"Duchess," Aureth says with a faint smile answering hers, lifting a hand as he runs his hand back through the loose fall of his silver-threaded golden hair. He grins, suddenly, a quicksilver flash -- there and gone again. "I love your choker."

Lady Teldra, a Lycene noblewoman, Buchanan, a Champion, Steadfast, a guardian dog, Sir Bristleworth the Hedgehog, 3 Grayson Guardsmen, 1 Armed Confessors arrive, following Cara.

5 King's Own Guardsmen arrives, following Symonesse.

Hadrian's arrival is carried forth in brisk steps, with a half dozen Ducklings or personal guards stepping at a brisk march to keep up with the Duke of Southport. An assistant either side, Hadrian's attention drifts languidly from Camilla at one side and then to Luigi at the other. He beams a grin to the pair before he offers a fluid nod of his head to the pair before he almost too cheerfully informs both of those who prattle regularly about his schedule, appointments, and other demands on his time, "We'll stop in briefly, meet, greet, perhaps exchange high fives if we encounter anyone in need of one, and then be on our way. It won't eat into our meeting tonight too much," he assures Luigi. Hadrian's attention then bounds from his assistants to his Ducklings, whom he idly waves a hand at as if the soft fluttering of his flapping hand could potentially cause them to scurry like insects in the daylight. The Ducklings, unphased, continue to stand their ground behind the Duke, whom again turns his attention away and back to the great hall as a whole and those within it.

Orazio bows to Aislin with pleasure. "Lady Aislin, it is good to see you again. And it does seem so - but then, I cannot but approve. Tea is a very civilized drink." He seems to find more amusement in the statement than is warranted.

Fetching up at Orazio's elbow, Thena offers a little smile and bows her head. "I have not. It's a pleasure, Lord Kennex." Her words are careful, with a practiced quality, but genuine. She glances over and offer another smile, marginally less formal, as Aislin moves up. "Lady Aislin, good evening."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Samantha before departing.

The crowds begin to file in, bringing Cristoph with them as well as Nicia Pravus, hand in arm. Any personal guards are left at the door and he comes without the sword at his belt that he might normally wear. The sight of well... everyone, he hisses softly before mentioning something to the woman next to him quietly. As they pass through the crowds, he spots Thena Grayhope. "Sister." It's a polite greeting and he gives those near her a quick nod.

Ian nods to Thena. His almost unnaturally blue eyes fix on her, and bring with them all of a powerful focus. Apparently not big on pleasantries, this one.

"Good heavens, did Sir Bristleworth -- oh, bother," Cara says as she walks into the great hall, thoroughly distracted by the fact that someone forgot to get the hedgehog out of the little carrier pack that Steadfast wears. She scoops Sir Bristleworth out of his cozy net and with a gentle petting, entrusts him to the care of one of her staff, as well as the dog, too. Divested of her furrier companions, the lady looks up and scans the room, as if seeking someone.

Jiacomo arrives, following Eleyna.

Sir Bristleworth the Hedgehog have been dismissed.

Steadfast, a guardian dog have been dismissed.

Nightshade, a tiny black kitten have been dismissed.

3 Rubino and Zaffria guards have been dismissed.

Ariadne have been dismissed.

Penelope have been dismissed.

Mira arrives very quietly by herself, wearing an umbra dress with a matching jacket, both woven with red seasilk. Her fox-red hair is done up in a twist, and she's wearing gold earrings that match her glasses. Slipping off to the side, she avoids the large knots of the crowd, keeping to a more secluded area.

2 Pravus Guard have been dismissed.

The Great Hall of the Palace has been laid out with snacks and pots of tea, with pretty little teacups and vases full of fresh-picked wildflowers, festooned liberally across the tables that line the walls.

An escort of King's Own arrives to hold the doors to the Hall of Metal open, and it is through these twin doors that Symonesse steps, head held high, smile bright and beaming. She is all kinds of sunny, gown every bit as golden as her eyes, and it is with unhidden warmth that she looks upon each and every guest gathered in this Hall. "Welcome!" she announces, "to the Hall of King Alaric Grayson." She glances at one of her King's Own, as if to make sure she has managed this welcome correctly. He nods indulgently.

"I probably won't be." Victus deadpans straight to Melinda the moment she finishes speaking. His arms are settled over his chest as his pitch black eyes move about to take in the large gathering. Faces he recognized, some he doesn't. Where usually he would be sporting some sort of glower or stony grimace, today the High Lord simply presented himself with the utmost neutrality he could. Nods are given to those whom he does recognize, though they are few and far between with plenty of delay. Eventually his eyes settled upon the Queen to be, black pools they were far from similar to the golden hues she had. His gaze is held long and curiosity upon Symonesse hard enough to create a portrait in his mind. Abandoning his shell of armored protectors, he strides his way toward the elven lady.

Victus takes a moment of contemplation as he looked upon Symonesse's face, ensuring he wouldn't upset her King's Own guards in the process. "Your majesty." The High Lord of Thrax dipped his head low and gave his all behind the most proper bow he could muster... It was pretty shitty, but he tried.

Dafne puts a hand up to to it. "It was a best guess at what they looked like," she admits a little wryly. "But thank you. It is a little frivolous perhaps, but I think it is one way to honour her--" She falls quiet at the arrival of Symonesse, her gaze flicking to her. She dips into a proper curtsy, head bowed, dark silk pooling about her feet.

"Good Elysia, was that a hedgehog?" Orazio's attention is briefly distracted by animal removals, but it doesn't stop him from smiling and nodding to Cara in greeting. As the official announcement is made, he bows to Symonesse, elegant and deep, before offering his arm to Sister Thena, and leaning closer to her to speak quietly.

So many people, and so much to see, so many to see. It all leaves Nicia a little at a loss for words when she sees the amount of people that are present, the hand on Cristoph's arm tightens just a fraction before she takes a deep, slow breath and lets it out. As soon as that breath is let out she smiles, reminding herself to do so and not show nervousness in the face of so many people. When Cristoph greets Thena she offers her a smile of greeting, following his example, "Sister." Then the guest of honor appears, and her attention swings towards Symonesse, eyes widening just a fraction.

Cara catches Orazio's words and looks distractedly sheepish, "I beg your pardon, Father, but Sir Bristleworth is ever sneaking into things. I meant to have one of the lads take the dog over to the Royal Kennels -- the stablemaster there is training them -- but he appears to have followed me in. He's very protective. I promise, though, I am entirely bereft of animals at this time."

Eleyna arrives on the arm of her servant, Jiacomo, chatting quietly to the man as he leads her through the palace and towards the great hall. She hesitates near the entrance, icy blue eyes taking in the sight of the decorated and set tables before they drift to coolly regard Symonesse as she speaks. The princess isn't unfriendly, but she does seem somewhat cautious as she allows her servant to lead her toward a chair, since in her current condition she couldn't remain standing for long.

Saira slips through the doors of the great hall, unaccompanied and unassuming in her own garb, slipping off to the side of the crowd after sinking into a deep curtsy for the woman recently entered. Lips pressed together, fingers fidgeting together nervously, she seems content merely to observe, losing herself in the huge body of people.

Ian turns his attention to the front of the room, and folds his upper body over his cane in a bow that's, let's face it, a bit sloppy for someone of his station. Or anyone, really.

Thena seems unperturbed by Ian's choice of response, relaxed almost, as though he's speaking a language she understands. Her focus slides briefly to Cristoph, and there's a brief little nod of greeting as he passes. "Duke Laurent." Another for Nicia, then she blinks in mild startlement as Symonesse enters and drops a slightly disjointed curtsy before tucking her hand in the crook of Orazio's elbow. Greetinged out for the time being, she gives him a little nod when he asks a quiet question.

