Once, while writing home to his family during his first extended stay in Redreef Shores, Lord Guillaume Redreef (nee Fournier; husband to Lady Dionisia Redreef; father of Lady Helewise Redreef) described a typical House Redreef gathering in the following words: "Mostly, their family celebrations appear to be thinly veiled excuses to drink so much that inevitably the furniture ends up being broken, either as the violent result of a drunken argument, or as the even more violent result of drunken feats of strength masquerading as sportsmanly challenges."

It should come as no surprise that among House Redreef, Lord Guillaume is commonly referred to -- MOSTLY behind his back -- as 'the Oathlander.'

Still, maybe that accurately described tendency of drunken Redreefs to gather up in groups and then end up shattering furniture is why this particular revel is being held outdoors. Redreef Shores is a coastal domain, occupying the western edge of Darkwater Isle. One of its many fine beaches is now home to a rager of a party. One of Redreef's primary exports is rum, and let's be real about one thing: this evening, the rum is FLOWING. If it's possible to get "contact drunk" just from exposure alone, then this is the place where it will happen.

The weather is pleasant, erring a little bit on the cool side, but that's what the bonfires are for. It's just a tiny bit breezy, but only enough to make the torches stuck into the sand flicker in appealing images rather than snuff out completely. Bards play music for groups to dance, and the fact that this party is intended as a celebration of two specific people seems to largely be lost: for many of the rabble in attendance, it's just a big, state-sponsored PARTY.

The party extends to a few ships nearby as well, as the sounds (and sights) of sailors partying as only sailors can do can be distantly tracked from the shore.

Haakon is drinking heavily. Also complaining about rum being too sweet, which.. might be fighting words on Darkwater Isle. He tends to keep distance from the bonfires, as he favors a cooler breeze. Further, he's trying not to throw any defenders of rum into any bonfires. This is a party, but not a barbeque.

Next to Haakon, a partygoer is in fact grilling fish on a big gridiron type grill.

As one of the ones being reluctantly celebrated this evening, Martinique has shown up. She actually arrived early, to help with preparations and such, and as such also got a bit of an early start on the libations. To test them. For quality and science. But she's here, and making a game attempt to smile at people arriving.

She's dressed in an actual gown this time, rather than her usual leathers, it being A Party and not one where she is supposed to stab anybody. She just has a glass in her hand, not a knife, not yet anyway, as she trails about greeting guests. "Lord Haakon, good to see you as always--and I favor wine myself, but rum is the order of the day, so down it goes." She'll demonstrate before sweeping onwards.

It had been quite the trek for the pair of Kennex to make their way from Arx to the Shores. One of them had barely been off the boat from Stormward before he was getting right back on board to set sail for familiar waters once again. Cecilia and Constantine had arrived a bit early to take in the sights Redreef had to offer and refamiliarize themselves with the barony, but now it was party time. They may have looked a touch out of their depth, dressed as nobility was wont to be amidst the chaos of revelers and carrying themselves about the same as those who came from an island of a stringently run armada. Even so, the golden children of Stormward seemed in high spirits and even the often brooding and serious lord of the pair wore a soft and more casual smile as he escorted his sister across the sand.

Ember checks stamina and survival at daunting. Ember is successful.

Monique, near Haakon but closer to the fire than further from it, agrees wholeheartedly. Her flask, which sloshes fruitfully, is raised. "To whiskey!" Someone is already more than a little drunk, having taken the party mandate at its word. She tilts her head back, long crimson hair flaming in the light of the bonfire, allowing the liquid to flow from above, through the air, and past her waiting parted lips.

The party is still 'quiet' as those things are, and from the outer edges is where Griffin is. So far hasn't had any luck with giving Nimue his condolences.. (really his congratulations).. but there will be time enough for that! Otherwise he's drinking rum, rather than his usual red wine (*gasp*) and enjoying the 'sights'.

Martinique briefly pauses, lays an arm over Monique's shoulders, and whispers something briefly.

A smaller section of the party, close to the strategic rum reserves and the better cooks of the area, has had a small bandstand-like deck constructed. This is most definitely The Noble Area, though it's not actually separated from the rest of the beach by anything other than a small elevation from the sand. It's close enough that common folk who wish to approach and honor Dame Martinique or Lady Nimue can approach and do so. Ember's handmaidens scurry around, making sure all of the VIPs have drinks, even if they didn't ask for them.

As for Ember herself? The Crimson Countess of Redreef Shores? She's still on her feet. Still walking with a normal gait. Still speaking in her blunt, clipped way. She's not sweating or anything -- even though she's wearing full shadowmeld armor, and her hair is tightly braided back in thick cords to keep the humidity from frizzing it out. But look into amber-colored eyes and it quickly becomes clear: Ember Redreef is SOUSED. She's been drinking rum like it's water, and making sure to stay very well 'hydrated.' "Gggh," she sneers at Martinique. "I realize that this party is for you, Dame Martinique, but stop SAYING things like that ALOUD. You're in the Isles, for the gods' sake, not... the Barony of Thistlewhisper... or wherever you come from."

Pasquale may look just a little out of place amongst all these drunken Redreefs with their boisterously northern ways. He's sober for a start, although he does have rum in his hand, and even in his captain's garb he can't help but look a little too clean cut for the audience. The Lycene look seems inclined to stay near Monique and away from the busiest knots of revelling but a faint smile occupies his lips and once or twice he's even laughed. Monique's toast earns her an amused look. "Only you would bring whiskey to a rum party."

Nimue checks stamina and survival at daunting. Nimue fails.

Zoya helped organize a bunch of this kind of thing - but she takes no pleasure in PARTICIPATING IT. Thus she's just following Ember about and giving careful //looks// at her handmaidens when they break her idea of what they should be doing right now. One poor young woman gets a hissed reproach when she forgets to take a lightly spiced rum to a guest.

Monique's laughter at Martinique's whisper is a bright, sharp-edged thing, much like the daggers she most certainly carries. She whispers something back, lips curved in sinful distraction. And then to Pasquale, the Minx stage-whispers, "What do you bet I can't spike the rum with whiskey?" She eyes the position of the reserves and the position of Ember to them, strategically-drunken.

SOME TIME AGO

"LISTEN UP, you scabies-infected BASTARDS and TROGLODYTES: there will be NO reaving, NO rampaging, and most of all, NO cannibalizing of ANY of Redreef Shores or her holdings tonight--!"

"AWWWWW!" "WHAT???!" "C'MON! "BULLSHIT!"

"/HEY!/" Nimue bellows, trying her hardest to quiet a holdful of scarred and terrible men as dismay boils among them.

"AFTER you've drank and fought yourselves STUPID, I SWEAR to you on MY HONOR as QUEEN OF CLAN JOCUND that the seas WILL run redder than they EVER half with the blood of the unworthy, and NOT A BLADE WILL GO THIRSTY!"

And just like that, the audience /erupts/ in raucous, fist-pumping and glass-shattering approval.

NOW

Nimue kept her guest list limited for this party which she only /kind/ of wants to attend, celebrating a job she in no way wants. Thus Nina Autumdale, seamstress of great renown at her left and Kasa of the North, one of House Redreef's newest proteges on her right. Nimue's got her arms loosely wound around Nina and Kasa's, presenting a united front of formalwear, with the Tallest Redreef herself wearing a deep mauve and burgundy gown with The Extraest Cleavage And Slits. Half of the neckline's cut to resemble shark's teeth.

Out on the water, a man screams bloody murder. Seconds later, that man goes /flying/ from a particularly formidable looking ship into the ocean while every /other/ man aboard roars with applause.

... Nina Autumdale; Kasa of the North; and Clan Jocund, cannibal scourge of the Mourning Isles.

Redreef parties are /all/ about evoking just the right atmosphere, after all.

Post arrival, Nimue promptly found herself not a glass, but a bottle of rum to sip from while making her first rounds about the VIP area. Maybe a dozen rounds later--

"... hey," she exhales, her dark mane shrouding most of her face while she pushes up on the padded bench she's sprawled across, "... c'mooooon, Em, it's a PARTY-- Marti'n say whatever she WANTS--!" And then it's right back down to the bench, giggling.

-- and then down to the deck, because she misjudged her angle-- which mostly just turns the giggles into riotous laughter.

Cecilia is given a glass of rum the moment she and her brother get close to the gathering. She the far warmer and sunnier of the golden pair looks like the radiant sun. Her hair all up in a series of plaits and curls. She suppresses a laugh as she sees how soused everyone is already. "Well looks like we are fashionably late." She comments to her brother as she takes a deep drink of the rum.

Pasquale glances to Monique. "I'm sure you can." a mildly amused half-smile finds its way back onto his expression. "Right up until the point you end up emptying the lot over the railings."

Nina arrives with Nimue and Kasa, happy to be invited and happy to be here. She particularly enjoys a party that she had no need to aid in the planning of. She's here in starlight silk, having worked something up for the occasion to provide some glitter and color. She also has high heels on, as she's used to such at a party, but those will be momentarily lost as she gets onto the beach properly and realizes the inherent challenge of heels in sand. She laughs a bit, and gives Nimue a slight bow, not formally but in a friendly way, as she looses her hand and looks around the festivities. "Thank you so much for the invitation, and the warm welcome! I'm glad I was able to make the travel!" She claps her hands a few times together in pure glee. "Now, to the rum!"

