Briar, a quiet young woman, 6 First Legion Centurions arrive, following Sebastian.

Briar, a quiet young woman, 6 First Legion Centurions leave, following Sebastian.

Briar, a quiet young woman, 6 First Legion Centurions arrive, following Sebastian.

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

Zakhar has left the rows of student seating.

Clowder of the Nine, they have been fed don't let them trick you, Shekies, A black and white marbled cat with yellow eyes, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell leave, following Zakhar.

Clowder of the Nine, they have been fed don't let them trick you, Shekies, A black and white marbled cat with yellow eyes, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell arrive, following Zakhar.

Winter, A Highhill Puppy, Angeline arrive, following Kiera.

There is a curious glance around to see if her Softest Whisper cohort was going to make an appearance. In forested leathers, greatsword, and tabard of Solace does Brigid move forward with liquid poise and opens her mouth to speak before she spots Cesare and actually exhales a sigh of relief, " Today we're going to have a deeper topical focus and it'll be a little less sporadic. I know the first primer was more of a bunch of information thrown your way but know that the intent is to further discussions amongst yourselves. If anything is confusing or you need more clarity, do feel free to ask questions during the primer that I or the Softest Whisper will try to answer accordingly." A pause, "I believe most of you know me but if you don't - I'm Lady Brigid Moore."

It's not hard to pick out the entrance of Lady Monique Greenmarch. The steelsilk, pyreweave, shadowmeld, snakeskin combo might not be the height of fashion but it screams 'hello, I am here' just as much as the signature tumble of fiery red hair and the inviting crimson smile curved on her lips. There

Ian comes in with Kiera. More or less with Kiera. Probably with Kiera. Even when he's traveling somewhere with another person, he always gives off a sense of being alone, thanks to the focus that he fixes on his own footsteps, rather than one whoever he may or may not be with. But they come in at about the same time, so there's that. On entering, he stops walking and looks up, blinking as he scans the room, electric blue eyes moving fast as he picks out details. He's focused on the room itself as much as who's in it -- where the doors and windows are, where the obstacles are.

Cesare, all gleaming iridescite and twilight tones, is, of course, holding court at the front of the room. Notably: there is no chest full of centipedes with him this time, although he would have made everyone gifts if he'd had the time, obviously. Obviously. "Welcome, everyone." He gestures to the spread of food and drink set out - some sweets, mostly savories and light snacks, but of course, the liquors and wines are flowing, along with tea for those who are not so inclined. "Please feel free to help yourselves to whatever you need to prepare your minds for an influx of knowledge. Lady Brigid and I are so grateful for your attendance tonight, in our continued efforts to provide context for the current situation."

Edris enters the lecture hall quietly, not much at all remarkable about the Elwood knight. He finds a seat amongst the rows designated for students, probably closer to the back of the room, and one that affords him easy visual access to entrances and exits. He takes his seat quietly, though his dark eyes move to other attendees, and he offers a polite and respectful bow of the head to those that are familiar.

Zakhar is slower than usual and is still wearing full armor from an assignment, /bits/ of something, someone are being picked off and tossed over his shoulder as he finds a seat. A slow grin sits on his face with very wide eyes, running a hand over his snow-white locks leaving a small trail of muddy brown before looking at his fingers in absolute shock and muttering to himself about not licking his fingers.

Another red haired woman slips in almost immediately after Monique, and whether intentional or not, it definitely has the effect of making her entrance distinctly less noticeable in contrast. She makes her way wordlessly toward a seat near the door, and slumps down into it.

Ryhalt is prepared, as he had been last time, for note-taking and smiles as Brigid and Cesare welcome them. He nods his enthusiasm that there will be more time for discussion this time.

Kiera walk in fairly in tandem with ian but looks about family as she enters and heads that way

Zakhar has joined the ornate cushioned benches.

Watcher has joined the rows of student seating.

Ian sits somewhere near the door, in silence.

Ian has joined the rows of student seating.

Thea steps into the a bit quietly, her arm looped through Drake's. "I'm curious to hear how much more there is to learn,"she murmurs softly to her husband, leading him to sit. Seeing Kiera and Ian, she nod her head. A brief smile on her lips.

Many are already present and seated by the time Prince Sebastian shows up, not particularly notably late -- not one when takes in the prince's usual tardiness, in any case. He arrives just in time to catch Brigid's introduction of herself, gaze flickering that way, before he claims a glass of wine. There's no immediate imbibing as he circulates before dropping into an empty chair.

Caprice has taken a seat early, making sure there is room for papers around herself as well as other people. Notes get voluminous, you know. Quick smiles offered to those nearest, she questions aside to someone, "Were you here for part one? We did some studying off site; tell me later and I can share notes with you."

Kiera has joined the rows of student seating.

Jasher arrives to the lecture hall with a leather-bound folio tucked under his right arm, clad head to toe in his prevailing black severe, funereal black attire. Beryl eyes observe the turnout with minute interest, then turn upon the hosts of this particular event. They are afforded a dip of his head in silent acknowledgement. With that, he moves directly toward the rows to claim a seat in a relatively empty section, then lays the folio out tentatively atop his lap.

Making her way in curiously, Sorrel heads over to find somewhere to sit. She's got a new green notebook in hand in which to take notes, and she's ready to go.

Sorrel has joined the rows of student seating.

Jasher has joined the rows of student seating.

Monique moves towards the refreshments, pouring a glass of whiskey and snagging several sweets before passing by Cesare. The Greenmarch leans in, her voice low, to have words with the Softest Whisper. From there, she claims a seat as if she owns it and perhaps drawn by more red hair, near Watcher.

Drake arrives with Thea, and nods to her as she's talking. "You always take better notes, so, I'll follow your lead." He has a seat next to her, but then looks at Kiera. "Kiera takes better notes, too."