Carita rises to a stand, and she offers the entering Queen a deeply respectful curtsy, with her gaze dutifully averted for several beats. Then, with all the fluid motion of a well-practiced courtier, she straightens up and takes her seat once more. Hands clasped together, her expression mildly amused.

"Well, we've never seen a living bat, but I think it's the thought that counts," Aureth says, but whatever else he was going to say about bats or adornments thereabout is cut off by the lift of his gaze towards the entering lady. His smile flickers wide across his lips, there and gone again. He rests his hand over the Faith symbol on his coat and bows, elaborately, and then straightens, pale eyes still bright with interest as he looks toward the future queen. Yaay.

Hadrian throws himself into the knots of bodies. While some seek to avoid them, Hadrian makes his way abruptly to them. To interact with them, to see whom is speaking of what and to whom, and just to offer his own greetings! Hadrian makes way first to Legate Orazio, the Heart of Solace, the Shield of the Faith and greetings him with a polite, but shallow bow, "Legate Orazio, a pleasure to see you as always. How's the sweet life of terrifying small children?", he asks with a blossom of a grin. Then however Hadrian's attention is drawn away at the arrival of a number of knights from the King's Own and their war, Symonesse. Hadrian watches on with obvious curiosity, but for the moment he maintains his distance. He does however speak up in response to the greeting, "And allow us to welcome you to the Compact and our fair city of Arx. I do hope that you're enjoying it so far... if not? Wait a few minutes," Hadrian remarks with bright eyes and a mirthful smile as he offers a deep, but eloquent bow.

Aislin pauses in her conversation with Orazio, turning to offer the elven queen-to-be a deeply respectful bow -- curtsies, it seems, aren't really Aislin's thing. But there's doubtless a quick crush of people near Symonesse, and so she turns her attention back to Orazio, and... "Hedgehog? Oh! Hello, Cara." And no sooner has Aislin greeted her than the Grayson princess passes her, somewhat incongruously, a vase. Aislin nods her silent thanks, then promptly has the vase sent over into the keeping of her retainer. One does not, after all, carry a vase around at tea.

Cambria looks towards the double doors as they swing open to reveal the Compact's new queen. The look is admiring, though Cambria does appear as though she attempts to reign it in. It takes the voice of Hadrian to break the enchantment, and Cambria dips into an elegant curtsey.

"It's quite adorable, if spiky," Orazio confesses to Cara, with a chuckle. "And a delight to see you looking well." Hadrian is given a bow, and then an amused snort. "I do not terrify small children, thank you. There's no challenge in that." He moves to guide Thena to a seat, gesturing to any of those in the vicinity to join them should they wish.

Eithne arrives with a bit of a jingle jangle to her sauntering steps. The petite armorer shimmers in a dragonscale gown of her own design and boldly shows off a bit more skin than a girl from Arx is used to doing. Perhaps it's all that Lycene influence of late. There are so many people here, naturally, and though she is short in stature, she walks tall, making her way through the throngs of party..ahem /tea/ goers to catch a glimpse of the future Queen, Lady Symonesse. It is on this path that she finds a rather tall, dark, and handsome Ferrando. A quick pivot has Eithne heading towards the Artiglio's direction. "Well well, fancy meeting you here!" His brawny arm is met with a pinch and she rises onto her toes to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

Ian will be very quickly left behind by Orazio, but he follows along after him and his impromptu retinue, anyway. He moves slowly, and even those steps look like they take all of his attention.

Cristoph's attention is swinging around to the room at large again when Symonesse makes her appearance. His eyes go a bit wide and his mouth firms into a line of thoughtfulness. Then he dips at the waist in a bow, as custom would likely dictate. "Your majesty." He doesn't expect her to notice him in particular, given the number of people that are likely to demand her attention. His focus slips once more to Nicia and he resumes some of that quiet conversation.

Melinda looks also over to the queen to be, though she dose not approach, as Victus moves off, she looks for someone she might know to sit with. Slowly she moves around the room, her skirts passing over her ankles as she breathes softly, she draws her fingers over her middle for a moment as she stands and people watches

"Now that it's finally getting colder, I keep finding him in the oddest of places. Yesterday, he'd crawled right into my boot and fallen asleep," Cara explains, gesturing vaguely in hedgehog and boot shapes. She grins at little crookedly at Aislin but composes herself promptly to look toward Symonesse and the King's Own, letting out a little wistful sigh. "How lovely and grand it is, to see the Palace once more lit and lively, no?" This observation is not directed at anyone specifically, but spoken loudly enough that anyone might hear.

Ugarte arrives, following Fortunato.

"You do terrify brand new squires," Thena notes to the legate with a faint trace of impishness, now that she's survived round one of introductions.

Eleyna attempts to catch Orazio's eye, as one of the few present that she's familiar with, and offers the Legate an elegant nod. The other person she's somewhat familiar with is Ferrando, but he gets a waggle of her fingers and quick smirk. He -is- family after all. A few whispered words from Jiacomo steals Eleyna's attention away for a moment before she waves the man off and settles into a chair, gazing about with her usual detachment, yet definitely throwing a glance toward Symonesse here and there.

Nicia's suddenly reminded to curtsey when Cristoph bows, a small hiccup in manners that she prays goes unnoticed. She then straightens, letting her eyes skim the crowd that are present, leaning towards Cristoph to continue the quiet conversation for the moment.

Fortunato slips along the back with his canvas-bound board and his graphite and observer's stance. Here to watch, here to sketch, here to note.


    Cesare arrives in quiet, dressed as one might expect of a Whisper- clothes that are stylish enough to fit into such a crowd of gilded nobility, but without so much as the slightest attempt to outdo any potential patron. He stands apart from the servants, certainly, but he is common.

    A Queen making her appearance is a reason to kneel, and so does the common man take a quiet knee in reverent silence to the Queen- Cesare holding the stance until the Queen has sat and the event begun in earnest. Once the moment has passed, however, he will stand in graceful step and quietly begin searching for an open seat.


"It's good for them," Orazio tells Thena, serenely. And pulls her chair out for her. Seeing Eleyna's elegant nod, his face lights up with warmth, and he gestures at a chair with a hopeful lift of his brows.

Saira slips quietly into a chair, folding gloved hands in her lap and fixing her eyes forward on the unfolding event. Brow furrowed in some slight confusion, she watches, though does not seek clarification.

"It is my duty to welcome you all," Symonesse says, and though she can't smile as she speaks, her twinkling eyes do all the smiling for her. "And yet you stand before me to offer a welcome of your own. I could not be more honored, or more grateful." She descends the steps that lead down into the great hall, skirts flowing back behind her, and then presents herself to her audience with a low, respectful curtsey. As she raises out of that curtsey, she says, "I am not your Queen yet, for I have not married your King, but it will be a privilege to serve you, and your Compact, in this way, and to be mother to a new future for the Compact, and the Night Grove. Now! Please enjoy tea and snacks!"

Orazio has joined the Gray Table.

Ian has joined the Gray Table.

Thena has joined the Gray Table.

Saira has joined the Gray Table.

Aislin has joined the Great Table.

Saira has left the Gray Table.

Saira has joined the Darkened Alcove.

Dafne listens to their future Queen, and observes, quietly, "She speaks well." It is the word 'serve' that earns her approval, it appears. She turns and flashes a quick smile to Cara and Aislin as she glances about the tables.

Hadrian fires off a quick smile and a playful wink cast toward Orazio before he offers a nod of acceptance, "Not intentionally, of course. Surely I was mistaken then. Was it the elderly?", and with that Hadrian leaves that next playful remark to linger as he meanders with Camilla and Luigi following along in his wake. The Ducklings are growing in number. Hadrian moves toward the new Queen-to-be, but not too close of course. He glances off to his left and right with bright green eyes to consider the nearby King's Own, but ultimately the Duke of Southport's attention drifts back to Lady Symonesse. The opening of snacks and tea draws a polite nod of his head from Hadrian as he clears his throat and looks off to regard Luigi at his side. An inquisitive brow lofts at his assistant as though in questioning. That raised brow receives a simple nod from Luigi in answer. It results in a bright, broad, and pearly white grin slashes across Hadrian's features before he quietly remarks to one of his two assistances, "Very good."