No reaving? "FUCK IT, I'M LEAVING," Haakon hollers back at... whoever that was, he has no idea. "General," he rumbles in greeting to Marti, before amending, "Or. Whatever fucking title you favor now." There's a dry humor to the snort. "To whiskey, vodka, and all else that isn't RUM."

Zoya just sighs. And goes to one corner and whispers (it's more like a bellow because people are yelling) "Go bring down the extra barrels." Someone's gotta work.

"You are aware, Lord Haakon, that if I destroy you in unarmed combat, by legal right I claim your wife." Ember has another long drink of rum. What she just said is in no way the law. She spies Constantine and Cecilia, and beckons for them to come and join. "Has anyone seen Lord Griffin? Did Lady Nimue's sailor friends get hold of him...?" Then Nimue falls over and Ember just /grimaces/. And drinks. Again.

A low chuckle rumbled in Constantine's chest, leaning the distance of his height down to murmur something lightly in Cecilia's ear as the pair traipsed through the crowd toward the VIP area. Granted, Connie was shouldering drunken revelers out of their path rather than letting Cecilia get caught in the midst of careless dances or swinging fists. Nothing violent or rude, just shoving their way through the crowd until finally the platform was reached and Constantine found a glass of his own, unconcerned with its contents as pale gaze darted to assess who was present and the lay of the land. At Ember's beckoning catching his eye, that dour downturn of his lips evaporated into an actual winning smile and he moved alongside Cecilia toward the Bloody Baroness.

"they are not SAILORS cousin they are PIRATES and I am their FORMIDIBLE--"

"... oh, /shit/, /everyone/-- look how PRETTY the sky is today--! Nimue practically whispers, astonished."

"they are not SAILORS cousin they are PIRATES and I am their FORMIDIBLE--"

"... oh, /shit/, /everyone/-- look how PRETTY the sky is today--!" Nimue practically whispers, astonished.

Zoya rubs forehead, and goes to fetch a glass of water and some soup. Then she'll glide up to Nimue's side. "Really My Lady," and then water and soup are being shoved at Nimue.

Haakon snorts in retort to Ember, "Aye, but if I destroy you I'd be stuck with your betrothed. Hardly a fair exchange, and not worth the risk."

Cecilia nods to the whisper of her brother as they make way to Ember. "Countess. Beautiful as always." She greets the woman with a hug and a kiss kiss. "I'm sure it's been ages since you have seen my brother Lord Constantine." She reintroduces the man to the newly minted countess.

Monique lifts a hand as she spies Nina through the darkness and the crowd. "My sweet Nina!" the Greenmarch calls out, bright welcome in her tone. "I think Lord Pasquale has a plan to dump the rum over the railings as a tribute to the sea!" It's pitched loud enough for everyone to hear, not just Nina. "Join us when you find a spare moment!"

There's a grin from Martinique and then something that's almost a pout towards Ember, though it's meant playfully; how clear that might be to the recipient one cannot say. When she sees Nimue fall she gives an exaggerated sigh. Picking up drunken Redreefs is just one of her many duties it seems, as she moves over to offer a hand up even as Zoya is bringing water and soup. "There's little hope of that, Messere." She asides to the older woman with a knowing smile. "At least not this early."

It should be noted, while offering a hand up, Martinique is /very much/ bracing herself to avoid being pulled /down/. She will look aside during this operation to offer a nod to Nina. "You must be the famed seamstress--charmed to meet you I am sure."

A low laugh issues from Griffin at Ember's talking about him. Even more laughter follows Nimue's fall from.. grace? "Aye, they attempted to, Countess, but when they couldn't find my dress dress.." There was no dress. "They gave up one me. Besides, I learned the sail since the last time."

Ember doesn't put on a smile when Constantine and Cecilia approach. She's not a 'smiling' woman. When she does smile, it tends to look more scary than friendly anyway. Before greeting them, she asides to Haakon, "Your children will address me as 'Father.'" Then, without missing a beat, she says toward the Kennex pair: "My Lady. My Lord. It has indeed been ages. I'm honored that you could join us tonight, to honor Dame Martinique and..." Ember looks over at Nimue being fed soup. "...Lady Nimue. Please. Avail yourself of the rum," and here Ember raises her voice without looking at Monique and Pasquale, "which will in /no way/ be dumped into the /sea/ or whoever /does so/ will find themselves /following it/." Now, Ember smiles. It does indeed look more predatory than friendly. "Ah! Lord Griffin. Help your sister up."

That Griffin does!

Nina looks at Martinique and grins. "Oh yes, that's one thing I'm famous for these days. Honestly, the orders have been almost too much to keep up with lately in my shop!" She clasps her hands. "Sometimes I think it's astonishing that I came to this city and had so much to learn about fabrics and things, but seeing the finest folk dressed in my designs makes it all worthwhile! I do love your gown as well!" she adds. But then-- someone hands her a rum and she seems to love that even more, with a little happy sigh. She waves through the dark and torchlight to Monique, hearing her name called. "I will! Oh, but don't throw out the rum, some of us will find it a home!"

"What about a game instead then?" Pasquale raises his voice just enough for it to carry back to Ember. "Monique was just telling me that she could beat anyone in a railing run from prow to stern."

Constantine unraveled his arm from about Cecilia now that they were in the relative safety of the VIP area. "Countess," and he inclined a slight bow. "It is good to see you again and congratulations on your ascendant rise as well." He took a small sip of his drink -- jackpot, it's rum -- and inhaled the warmth down is gullet before gaze followed the lead of Ember's look toward Nimue. "A pleasure, Lady Nimue, and congratulations to you too. I imagine in your new role you and I may be speaking more often in the future." He offered to the unfamiliar woman, soft smile remaining on his lips and voice carrying above the crowd in an even bellow to be heard before casually offering his arm for Cecilia to take once again should she wish it.

"Yes, well." Zoya replies primly sighin as she continues to press the water and soup onto Nimue. So she can at least continue to drink as is ordered.

Haakon mutters, "... on ... ... ... ... the ... ... about the ... though."

"Lord Malespero is drunk," Monique announces with an easy laugh in the face of Pasquale's challenge. "You know how Lycene can't hold their booze! What I actually said was how much I would like to see him AVAILING himself of FUN to the POINT of no RETURN." It makes very little sense, those words strung together, and punctuated by another long swallow from her flask. "Rest assured, your rum will be safe from him." Specifically.

"maaar--"

Nimue tugs-- tugs-- then giggles and lets her hand flop from the Dame's, defeated by superior planning.

"... she is SUCH a good seamstress, Martinique," she then says, as serious about /this/ as she has ever been about anything else. "She made my new-- oh!"

Soup!

And Griffin!

Nimue slurps a little of one while just kind of batting at the other for a while before finally latching on and allowing herself to be pulled up.

"/Rum/!"

And then she scoops up her bottle and does her very best to turn wobbling on her feet into a flourish that leaves her near enough to Nina for shoulder-draping and offering the bottle's lip to the seamstress'.

"Thaaa~aaaank yooo~ooou~!" she offers in reply to Constantine's kind words.

"Oh, I can't hold my booze either!" Nina says with great confidence, even though she has already begun drinking it. "But that is because I am delicate! So I suppose the stereotype about the Lycene does hold at that." She takes the bottle Nimue offers her, but she tries to find a glass to pour rather than drink right from the bottle for fear she lose something besides her shoes in all of this. The night has only begun.

It is Martinique's turn for a weary sigh and then she's able to straighten. "Oh, she is a good seamstress. I have a piece of hers, now that I think of it, though you've likely never seen it." There's a quirk of a smile at the edge of her lips before she bows to Constantine and Cecilia in turn and ambles over to quietly speak to Haakon before playfully brandishing a glass of rum towards Pasquale.

"I would /love/ to see it," Nimue states with hushed tones and wide, sparkling eyes.

Once again: /serious/.

"hrumph." Zoya says, her soup having been delivered. Her turn would be more dramatic if her long silver hair was allowed to hang down, but alas, it's up in a tight bun. She's just going to go over to the ~other~ side of the room, only glaring at the other seamstress once. But she glares at everyone, right?

Ember is briefly distracted by bothering one of her handmaidens. Perhaps strangely, with all the nobles present, the handmaidens are most taken with buzzing and gossiping about /Nina/ being in their midst -- /the/ Nina Autumndale, the Glass Butterfly herself! What young Redreef lady-in-waiting /doesn't/ dream of wearing Nina's creations?

Meanwhile, Ember herself is wearing leather armor, so draw your own conclusions. She turns back toward Constantine: "Thank you, my Lord, thank you. Our elevation is a source of pride, but credit must be given to House Kennex for paving a number of the roads upon which we have followed." Ember is still in that 'trashed but holding it together' mode. She looks over toward Pasquale and Monique, now. "...you two are up to something," she decides, narrowing her eyes.

Griffin shakes his head at Nimue.. "At least you're enjoying yourself, sister." He teases her. "I do believe congrats are in order, aye?"