"We're going to start with the Thornweave as they were touched upon briefly in our last discussion but I'm here to shed light on the beginning of when Legion started coming for them specifically and we'll start with the destruction of their home." A pause, a deep breath taken in as if Brigid needed to steady herself for the recounting, "Let it be known that aside from the darkest of hearts and souls, the Thornweave or other houses did not go willingly nor quietly into chains." A pause, "They tried their best to hide within the woods, fusing with the flora around them, and even locking themselves away in order to hide from the many eyes that sought to use their talents against those of us who would stand against Horned God and the Triarchy that was created." A pause, "It was an untimely opening in High Hill that unleashed the crazed Thornweave upon the Oathlands and would bring about the corrupted destruction of many notable villages and baronies. Some of the most notable being the Volkov Woods as that entire family save one was entirely wiped out and Acorn Hill where the ruling Moore family at the time were decimated as was most of the towns people who could not escape in time." The remaining Moore gives a moment, leveling silvery sights and shifting over each individual like fog, "Any questions?"

Cesare checks composure at hard. Cesare fails.

Watcher glances over as Monique sits nearby, eyes clearly touching on the steelsilk before studying the other one's face. It's brief, and she looks forward soon enough. The woman's lips purse faintly at something Brigid says, but her neutral expression remains unchanged.

Whatever is whispered to Cesare makes him turn /very/ pink, and step back with his hands tightly clasped in front of himself so that Brigid can take the lead.

Once more, Sebastian has no notebook, but his assistant, Briar, is presumably taking notes. He catches sight of Monique with a faintly curious smile, and Caprice with a nod, before his gaze turns towards Brigid. "I heard about the opening of the vault -- but do we know who did it? I suppose it doesn't matter so much now, but if it was one of the Traitor's agents -- it would seem we need to identify and guard potential threats like these."

"Yes," Cesare agrees, speaking up after Brigid. "It should be noted that the Thornweave who were bound to Legion had been so bound by writ to Legion, and could not break these bindings by any means under their power - not that I am aware of. The remaining Thornweave, as Lady Brigid's notes suggest, will be, should they choose to emerge, staunch allies against Legion, his herald, and the atrocities of power he uses to bind his servants to him." He looks to Sebastian, and then Brigid, at the question.

Edris listens intently, though the last that Brigid mentions causes his face to go carefully still. There is a deep quiet to the Elwood knight, though he isn't wholly unable to veil the sadness in his dark eyes, his expression empathetic towards the Solace knight.

Jasher listens intently as Brigid recounts the early history of the Thornweave and the subsequent attacks upon domains, her own included among them. Toward the end, the folio in his lap is opened, and the ink-tipped pen in his hand begins to scratch out words upon the clean vellum, his brows furrowing with concentration. Prince Sebastian's question inspires the pen to pause mid-letter, and beryl eyes flit between the inquirer and recipient with interest.

Kiera hms "Did the stuff about Heartswood not relate to Thornweave?"

Caprice dutifully scribes as Brigid speaks, pausing here and then to reference other papers she has with her. The more she writes, the more her attention strays back to study Brigid rather than her penmanship.

Ryhalt narrows his eyes in thought as Brigid speaks. He jots a note to himself, but just listens for the time.

Zakhar sits down and nearly sinks into the ornate bench with a juicy squish, then with some wiggling settles in to listen as closely as he can

"Heartswood is the place known as the City Tree of the Thornweave," Cesare answers Kiera. "It became twisted by the Reflection of Slavery.. It was their home, but is no longer: Now it is a shardhaven, as far as the information I've received conveys."

Watcher runs her thumb down the bridge of her nose, attention visibly flicking between speakers, though now and then there's the briefest of squints toward Monique. "...We know who released them," she says at last, though it's quiet enough, measured. "It wasn't the Horned God's agents." A small pause. "Easily missed in everything else that was going on though."

Ian settles into a deep slouch, arms crossed across his chest, and listens. Or he's probably listening, anyway. It's hard to be sure, because his face doesn't change expression very often.

Brigid passes a look towards Sebastian, a momentary mingling as if weighing the answer on her tongue, "I was once apologized to by a Grayson for what happened in Acorn Hill after facing against Tolv Mora in the House of Solace. She seemed to think that it was House Grayson who was responsible for opening the vault but I never was able to secure a satisfiable answer for that is a very bold thing to state." A shake of head is given, sending sable tendrils drifting about pale features. A nod towards Cesare and Kiera in response to the question and answer, curiously do eyes flicker towards Watcher with a cant of head.

2 House Velenosa Guards, Matteo arrive, following Arman.

Cesare's dark gaze flickers toward the mysterious watcher, and then following her look toward Monique. He's regained all of his lost composure at this point, his face a mask of placid pleasantry, albeit one touched now by curiosity.

Thea leans back, getting comfortable. She listens quietly, scribbling away.

Scritch scritch scritch. Caprice's quill bobs along, looping neat letters together in shorthand recording of the lecture. It's possible the current point is going over her head a bit - that or she's just that focused on scribing.

Sebastian looks faintly surprised surprised, and thoughtful both at Brigid's answer. Watcher's addition has him turning to look in the direction of the woman. "It doesn't seem as if /we/ do," he says, ruefully. "Maybe you'd care to elaborate...?" a spread of his hands, as if inviting her to continue.

Monique says something low to Watcher, looking pleased. Whatever the response, she nods her head to the other redhead and looks back. It's in time to catch Sebastian's curious smile and return it with something knee-melting in return. But it slides fluidly away and back to Brigid at *that* revelation, paired with a raise of brows that almost disappear into her hairline.

Arman makes an unobtrusive entrance and seats himself slowly among the students, not wishing to disturb anyone he makes no attempts at greeting or calling attention to himself, simply folds his hands in his lap and listens.

Arman has joined the rows of student seating.

Ian sighs and rubs his forehead. He mutters something to himself under his breath in a weary tone.

"No, no, we do. It's in my notes somewhere. I have to find it," Sorrel says, flipping madly through her older notebook, which is a shambles of disorganization. "I am sure I have this somewhere."

