace really putting the ebb and flow of the dance floor through it's paces.

The food fight in the third dessert pavilion has become an all out battle. Creampuffs, cakes and even champagne are used like artillery between two groups.

Once the maypole has been wound and unwound, Cesare does stop to assist the poor souls who have fallen victim to their own ribbons, and he is kind enough to not even laugh at them! Well, maybe a little. But he's laughing /with/ them, not /at/ them, really. "I have to say," he asides to Corban, "I am very glad you're not wearing plate." Undoing a knot around Corban's knee. Just how? How? "It would be much harder to undo this if you were. Much harder."

The Marquessa is not allotted many moments to be silly these days and so she seizes the opportunity, readily. The grass is soft and ribbons are everywhere and she watches them twist about as she does nothing to help the situation. Rather she just lets out a laugh, it fills her and it echoes around her. Her eyes are alit and her smile wide, people are a mess and she isn't quite sure if she should crawl, or roll, or just lay there. Hands reach up, as though she is trying to pluck the right one out of the mess, but the laughter has captured her and rendered her helpless to the colourful tangle. When Corban crashes into her, she cannot help but make a joke at his expense when he hits the ground. "I do hope your enemies never start arming themselves with ribbons, good Sir." The blonde's smile flashes and then she is back to laughing and trying to shimmy through the colourful chaos. Then there is Cesare, floating through the ribbons above them all. She tries to clap for him, but her hands can't quite detach enough for it to work so she whistles instead.

"Ah, I shall fall on them if they come at me with ribbons, Marquessa," says Sir Corban, looking thankful to Whisper Cesare as he comes over to untie him. "Thank you, Softest. I appreciate your deft fingers as much as I do your light footsteps today." He goes to pull himself out of the gathering, stepping out of the wad of ribbons that he caused, gingerly. "Perhaps I ought to get a drink before I do something else. Just to be sure."

Gianna has been occupied over by a bunch of children, telling them some sort of story. The ado with the table and the cakes gets her attention, and her eyes narrow as cakes are ruined and lobbed about. The Nightingale closes her eyes for a moment and excuses herself from the children to step back and watch.

ST: Eerily fitting the dusk has darkened further into night. Fireflies have faded. The lanterns within the fields keep darkness at bay an torches set around the perimeter stave off the encroaching shadows of the Gray Forest which lives up to it's unsettling reputation. Thankfully unlike the prior day there are no clouds so the looming moon and glittering stars cast their light into the vast clearing.

Hidden at the edge of the clearing are lookouts, paid to be inconspicuous during the evening portion of events. The crisis beyond the party is not forgotten.

Drinks are still flowing and the party doesn't necessarily look like it's ending so much as reaching a crescendo; silliness and dancing helping to keep the feelings of the space friendly despite the many places and peoples represented in the large outdoor space.


Other dancers likewise held the fallen making sure that no one was truly injured in the mess. The set that the band has played during the maypole dance and food-fight comes to a close finding the party planner on the stage. "Everyone." It's so strange to hear Aconite talk above her usual subdued whisper. But her contralto reverberates when she raises it.

"Thank you all for joining Marquessa Proscipi, Lady Malespero and Myself in our celebration of Spring and it's blooms as they give way into High Summer and the wheel turns towards Harvest." She gestures the direction of the beautiful sculptures, each a passionate work from it's creator that are even now starting to wilt at the edges from the heat.

She falls quiet for a moment.

Left to her own devices the Marquessa has to get clever, tugging through the web of ribbons, but she is determined now to escape. It's a struggle, but perseverance serves her well, and soon she is standing up to her full height, leaving a few bodies in her wake. Smoothing down her skirt, keeping those flowers strategically placed, she eyes up the cakes, this seems to warrant a snack. A smile is offered to Gianna, seeing her entertaining the children was a story. Her eyes light up as she finds a cake that has not been turned into a weapon. It has pink frosting and she is unable to resist. Her guards are about somewhere, no doubt, having not rushed to rescue the Marquessa, can only indicate they are caught up in the food fight, obviously! As Aconite speaks, Cassiopeia flashes a warm smile, "and especial gratitude for Aconite Whisper and the Whisper House for organizing this event!," she pipes up. "And for the lovely performances we had the other day from Nightingale Gianna and Softest Whisper Cesare and to everyone for coming here to be with us today."

Gianna raises her hand to draw attention to herself and then engages in a courtly bow for the crowd. Far courtlier than she generally gives the nobility. There's even a hand flourish.

Cesare applauds warmly for the words from Aconite, waving off the praise from Cassiopeia in favor of keeping the attention focused on the event's organizers. "Well done for a gorgeous event," he calls, his voice easily able to be heard.

Cesare is overheard praising Aconite.

Cesare is overheard praising Cassiopeia.

Cesare is overheard praising Gianna.

Cesare is overheard praising Gio.

Cesare is overheard praising Medeia.

Aconite is overheard praising Cesare.

Aconite is overheard praising Cassiopeia.

Aconite is overheard praising Gianna.

Aconite beams at Cassiopeia and nods her head at the Marquessa as a bright smile crosses her face. After all.. she knows that not everyone really believed how the night was going to end..

Cassiopeia checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Cassiopeia fails.

The young Marquessa gets a glimmer of mischief in her eyes when she receives the nod from Aconite. A warm smile brightens but it cannot hide the excitement for what comes next. Careful with the skirt, she steps up and stands on a chair. It's not that she needs help to be tall, she towers over six feet, but why not? It gets attention and the woman looks over the sight of the festival. Flowers, ribbons, beauty everywhere, but what is beautiful is up to each person. "Spring reminds us of something new, summer sustains life and it prepares us for changes that come with Autumn, while in winter everything freezes and dies so that it can come back new in the next." The young woman's shoulders tense at the mention of winter, but that's neither here nor there. "Thank you all for coming and experiencing the beauty of this year's festival of blooms." A pause and the young woman raises her voice then, "but what was created must now be destroyed. Destroy it all!," Cassiopeia announces, as though those were words she was bound to say at some point. It is with that, that Cassiopeia takes the bouquet and she tries to throw it at someone. Well, that doesn't work at all and the flowers sort of fall apart and rain all over her. Luckily this probably hides the embarrassed blush.

Awkward. Gianna peers at Cassiopeia for a moment, then applauds and adds a whistle for good effect. She leans over to the nearest bouquet she can grab and promptly gives it a good shake over some young woman's head before batting her with it. See? It was intentional. Surely.

As promised the destruction of things and the venting of the Spring and Summers frustrations boil over and petals and wicker goes flying. Cakes and drinks are demolished.

The rest of the night goes as expected. The flower sculptures are trounced and food and drink demolished leaving Apprentices, Aconite and some hired hands to ensure the mess is cleaned up and the fields left pristine for the followers of Petrichor. Though petals remain scattered through the fields as a wilting reminder of the festival.

Reedy, a King's Own aide leaves, following Corban.

Aconite takes Pride of Tor, a large sculpture made of roses.

Aconite takes Hopper's Big Day, a sculpture of a rabbit done in white blossoms.