Cara has joined the Great Table.

Hadrian has joined the Great Table.

Eithne has joined the Green Table.

Thena takes the seat Orazio pulls out for her with a little grateful smile, then takes a moment to look around the room. She raises a hand in a little wave to Carita, and then glances over at Fortunato, though she leaves him in peace with his drawing.

Ferrando has joined the Green Table.

There's a brief, but distinctive, flash of gratitude in Ian's eyes when he finally sits down. He leans his cane against the table quite close to him, having learned from experience not to put it where someone can trip over it.

Victus offered the Queen to be a second quick dip of his chin, the High Lord on as respectful behavior as he could ever be tonight. "We're lookin' forward to you and our King leadin' happy lives, your Majesty." With the offer of tea and snacks on the menu he wouldn't hesitate to begin moving toward his place at one of the tables as well. His guardsmen are sent to one of the far corners of the room as not to disturb a soul, the Thraxian coming to a stop at the Great Table. He slumps down into a seat and rests forward on his elbows.

Victus has joined the Great Table.

"It does honor to the Compact that you embrace this beginning alongside us," Aureth says, pitching his voice to carry with a performer's resonance as he moves to claim a seat. "I hope that our people will continue to follow this example. May the Mother of Beginnings bless this one as She blesses new lives."

Aureth has joined the Great Table.

Saira makes for one of the tables, then appears to think better of it, glancing at them as if she is uncertain where she is meant to sit to avoid a scandal. Opting for caution, it seems, she melts back int the shadows of a nearby alcove.

Symonesse clasps her hands and smiles all radiant and delighted as people begin to take their seats and serve their tea (though of course, there do appear to be Crown servants on hand to assist, respectfully). "You're all so lovely, aren't you," she murmurs, and though it seems she murmurs it to herself, it'd not be terribly hard to overhear. "Every soul a beacon of light."

Cristoph finally straightens up, "Lets find some place to enjoy our tea and snacks." He smiles at her, giving the room at large a sweep of his gaze. He glances once towards one table before a little sigh of reluctant acceptance slips onto his face and leads Nicia towards the Great Table, pulling out a chair for her to sit before him.

Dafne has joined the Great Table.

Cristoph has joined the Great Table.

Nicia has joined the Great Table.

"She does," Aislin agrees with Dafne, adding dryly, "Though after the Assembly the other day, I shouldn't be surprised that a Nox'alfar would understand the responsibilities of human leadership and fealty better than most humans seem to." But she then leaves the topic aside, pulling a chair out for Cara -- princesses, and all -- before pulling one out for herself.

"Yes," Hadrian remarks on the matter of being lovely. He even lifts a gloved hand to sweep back his cold black hair before his attention drifts aside to regard Luigi for a moment. A nod is passed from Duke to assistant before Hadrian's hand lowers and extends, palm up for Luigi to pass along a small box to Hadrian.

Eithne gently takes a seat over at the green table, careful not to poke herself with the overlapping plate of dragonscales. "Tea and snacks." She murmurs to Ferrando just before catching Symonesse's words about souls and light.

An expression of satisfied amusement flashes over Eleyna's face at the response from Ferrando, almost as if she wants to laugh, but restrains herself. Jiacomo, not positioned too far from his mistress, returns to her side as she waves him over, essentially to serve as a steady hand so she can lever herself to her feet. She starts to move toward Orazio's table, his warmth reflected somewhat in her own cool features as she meanders closer and speaks in that low, resonant voice, "Father Orazio. May I join you?" She glances toward Symonesse as she speaks and offers the woman a respectful nod before turning her attention to the Legate and the others at his table.

"I wonder what snacks they have..." Nicia murmurs thoughtfully, following Cristoph's lead towards the table, settling into the chair that he pulls out for her, hands smoothing out her skirt before she offers those already at the table a smile of greeting, "Hello."

Eleyna has joined the Gray Table.

Symonesse leans in to murmur something to one of her guards, uncertain. He offers her his arm, gentlemanly, and guides her to the proper seat at the table. It is not the King's chair, of course, and the King is not here at all, but it is the chair directly to the side, and she takes a seat with gratitude and grace in equal parts.

Symonesse has joined the Great Table.

Orazio rises again as Eleyna approaches, and moves to pull out a chair for her, as well. "Nothing would do us greater honor, Princess." He makes quiet introductions - "Lord Ian Kennex, and Sister Thena, squire of the Knights of Solace, this is the Princess Eleyna Velenosa."

Fortunato waggles his graphite toward Thena, then takes position at the edge of the largest table, rudely silently. Sketch sketch. His eyes drift toward Symonesse often enough. She is the fair curiosity of the hour.

Fortunato has joined the Great Table.

Cambria does not seem to be the sort to second guess herself, for she boldly approaches the great table and then (one must assume also boldly, if such a thing is possible) takes a seat. When a Crown servant offers her tea and snacks to choose from, the Marquessa points at this and that and that, and oh thank you that tea will do.

Cambria has joined the Great Table.


    Cesare can't help but stare at the Queen-to-Be. He's enchanted, wholly, by her beauty. By the way she moves, how she seems to shine. Everything fades. Everything disappears. There is, for at least one endless moment, only a single being in this entire room. It is an overwhelming thing, unique. "And in every movement a song." he whispers to himself, before he turns slowly and makes to leave the Tea party- thoughts of music suddenly dancing through his mind. Music- that love which he could never deny.

"Welcome to Arx, your majesty-to-be," Dafne murmurs toward Symonnesse in her careful Nox'alfar. She adds, in Arvani, taking her cue from Aureth, "And, yes. We have been blessed with new beginnings, and may the Queen smile on this one." That said, she takes her seat at the great table. Her lips twitch at Aislin's remark.

Carita nods her acknowledgement toward Thena as soon as there is a chance that she might make passing eye contact with her. Then, turning aside, as she takes tea. The cup and saucer are very convenient props.

Ian bows his head to Eleyna. "Your highness." He seems to be erring on the side of fewer words, tonight. At least his table manners are pretty good.

Victus takes a tea-cup in one of his strong hands and... stares. Somewhat perplexed. He lifts it back to his scarred lips and drinks its contents in one quick go. Disappointment was written on his face. "That's uh... That's it? Why is it so small...?" More grumblings rumble out of Thrax's High Lord as he is poured a second cup. "This is fuckin' weird." He adds as he looks the cup forward and back in his hands.

Darrow strides into the Great Hall, silent, and offering little in greeting to anyone, initially, nor causing any great fuss with his arrival. His reflecting-pool blue eyes drift over Orazio and Ian, then fix at Victus at the Great Table.

Saira seems wholly at a loss when faced with such a large scale event. With nary a soul unoccupied to query, and those seated seeming rather accompanied by friend or other, she seems a bit relieved when a shadowy form beckons to her from the door. Rising to approach the messenger, she dips her head, then nods, slipping quietly out, invisible as she has been since arriving.

Saira has left the Darkened Alcove.

"Hello." Cristoph greets, nodding once at the people in his immediate vicinity at the table. The duke of Laurent will smooth out his doublet before slipping into his seat. As a servant passes them by, he waits for them to address Nicia first before selecting some things from the plate and having his cup filled with tea. His attention drifts around before taking his cup and having a delicate sip from it.

Cesare quietly makes his way to the door, and out into the night.

Darrow strides into the Great Hall, silent, and offering little in greeting to anyone, initially, nor causing any great fuss with his arrival. His reflecting-pool blue eyes drift over Orazio and Ian, then fix at Victus at the Great Table, and then a long, examining look is leveled at the Nox'Alfar.