Kiera follows sebastian's gaze and then to sorrel

"It wasn't House Grayson," the (not Monique) red haired woman says, though she rubs the bridge of her nose again and frowns ceilingward. "Oathlands house. I'm trying to remember the name. That entire mess that happened years ago, where a large number of Oathlands houses decided to start 'cleansing' their territories of the shav'arvani tribes living there? It sprung from two things," helpfully counted on fingers, "One, the Great Road stirring up tensions. Two, this particular house trying to cover up the release of the Thornweave by--Beaucage," she says, as the name comes to her. "Trevor Beaucage. Went killing shavs, killed the shavs guarding the vault, then opened the vault."

"Thank you," Cesare says, retrieving a small notebook from his pocket and writing the name down. "That information is deeply valued; you have my appreciation for recounting it - and doubtless the appreciation of everyone here."

Something in Edris' expression tightens, his breath drawing in slowly. His quill stills for a long moment, expression distant and dark gaze decidedly staying on the stilled quill.

That's apparently news to Sebastian, who nods thoughtfully as Watcher shares her information. "Interesting. Not something I had heard. Thank you," he murmurs. "A lesson, I think, for all of us -- to be careful what we touch, or open, without consideration." He turns his glass in his hands, expression rueful.

Monique bristles at the name spoken by Watcher. "Just as bad as Fournier, Bellerive and Delcambre. Shouldn't be a surprise."

"Yes, part of the Great Road Crisis. Wait, wasn't Trevor a Threerivers?" Sorrel mumbles as she shuffles messy pages. "Or did everyone name their kid 'Trevor' like a couple of decades ago?"

"Might be a lesson to be careful about who we kill," Ian remarks in a flat tone of voice.

Merek walks along and into the place, while he looks around a little, then he begins to settle into a place to listen, while he opens a journal with him and begins to write in it.

"What happened to this Trevor Beaucage?" Direct and surefire was Brigid's question towards Watcher, that tranquil countenance unwavering. A nod is given towards Sebastian then Ian, "Agreed to both statements." There is a flicker of blues towards Merek as he arrives then resting on Alantir, "Tsk tsk, I know Prince Sebastian is known for being tardy but I thought that Valardin Princes might know a bit better." There is very little inflection in carriage of voice, only the quirk of a smile at the corner of mouth suggests she is teasing both.

There is a pause however in await of an answer to Sorrel and herself before continuing on.

Watcher notes, a bit rueful, "or who we kill. Not to put too fine a point on it, but it *is* the second time in recent-ish memory that we've dug ourselves into a deep hole by killing tribes that served a particular purpose we don't know ab--" But Ian has already said as much, and she tips her head toward him. Sorrel's question brings a faint frown. "I'm fairly certain it was Beaucage, because his father was sitting at the center of that shitshow. But it's hard to keep track." To Brigid, "Dead, I think. No idea of the details."

Willen arrives, following Lou.

"Are you including the Silence in that list?" Ian asks Watcher. His thick Isles accent is particularly well suited to the dry irony in his voice, the kind of joke that isn't funny, and isn't intended to be.

Drake listens with great interest as some of this is rather personal in nature. It takes bravery to even mention some of this after all.

"What we open, who we kill - to take a moment of pause to consider -" Cesare inhales and murmurs something, almost to himself, but some of it loud enough to be heard. "Yes, thank you, again."

Monique nods to Watcher as if suddenly remembering something. "Ah, yes, I remember receiving reports from some of my... friends. It was most certainly House Beaucage who unleashed them. "

A twist of lips and the lift of Sebastian's still-full glass towards Ian seems to acknowledge the Kennex's point. There's token protest of the Pravosi prince over Lady Brigid's reference to his tardiness, but it's not something he can honestly deny.

"Yes," Watcher says to Ian. "Or...it led to the Silence, didn't it? It interrupted the Teind and the Nox'alfar responded by beheading every head of house and dropping the king into a magical torture soul sleep."

With the whiskey event ended, Lou Grayson comes strolling into what might be left of the information sharing event. She has at least one hefty decanter of whiskey in her hands, and is probably carrying another with some glasses in her backpack. It's the real fine stuff, super smooth. She takes a moment to gauge where there might be some seats open to settle down.

"No, no, there might have been a Trevor Beaucage as well. There's a Trevor Threerivers, though, and a Trevor Helianthus. Why so many Trevors? I don't know," Sorrel says as she tries to puzzle out the rest of her notes. "And yes, I do think most ended up dead as a result of that. As did Duke Arn Telmar."

Alantir Valardin is caught red-handed. Maybe it's because he sticks out like a sore thumb -- his armor, silver and blue, catching and reflecting the light of nearby flames charged with illuminating the building's interior. Or maybe it's because he's so /loud/ -- loose plates, buckled in a hurry, scratching discordantly against the chainmail tunic beneath. He raises either gauntlet defensively and attempts to make himself as small as possible by taking shelter beside the nearest bastion of resilience he can find: Prince Jasher Thrax. "Tough crowd," the Oathlander murmurs, blowing a huff of air between lips as he sits.

After a few more moments, and as the conversation moves on, Edris relaxes just a little from his statue impression. Though he still takes notes now and then, there's a decided guardedness about the young man's expression.

Ian unbuttons his coat enough to slip a flask out of an inner pocket. His gaze flickers over to Sorrel when she speaks Arn's name and his mouth tightens ever so slightly. Then he takes a drink from his flask of what looks like it could very well be, judging by his non-reaction, plain water. He says something to Watcher as he caps the flask again.