Pasquale lifts his own glass of rum when Martinique brandishes one towards him. He glances to Monique with a sly look on his face "Does that mean you CANT beat anyone here then Monique?" A quick smile is offered towards Ember. All faux innocence. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

Nimue snap-turns her head from hissing in Nina's ear to beam towards her brother-- and then breaks away /entirely/, throwing her arms around Griffin with all her terrible might.

"THANK you, Grif!! It's SO good to see you-- I know we don't get a lot of TIME together, but... ... ..."


Apparently Kasa had been separated from Nimue and Nina at some point during the drunken reveling, though now she -stalks- back towards the platform. The black gown she wears looks like it fits her just perfectly, but her mannerisms are not that of a woman used to being clad in anything like it. The 'brawler' frame of the black haired shav and her stocky build lend her to seeming far out of place in the garment. Whatever shoes, heels or not, she had arrived in are lost and now the barefoot Kasa slowly prowls about until she finds who she was looking for. Unsurprisingly, Nimue is that target. Drawing a beeline towards the woman the black haired, pale skinned woman grimaces a touch as she approaches, an unopened bottle of rum in one hand held by the neck as if it was a club while her other is being shaken a bit as if it had been hurt. Nothing is said, but it's clear she doesn't quite seem to be comfortable in the amazing gown she's wearing given the way she stares down a sailor that looks at her a bit too long. Did she just growl at him?

Constantine inclined the return of a small bow towards Martinique, beginning a congratulatory politeness that was lost in the haze of booze, good spirits and just general LOUD that was a Redreef party. His small smile fell lopsided, but humor as he glanced down and aside to his sister. His demeanor continued to gradually warm, the news of earlier in the day fading to the back of his mind. As Ember offered her kind retort he dipped his head in graciousness. However, after a beat he spoke in a way Cecilia was probably not accustom to. "Ember, I know it's been years... but do you mind if we cut the bullshit of decorum? It truly is good to see you."

Nina is happy being fawned over and so doesn't notice anyone who might be a little annoyed by it. That's fashion and showbiz after all. But when Nimue leans in, Nina truly has to think to respond to her. She does after a moment, then looks back at Kasa coming back this way. "That dress does suit you well," she adds to her. "Maybe you aren't used to beach parties, but ah, this one reminds me a bit of being back home. Though I don't think I counted on this much chill, so we'll all dance and get our blood moving and then huddle a bit closer and drink a bit deeper!"

Now Martinique will add her own suspicious lift of a brow between Pasquale and Monique though she maintains her general levity. Her pale cheeks are flushed, even if she isn't quite as far gone as her Countess or her Voice. However, her eyes are drawn aside after a moment more, towards Nimue's other guest. She'll make her way across the sand towards the woman in the imposing black dress, until she can orbit Kasa briefly, very clearly studying her, before she finally speaks. "So must be Kasa, our new resident Northlander..." Her tone is...ambivalent, somehow, but she does force a small smile to play at the edges of her mouth.

Haakon mutters aside to Martinique, "Hear, hear," takes a loooong swallow to finish his current drink and bids Martinique, "Luck." Followed Ng the single word with a rude gesture and shouted, "Fuck your rum!" at Ember, the prodigal takes a few steps away from the revel. A body can only drink so much, before nature calls.

Monique smiles drunkenly to Ember, waving an expansive hand. "You did charge me with keeping your House on its toes. I'm practicing, Countess! And Lord Pasquale is trying to bait me, relying on my pride and vanity to prompt me to go anywhere near the water. Not happening," she says in the Malespero Lord's direction. "And especially not drunk which I very well might be. I need a Champion! Dame Martinique! Where is the lovely Dame?"

"I'm easy to find, Nim. Are you down the hall from me?" To be truthful, Griffin hasn't made himself all that easy to be found at family gatherings. His arms aren't nearly as hefty as hers, but squishes her nonetheless. "Shall we make it a pact to see one another more often?" Letting go, he steps back.

If late is a fashion choice, then Scythia must be late, as she is extremely fashionable, in rubies and red pyreweave, baring the proudly livid scar that curves over her shoulder. Her features are set in impassivity as she makes her way to the gathering with a generous glass of something dark and lethally alcoholic in her hand.

Pasquale drinks some of his rum before pointing out. His manner still one of amusement rather than offense. "Only because you tried to get me thrown off the ship Monique."

"I am here, my Lady~~" Martinique sings out lightly even while still contemplating the Northlander. "But I fear I am not in the Guild..."

Pasquale drinks some of his rum before pointing out. His manner still one of amusement rather than offense. "Only because you tried to get me thrown in the sea Monique."

"... uhhhh..."

Just before Nimue is forced to admit that she is not presently sure whether she is, in fact, down the hall from Griffin or not, she sees the imposing figure of a Northener in all black approaching, wielding a club.

"... yes!"

Which means that /she/ winds up beelining towards /Kasa/ as soon as she has sealed her pact with Griffin, arriving just in time to throw her arms around the barbarian's shoulders. Which /also/ happens to be just in time for--

"The one I told you about," Nimue brightly says, beaming over at Marti while she gives Kasa a firm, blessedly brief squeeze. "She is-- /really/ trying /so/ hard to fit in-- it's wonderful to see!" she adds, hints of pride leaking into the explanation.

The nobility and VIPs are gathered up on a short, raised bandstand-like deck that offers fine footwear respite from the sand. Ember's handmaidens scurry around, making sure everyone has libations. The Countess quite likely ordered them to do so. Festive music is playing, bonfires are lit, fish and other meats are being grilled. Even the common citizens of the domain are having a good time, in honor of Nimue and Martinique's new titles.

Ember considers Constantine's words to her with a steely expression for a moment. "You may, as you wish, my Lord," Ember says. The Countess has opted to attend the party in full shadowmeld armor, covering everything from the neck down. "Some of us must make up for our most excessively drunken and scandal-prone cousins." Ember takes a looong sip of her rum and very pointedly does not look at Nimue.

When Monique asks for a Champion, Ember swivels her head to look at Kasa. "Ah! Messere Kasa. A Champion is needed. No doubt Lady Monique and Lord Pasquale must be stopped from entering into some manner of terrible blood feud that will stain this excellent party."

Wash swaggers off a ship and onto the beach. The Promise is the longest fastest ship in Arx. And he has been drinking for two days on the way to Redreef from its moorings in Arx. Wash didn't issue a single command other than to refill his glass the whole way. "Ahoy Redreef! Let's have a party!" The scandal has arrived, it's just waiting to find a place to explode

When Scythia winds her way closer to Ember and Nimue, she seems to have decided that one glass is simply not enough, swiping for a second that is promptly cradled in her second hand. Her dark eyes flicker around before she decides to greet Ember properly with a warmly uttered, "Cousin. You've outdone yourself," in her purring voice. She raises one glass to her lips and drains it as she looks around at anyone nearby without much extensive examination.

Amusement again became the youthful Kennex, the pure antithesis in look and demeanor to the Countess of Redreef, by way of a small smile ghosting along the edge of his mouth. "Fair enough." Constantine offered in return, simply watching on as the conversations swirled about the scene in its cacophony of sound, salt and fire. And then there was a Wash! Connie lifted his drink bearing hand high to try to offer a distant greeting to his cousin, glancing briefly aside to Cecilia to assure she was still alright and not being jostled too much.


A glance over at Nina has Kasa giving a little bit of a shrug, a resigned sort of expression slips over her features at the compliment. Almost like she wants to protest Nina's assessment but the black haired shav doesn't. "I do think it's beautiful, but...it feels. Weird." There's a bit of a grunt and Kasa lifts that bottle she carries, taking a look at it and the glint of red liquid on one side before tossing it into the fire. "And some guy said my ass looked good. I don't know that I'll be wearing it again." Though mention of the temperature has Kasa laugh a bit, "This is like a warm summer day back home." A wink is offered to the seamstress at that, but then Martinique is pacing around Kasa which has her immediately looking for another bottle.
"I am." The hand that had been shaking a moment ago balls into a bit of a fist. Again. She must really not like wearing a dress.
But then a drunken Nim! Kasa is distracted for a moment to say the least, but the faint grimace on her features about fitting in just shows how well she feels that's going. Even so, one unballed hand slips around the taller woman's waist though it appears more to support the Tallest Redreef.
Then as Ember calls out and the gray eyes of the northerner slip in that direction, she wonders aloud, "I didn't bring my gear. Are we doing beach brawls now? Give me a bottle and I'll take care of it." She's probably just grousing.

"Well well, Lord Wash! You have arrived, and somewhere is my sister, the Lord Nimue.." Griffin thinks she's right.. there? At least that's where she was just a moment ago?

The opposite of scandal is present and accounted for, Alarissa with something in her hand that's not rum and representing House Thrax in a somewhat official capacity. The likelihood of her getting drunk? Low. Alaricite arm in place, she sticks to the edges and away from the worst of the debauchery.

Nina is not nobility but has been invited to join the VIPs, as an outfitter, and so she does, without any hesitation. Kasa is replying to her, but Ember also mentions the need for a champion, so she grins. "Oh, are we going to see a fight? A party is nothing without a little entertainment. I need another drink in me before I am set to dancing!"

"But-- /Kasa/..."