Symonesse wiggles her fingers at Cesare, catching his gaze as he watches her. "Oh! Thank you for greeting me in the language of my people," she answers Dafne. "That was very thoughtful of you, but unnecessary. I have worked very hard to speak your language, though sometimes it seems I understand the words and not the language. Do you know?" She pours a cup of tea for anyone who happens to be seated nearby at the Great Table, and only then pours one for herself.

While Eleyna isn't by nature a warm woman, there is a nod of respect toward Ian and Thena as they are introduced. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ian, Sister Thena." With a grateful smile for Orazio, the Velenosan princess drops into the chair with as much grace as she can muster.

Nicia selects a few of the snacks on offer, and a cup of tea before she looks towards Victus, laughing just a bit at him, "I hear that it is an aquired taste, Your Grace." Then she glances towards Symonesse, watching her for a moment, one hand settling on her lap, the other very firmly holding her tea cup, "That, Your Majesty, is not hard to believe. Sometimes words, by definition, mean one thing, and then by use another."

"This language is my native tongue and sometimes I still don't know what I'm saying." Cristoph drawls to Symonesse with a tinge of humor in his voice. Then he sips from his cup and takes a nibble of a little cracker thing. There's amusement on his face as Victus reacts to the taste of tea, his eyebrows hiking slightly before he takes another.

"The ways of language are tied to history and culture of a people, I find -- one without the other is as useful as trying to read letters printed upside down and backwards, from time to time," Cara glances shyly at Symonesse, bowing her head, before adding cheekily, "Which isn't without its own entertainment. Sometimes I try it for fun, when I've had a glass of wine or two." Scholars. They know how to party.

Hadrian shifts his attention down the table as Lady Symonesse takes a seat. He continues to watch and listen with a look of cheerful amusement, though diminished just enough to not look crazed. No crazy eyes. No leering smiles. Just subdued happiness. Hadrian shifts the box over to Luigi after the hinges whisper softly and Hadrian takes a peek at the contents. A nod is given to Luigi, who accepts the box and steps away once more from his place hovering over Hadrian's left shoulder. Once in possession of the box Luigi begins to carry it off to one of the nearby King's Own who stand sentry over Lady Symonesse. During that time, Hadrian rises and speaks up with a sincere tone and suddenly serene expression, "Lady Symonesse, as a show of my thanks for opening the palace to us for tea and snacks, I'd like to extend a gift to yourself. Nothing grandiose, something simple but from what I've read of your people, something that I hope that you'll enjoy. Please consider it my token of welcome." Following that, Hadrian again settles into his seat and the Duke of Southport shifts his attention to a recently poured cup of tea.

Dafne accepts a cup of tea, carefully cradling it. "I feel that a language must be tied very much to the people who speak it," she says, with an inclination of her head toward Cara. "To us, the words and syllables and images are not the same, and it is hard to grasp the soul of it. Do we all see the same thing in the stars? Does our sense of colours carry the same weight and symbolism from one people to another?"

Melinda has joined the Great Table.

Victus is making a rather obtuse sight of himself, his awkward posture locked up in his seat as one hand held a far too small teacup and the other a pastry snack. His face was twisted into that of a man that was sorely, sorely uncomfortable. "I get it..." He mumbles toward Nicia before suddenly mouthing 'I don't get it' just as fast as he had. His eyes turn back to Symonesse some paces down the table, "Do you know when you and his majesty are to be married? If you had free time between, I wouldn't mind learnin' a bit of the Nox'alfar tongue myself. If you could direct me to someone smarter than I."

"I only speak one language," Aureth remarks as he leans forward to frame his hands around a cup of tea at the Great Table, "and I can't understand what people are talking about in it a good half the time since a lot of it is trash, really."

Fortunato finishes an initial sketch and perhaps all the bustle is a bit too much, or a quick sketch was the object. He departs.

Fortunato has left the Great Table.

Ugarte leaves, following Fortunato.

Ian seems as interested in the rest of the people in the room as he is in the queen, or even moreso. The force of his gaze shifts from person to person, always with a sense of intent, although it's not always clear what caught his attention.

Eithne suddenly whistles louder than she expected to. "I'd give anything to have her tailor. Look at that gown, Rando!" Clearly impressed with Symonesse's attire.

Melinda sits somewhere in an empty seat and she smiles softly to Victus as she picks up her teacup and lifts a slender pinki, she sipps upon it as she listens to the conversations at hand. Her eyes meet Duke Hadrian and she smiles softly to him, before her eyes then move along the table and she offers that same warm smile to others between sips

Carita finishes her tea, setting the cup and saucer aside as she steps out from the shadows of the alcove. She offers a curtsy as a departing gesture before she drifts out.

Carita has left the Shadowy Corner.

"I think learning another language helps you to understand their culture," Aislin notes to Dafne and Cara. "Not necessarily /well/, mind you, but better than not speaking the language at all. What words are important -- what things the language dwells on describing -- give you an idea of what's important to the people who speak that language."

"They are tied to the hearts of people, too," Symonesse observes to Cara. "You cannot understand what a person says if you cannot understand what they feel. They are woven together, like spider silk." She lifts her teacup, and fans gently at the steam that wafts up from it. "A princess of the Valardin asked me if I had any allergies," she says. "I am allergic to the sun, of course. Of course! But I am allergic to cruelty, too. It weighs upon my heart, stretches my light out thin and dim. How do you all bear it? Do you not wish for a kinder world? I hope that by my actions -- by my sweat and blood -- I might help build one." She flushes. "Oh, that's a bit of a tangent, isn't it? We were just talking about language and there I go."

"I second that desire." Nicia is quick to add when Victus mentions learning the language, her cup being lifted, then she carefully sips from it before she glances towards Aislin, "Would not observation of those people give you many of the same understandings? Language without context of action can be very confusing, I would imagine."

Symonesse looks up at her guard with wide-eyed surprise. And then over to Hadrian with that very same surprise. "Oh!" she gasps. "What is it!"

Ferrando has an entire table of tea cookies at his mercy and the first round of decimation is well and truly in progress. With a very polite lack of crumbs and an on-point napkin game, of course. Anyway, he looks vaguely in the direction Eithne points out but the future Queen's gown is not cookies so it gets a bit of an offhanded yep-that's-a-gown nod and his attention returns to the snacks at his mercy. Mmm.

"I believe many healers feel as you do, Lady Symonesse -- and would that we can make the world better, through what actions we are able," Cara agrees quietly, glancing with a smile at Hadrian as he presents his gift.

Cambria watches as events unfold with unmasked curiosity, even pleasure, even if she has yet to contribute in any way to the conversation at large.

"Some of us are born far and away from a gentle corner of the world, your majesty." Victus replies dryly to Symonesse as she speaks of cruelty. "Some do not have better places to go and once they've grown, they're already shaped by the hand they've been dealt. You would need an awful lot o' light to light up every fucking dark- sorry, every dark corner in the world." There's a look exchanged to Nicia then... Victus slowly raises his pinky finger out and promptly misplaces the rest of them, dropping the teacup on the table with a mutter curse before fetching a new one.

"I agree," says Dafne, after a thoughtful sip. "And yet I would say one of the great problems is st--ignorance. Ignorance can cause a great deal of suffering, too; so even as we strive for a kinder world we must, too, strive for a more knowledgeable one lest we cause greater suffering by not know what we do. Knowledge is a kind of light, too."

Cristoph watches Hadrian pass off his gift with faint amusement on his expression. It's one that broads when he hears Aureth's comment. He lifts his tea cup to the man in solidarity on this subject. "You're the Archlector Grayhope, yes?" He queries with interest. When Victus drops his cup, his attention snaps that way and he snorts. "Whoops." A curious look is shot to Nicia.