There is a contentment to learn from the conversation that blossomed before glancing to Sorrel, "Which launches us into our next topic. Now, there was a lot of work put in to help understand how we could rid the vine corruption that surrounded the entire barony of Acorn Hill and Volkov Woods in the Roseward. The abyssal taint had warped animals, twisted plant life, and even gave birth to creatures known as Podlings that consumed the heads of their victims and then created warped versions of the thing they consumed." Each of these retellings was told without a waver in voice, as if it were something spoken about many times over to the point where the pain of what was seemed deeply batted down, "It's important to understand that the corruption of Thornweave or Sylv'alfar houses is what led to their abilities being warped for the twisted purposes of those to whom they were bound. It was discovering that various herbal concoctions like Frosthope which grew in Acorn Hill and further south helped to keep bits of the taint penned in or dissolve the vines." A deep breath was taken, "It was finally a beseeching done to invoke Petrichor's kindness that saw Acorn Hill and the Volkov Woods cleansed. It was golden rain that fell, clearing away all that had festered and rotted the lands, it even targeted the wildlife that had become trapped within the abyssal forest pathways. It left Volkov and Acorn Hill being the sources of Goldenwood and it touched upon a few of my father's Moore Lusitano stock thought lost."

"Eventually, it was the work of others in areas near the Twainfort and Deepwood by House Riven that helped see other corruptions dispelled, or so I was told, by using song." A pause, "Overtime, one by one the Thornweave were freed both by sacrifice and the hardwork of diligent believers who did not give up in seeing a heinous wrong righted." Lips part as if to say more on the subject but the Oathlander merely fixes the audience with that austere calm, gaze drifting over each and every person seated.

Beheadings! Good time to refill the nib. Caprice carefully cleans her quill before dipping into an inkpot. With a side glance towards newer arrivals and a quick smill for Lou...and the decanter, she doesn't beckon the Princess over but she might be keeping track of where she ends up with that good stuff.

"House Moore, House Steelhart and House Volvov all died as a result of the release of House Thornweave," Monique supplies alongside Sorrel. "As well as Duke Arn, who will be... missed."

Thea looks up at the mention of Volkov and her lips thin just a bit. She reaches for flask, taking a drink.

Drake nods a few times. He's quite familiar with the fate of the Steelharts, well... considering.

Watcher leans over to murmur a reply to Ian, though she keeps her visual attention on those speaking.

Ryhalt jots notes on a different page for this section of the lecture.

"-Aha-," Caprice blurts when goldenwood is mentioned, her bright smile tempered quickly as she looks around. Ahem. She hunkers down a little more, resuming her writing.

Jasher resumes scribbling notes upon parchment as a deluge of information is divulged. The unmistakable cacophony caused by metal armor shifting and clattering disrupts his train of thought, however, and begs him lift his gaze to observe the presence of Prince Alantir beside him, slowly easing himself into a seated position upon the bench. A faint expression of mirth twitches at the corners of his mouth, but it never fully materializes. He leans in to murmur something in response, his eyes focusing upon Brigid all the while.

Lou finally settles amongst the rows of seating, only showing that she's marginally paying attention. She might end up somewhere closest to Thea.

Lou has joined the rows of student seating.

Thea scoots a bet and makes room for Lou, offering the princess that doesn't like to be called princess a slight smile.

Arman's head simply cants as he listens not bothering to take notes, perhaps he has an eidetic memory or perhaps its because his valet Matteo is sat in a corner scribbling away with a quill with an even deeper scowl on his features.

Kiera hms "were there not not nearly identical creatures and attacks in bastion. Is the ability unique to thornweave versus other sylv'alfar?

"We'll cover the relation to the current events as soon as Lady Brigid is done sharing her information," Cesare acknowledges.

Jeeves, a sophisticated valet , 7 Silvershields arrive, following Rook.

Monique shifts in her seat, offering, "I was told by Sundyrian, the Green Marquis, that the Thrice Sworn has begun to hunt in earnest the remaining Sylv who slept and saw no few die, myself. Do we know if there's any left alive and asleep? There were millions, before the war. Surely there must be some left undiscovered?"

Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a reaver, Fluffy, a wild nanny-cat, 2 Eswynd shieldbearers, Loryk, a cocky but amiable reaver, Butterpup, a Graypeak Mountain Dog arrive, following Medeia.

Rook has joined the rows of student seating.

"What does Onyx have to do with the Sylv'alfar?" Cesare asks immediately, curious and intent. "We spoke last time of another Abyssal servant of Despair's relation to the matter at hand. But her Herald is somehow opposed?" He checks himself, waving a hand. "That should probably be asked later, too."

"I also have a question," Drake says, and raises his head. "The historical information is useful, but... does one consider the Thornweave itself a 'solved' matter? I thought that their threat had ended, but some of the people we've faced are still, for lack of a better turn of phrase. Summoning plants."

"There was at least one sylv'alfar in Bastion," Ian remarks, after exchanging a few words with the redhead who isn't Monique. "She was directing the gargantuan in the harbor district."

Quietly, Medeia pops in from the foyer and takes up a leisurely stance against the wall. She knows she is late, and her lateness can likely be attributed to the fact that she was no more than thirty feet away in the garden taking care of the flower beds. It's no excuse at all, really. If she catches Cesare's eye, she gives him a sheepish grin, but just observes the conversation for now.

Cesare waves to Medeia with a big, bright smile. "I am not letting anyone steal paintings this time," he assures.

Medeia says, "Oh, good. Though the last one did result in a strange conversation and a dawnstone in my possession."

"The Thornweave are free for now, of course. But, I don't exactly know that it means they're free forever. If the Traitor can ensnare someone once, it stands to reason he could do so again. And, he seems to have a particular knack for binding people in general." Lou points out in relation to Drake's question.

There is a glance towards Monique, a nod of head given, "I have heard the same thing and while I've my speculations - I wouldn't air them in so public a format." The thought seems to cause broad shoulders to roll, gaze dropping to the floor momentarily before glancing towards Drake, "Are you speaking about what happened at Bastion? The Thornweave that were bound are to my knowledge freed but there are those who might claim half blood who have chosen more occult paths like the Su'tavi whom I know you are familiar with. If they have the ability to Thornweave or use plant magics, it's that mixed heritage or perhaps a link to the ability in another time that allows them the ability to do so."