Utterly, gravely /serious/.

"... it /does/ look good."

Ember stares blankly at Kasa for a moment and appears to be seriously considering whether or not they're doing beach brawls now. "...no," she finally decides. "Too many common folk around. Brawling at Redreef functions is best kept to private affairs, not the open air. Otherwise the gossip inevitably finds its way to the High Lord's wife or some such thing..." It's then that Ember turns and realizes Alarissa is standing right nearby. She dips into a deep curtsy without missing a beat. "Your Highness."

Raven follows in Wash's wake wearing a bemused expression as for once she seems content to fade into the scenery for now and watch the revelery, flask in hand one arm in a sling.

"Indeed." Alarissa states to Ember, a raise of a brow. "And then Victus will mourn that he wasn't present. Whatever shall you do."

Cecilia nods to her brother that she is alright. Though a bit shocked by his earlier tone. She has had enough rum though to just let it all slide and enjoy the group.

"Not a fight." Pasquale says "A challenge. Monique told me she could run along those rails there." he points to a suitably impossible run. "Without falling in the drink and I challenged her to prove it." he glances to Monique with a knowing smile. "And now she's trying to wriggle out of it."

"Oh do forgive me," Martinique continues to Kasa, even as Nimue is used as a support column. Or given one. "I am Dame Barlinnie." That may be the first time she's used the title for herself. "We must...speak further, later." She decides simply, as she twists a bit away with her own glass to see what new uproar is starting--ah, more people. "Lady Scythia! I hope you've been well. Our business has kept us apart of late, and no new caves needing exploring." She'll grin. She'll also raise her glass to Wash in tribute to what is obviously a considerable drink, and then in turn bow to Alarissa silently. Raven gets a tilt of her head in greeting as well, matching the silence for a moment until she goes in with "What happened to your arm?"

"Right. Your 'sister'." Wash's air quotes aren't as effective with a dark glass bottle in either hand. "I am sure you would have mentioned them earlier Lord Griffin, if that is your REAL name!" He spins his way toward the nearest bonfire, swigs from a bottle and spits proof of it into the blaze. Definitely 100+ proof. He swigs again, dancing in place. "What do names even matter? What's the name of this person we're celebrating again? Dominique? Nimalinnie?"

Monique shoots Pasquale a scathing, drunken look. "I wriggle delightfully, I'll have you know. You should be so lucky." Her smile to Kasa is impossibly charming and drunk. "Feel like running a rail against Lord Pasquale, as my champion? Or, if you'd rather punch him, I'd be *fine* with that."

Raven looks to Martinique and gives her a lift an of eyebrow at the lack of introduction or greeting and the sudden question, "Traitor. Thornweave. Whisperhouse." As if that was all that needs to be siad, "Oh right, you mean the splint. the splint's new. Gargantuan." She replies matter of factly, jade gaze sweeping the chaos that is a Redreef party.

Ember lifts her glass toward Wash and Raven, but her attention very quickly re-focuses on Alarissa. "Why, invite him to the next one, of course. Your Highness, if I may." She first motions to Scythia. "One of the Voices of my House -- the Gem of Redreef, Lady Scythia Redreef." She lifts her glass toward Scythia, and seems to ALMOST smile in approval. Then she motions toward Nimue, "...her newly appointed fellow Voice, Lady Nimue..." It's almost like Ember is trying to RUSH PAST introducing Nimue. Because she very quickly motions to Martinique. "...and the newest Knight of Redreef Shores, General of the Fury of Redreef, Dame Martinique Barlinnie. They are, as I am, honored by your presence here tonight."

"Thats true." Pasquale admits to Monique. "Shall we drop it? There's no need to spoil Ember's party."

"Lady Scythia and I are familiar with one another. Lady Nimue less so. But that does not mean that I am no confidant that they will serve Redreef well in their capacity as a extension of your will and desire for the house." Alarissa's dark eyed attention turns to Martinique. "As, no doubt, will your appointment." She offers to the newly minted knight. "I shall leave you be to tend to less formal revelries and obligations." A pause. "Perhaps when I am gone and out of earshot, you might see fit to start the more pugilistic kind of enjoyments."


There's a moment where Kasa stares at Marti at the introduction, though there's nothing truly behind it other than a similar manner of study as she was offered moments ago. "Of course. At your convenience." Watching after the Dame for a few moments longer, Kasa does eventually glance to Nimue and offer a gentle, "Of course. Thank you."

Raven lifts her flask and bows towards Ember before straitening and then nodding to Martinique, "Congratulations, Dame."

Over where Nimue's clinging to her black-clad charge, a dark, threaded brow arches sharply.

Coincidentally, Ember is right in the middle of introducing the guests of honor and her fellow voice to Princess Alarissa Thrax.

And so, following a shockingly smooth release;

on the other end of a whirling, weaving flurry of motion,

Nimue winds up beside her beloved cousin, left arm snaking /powerfully/ around an equally powerful shoulder-- and soon to be joined by the right, not only securing the Crimson Countess in a crushing embrace but /hauling/ her near, hugging the smaller woman's head to her chest.

"Emberrrr...~ Thank you SO much, for ALL of this, and..."

The Princess receives the biggest, pearliest smile a woman who has emptied far too much of (at least??) one bottle of rum can muster.

(Which is /enormous/, as it turns out.)

"Princess Alarissa... I am HONORED, as the newly sworn VOICE of HOUSE REDREEF to make your esteemed and lovely acquaintance...!"

And then she lets go so she can - gently, blessedly - attempt to take Alarissa's hand and gently kiss the back of it while she bows.

Zoya floats about the room making sure people are more or less not passed out in corners (and if they are, she dispatches someone to go take them ~elsewhere~.) She's the quiet voice of the party.

Gehenna Redreef, on first inspection, would not seem like one that would cope with the copious amounts of alcohol that is being consumed at this celebration with her body, ample, curved and soft. However, the last true surviving traditionalist of the Redreef family is no stranger to drinking at all and decided to be fashionably late... after having pre party drinks and decides to make her way to where the main clutch of her family is getting soased... or even more soased. Drink in hand, she curls her lip in a smirk/snèer at how so many are acting. You'd think some would show some dignity right?

"But what do you expect with Ember as Countess?" she mutters loudly to herself, sipping her drink.

Spreading glimmering fiery skirts, Scythia curtsies to Alarissa with a gentle downward tip of her head. She doesn't smile, though - instead offering a pleasantly neutral expression. "Your highness." She answers Martinique's greeting with a slight upward twitch to her lips and a dip of her head, "Oh, you've been busy, I've been busy with things. No need to worry about it. Congratulations, Dame." She takes a hefty double drink of her own storm-dark beverage to punctuate the congratulations

Alarissa checks composure and etiquette at normal. Botch! Alarissa fails badly.

Ember checks composure and etiquette at hard. Ember fails.

Wash hands his bottles to the two nearest celebrants and reveals two more from under his jacket, stuffed like daggers in the back of his waistband. He sets about removing the corks with his teeth as he winds his way between revelers in the sand. He tunelessly dances, no song in his head, just a lack of care to his steps. "A knighthood ain't half bad Dame Barleycorn. Griffin! Catch!" He throws the still corked bottle at Griffin a high arcing throw over several people's heads and at least one fire. Good thing he didn't get the cork out.

Monique casts a glance to Pasquale and the ire turns to humor. "Mm. Yes, I think that's probably for the best and..." And anything else is cut off as she spies Nimue going to kiss Alarissa's alaricite arm. Her eyes widen, and she leans forward, awaiting the outcome.

Ember is seized by Nimue in a huge hug, and she seems to be about to say something -- a cutting rebuke, no doubt! -- when Nimue then goes for the fake arm. Time freezes for Ember. The Countess's eyes actually WIDEN, and all she can do is watch in helpless horror.

Raven waches Monique crasp Alarissia's prostetic and her eyebrows lift in alarm. Her mouth opens, she looks around. There's then a grimace a slooow stepping backwards as she sips her flask.

Pasquale looks over to see what everyone else is so fascinated by.


Watching Nimue slip away, Kasa has an oddly amused sort of expression on her features, but the direction and the target have her grimace returning. A low, rumbling almost growl slips from her as she starts to follow after, though somehow she misses the amazingly proper display of respect.

Nina checks perception and etiquette at hard. Nina is successful.

One can probably see that this isn't going to go well. Not at all. No one touches Alarissa's left side. By all accounts and records, Alarissa seems to generally pretend that side of her upper body doesn't really even exist. Not to her at least. So it's a surprised look when Nimue is -reaching- for the arm. The lift of the hand, which is turn is actually an arm, and doesn't bend. It looks awkward as the arm goes up and for a moment, one moment it seems like everything might be fine. Lips meet cool alaricite and epiphanite fingernails and then Alarissa's yanking her hand back. Or trying to.

She steps back, her arm however gives a jostle and then Nimue is left with an alaricite hand and forearm of the city of Arx and a fairly enraged looking Alarissa with which knuckles around her wine glass held by her right hand.

Griffin checks dexterity at normal. Griffin fails.

Martinique checks composure and etiquette at hard. Critical Success! Martinique is spectacularly successful.