Symonesse shakes her head to Victus, in mild-mannered disagreement. "In six thousand years I have seen the darkest of dark nights," she says. "I have seen every terror. Some I have felt for myself. But cruelty is a choice. In the face of darkness, you choose to be shadow or light."

"Doing both is best," Aislin replies to Nicia, seemingly prepared to launch enthusiastically into lecturing mode. "And Prince Victus, there were lessons in the Nox'alfar language given at the Society of Explorers; we could always hold more, if there's more interest." Symonesse's remark about a kinder world, however, causes Aislin's expression to turn more somber -- her lecturing mood broken by the thought of just how cruel the world /can/ be -- but mention of 'six thousand years' causes her to nearly choke on her tea. It's possible she didn't quite realize how old this particular elf was.

"That's me," Aureth says, looking up from his tea with an uptick of his eyebrows. His smile slides across his mouth. "I believe Sister Gisele brought some of your honey back to our townhouse at one point," he says. "Duke Laurent, isn't it?"

Eleyna checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 1 higher.

Symonesse looks over at Aislin with immediate concern. "Are you all right, Al?" she asks her. "Don't choke, my sweet, you'll break my heart. It's my very own blend, I brought the flowers all the way back with me from the Grove! I won't pretend to have picked them all myself, though. That'd be an awful deception. Many of my people helped me."

Hadrian considers Symonesse and her question for a moment before he idly muses in return, "My lady, it is a gift. A box, really. The gifts are inside. I think," he states with some measure of humorous consideration as though he truly were uncertain whether he remembered to include the items. After he drops the act, Hadrian's attention delves back to his tea. He sips briefly from it before his focus returns to the table itself. The gift passed off and an explanation presented, Hadrian's focus shifts now to the other tea party guests. He watches Cambria for a moment, whom he acknowledges with a brief nod. Then Hadrian's attention drifts off toward Melinda and the smile she casts his way. He lifts a hand in silent greeting which is joined by a shallow bow of his head for only a fleeting moment.

Cara checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 14 higher.

Cara glances at Aislin and quietly slides a plate of biscuits over towards Aislin.

Aureth checked composure + etiquette at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Victus takes a short pause, mouth somewhat agape as the Queen to be casually drops her age. "Eh..." With a quick shake of his head the High Lord is brought out of his brief stupor. "Yeah, everybody got a choice. But the odds are stacked against people who don't get a single fair opportunity in their lives. Only the strong survive to better themselves in those times and that kinda strength is a rarity." The Thraxian casts a glaring side-eye toward those snickering as he retrieves a new tea-cup. Pinky out, for real this time. "But uh... I'm only about 32 years wise, so, I ain't claiming to be an expert."

Melinda nibbles on her bisquit as she looks to Victus and then she smiles "I would love to attend lessons if there are to be more." she says on the lessons of the Elvish language and society, "who is teaching them?"

Hadrian checked composure + etiquette at difficulty 20, rolling 3 higher.

Orazio raises his voice to say, "That depends on the definition of 'bettering oneself', Your Grace. I have seen many people who lack conventional types of strength choose compassion and kindness in the face of cruelty, time and again, and by doing so, better the world. It is not an impossible choice for anyone to make - in some ways, it is a /harder/ one for the strong and powerful, for it involves examining ones own behavior, and giving up power, at times."

"In this life, High Lord Victus," Cara glances at the Thrax, then lifts her cup of tea to sip carefully. "Perhaps you've lived many lives before, and are older than you know. Or perhaps you are new. Such things are certainly possible, at least."

Nicia leans in towards Cristoph, murmuring to him with a bit of a smile before she nods to Aislin, "I would be interested, if your society had more lessons on it." She then glances at Symonesse, not at all appearing shocked by the six thousand number. There is a bit of a smile offered to her before her attention shifts towards Aureth when he addresses Cristoph.

"Fine, fine," Aislin assures Symonesse a bit breathlessly, as if she hadn't just attempted to breathe tea in place of air. "I just... six /thousand/ years. To a human, that's an almost unfathomable amount of time to imagine having seen." She pauses, and then admits with one of her infrequent smiles, "And to someone with an interest in history, it inspires a touch of curiosity." Though to judge from her tone, it's less 'touch' and more 'raging inferno'.

Cambria lowers her teacup to its saucer, then returns the nod to Hadrian, though a bit belatedly. She half leans towards the Duke of Southport, and begins to mutter, "I wonder..." Yet she never finishes, shaking her head and instead turning her focus to one snack in particular. As Orazio speaks, she lifs her head, seeming to pay his words attention.

"It was Lady Aislin who taught me," says Dafne at Aislin's words. She worries her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. "I would think, then," she says, "that one can draw a distinction between being cruel and taking actions that result in causing suffering--they are not always the same thing." She adds, with a quirk of her lips, "But I am only nineteen myself. Likely it compromises my base to be an authority on anything, even among my people."

"Yes, I've had the pleasure of meeting Sister Gisele on several occasions. She's quite brilliant." Cristoph replies genuinely. Either he doesn't care for tea or he's forgotten, he eventually forgets about the cup. "I did send some to her once. That's me. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gapes a little when the soon to be queen reveals her age. Then he closes his mouth swiftly without saying anything on the subject. A glance is cut to Victus and he remarks, "I believe people can be conditioned to believe they have no other choice but to choose cruelty."

Symonesse opens the box she's been given, appreciation written plain across her features. "Thank you!" she says to Hadrian, before snapping the box shut and passing it back to one of her guards for safe keeping. "I can see new and old," she offers, casually. "I can see the light of your souls, for every day and every life that light has shone. Some of you are very old! And some of you--" A fond glance to Aureth. "--Some of you are new, and beloved."

"Lives may begin in the dark, but there is always a choice," Aureth says, leaning back into his seat as he dawdles over the floral aroma of the tea. "Sometimes an unexpected one, every now and again." The glint of his pale eyes lingers on Aislin for a moment, and then flicks away. "An honor and a pleasure, my lord," he says. He returns Symonesse's smile, wide and -- for him -- unusually warm. "Brand new," he agrees, quite cheerful about it, and toasts Symonesse with his tea. It's not really a toasting beverage.

Thena is meandering through her tea, keeping half an ear on the conversation buzzing around Symonesse. Something in the woman's words makes her hurk a little bit of the tea into her windpipe and hastily grab a napkin to muffle the noise. Seems to be going around.

"Aislin, that's..." Victus raises a leather-bound hand to coast toward each person sat at the table, eventually settling on the other white-haired lady there today. "Her. Good, I'll bug her about it." The Thrax nods affirmatively as he turns his eyes back to those addressing him, Cara first of all. "I... Uh, well, guess it could be a thing..." He's searching for the words though few are coming. "I don't frankly know what my soul is doing but I'm hopin' it stays where it is right now. I'd be pretty fucked without it from all I know." Another nod is given toward Cristoph. "Aye, they can. But the strong can break that mindset too. You can be raised to believe one thing and then eventually, the world gives you a big ol' kick in the ass that goes against all of that. You either break, or you bend. Be better to bend though, obviously."

Melinda looks to the Archlector and he tilts her head as the Elf Queen call him young, and she lifts a curious brow his way as she sips her tea she listens to the conversations about her. Eyes dancing between them all.

Cara actually laughs at Victus' words, agreeing, "I concur, Your Grace. It's likely best right where it is. I don't believe the Queen approves of them wandering off on their own, for one."

"You are able to see who is old and who is young?" Nicia wonders, glancing towards Symoneese at that, her curiosity piqued by the statement, "Is this something that you simply naturally see, or...do you have to concentrate on it?" She then smiles a bit, her expression growing apologetic, "I apologize, that must seem like a very rude question."

Symonesse nods to Nicia. "It is a gift of mine," she says. "I could not be Keeper of Light if I could not see that very light -- the light of Self, the light of soul."

Ian having been pretty well (if gently) chided for someone he's said at his table, bobs his head in what's clearly an apology, and decides to fix his attention on the room and not talk.