Drake looks further confused by this explanation. He sits up a bit straighter, wrinkles his brow, and then asks: "So Thornweave is also a thing you do and not just a thing you are?"

Having slipped in quietly and hopefully unobstrusively just after the start, Rook has spent the duration of the time in quiet contemplation, absorbing the discussion. Mayhaps he is leeching off the conversation, or perhaps simply does not have much to contribute. Either which way, his gaze flitters about to the various speakers, considering their words.

"You haven't the slightest idea, your highness," Alantir murmurs, leaning forward and permitting elbows to rest atop either of his knees. Grey gaze surveys the chamber's interior for familiar faces and names. Not to his surprise, there are many he cannot place. Still, the turnout is impressive. His limited knowledge of the subject precludes him from participating directly -- not without making a fool of himself in front of complete strangers and peers. As such, he remains mostly silent. Intermittently, though, the prince smiles. Stupidly. Slowly, he cants his head toward the austere man sat at his side. "Would you like to watch me make it worse?"

Ian shrugs to Brigid. "I didn't get a good look at her. It stepped on me as it fell, and I was out at that point. But I'm told it was a sylv'alfar. It was suggested that just because someone's free from someone's influence doesn't mean they won't choose to follow them, especially if they think they're picking the winning team."

"The vines have been incorporated into the decoration of the Receiving Room of Whisper House," Cesare notes. "You may examine them anytime you like. It is a public space, of course." A nod to Drake. "Thornweave is a particular form of plant-based magic, involving blood magic, which most of the Sylv'alfar do not use. Practiced /by/ those of House Thornweave - hence its name."

Thea is totally going to still be here, listening and taking notes. Because yeah.

Thea has left the rows of student seating.

Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant, Strawberry Pupcake, the Graypeak Mountain Dog leave, following Thea.

Brigid's lips part to answer but Cesare is there with the answer and a nod is given, there is an acknowledging flicker towards Ian, "Exactly. Given that the ability of Thornweaving involves blood magic, I can see how it would be indeed popular with those who have chosen so unseemly a path which is the case with the woman at Bastion." A glance towards Drake, "If you recall Love's Sorrow, it needed to prick the wielder to drink of them to be used or see if they were worthy of wielding the blade."

Drake responds in a deadpan sort of way. "I mean, I recall it pretty well." He raises his chin just to nod. "But yes. I see."

Zakhar is intently staring at something just behind Cesare as he speaks, sharing the stories and information. His eyes are wider than usual then a quick snap of his attention directed completely towards Medeia as she walks in and he blurts out a mix of incoherent speech before sighing and looking at the floor for a moment.

Zakhar mutters, "The ... was squishy ... I got here, don't know why anyone would think that ... wasn't squishy and ... bit isn't mine. All good!"

Monique's whiskey glass is nearly empty but it doesn't seem to stop her from asking more questions. Always the questions. "I have heard rumors of sacrificing a name for a name, when it comes to Oberion's redemption. Do you know if there's any merit to that?" she asks of Brigid.

Cesare ... looks over his shoulder. He squints. Then he looks toward Brigid again, in response to Monique's question. "There is a Rite of Naming, I believe. I did ask Tolv Mora about it, but he was not forthcoming in his response. Which is to say he grumbled something about not knowing anything about it."

Brigid checks composure at hard. Brigid is successful.

Medeia's brow furrows at Zakhar's muttered words before she turns to look at Cesare and Brigid. A shudder shakes the lady's body at the mention of the RIte of Naming.

Kiera hms "are we certain those freed were the only remaining thornweave

As someone who is often accustomed to being fairly well informed in a room, Rook finds himself in the unique position of being completely ignorant of almost all of the matters being discussed. His interests often having lain elsewhere. But he still remains a studious observer, if not direct participant.

"There are different ways to call a name back to a person. The ritual of naming is only one of them. A name caller can do so without doing a ritual." Lou supplies, furrowing her brow, "And I'm fairly certain no sacrifice is needed for that to happen. It just... works. But that ability is very rare."

Jasher resumes his studious note-taking when the prince at his side lapses into a comfortable silence. This goes on for several seconds, but in the midst of all of the scribbling and conversation carrying on within his vicinity, a question is posited to him. The pen in his hand is ceremoniously laid upon the flat surface of his folio, then appraises Alantir from the corners of his eyes for several moments. "No," is his dryly delivered response. "But you are free to do as you wish, and I will amuse myself at your expense."

"The Rite of Naming?" Sebastian echoes that, thoughtfully, fingers tapping. "What is the purpose of this rite? To give someone their name back, to identify their name, to take it from them...?" each of these have vastly different implications, hence the curiousity the prince displays at the reactions he sees in others.

"The first, I believe," Cesare answers Sebastian. "At least as it was explained to me. Identifying the name - the true name, the name that is attached in some way to the soul - may be part of it. Taking their name from them, no. That's what the opposition does."

"Rite of naming?" Merek asks, looking about the place, then he blinks a bit while he nods, listening. "Does anyone have a name like that?" he asks.

"I'm not surprised that Tolv wasn't forthcoming. There's a lot that he doesn't actually know. One does not tell a knife how to properly arrange flowers. One might use it to cut the stems, but the actual arrangement is not its job," Sorrel points out with a little shake of her head. "Tolv is like a bottle. It was an empty vessel on the battlefield when it belonged to Legion. Now it has been filled up with a name, a personality, a someone. That someone is kind of a jerk, but the analogy stands."

Sebastian gives a thankful nod towards Cesare. "That's a relief. I thought based on the reactions it might have been otherwise. Though I suppose," he muses, with a twist of lips, "like any ritual or magic -- it can be twisted to alternative purposes."

Watcher's only contribution to the topic shift is a small, if intentionally audible, "All magic requires sacrifice."

Quietly, off to the side, Rook ruminates to himself. "A True Name...maybe that is the connection..." Slightly disconnected from the conversation, and to no one in particular.