Zoya pauses as the room seems to twirl and FOCUS in on the drama in the middle of the room. Well, that's concerning. Zoya slips towards the nearest pirate, "Your captain might be about to die." Just so they know, and she'll helpfully turn them around and point. y'know. If the pirates want to brawl.

Nina looks over to see what people are looking at. She notices, but then simply doesn't say antyhing at all one way or another about it, instead, refilling her glass and looking away at just the right appropriate time. She has a fresh drink and is doing her level best not to laugh at anything that's happening in front of her. She seems to have it together, basically, though, so she just pretends she does not see the thing she sees.

"That's disarming." Wash says, transfixed by the incident with an open bottle at his lips.

Raven's eyebrows looks skywards, "Oh, for fuck's sake, my lord."

Scythia checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Scythia is successful.

Ember checks composure at daunting. Ember marginally fails.

The newly-minted Knight offers another bow to the Thrax Princess, smiling as winningly as she can. "I hope to ably serve the County, your highness." She says as smoothly as she can during the process of watching Nimue enfold Ember in a crushing embrace. She'll just--move her drink out of the path of destruction, which involves moving herself a bit as well. Then her expression freezes as she realizes what is happening--but she manages not to do the first thing she wants to, which is laugh. No, instead, her drink is hastily thrust aside as she steps forward to--to--to something, she'll settle for pushing on Nimue's arm to push the other, grasped arm back towards its owner. And smile while she does it, somehow.

Really, maybe Wash should have made certain that Griffin was actually paying attention. As it was he heard Wash too late, and tried to catch the battle.. Instead he caught it on the very tip of smashing, and it smashed his hand, and cracked it open, spraying most of the bottle. "Sweet mother..!" And proceeded to curse.

Once, when Ember was a young girl attending a big family dinner, she asked a Redreef family member who'd lost a hand to a shark bite 'isn't it hard to scratch itches with just a stump.' Her mother, Baroness Leticia, proceeded to pretend that Ember's twin sister Marina was an only child for around a week. Does that incident ring in Ember's mind at all, watching her cousin accidentally yank off the prosthetic arm of one of the Voices of House Thrax and the spouse of their High Lord? Maybe. It's hard to read what Ember is thinking other than genuine open-mouthed astonishment at this level of faux pas.

"Nimue," Ember murmurs, too stunned to even sound angry. Yet. "Hand it back to-- GIVE it back to her -- help her put it back -- IN THE NAME OF THE /GODS/, COUSIN--"

Scythia watches this unfold with a bored look, or perhaps it is merely impassive. But the moment the arm comes off, she resigns herself to interacting with the debacle before someone is stabbed. She reaches out to take the grasped arm from Martinique, and offer it a little more properly to Alarissa, without quite making eye contact. She offers an apologetic look without eye-contact, conveyed with the strength of a charmingly placating expression, "Our apologies, your Highness. Would you perhaps permit me to assist you?"

Pasquale bites his lower lip as the arm is detatched but otherwise keeps his composure as the scene unfolds. He glances once to Monique, eyes laughing, and then makes an effort to pretend nothing has happened at all by nudging one of Ember's handmaidens out of her mouth-open staring. "Top up my drink?"

"Sorry Griff!" Wash calls back. "That'll... that'll be fine. That's fine. Here you want this one?" Wash quickly takes a drink out if it before staggering toward Griffin with the outstretched bottle. He stays on his feet, mostly by luck, no one looks elegant on loose sand.

"Charmed, your Grace~," Nimue murmurs, lips still against Alarissa's hand. Once she's upright again, she resumes beaming at--

-- oh.

Huh, weird--

Nimue looks around, at all the /other/ masks of shock, horror, dismay, and every other emotion beginning to manifest throughout the partygers.

... /weird/--

Nimue then looks down, slowl--

"oh no"

Back up to Alarissa, lovely and /furious/.

"... oh /no/--"

So.

/Now/ it is time for Nimue to perform the quickest act of prosthetic reattachment she has ever performed. Coincidentally, this is the first and only prosthetic reattachment she has ever performed.

Mostly, it is a lot of squinting, desperate twisting and nudging while she murmurs, "/Princess/, I am /so/ sorry-- as HONORED as ANY woman would be to take the hand of a woman SO lovely, I-- this is NOT what I--!"

A deep, shivering breath--

"You must understand," she then murmurs, giving Alarissa a tiny, penitent smile, "Your hand is as lovely a work of art as the rest of you, and I am VERY vulnerable to pretty things--!"

See? This is what happens when you make Gehenna's sister Voice instead of Gehenna herself. Although to be fair the blame for this must as always land firmly on the Crimson Countess herself for allowing this to happen. Does Gehenna consider moving in and using her considerably diplomatic charms to smooth this over? Yes she does. Does she actively do anything? Hell no. Gehenna fully intends for this to be a prime example at how far the family has strayed from where they should be. Griffin's comment gets her attention and as she drifts by him, sipping her drink, she comments. "Don't mention Mother like that..."

Monique looks to Alarissa's neck, for some strange reason... and then relaxes infinitely.

Alarissa checks command and intimidation at normal. Alarissa is successful.

Raven groans and her good hand lifts top her face, as if trying to hide behind her flask, "Oh, gods, this is hard to watch."

Constantine had begun his pace toward the Princess in the midst of the chaos of the party, but he gave pause and brows lifted in unison as he was helpless to do nothing but observe the events that unfolded. The arm, the panic, the wide eyes that surrounded them and smothered snickers helpless not to murmur forth at the whole display. He set his glass aside, hand brushing back the front flap of his coat to hook his thumb casually in the pocket of slacks as he waited and observed, ready to assist as needed but currently voting to simply stay out of the way.

William, a taciturn quartermaster arrives, delivering a message to Constantine before departing.

"-STOP-" This is bellowed to the women around her and those nearby, the ones grabbing the arm, trying to offer it to her while others try to find a way to re-attach it. Nostrils flare and the wine glass is thrust out for someone to take the wine glass and should that happen, she's snatching at the alaricite arm, breathing heavily. What monique is looking for is not there and that's likely a very good thing. "Do not touch me. Do not anything. I have servants to handle this. Leave me the fuck alone." The arm is shaken in the face of the voices as if to emphasize her words. "If you do not want a word of this spoken to his Grace, you will leave. me. alone."

By that time, Griffin is pretty much sprayed with most of the first bottle. "Aye, I think I should.." The cracked bottle really isn't worth it to save. He hefts it over to the shoreline. "I hope it wasn't expensive?" The second bottle is taken without incident.

"Leave Her Highness alone," Ember echoes, though her voice still sounds shaky and almost drunkenly panicked. This might be a first for Ember, really.

Wash doesn't find it at all hard to watch, he stops next to Griffin and offers him the bottle, producing another one, this time clear, from his satchel. He has as many bottles of liquor as he has knives. "That was going to happen eventually." He points out to Griffin. "I can see why you didn't want to admit you had a sister."

When ordered to stop, Martinique halts as if her strings had been cut. She will unhand the hand (and any Voices in the process) and step backwards. She'll also regain her drink for a healthy swallow of it as she steps back again, with a hasty glance behind her. This ends up with her standing near Gehenna, whom she hasn't seen in a while, and at whom she now narrows her eyes. "You're enjoying this aren't you Lady Gehenna?"

Raven ambles over towards Ember, taking advantage of the stillness of social panic to weave through the crowd towards her target.

Immediately, Nimue /halts/ so that she may bow before Alarissa and offer-- what is now just /her/ share of the arm-- up to the Princess on the pad of her upturned palm.

She starts to open her mouth; a sidelong glance at Ember is somehow enough to nudge her lips shut again.

"Really?" Zoya replies to the pirate she tried to interest in Nimue's antics. But no, nada, nothing, zero reaction from the man other then a hunger-lust for the pretty expensive arm. Alas. "Hrumph." That is said as Zoya moves away a gain. Alas.

"AYE. I have two." Griffin nods, furrowing his brows at the commotion the Nimue has caused.

Scythia takes that moment to completely disappear from Alarissa's eye line, shaking her head a little as she shakes her head in utter bafflement, then looking at Nimue with obvious bewilderment in her gaze, then turns away to look for anyone who might allow her to invade their conversation and escape from the spectacle.

"And they have five arms between them." Wash notes.

Monique pitches her voice through the crowd, designed to carry to Alarissa. "I haven't seen the Princess-Consort in so long, Lord Malespero. I admit, I do miss her company. Do you know, she has the most stunning candlesticks..." Attempting a touch of levity. "And I've yet to steal a single one."

"Ah, well, that's enough drinks for now, I think it's time to dance!" Nina suddenly declares, as if... she is now creating a distraction? And, barefoot, she rises from her spot still holding a glass of rum, and walks into the circle where the music is louder and the sand is clear for those who want to spin around and move.

"Lady Scythia, Lady Martinique, Countess" Flat. So flat. So much anger. Right hand tight around the wrist of the arm she's turning in a swirl of silks, feather, embroidered panels and striding off. Presumable to go re-attach the arm in some fashion or just leave the party. Who knows. The air of anger sits in the air where she was though, slow to dissipate.