"What does it look like?" asks Dafne in genuine curiosity.

Cristoph nibbles on his bit of snack now, falling quiet for a moment. He seems about to ask something, when Nicia speaks and Symonesse replies. He looks interested but instead of speaking quite yet, he focuses intently on the cookie.

Hadrian replies to Symonesse's thanks with a humble bow of his head before he responds politely in return, "You are most welcome, my lady. As I said: welcome. I believe I can say with confidence that we are thankful for your presence and aiding in returning the King. I should apologize however, I've failed to introduce myself!" He says with a bright grin before he rises to his full height and does so, "My name is Hadrian Malvici, Duke of Southport and of House Malvici." Following that introduction, Hadrian fluidly lowers back into his seat and turns his attention aside to regard Cambria as the stranger leans in to quietly murmur the beginning of her musings. Musings which Hadrian readily completes on her behalf, "...if dogs really can look up? I have it on good authority that they can in fact look up. With proper motivation," Hadrian answers with a sagely nod of his head.

Victus spares a long glance toward Symonesse as he she says that, eventually turning in his seat so he might face the Queen to be properly. "I don't know what the fuck that means, but I'll bite." He says in a hushed tone. "How old am I, your majesty? My soul, or spirit or... 'light' been many places interesting?"

Nicia watches Symonesse for a long moment, her brows furrowing a moment before she nods, "I would be..." She halts when Hadrian makes his introduction, glancing at him then she glances at Victus, "I will as well, Your Majesty. I'm curious."

Cara takes another biscuit and listens, gaze bright and curious as it flits to Victus and Nicia both.

Symonesse looks positively abashed as Hadrian introduces himself. "Oh no!" she breathes. "Did I remember to introduce myself?" she asks, looking to those faces seated closest to her. "I'm Symonesse Marin'luna," she says, and thrusts her hand out at Hadrian in some approximation of a handshake. "Keeper of Light!"

"I think," Aislin remarks to Victus, "that -- for humans -- even old souls can feel new and inexperienced. Those who are reborn would still have to re-learn everything, after all. And someone who's a high lord or queen in one lifetime might be a peasant in the next, and a great warrior in one lifetime might have a chance to live out their secret dream of being a baker when the wheel brings them back." Then she glances over at Symonesse, curious to hear how souls look -- if they're individually distinct or not.

Melinda looks over to Victus as he asks about his light and she smiles softly to him. Her eyes move to Hadrain and she listens to his introduction before she pauses and then looks between Nicia and the Lord of Thrax. "Lady Melinda Grimhall, voice of house Grimhall" she says as she joins the introductions.

"That's a secret for me to know and you to seek within yourself," Symonesse says to Victus, a little scolding. "You shouldn't ask me what is yours to remember! It would be very rude of me to say. It is like, how does it go among your people ... it is rude to ask a woman her age?"

"Bright," Symonesse adds, re: souls, as she scrambles to answer every question with all proper attentiveness. "Some are dim and some are bright and some hold their form and others melt to the ground like puddles. Your King, his soul was in a puddle, and every person and every soul went stomping through it, scattering it farther."

"She can tell you mine because I know it already," Aureth says, putting his cup down as he reaches for one of the most delicious-looking of rhte cookies. "I suggest prayer, Your Grace," he says, and he winks at Victus. Because he is a dork. The humor fades, though, and he winces a little at the whole ... puddle-stomped soul thing. :( Poor soul.

Cambria's eyes slide towards Victus as he asks his question, though prior to that she had been observing Hadrian as he introduced himself. She seems to consider the situation at hand, only to be drawn from her reverie by Hadrian's words. "Precisely that," she answers smoothly in reply. There is then a giggle of amusement as Symonesse replies to Victus. A slender hand is lifted hastily to her mouth.

Nicia smiles at Symonesse's answer, then she looks towards Aureth, "And if we already had a very strong suspicion, my question is how does one confirm that it is true, and not just...a wish and a hope turning into a dream to trick us?"

Dafne sets her cup down and cups her chin in her hands, expression a little dreamy as she pictures a rainbow of glowing souls. "Do the differences mean things?" she asks. "Are old souls dim and new bright or vice versa? Are some souls sick or injured like the King's? Or are the differences...just are, as one person's hair fair and another's dark?"

Victus casts his gaze onto Aislin then as she speaks, listening to the elvish lady on the precipice of his vision. "I guess that makes sense, if to be believed..." Symonesse's explanation however does not move his expression an inch. Rather, the scolding and apparent winking he receives after the fact metaphorically pelts off of him. "... Yeah. Okay." The High Lord returns to silence as he stares into the steaming cup of tea.

Charlemagne the Unicorn arrives, following Larissa.

"I'm still going to go with prayer," Aureth says, a little wry; he rests his hand over his heart and then lifting his wrist to show off the little skull charm that dangles from it in silver. "But I'd advise you not to rest your heart on being any particular soul. Each chapter in your soul's life matters. The Nox'Alfar remember all their lifetimes, but I think in ways that we have forgotten can be our own gift. To learn anew, in these brief flashes of mortal insight, and to find value in each of our lives, in each chapter of our story, strung together by a unifying theme." His pale gaze widens very slightly.

Hadrian's grin spreads, but soothes itself away before he adds with a soft chuckle, "Lady Symonesse, the Compact has heard your name spoken near and far by now. Even had you forgotten? We certainly understand," the Duke of Southport replies with good cheer. A moment later however he continues in turn, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Symonesse Marin'luna." The offered hand though results in Hadrian's subdued only becoming a little brighter before he reaches out to accept the hand. Firm, but not powerful, he returns the offered handshake with one of his own. His opposite hand even comes to gently pat against the back of the offered hand in good natured greeting, before again Hadrian's hands withdraw again. Afterward Hadrian dips into silence before he extracts himself from the brief exchange so as not to occupy too much of the host's attention. Hadrian's focus returns to Cambria as she offers her smooth response, "It brings joy to my heart that I could anticipate your question. Now, what is it that you truly wonder? I have a wonder too. Who might you be?", Hadrian asks as he shifts back and into his seat with a raised brow while he fixes Cambria with an appraising eye.

"I think a new life can be a gift, for some," Cara says, glancing to Nicia, "But we humans are always striving for answers, too. To know more. To understand. But perhaps you might pray to the Queen of Endings, to seek her grace, for surely She would know."

Melinda has left the Great Table.

Melinda finishes her tea as a messenger comes within to give her a message and she smiles to everyone, "I need to go, it was great seeing you all, she nods to Hadrian and then she inclines her head to the Elf, bowing to her before she makes her way out.

If Symonesse's grip is a bit delicate, it exudes no lack of warmth. "Your forgiveness is appreciated!" she says to Hadrian, and then her attention returns back to the guests at her table. She searches to see if anyone needs any more tea, and pours a refill if necessary, leaning across the table to reach one slightly-distant cup. "Oh, yes, you can tell the difference between a sick soul and a healthy one," she says. "A sick soul starts fraying at the edges, starts to lose its form. Or goes full-puddle, like your King. A strong, healthy soul keeps its form, knows its self!"

"Prayer, then. I shall take that under advisement." Nicia agrees, glancing between Aureth and Cara for a moment before she lets her attention drift towards Hadrian once more for a moment, sipping at her tea before she sets it down, picking up one of the snacks, although she doesn't actually eat from it, simply falling into listening to the others once more.

Cristoph remains content to listen for awhile, flickering his attention from one speaker to another with a marked interest in his eyes. He taps his index finger against his lips before speaking, "I know it's common for a person to forget their memories of a past life. What if they remember them, is that odd? Should they immediately seek medical attention?" The last is more a joke and less a serioius question, underlined by the bright smile he displays.