"It was a life and name that allowed Oberion to be freed the person who paid the price was Sister Juniper - as to his redemption after being so cut free is one that I'm sure will continue for the rest of his life. As I've not spoken to the Thornweave himself, I can't verify that." At the mention of Tolv Mora, there wasn't an immediate comment but any warmth that may have remained shuttered, "To my knowledge Tolv is a poor example to use given what he is and how the Mor'ral are bound since childhood. I don't believe he ever had a name and from what I know it was a number which is why when the ritual was done it did not hold sway over him."

A glance towards Watcher, "Yes."

Medeia's eyes scan the room as she hears familiar voices, taking a closer stock of who all is present. Sighting Rook brings a smile to her face that has her slipping over to sit beside him and offer a quiet greeting.

Edris nods once, to something in the discussion, his expression still distant and sad, but still the Elwood continues his observations and notes.

Cesare's eyes drift to the auburn-haired watcher again. "Yes," he says. "The ... I can't remember, was it Lady Saccharin perhaps, or the Aspect of Liberation? One of them told me, that most people are not like the Mor'ral; they /have/ names, they only need be given back to them. And, Prince Sebastian, you are not necessarily wrong. Magic itself has no intrinsic alignment. Any form can be twisted to good or evil."

Monique makes a soft sound and a nod of her head. "A terrible loss." But in her eyes, a deeper curiosity than before resting solely on Brigid. "I heard the tale of a vision she had before her passing, about Oberion Thornweave. It makes a great deal of sense now. But I think this sacrifice of hers was not the Rite of Naming?"

Drake, on the topic of Tolv, repeats just for clarification: "So Tolv is an exception."

"The harder the hold that Legion has on someone, the harder it is to get them to accept their Name once more," Sorrel notes with a little frown. "If they are recently taken, it can be almost simple to return them. If physically exhausting. But the longer they have no Name, the harder it becomes. The tighter his hold on them, the harder it becomes. It is not a trivial process."

"An - well, there are more Mor'ral than just Tolv. Any who have been bound since birth are likely to be similar to him," Cesare acknowledges. "But any who fell later during their lives, who were not born into slavery, will be - easier? To reclaim? I don't know if 'easier' is the right word." He nods a thankful acknowledgement to Sorrel.

Alantir is silent for several long and potentially uncomfortable seconds before he nods and clasps his gauntlets together, seemingly satisfied with the Islander prince's answer. "Of course, your highness. Sharp blade, sharper mind," the Oathlander murmurs, compliment sincere, as attention settles upon one of the two presenters who had organized the meeting.

So engrossed in thought, or attention to the conversation, is Rook that he starts upon hearing his name, having not even been aware that someone had taken a seat next to him. More jittery than usual, perhaps, although he clearly calms as he recognizes the source and favors Medeia with a smile.

Kiera hms "More than Oberion were supposed to have had their names returned to them, no?

"To my knowledge of what the Rite of Naming is I wouldn't call it that but I can't say that with certainty as it is not my area of expertise." This is response to Monique, "As for the others there were others freed, yes." A pause, "But I do know that Oberion and Juniper were very, very old friends." A glance towards Sorrel and Cesare, giving a nod of agreement with what is being said.

A cough, "Now, the last portion of this is a discussion on Sylv'alfar ties in the Oathlands. It is no secret that there are many Sylv'alfar ties in the various Oathland's houses. There have been interminglings and pacts that were made in days of old that should not be forgotten." There is a curl to lips in a brief smile, "One of them curiously enough being House Redire which had been reborn and led by Baroness Amari. We see even today that House Laurent is born from the ruins of House Durand which was so closely intermingled with those of the woods that they became very much known for being some of the first notable mixed bloods alongside the Lianhan."

"We see particularly in the case of Redire that it is highlighted upon by a ranger that the plans of the Horned God were at work during the time of King Alar, over 500 years ago." An inhale of breath, "It has been a slow, cunning scheme."

At the mention of Amari, Monique's smile grows into one practically beatific and she chooses that moment, in particular, to go and refill her whiskey.

"There were many Sylv'alfar houses beyond Redire and Durand." Medeia speaks up from where she's settled. "Some are known to have been completely wiped out, others may have fled to Farvale." She rattles off a list from memory.

Caprice dips a curious, then appreciative look towards Medeia's contribution to the discussion, and adds a few lines to the most recent page of her growing note pile.

"As a note of curiosity, my explorers tell me that one of the relations to House Laurent had discovered a statue to Grimthog Two-Head, and that it depicted him as a man with two actual heads." Lou remarks idly to those within the room. "So, perhaps it was more than just Sylv'alfar mixing?" A pause, "Lady Mabelle was said to have transported that statue home, it may be within one of her art museums now."

There is a glance to Medeia, Brigid giving a nod of head, "Yes, there were many others and some of them even bled into some of the houses you know today. As for Farvale, that is considered to be the last haven and it is something that will need to be protected at all costs." At Lou's information there is a quirk to lips, "I've love to actually see that, perhaps there is indeed more than Sylv'alfar mixing." It was genuine interest that drifted over the Moore's features then.

"Yes, I saw it, in Artshall," Cesare acknowledges. "Very...strange. But if he was Abyssally corrupted, I think there are stranger things to imagine." He frowns slightly. "Maybe."

Watcher makes a quiet noise in the back of her throat. "Mnn. There were part fomor. Or, I should say, there are. But were then."

"Lady Brigid, over time, everything that could figure out how to get it on did," Sorrel notes wryly. "There are half-everything. Halfbreeds with elves. Halfbreeds with humans. Halfbreeds with demons. And dragons. And spirits. If two things could figure out how to get it on, they probably bred something, whether it was a good idea or not."

Kiera hms "Mingling of all kinds has occurred for quite some time

Despite having brought little in the way of conversation, Rook has taken copious notes of some of the discussions, and rapidly prepares copies to disperse among some of the other attendees.