Gehenna smiles beatific like at Martinique at the Dame's statement before sipping her drink and answering in a velvet purr. "Why of course not. It's an unmitigated diplomatic and social disaster. But what do you expect when my sister is elevated above her capabilities hmmm?" She half raises her drink to Martinique, "Congratulations by the way," she offers in sweet voice dripping with insincerity.

Wash wraps an arm around Griffin's shoulders, unless he is more alert than with the bottle earlier and propels/drags the younger man toward the dancing. "Dancing! No one told me there would be DANCING!" He seems oblivious to the tension, unless this is his attempt to alleviate it, cause a distraction, whatever.

Ember checks composure at impossible. Ember DONE GOOFED!!!111

Zoya disappears for a hot moment and comes back, carrying a slightly dusty bottle of wine. Sliding up to Scythia, Martinique, Ember, and most importantly Alarissa, she interjects herself. "I do believe this calls for a bit of our best, do you not?" And she'll be ready to pour if Alarissa agrees.

Scythia checks dexterity and stealth at hard. Scythia fails.


With all of the -insanity- that's taking place Kasa appears at Nimue's side. Leaning in she quietly murmurs a few choice words as she hooks an arm around the much taller woman's waist. Not so much leading as dragging the newest Voice away from the disaster it isn't long before the shav is the more easily seen of the two. Namely from Ember's point of view.

Raven is standing beside Ember speaking softly. She looks skywards briefly and then draws in a deep breath and murmurs further, her gaze intend on the Countess.

The sight of Nina dancing is enough to distract a good many people. Which, let's remind everyone: /a good many people/ are present at this party, including common people from all walks of life in House Redreef's domain, and those who didn't SEE what just happened are most definitely being TOLD about it by those who DID. But even the most scandalous gossip can't stand up against...

/Setarcan dance./

Ember leans over to answer a whispered question from Raven, and then turns her gaze toward Nimue. And stares. And stares. And stares. "Lady Nimue, do..." Ember is sputtering. Struggling. Her thoughts try to find words to match them. "Do you..." Ember pauses again, licks her upper lip. "Cousin, I... must..." Her mouth twitches. She's trying so hard. "My Lady..."

Finally, Ember snaps. "Do you have an /APPLE/ for a /BRAIN/, /LADY/ NIMUE?!"

Nina checks charm and performance at hard. Nina is successful.

That beautific smile is met with a more sardonic offering from Martinique to Gehenna as she raises her glass in turn. "I don't know what greater capabilities you would want than the Countess possesses, but I thank you for your kind words my Lady. I know certainly worked very hard to receive this elevation." Of course, Ember's temper is getting the better of her at that point and Martinique is visibly choosing between trying to intervene on Nimue's behalf or...doing literally anything else. Finally: "Do you care to dance, Lady Gehenna?" She gestures towards Nina.

Raven gives Ember a cool look, "Of course. Silly me." She bows and steps away.

"Dancing?" Wait.. what.. Griffin is of two minds. On the one hand he would be out of the mess that is increasing by the minute. On the other hand, it's his sister..

"When I am done tending to myself." Is snapped over her shoulder to Zoya from Alarissa as she's off to some room that's not here to tend to the alaricite limb.

Doing her best to help Nimue in her own way, Nina is pulling folks into the ring of dance that she has created, gesturing for some folks at the party to come and join so that the entire floor keeps moving. She is a trendsetter after all. When she gets into the pace and gets a bit more assertive with it, with hip shaking and bouncing, it is at least plain to see that her skirt is short and hikes up a good bit with every little kick and sway. At some point, she hands off a now empty glass to someone joining the spin, then grabs a hand and spins with another.

Was Scythia trying to conveniently disappear before her name was spoken? Absolutely she was. But she is so very attention grabbing in her fireweave, and she can't not answer when called directly. So she turns back to Alarissa, managing to not look like she is ready to be beheaded as she offers a deep curtsey while not making eye contact. Then she raises her glass of rum to her lips and pragmatically drains the entire contents.

Pasquale places his arm around Monique's shoulders after a whispered conversation and looks towards the dancing. "I need to sit down." he tells the Greenmarch. "But go dance if you like."

Constantine returned to Cecila, voting to cease his approach for proper greeting given the circumstances at play. Hopefully there would be another opportunity. To his sister he leaned a soft murmur, nudging her shoulder lightly with his own in familial affection before plucking a few fresh glasses from a passing tray and offering one to her.

"Rude," Zoya mutters at Alarissa's backside, turning towards Ember and Co with the bottle. "A drink Countess?"

Raven ambles back through the crowd and happens by Wash, clasping his shoulder and murmuring briefly before continuing on.

"... no, I do /not/ have an apple for a brain, cousin..."

The commotion, the anger in the Princess' eyes, the horror in every other... each played a role in dampening Nimue's soaring (drunken) mood.

But from the first syllable that comes /lashing/ from Ember's mouth, Nimue sags, and sags, and sags until she's peering down at the deck, shoulders hunched in pure contrition-- it's as if she's /lost/ the lionshare of her imposing height in the space of just a few infuriated seconds.

"... sorry, Em, I-- I just--

At /this/ point, dragging her away would be a piece of cake even if it /weren't/ a powerfully built Kasa doing the deed.


*** Ember has called for an opposing check with Nimue. ***
Ember checks strength and brawl at easy. Critical Success! Ember is spectacularly successful.
Nimue checks strength and brawl at easy. Nimue is successful.
*** Ember is the winner. ***

Gehenna curls her lip in a smile at Martinique's question. "This is what happens when rampant progressivism goes wild." She shrugs, her modest dress moving with the plush body beneath it and she raises one finger, "In a moment... I want to just savour this moment."

Nina is indeed leading everyone in a fun dance. The musicians also do their best to play louder, adding in drumming and other percussive elements, and singing as loudly as they can.

And yet, through all that, Ember can be heard: "GRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The five-foot-seven shadowmeld-clad Countess /CHARGES/ at her six-foot-three cousin, even as Kasa is trying to drag Nimue away and get between the pair. "OUT OF THE /WAY/, KASA," Ember bellows, sounding like there's a demon inside of her with the sheer /rage/ in her voice. Does she lash out at Nimue? Strike her?

No.

Ember seeks to grab Nimue around her middle and /HOIST/ her up with uncanny strength, and /LIFT/ her onto her own armored shoulders. It's not a fight so much as a... very aggressive picking-up into a fireman carry. And with her tall, leggy cousin -- with one of the /Voices of her House/ -- on her shoulders, Ember turns in the direction of the water and begins to /MARCH/.

Thankfully, there's plenty of sand between Ember and the water, and she has a ways to walk. Plenty of time for Nimue to struggle, for Kasa to intervene. But it very much appears that Ember is going to attempt to literally throw her cousin into the ocean.

"I think I'd rather just watch Nina dance," Monique murmurs to Pasquale with a low huff of laughter. "She's stunning. And I'm too drunk to dance and not drunk enough to dance, in equal measure and-" And Ember is charging Nimue and the Minx is riveted to that performance instead. "Bets? Is anyone placing bets?"

Raven disappears into the crowd.

Wash brought boots made for dancing, if by dancing you mean boarding enemy ships and stomping heads. He kicks up sand and does acrobatic things more appropriate to a beach than a dance floor. His level of inebriation appears to be immaterial when it comes to such performance.

Zoya is here for bets. From somewhere she pulls a notebook and quill. "I will record your bets here. Advantage to the countess."

Griffin pinches his nose by the bridge. He suddenly remembers *why* he didn't enjoy big gathers. Espescially ones where things like *this* could happen.

The soldier was just going to kind of wait this crisis out, or try to, and drink more--and then Ember just loses it somewhat completely. She glances around for--well, any of the other Redreefs who might try to deal with this, and then just makes a noise somewhere in her throat as she sets her drink down and hastens after Ember and Nimue. She'll speak quietly to Ember as she catches up, trying to insert herself in Ember's path without actually getting bowled over. This may not be successful on either count.

Pasquale suggests "You could just drink more?" to Monique in the moments before he steps away to find himself a seat by one of the bonfires. "But you're right." He shifts enough to watch the dancing. "It is worth watching."

Constantine leaned to offer Cecilia a squeeze, "I think I will take my leave for the evening. I'll be waiting with the ship when you are ready to depart." He offered beneath the din of the event. He withdrew then, leaving his drink in his sister's care before beginning his way back through the fevered crowds of the festivities.

Gehenna checks composure at hard. Gehenna fails.

Wash will stay and dance for awhile, tossing silver and alcohol at any reaver that catches his eye. It'll get him a following at least, as he sprinkles gold coins in there liberally as well.

Ember checks willpower at daunting. Ember marginally fails.

Gehenna can't help it. She managed it for quite some time, containing her mirth and derision but it's too much. The sheer ridiculousness of it all and she starts laughing, at Ember and Nimue, the sound cut with scorn, pausing for drink, them restarting.

Nina can NOT help but look as Ember starts to rush Nimue and pick her up, carrying her to give her a heavy toss. It's... honestly very entertaining! This is one of the crazier parties she's been to in a while and she does have her friends to thank for that. She sees Monique looking in her direction, and gives her a wide wave, then, skips out of the dancing ring again with her face all aflush. "This is a good party! One of the drunkest I've seen lately!"