Hadrian watches after Melinda and her departure, but he does at least cast a bright smile and a farewell wave after her, before his attention returns to Symonesse, whom Hadrian offers a polite, thankful bow of his head. Soon enough his attention carries on back to Cambria however, then to his tea. He blows across the surface of it before he sips quietly from the cup and returns his attention the conversations unfolding all around.

"I think there are hazards to knowing, too," Aislin remarks to Aureth. "There's always the risk of feeling like you have to live up to your past lifetime, I'd imagine. If you're a cartographer, a baker, who learns you were one a great warrior? A brilliant political leader? There's the risk you might start to feel like you aren't living up to your soul's potential."

"Even though your soul is still /you/," Aureth returns Aislin's serve with a wry warmth to his gaze and a cock of one eyebrow.

"Poor sick souls," says Dafne softly, her expression more sombre now. "What makes souls ail? Or are the reasons too many to list?" She bows her head a little at Aureth's words. "I suppose," she says, carefully, "the oblivion that punctuates our human lives is a sort of grace? It lets us learn again--and not be followed whatever wrong we might have done. Each new beginning truly a new beginning?"

"Or others' expectations," Orazio says, quietly. "I think it is a danger to judge a person on any previous lifetimes they have had, for ill or for good. Let them make new choices, and be who they are /this/ time, or why have a Wheel at all?"

"Who the fuck cares about living up to past you?" Victus suddenly blurts out. "You got life now, do something good with it while you got it. Circumstances ain't always gonna align for you to take former glory and you shouldn't. The future ain't waiting, so keep writing it." Another slew of grumbles from the giant of a Thraxian as he finally concedes defeat to trying to handle this tea-cup.

Aureth checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

Orazio adds, a bit sheepishly. "That is, I should clarify, a personal feeling and not an official proclamation of doctrine."

Dafne murmurs, very quiet, toward Orazio, "New beginnings."

"Perhaps, my lady," Aureth says with a lift of his gaze, nibbling a little on his cuticle, "although I might not-- use that particular word for it. The forgetting."

Ian studiously keeps his attention fixed on Eleyna, as they pick up a conversation again, rather than the discussion about souls.

Cara winces a touch at the choice of the word 'oblivion' as well. "Too soon, my dear one, I think. It was a near thing."

"Too many to list," Symonesse says to Dafne. "But most of them have something to do with 'time'. Sometimes with ma--" One of her guards shakes his head quickly. "--Maple syrup."

Aureth has rolled a critical success!
Aureth checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 0 higher.

Cambria's eyes dip downwards, briefly, then return with a flash to Hadrian. Her mouth opens to answer, and then she holds a long, slim finger into the air in a silent but readily understood: one moment gesture. The one moment, it would seem, is solely so the young woman can continue listening to Symonesse as she gives her impromptu lesson on the nature of souls. The finger then curls inward, into a dainty little fist, and Cambria delicately clears her throat at one particular outburst.

"I am Marquessa Cambria Mazetti," she finally gives in answer. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Duke." There is a slight pause. "It is a pleasure to be here at all, at this time when the world appears to be changing so." There is then another giggle. A snicker, really.

"Maple syrup."

"Warn the Oathlands," Aureth says, very somberly. "Right away."

"Those poor, doomed Valardin," Aislin remarks, shaking her head with mock-despair.

Cristoph checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 0 higher.

Eithne murmurs something to Ferrando as an aside, nibbling a cookie. "Probably makes souls delicious."

Cristoph BARELY holds it together at mention of the maple syrup. Those he does stare with wide eyes at Symonesse.

Dafne coughs. "My apologies. That's what happens when one tries to sound clever and poetic." She tilts her head at Symonesse, echoing, "Maple syrup?" And then, low, "Perhaps the Oathlanders know something we don't."

Aislin checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 lower.

Symonesse blushes, and clears her throat. "Yes," she says. "Maple syrup. Let's not talk about this anymore."

"What does maple syrup have to do with anything?" Victus spoke out of tone again, resting his chin in his hands. "If this is another round of that stupid cornholing shit I'm just gonna be disappointed all over again."

Orazio rubs his hand over his face, quietly, and sighs.

For some reason, Aislin's expression turns stormy when she hears Eithne's remark, her lips thinning with displeasure. Clearly, the idea of eating souls -- even with maple syrup -- does not sit well with her.

"I like maple syrup," Cara volunteers, before looking into her teacup, "Oh, I need more tea. It's very delicious, thank you."

"Please mind your language," Symonesse says to Victus. "You're at a tea party."

Hadrian doesn't need much more than a simple signal for his attention to drift away from Cambria to Symonesse. Though his amusement rises up once again before Hadrian nods along while quietly commenting, "Maple syrup. The stuff truly is magical. Stuff of wonder," he says with a faint twitch of his mouth. Then, again, Hadrian's attention drifts back to Cambria, "Mazetti? From Ostria? They let you out? Did you run away? Are you in hiding? Do you need help? Blink twice for 'yes'."

Nicia's brows furrow a bit, not looking at all certain what in the world maple syrup has to do with anything. She just takes a nibble off her snack though, stopping any questions in it's track.

Victus opens his mouth to speak again, though whatever words come out are just a hoarse sigh. The corners of his mouth are twitching as he leans back in his seat, diverting his attention back to the feline that had been resting upon his lap just beneath the table cloth.

"Unless this is the tradition of your tea parties...?" Symonesse asks, rather more broadly. She does look uncertain. "I don't wish to tread upon a Compact tradition."

"I have this theory," says Dafne, "that...'cornholing' was invented by some bored Valardin so they could make suggestive comments and claim it was innocent rather than simply making risque comments openly as we would in the Lyceum." Lo and behold, who enters right then. Oops.

"You are quite correct on the subject of etiquette, my lady," Aureth assures Symonesse, breaking a cookie in half and then breaking the half into quarters for something to do with his hands. "Though if this isn't Prince Victus's first tea party, I will have to eat my hat."

"No, Lady Symonesse, it is not customary to use such language at tea parties. It is rather more common when one is injured or ailing, or sailing upon the sea, or engaging in ribald merriment at a tavern." Cara says helpfully.

"Or it's a game with small bags of corn and the rest of you all have your minds in the gutter." Cristoph politely replies to Dafne with a smile.

"Thrax tea parties do not have barricades on language, your majesty." Victus adds to that. "Instead of tea we also usually are drinking rum. Out of bottles instead of the tiny cups." He begins making imagery in the air with his hands, miming the popular "Chug" maneuver. "Not as well recognized in the city of Arx however." He then spares a glance to Aureth, "You better start eating."

Symonesse -- discreetly -- jots down notes. Sailing. Ailing. Ribald merriment.

Making a discreet, albiet late entrance, Larissa enters the Great Hall with a quiet murmur to one of the guards as she's admited entrance. A moment is spent scanning the gathering, a quick grin going to Ferrando before she folds her hands over her middle and makes her way to the table - Being as she was a Courtesan and a Whisper at that she first presents herself to Symonesse, nearing only as close as her guards are comfortable with before she drops into a low, elegant curtsy "Lady Symonesse Marin'luna, I must beg your pardon for my late entrance, however on behalf of the Whisper House I would like to thank you for hosting your charming party and welcome you to Arx. Our House has a long standing with the Kings and Queens of the Compact and I trust you will in time make excellent use of our many assets" - she pauses then and addresses the table "And good evening to you all" - she pauses waiting for Symonesse to respond before she would take her own seat near to their House guard.

Darrow makes his way slowly through the crowd, picking his way past the socializing people and the tea-drinkers. He does neither, eschewing both small talk and smaller cups. A slow, deep nod is given to Victus, and the tall, rangy Lord of the Lament comes to stand near Victus like a tall and sour shadow. At Dafne's comment, his pale, ice-hued eyes swivel over. "Oblivion is the only thing that defines a life or a soul. You can only have presence if you have an absence from whence it is mirrored. The only grace our fragile lives maintain is through defining ourselves against the bleakness of reality."