Ryhalt considers the topic at hand and says after a while, "I wonder if the mix matter in the hatred of 'halfbloods'..."

Lou is nodding her head in some form of agreement with Sorrel's information. "And, what likely mostly infuriates the Traitor is that many of them are more powerful than he, a purebred Sylv'alfar, is." A pause, then a faint smile, "Or, at least, so I've been told in good accord."

"Yeah. Hypocrite in love with a dragon," Sorrel mutters, wrinkling her nose a bit at Lou.

"Mingling," Caprice murmurs over her notes, chuckling softly to herself. "That needs to be in more romance novels."

Brigid checks composure at hard. Brigid fails.

Kiera hms "except that Sylva'far is not pure blood

Medeia takes a mental note of Caprice's wish.

Zakhar mutters, "It's all just one ... ... ..."

Drake chuckles a little at Sorrel's turn of phrase, but it's nothing he didn't know.

At the topic of otherworldly copulation, there is a high color rising in the Moore's cheeks and the Oathlander just listens to the turn of conversation. Brigid glances towards Cesare with brows raise high as if to suggest that she has nothing to add here.

Watcher has been murmuring with Monique, but nevertheless, she seems to notice Brigid's reaction, because there's a faint hint of wry amusement to her eyes and the tilt of her mouth when she looks that way. "There *is* a reason why Malar hates House Valardin so much."

"Perhaps that is the one point of commonality we have with the creatures of legend and history," Sebastian observes with amusement. "Limerance touches all."

"At least there is one constant we can all depend on," Cesare acknowledges. "And with that, it leads to me to tie this in to recent events. As already pointed out, it was likely some form of Thornweave, performed by Su'tavi, which was present in the attack on Whisper House. Likewise, I have heard reports of corrupted plant magics, similar to the ones which Lady Brigid describes, used in the attack on Bastion. An alchemical solution /was/ invented to destroy the vines, and can be replicated should we need it. I'm uncertain how effective it will be in battle, but it will at least be useful in cleansing the affected areas."

Watcher's comment catches Medeiaa's ear and has her turning to stare in that direction. There's a question on her lips, but it kept to herself.

Lou shrugs helplessly in Sorrel's direction in a 'what can you do' sort of way, but that's sorta side tracked when Watcher mentions Malar and House Valardin and reasons in the same sentence, and so her attention is back on the woman who is a stranger to her.

"Oh, don't give Limerance /all/ the credit, your highness," Cesare adds in reply to Sebastian, with amusement.

Speaking up from the back, of a sudden, as if connections formed, Rook ventures forth an idea. "Circling back to the talk of Naming, and reclaiming names - there is some talk of the potence of names in A Song of Lost Names and Lost Blades, and how seizing names grants power and might." He pauses after this pronouncement, to see if it inspires any interest at all.

Lou flushes as she comments on the benches and then speaks up too, "I believe there are other alchemists also working on solutions to the plants in Bastion. Word is they have grown all over the Cathedral district." Repeating herself for the others to hear.

"You are correct," Sorrel agrees, nodding to Rook with a small smile. "You are very correct, really. There's a lot of materials related to that, if you know where to look."

"Extant vines need to be harvested for their ichor, Softest." The elder Velenosa Prince says lightly, "And sources are somewhat scarce. It's a rather wicked little riddle. To defeat the vines we need more of them."

"Whisper House," Cesare notes again, nodding. "The Receiving Room. The vines are still there. I am sure Radiant Anisha will only be /moderately/ peeved if you all go digging into the decor."

Kiera hms " Soit might be a mingling of thornweave and su'tavi responsible for the present attack, not necessarily a freed thornweave?"

"Su'tavi?" Caprice repeats, raising her quill to emphasize her question - and to be heard within the ongoing conversation. "I'm not too familiar, could someone summarize who or what they are, and their significance here?"

Alantir raises a single brow and fixes his gaze firmly upon Brigid, likely having caught the tail-end of the most recent conversation regarding copulation of mythical creatures. It's almost as if the revelation has settled some prior argument or secret wager -- and he'd just won. He unclasps his gauntlets and shrugs innocently, offering the dragoon a slight shake of head.

Watcher notes Medeia's stare. She hasn't quite fought down the amusement when she says, "Children of Valar is a bit...literal."

Rook nods towards Sorrel. "I think in context it is intended as far more than metaphor, particularly if we are talking about ways to restore a name. Which, given the context, would seem to be the equivalent of freeing from slavery." He falls silent for a moment, settling back into his seat. Suddenly suspicious that his burst of revelation was far too pedestrian for the crowd in which he has found himself.

Ian slips the flask back into his coat pocket and buttons his coat back up again. "There was a sylv'afar at Bastion when it fell," he repeats to Kiera. "I don't know if it was a Thornweave, but there was at least one." Then, more to the room in general, he adds: "Anyone wants to put together a plant harvesting trip somewhere, I'm game."

Sorrel cannot help but grin at the exchange between Watcher and Medeia. "Seriously, everything bangs everything else," she notes with a wink.

Cesare looks at the auburn-haired watcher with interest again. "I have a question for you," he says. "Perhaps after. It is about those events." A faint smile in her direction. "I don't believe we've entirely worked out what the context of the visions I've shared was, in certain specificities: For one, though we are aware of the Traitor's hatred of halfbloods, we know that he has many in his legion; we don't know precisely the function of the artifact which was taken from Grayhold, though who discovered it, its place of discovery, as well as a possible translation of its name, is known. And of course we are still working on what our next steps must be, in order to successfully move against him and his forces. We must protect the Nox'alfar, our allies in this and against the forces of the Abyss, to the best of our abilities, that much is clear."

Medeia laughs, shaking her head at Sorrel's response. "Oh, that I believe. I was not... Mention of Malar is..." Her words trail off, leaving the thought unfinished as she looks down at her lap.