"Ow-- hey-- HEY, /EMBER/, WAIT--"

This doesn't look /great/, a Countess carrying her newest Voice into the sea because said Voice accidentally pulled their Princess' alaricite arm out of place.

It /doesn't/. Not to outside eyes; probably not even to those who are USED to how Redreef parties flow.

The thing is, though: this is -- not -- /new/, precisely. Nimue and Ember /both/ love their rum.

Nimue and Ember /both/ seethe with powerful emotions in their various ways.

And despite whatever affection might lie in the depths of their hearts:

Nimue and Ember are two drunk, volatile, extremely strong women who are /complete opposites/ in so many ways that wrestling is practically /inevitable/ given the right catalysts.

Of course, the stage is -- a /bit/ -- bigger, this time; /much/ more public than the average Redreef family gathering.

... but still: this is not the first time one Redreef has been on another's shoulder, thrashing and squalling like a cat being chastised for doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG, clearly.

"-- Ember we can SETTLE THIS WITH A DRINKING CONTEST I don't want to SWIM my dress is SO PRETTY, and I spent SO LONG BRUSHING MY HAIR--"

Monique looks up as she spies Nina stepping away from the ring of dancing, offering the Pravus vassal a bright and drunken smile. "My darling Nina, if you can still dance like you do, you're not nearly drunk enough! Come, join us and we'll fix that."

Ember continues trudging with Nimue on her shoulders, one arm hooking the equestrian's neck, the other hooking one of Nimue's thighs. Considering the slittiness of Nimue's dress, it's extremely fortunate that the Voice of House Redreef is wearing something over her nethers right now. Because if she wasn't, this would be even MORE of a scandalous gossip-fest. Ember's expression is the kind of cold determination usually only seen in people about to successfully light themselves or another person on fire.

When Martinique attempts to reason with Ember, the Countess pauses in her trudging. She draws in a long breath through her nostrils. "No," she says to Martinique, with eerie, angry calm. "No. I'm going to throw Nimue into the ocean." Her trudging slows, though, and she finally stops. Has sense come to Ember? Is she suddenly aware of like... everyone ever in Redreef Shores watching this? What makes Ember stop is something only Ember will know. But she then releases Nimue.

Of course, Ember doesn't do it /gently/. She just... lets go, leaving Nimue to fall from her shoulders like a sack of grain. Ember spares Martinique a brief look. "Take her and go enjoy your party," she says, still in that scary calm zone of rage. "I'm going to look at the water for a while." And so Ember continues on her way, to go stand at the edge of the waves and seethe by herself.

Nina checks stamina and survival at hard. Nina marginally fails.

"Ah... if you insist!" Nina says, laughing as Monique pours her another drink. Here she had just burned so much of it off! But when a drink is in her hand, and she tilts it back, given that she's been dancing around and getting a lot of activity, and eaten comparatively little, she starts to really feel it. Not so much that she's falling down... but definitely feeling it. She sits very close to Monique as she collapses down, though not quite in the Lady's lap.

Pasquale gives Nina a nod as she comes to join the pair of them by the fire. "Glad to see you Nina."

Really, part of Martinique admires Ember's ability to hold onto a squirming Nimue for so long. But that's just an intellectual admiration while the rest of her tries to prevent what seems like a bad decision piled upon other pre-existing bad decisions. So it is when Ember finally halts and just lets Nimue fall, she exhales heavily. "Yes Countess," is all she says. And she'll move towards the Tallest Redreef on the sands, and for the second time this evening, attempt to help her get upright, at least for a few moments. She'll send a worried backwards glance towards Ember's brooding form, but further interference from herself specifically probably won't help.

Zoya slips back into the background, to do her Zoya thing.

Like a sack of grain who knows the meaning of the word 'propriety' merely to make flouting it that much more effective, Nimue tumbles ass-over-kettle into the ocean. The long, delicate drape of her skirt winds up skewed and twisted around her hips-- and then practically /pasted/ there thanks to the ocean making it much, /much/ clingier than it has any real need to be.

But:

/Fortunately/:

Nimue is wearing something over her nethers.

Something faintly shimmering with rich mauve and deep red undertones carefully selected to highlight and accentuate the earthy tones of her skin.

Something made of cardian steelsilk.

Something that is no less than a certified Nina Autumdale original: the battle raiments of a Pirate Queen.

MERCIFULLY:

promptly after this indignity, Nimue is scooped from the water by the strong and steady arms of a Dame and promptly sags against her shoulders.

"... oh my GODS, marti, I TOLD HER--" she sputters.

Monique swings an arm around Nina's shoulder, pulling the talented seamstress close, plying her with more drink. "Now, my darling sweet tailor, I'm going to ply you with booze until you tell me who you're making costumes for, for the Queen's masquerade, and what they're going to be."

Gehenna smirks/sneers at her sister ending up in th waters before sweeping her gaze around and spying Monique with what seems like an interesting bottle and she gives a winning smile as she approaches, holding out her empty cup. "Would it be possible to try some of that hmmm?" she almost purrs.

"Come on, my Lady--" Martinique is leading a soaked Nimue away from the beach while Ember broods by the shore. She will hiss at one of the handmaidens to fetch up two new drinks, as while she may feel that Nimue has had quite enough, there is still a party going on, and also there's a bonfire over this way which is probably superior to the feeling of wet garments.

Griffin rips the cork off of his bottle, and makes his way to Gehenna. "We should talk after." And walks away.

Nina smiles and waves to Pasquale, and then... Monique asks her the question, the important question. She clears her throat. "Well, I do hesitate to say. But I WAS asked to create something for a friend of the Queen's. And, considering it's a high honor..." She squints at Monique, giving a smile. "But I need to finish your gown first. I should have it sent to within the week. And I won't tell ANYONE what I am putting on the mask."

Pasquale says "You really must tell me Nina. Its truly vital for my long term survival."

Monique welcomes Gehenna with a salute of the flask. "I'll warn you, lovely one, it's not rum!" And she pours generously from her flask into Gehenna's empty cup. "But sit with us awhile, won't you, while you drink it? And a name. Any name, to put to so beautiful a face. Even better if you can help me convince the lovely Nina to tell us who this friend of the Queen is, and what the costume order was!"

Aedric Blackshore's approach is unceremonious and warrants no cause for celebration. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he is late to the party -- having arrived by longship within the hour. He moves slowly across the sand but with a stable gait, both gauntlets tucked comfortably between chest and worn steel breastplate. "Congratulations are in order, as I understand it," the sailor tells Nimue and Martinique, offering the pair a small smile and polite dip of his chin. "Both titles are certainly well deserved, all things considered. I have no doubt you will perform your duties admirably. At the risk of sounding rude, could you point me in the direction of the Countess Redreef?"

Once she is eventually deposited near the bonfire, Nimue sinks right to the nearest seat, bunched up and hunched towards the fire to get a jump on stealing its warmth. "... /thank/ you," she murmurs with a self-conscious look up and a firm squeeze of the Dame's hand. "I-- I mean, /sorry/... ... like, it is your party TOO, and..."

And Aedric Blackshore has arrived, just in time to congratulate Redreef's newest Voice and Knight-- the former of whom is drenched and miserable in a dark purple and red gown with a deep, mesh-covered neckline and thigh-high slit soaked through with seawater.

".... thaa~aaanks," she mumbles, gesturing vaguely in Ember's direction.

Ember is down by the water, staring out at it in a state of something like numbness.

The party continues on without her -- the bonfires still burn, the meat is still grilled, the bards still play, and even though Nina herself is no longer dancing, she's inspired considerable revelry in her wake. Though the numerous and glaring faux pas of the party are still fresh in most attendees' minds... they can wait until morning light to buzz and chatter about them. Tonight is for laughing, dancing, having fun. No wonder Aedric showed up late.

Gehenna gives her brother an noncommittal sound in response to his words before her eyes flick over the red-haired Monique before smiling and accepting the drink. "Oh I am well versed in different drinks. One must be with family like..." she waves a hand dismissively towards Ember, Nimue and Martinique. She graces Monique with a winning smile before settling her rather voluptuous form down as she sits. "Lady Gehenna Redreef. The embarrassment of a new Voice is my sister. And you are... apart from having good taste in drinks?"

"Thank you Lord Aedric." Martinique offers sincerely. She seems just a trifle harried and some of her hair has come down from its pins, but on the whole she seems hale and--well, there aren't really any other changes wrought by Knighthood apparently, no physical manifestations of courtly honor or privilege. Instead, she's just doing what many at this party are doing: getting drunk. Nimue is already well into that process but Marti isn't trying to get her to halt. "But yes, Ember is down there by the shore." She indicates the brooding figure beyond. "She--well, she might not be in the best of moods."

"She is in SUCH a mood right now..."

Nimue confirms, soft and rueful.

"The Lady Minuette Redste-... oh wait!" Monique's laugh is drunk and bright as she catches herself out. "That's not tonight. Tonight, Lady Monique Greenmarch, at your service, my lovely Lady Gehenna. At the service of anyone who compliments whiskey so wonderfully. And I'm sure 'Rissa will get over it... maybe. Some day." Monique tongues her lower lip thoughtfully. "Or possibly not. But tell me more about *you*, Lady Redreef! Your passions, your dreams, how you developed such exacting taste in booze?"