There is a glance towards Alantir at the shake of his head, Brigid checking a brow before glancing towards the others, "If there is enough interest, I plan on hosting a final primer on the Mor'ral and Su'tavi." A pause, glancing towards Cesare, "I would welcome and invite any that have more knowledge on the subjects. Having physically gone up against a Mor'ral and seen what the Su'tavi can do, I find it personally important."

"I've nothing else to share or discuss. I want to thank everyone for taking interest and hopefully this breeds good conversation in the future." With that does the Moore take a step away.

Edris doesn't seem too phased by the idea of "cross-pollination", truth be told, but he doesn't seem to find much in the way of humor about it either. For the moment, he hasn't been taking quite as copious of notes, instead contemplating the discussion so far, his dark eyes still containing an element of sadness.

Monique is overheard praising Brigid.

Monique is overheard praising Cesare.

Drake is overheard praising Brigid.

Drake is overheard praising Cesare.

Alantir is overheard praising Brigid.

Arman is overheard praising Brigid: Working hard in defense of the compact.

Arman is overheard praising Brigid.

"Thank you, Lady Moore, Softest," Caprice turns her attention forward again at Brigid's words, "for your generosity. I'd be interested in a third lecture, personally, and I hope to arrange for another study session about today's lecture soon, if anyone wishes to be alerted when that's scheduled."

Rook is overheard praising Cesare: Helping to spread knowledge for the benefit of all

Rook is overheard praising Brigid: Helping to spread knowledge for the benefit of all

Arman is overheard praising Cesare.

Monique rises as Brigid declares the meeting of minds closed and she bows her fiery head to the Lady, and then to Cesare. "This was entirely impressive. I commend you both. For your choice in whiskey as well as your knowledhe/

Kiera is overheard praising Brigid.

Jasher is overheard praising Cesare.

Kiera is overheard praising Cesare.

Jasher is overheard praising Brigid.

"The artifact the traitor took from Grayhold is something called a sun scythe. We know who it was meant to harm, now we're looking for ways to impair it or destroy it before he has a chance to use it." Lou speaks up as Cesare brings up that particular item. Her face is schooled into abject neutrality. Her gaze goes around the room as she regards the people there cooly, particularly those who had been working with her on this matter.

Rook nods to himself, having settled back into his seat, counting himself fortunate that no one has called him out on his rather trivial attempt at a contribution. He watches as the various parties begin to disperse, although he himself does not yet rise. Seeking, perhaps, an opportunity to continue conversation with some participants should they linger.

Arman glances over his shoulder briefly to see if his valet has concluded his scribbling. In response, Matteo shoots the Prince a withering gaze as his quill scratches with renwed speed and violence upon the parchment. Arman turns away with an eyebrow raised in mock offense.

Watcher remains seated for the moment, though she does pipe up in the wake of others, "I'd be interested in that lecture." Her attention slides toward Lou now, listening, but not commenting. Whatever she's thinking, it's not readable in her expression.

Ryhalt smiles as he tucks away his notes. "Thank you for sharing, Lady Brigid, Softest Whisper Cesare." Lou's last comment makes him curious, but it didn't seem a topic wise to be discussed in public so he nods vaguely.

"Scythe being only a possible translation of the word," Cesare notes. "A Light of some kind, and obviously tied to the sun, considering its connection with our allies." He smiles to everyone vaguely as the official portion of the discussion comes to and end, bowing his head as the room starts to fill with softer conversation.

Zakhar breaks out into a low chuckle then looks around the room, "where'd the kits go?"

"Scythe is the word Lady Saccharin used," Lou replies evenly to Cesare. She gathers up her decanter however empty it is, and any glasses, and then starts putting her things away in preparation of leaving.

Monique moves with fluid grace to the front of the room, toward Brigid and Cesare now that the formal part of the evening is over. "Are we talking words and language? One of my favorite conversations to have."

Edris gathers his notes, and moves to rise, his expression pensive.

Arman stands up slowly and dips his head graciously toward Cesare and Brigid, "Illuminating, as expected. I thank you." With that he turns and makes his departure.

Ian braces on his cane and rises with difficulty. Without a second thing to brace on, it takes him a couple tries. "Send me a messenger sometime," he says to Brigid before leaving. "I have some ideas about the wolves." But those ideas apparently aren't for now. He's probably crossed his quota of words for the day.

Arman has left the rows of student seating.

2 House Velenosa Guards, Matteo leave, following Arman.

Before the auburn-haired mystery watcher leaves, Cesare slips over in that direction with one finger raised to Monique as if to say he'll only be a moment. He offers a soft question to her, impeccably polite.

Glances towards Monique, "I'm only gifted in speaking two languages, one just passably." There is a respectful dip of head towards Arman as he departs, glancing towards Ian who causes a smile to touch lips albeit briefly, "Will do."

As Edris is gathering his notes does she make her way towards Oathlander kin, reaching out to rest a quiet hand on his shoulder, "You alright? I know a bit of that may have been difficult to hear."

Drake has left the rows of student seating.

Calluna, A Young Highhill Mastiff leaves, following Drake.

Kiera has left the rows of student seating.

"I know of a Whip of Light, but the only scythe I have in my notes is of darksteel, and so ...very not light," Sorrel muses as she considers new information.

Caprice returns her emptied glass to Lou's possession, another, murmured thanks offered for the highlight to the lecture. She lingers as some others do, perhaps to catch any last tidbits of information shared, perhaps to make some sort of order out of her piled papers. When she notes Sebastian still in attendance though, she twirls her quill in a discreet attempt to catch his attention.

Monique turns her emerald bright eyes on Sorrel, attention piqued immeasurably. "Whip of Light? I've never heard of such a weapon, Your Highness. Could you tell me more about it?" asks the Greenmarch. "I'll offer up whiskey in return." Even though the whiskey is free.

"Whip of Light?" Merek muses, "Darksteel is... Not a good material from what I know, at least as it is aligned. Isn't it like an opposite to diamondsteel?" he asks curiously.