Aedric checks 'recovery check' at normal. Aedric marginally fails.

"I cannot betray the Queen!" Nina says, feigning looking aghast at the very thought.

But ah, after a pause, then Nina is honest. "I haven't designed it yet!" she says, then she laughs. "But it will be something in starlight silk I am betting, as that's certainly the fabric most are wearing. I crafted my own outfit in velvet and it is all done leaving me room for commissions. That's all the clues that I will say tonight!"

"Thank you, Dame Barlinnie, Lady Nimue," the Baron replies, cerulean gaze following their combined gestures toward a neighboring section of the beach. "As to be expected, you both look absolutely stunning," he says then, waving off their concern (warning?) with his left gauntlet. "How does the adage go? Misery loves company." The sailor flashes another pleasant smile before trudging carefully in Ember's direction, salt-stained boots still wet from recently wading ashore. "Good evening, Countess Redreef. I bring you good tidings," is conveyed once within earshot, slowing to a halt at a respectful distance.

"Its actually Monique's mask I'm interested in." Pasquale tells Nina. "I would never ask you to betray the Queen." He looks thoughtful. "If you have room for commissions can I claim one?" he gives Gehenna a nod of welcome. "Lord Pasquale Malespero."

"... oh my /gods/, I probably look like I DROWNED--"

At least Nimue waits until /after/ the Baron has left to share this low, mewling worry as she collapses towards resting her head against the knight.

Because she is a Voice, after all, and it wouldn't do to disrespect someone of his station.

Ember doesn't look back at Aedric. "Is this what it's like?" she asks, in response to his greeting.

After a moment's pause, Ember looks back over her shoulder, to the Blackshore Baron. "...your nephews. Is this what it's like, tending to one's family? A lifetime of trying to resist the urge to pick them up and hurl them into the ocean?" She draws in a long breath through her nostrils. "I'm going to be expected to have children one day, and I just threw my Voice into the waves."

"Shh, you still look fine. And it's not the first time someone ended up in the ocean at a Redreef party and won't be the last." By far. Martinique is certain of it.

"For a mask?" Nina asks Pasquale. She puts a finger under her chin. "I think I could fit you in." She grins. "But after that I'd be at my limit if I need to get them all done before the party. Masks require a delicate hand after all. We can discuss further at my shop some time so that your outfit is a surprise to all." She looks up and says, maybe drunkenly at that, "You look beautiful, Lady Nimue!"

Gehenna sips the whiskey, tasting it and feeling the fire of it down her throat. "Well..." she begins, "... I thought I was special but it turns out anyone who likes your whiskey gets the same treatment." Her lip curls into a smile at that, tongue tasting the whiskey on her lips. "Being completely unappreciated by my family and the last voice of reason in it will bring one to learn to appreciate alcohol." She raises up to give Pasquale a small curtsey before sinking back down again, shifting her body to be more comfy. "Lady Gehenna Redreef. A pleasure Lord Pasquale."

"This isn't even the first time I'VE ended up in the ocean at a Redreef party," Nimue murmurs, already a touch brighter after Martinique's reassurance, "but I usually JUMP fir-- huh?"

"... oh--"

"-- /thank/ you, Messere!" she calls back to Nina, managing a smile that lasts until it is time to resume burying her forehead against a Dame.

"Dear sweet Nina, you are *forbidden* from giving Pasquale any clue as to my costume for the masquerade, but you are more than encouraged to tell me what his will be when you figure it out," Monique says to Nina, all while nodding to her statement on Nimue's beauty. Her flask is lifted in salute and then lowered to top up Gehenna's glass. "What! My lady, I'm sure your family is *perfectly reasonable*... but you're not wrong in my fickle nature."

"Fantastic." Pasquale says "I've heard nothing but praise about your talents and Monique has declared she will recognise me no matter what" He looks to Monique as she asks for information and then looks back to Nina. "It should be a true test." he nods to Gehenna. "Predictable as a wildfire."

"See?" Martinique responds, petting Nimue's hair for a moment. Then she covers a yawn with one hand, and a frown. It's too early for that yet. Obviously more drinking is required. "Though as Voice you may have to spend even more time in future brushing your hair." She adds dryly. "Just the pain of greater responsibility."

"Truthfully, my lady, they were relatively well-behaved. Cornelius was, and remains to this day, a strict disciplinarian," Aedric replies, shifting weight from his right leg to his left. "But you've seen how they turned out. Romulius inherited his father's predisposition for irritability and rage. Dycard is a gambler, thrill-seeker, and quite fond of the bottle. Skye..." The Baron pauses, momentarily uncertain. "She was the best of us, I think. A brilliant shipwright. Energetic. Compassionate." He shakes his head. "But they are family, regardless of their deficiencies, and I suspect you will one day look back upon this moment quite fondly. At the end of things, all we have are our memories. My advise to you is this: make the most of it."

He returns his gauntlet to its place between chest and breastplate. "They admire you. You can hear it in their tone."

Ember turns her head to look back out towards the water. "Gods. Then what in the Abyss will /I/ make of a child?" The tone is bleak, but infused with just a bit of gallows humor. She then finally turns toward Aedric in full. "You look remarkably well, for someone who I'm told nearly died at his wedding. Congratulations on your recovery from death. Do let me know when it's time to cull those who turned against you -- in the interest of the ongoing friendship between Houses Redreef and Blackshore, I will kill as many of them as is needed of me." Ember seems to be trying to be friendly toward Aedric in saying this. Ember trying to be friendly is always weirder than Ember trying to be mean.

Gehenna allows Monique to refill her cup and she sips the whiskey. "Thank you My Lady. You are most kind." She look to Pasquale and rolls her eyes, "More like the riptide that will drag you under to a watery death. I honestly don't know what Ember is thinking by assigning my sister... a *divorcee* and a 'warrior' woman as Voice. Is she trying to infuriate more of the Mourning Isles? Of course she is. So so so shortsighted." She shakes her head in despair.

Low, querulous rumbling accompanies Nimue wrapping her arms tightly around Martinique-- less for the notion of hair-brushing than all of the /other/ work that comes with her new role. "... I /do/ have a lot of hair," she murmurs in quiet agreement. "So much so that I will probably need lots of help with brushing..."

One big, bracing breath--

-- and, okay, /another/--

later, Nimue lets go and offers, "Nina, thank you for all of your hard work that I can't wait to wear MORE of... ... and Monique, thank you for having such pretty hair... and Pasquale, for engaging in such wonderful espionage so near... and Gehenna, for not being entirely rude... and... ..." in a low voice warmed by the stubbornly clinging embers of her celebratory mood.

The soldier lets out her brerath as she is abruptly embraced, but she doesn't resist it. Instead, Martinique just holds herself still (and holds her breath) until Nimue releases on her own, and then takes in a sudden gasp. "And there you see, your friends have not abandoned you." She reassures. "Though I may need to take a moment here--as I've had a lot to drink." She isn't slurring her words yet, but her rise is not with its usual predator-smoothness. "I'll be back about though, can't miss the celebrations!"

Monique chuckles, reaching out to drunkenly ruffle Pasquale's hair. "It's true. I'd know you anywhere." She settles back in the chair with a toss of her glorious hair for Nimue, ego inflated beyond bearing. "Of course!" she calls out in response, which she probably would have done even if she wasn't drunk. To Gehenna, a single brow raises. "Yes, damn those divorcees. Imagine, breaking a vow to Limerance. How much do you *hate* that?"

Pasquale tilts his head into a questioning angle when Nimue thanks him "Wonderful Espionage?" before nodding to Gehenna. "That is a very good way to describe Ember." He gives Monique the look of the long suffering and then sighs. "Released from a vow Monique. Not Breaking one." this is afterall a very important distinction. Theres a pause and then he says "You really do look lovely Nimue."

"Ah, then I'll work extra hard on fooling her," Nina says, looking at Pasquale. "With these orders it will be my busiest ball yet. I'm actually thrilled. But I don't want to just think about future parties when I'm having such a fine one right now!" With another acknowledgement from Nimue, Nina finishes her current drink and goes over to give a curtsey. Her dress is still mostly intact and hasn't fallen off yet at least.

"Thank you. Remember, though, that you owe me no formalities. I look old and sick. Or, in the vernacular of my sailors, like shit." Aedric smiles. The expression is, perhaps surprisingly, halfway pleasant. "Soon, I suspect. But not until this business with Helianthus' more politically indecisive vassals has been resolved. The military action in Tresova will likely require a prolonged campaign," the sailor explains, glancing briefly toward the horizon. "I was recently briefed on the existence of someone that I believe you might have an interest in meeting. She can be found east, beyond the reach of the Countess Carita, and near the fringes of the latent Darkwater Deeps."

Ember's mood of sour rage and despair seems to lift instantly at what Aedric says to her. Her dark brows lift, and amber eyes gleam with unconcealed interest. "I see," she murmurs, her mood doing a complete turnaround, even though 'happy Ember' still scans the same as 'angry Ember.' "Then tonight is not a /total/ disaster..."