"Why don't we talk about things you like, Lady Symonesse?" Cambria suggests while batting her lashes at Hadrian. Three times. "Or! Or...You could ask -us- questions, rather than have the lot of us bombard you all evening."

Aureth isn't wearing a hat, so he merely returns an innocent look to Victus, and says, "Sorry, sharky."

Cara glances at Cambria and smiles, nodding at the suggestion.

Darrow has joined the Great Table.

Symonesse claps her hands together, delighted with Larissa. "Of course I forgive you!" she says. "How could I not forgive such a lovely Whisper? And, truly, there is nothing to forgive at all. When you are fifty years late to a date, and then complain that your date should have known you would be late, she should have just been /attuned/ to your lateness, and then you call her thoughtless, /then/ perhaps there is something to forgive." A frown pulls just at the corner of her lips, and then vanishes a moment after.

"Sail configuration your highness," Ian speaks the solemn words without warning, to Victus, as though reminding him. "It's generally frowned upon to debate staysail vs. leteen. Especially after a few drinks."

"Or weather, apparently," Orazio puts in. Then frowns. "Or...are those forms of weather?" Landlubber.

Dafne only replies to Cristoph with an ever so innocent smile. "Perhaps we should have a rum party," she suggests to Victus. "We could serve rum in dainty little cups and see how long it takes for all of them to be broken." The duchess pauses, returning Darrow's pale blue gaze with a level blue gaze. "Every end," she says simply, "is a begining."

Cara lowers her voice to Orazio, "I think those are the flappy cloth bits?"

Aislin arches an eyebrow at Symonesse. /That/ seems to be an example inspired by a story.

Hadrian's mouth opens. Really his jaw drops as Cambria blinks three times as he rasps out a whisper at the Marquessa of House Mazetti, "You...", he pauses for a moment as though trying to make sense of his own thoughts before he quietly asks, "...someone fell down a well and you've come seeking help to get them out? Use your words, please," Hadrian demands in a firm tone. Though as the topics begin to get thrown out, Hadrian's attention drifts again to Lady Symonesse and the others gathered, "I know of something we could do. A game, really," Hadrian remarks with a bright grin cast toward Symonesse. He goes quiet however at the mention of appearing at a date fifty years late. Hadrian's attention then shifts around the table before he quietly mutters, "Fifty years late to a date? That sounds terrible," Hadrian remarks with a glance back to his two personal assistants. Camilla and Luigi both, as though in prepared unison, lift their small booklets that presumably possess many of the Duke's appointments and scheduled meetings.

Orazio frowns to Cara. "I thought those were just called 'sails'. Do you need more than one name for them? That seems excessive." He eyes the sailing lords in the room with a sudden curiosity.

With the arrival of Darrow, Victus' demeanor is quick to change. His expression turns from his earlier neutrality to one of respect as the Knight of Sorrows takes his spot beside the High Lord. "Darrow." Is his only spoken greeting to the man as a ghost of a grin begins to play at his lips. The references of sailing and not souls and magics, now the Thrax is entering his element. "Sail configurin' always goes down smooth with more drinks, I find." The High Lord's grin begins to grow wider. "Why don't we host the next bit of ribald entertainment on a ship? I'll even bring my dromond around, we'll get the smallest cups we can and take turns hurlin' them at the walls!"

Little effort put into dressing up, Agnarr finds a place to observe.

Larissa answers Symonesse with a dimpled smile "You are as gracious as you are beautiful and I quite understand the sentiment. I agree with you whole heartedly, it should be assumed that a Lady may on occaision take her time preparing for a date, it is our prerogative to do so, is it not?" she answers, situating herself next to Ferrando and Eithne as her attention moves to Cambria "That is an excellent idea my Lady, I would be very curious as to what questions she may have for us - Oh!" she looks to Hadrian "Better yet a game!"

Larissa has joined the Green Table.

"A game! What a lovely idea!" Symonesse says. "I am told that tea parties often have games. Will you do me the kindness of offering my guests this game?" She lowers her voice to a somewhat more cautious murmur, "These are not like the games of the Nox'Alfar? I do not think these would be welcomed in the Palace. I think ... that every culture has its own ways. Yes." Enough said on that!

"No porcines of any size will be involved," Orazio says. Then gives Larissa a /look/ that suggests that this had better be true.

"Can we make a game of tossin' tea-cups?" Victus loudly suggests to Larissa, the way he's holding his own suggesting he's already made 'plans' for this.

Nicia pauses in sipping her tea when Orazio mentions porcines, then she just shakes her head a bit, "What sort of game?" This is very politely asked of Larissa.

"Well, it cannot be the guessing game, as the Duke of Southport clearly isn't prescient enough to compete ably." Cambria gives a dainty sniff before saying, cheekily, "I thought all you soldier types knew special nonverbal cues and the like to communicate silently." She makes a few expansive and thoroughly meaningless hand gestures. "Three blinks most obviously means the docks are on fire."

When Larissa compliments her on her suggestion, Cambria smiles indulgently to the Whisper.

Hadrian offers up a smile and a soft shake of his head in return to Symonesse's concerns, "I can only imagine that it is not similar to a game one would find in the Twilight Court. Yet, then again, for some who are as long lived as yourselves? I imagine that you've a great many games, so for all I'm aware this game is quite old to your people. If so? Then sometimes nostalgia is a fun thing to embrace. The game is called Two Truths and A Lie. The goal is to go around the table, upon your turn you stand," Hadrian remarks as he does so. When he climbs to his full height, one hand rises up to sweep his half-cloak over one shoulder before he inclines his chin up and aside in a rather regal, stately manner, before he continues on with hands clasped at his back, "and then you tell two truths and a lie. It is the goal of the other guests," Hadrian remarks as one hand sweeps out to gesture to those gathered together for tea and snacks, "to determine which of them is the lie. So, for example, I am the six-time winner of the Best Smile of Southport Contest. I'm also an accomplished baker and have earned the title of Master Baker, and finally I have once successfully outswam a shark in open water," Hadrian admits with pride.

Aodhan enters the Palace, looking around a little as open tea socials weren't really something he generally partakes in, but he decided to come be social. He would cough into his hand as he moves to greet some people, likely taking a more idle approach.

Darrow looks over at Cambria and replies, drolly. "We tend to let our blades do the talking."

A maid dressed in the colors of the royal family approaches the Great Table to relay a messenger to Symonesse. Symonesse bows her head to this maid, and then addresses the room, "My intended has finished with his King's business. He has worked very late tonight, in service of this Compact. I hope you will all forgive me, for I wish to join him, and keep him company before he sleeps. I don't wish his soul to ever begin to fray again -- or to puddle. But please, stay! Enjoy your tea and games. It would please me very much if you did."

Aislin inclines her head to Symonesse. "Thank you for having us to the palace, Lady Symonesse."

Aodhan bows his head lightly to Symonesse, somewhat apologetically with how late he was to the festivities. "Fare you a good night, Lady Symonesse." he offers.

Victus audibly breaths a sigh of relief. "Thanks for your company tonight, your Majesty." The High Lord of Thrax nods to her. "If you'd accept an invitation, I wouldn't mind receiving you in our own ward here in the city. I'd like to be a bit more... eh... educated on some things you said tonight."

Dafne dips her head as well. "Thank you, Lady Symonesse," she murmurs. "Thank you for having us--and sharing your knowledge and how the world looks to you."

Orazio stands, and bows deeply to Symonesse. "Thank you, Keeper of Light, for the opportunity to meet you. May the gods bless and guide you."

Cara says in Nox'alfar, "Rest well, Lady Symonesse."

Hadrian nods once before he states aside to Symonesse, "You are an enjoyable presence and I hope to have an opportunity to speak with you again soon, my lady. Enjoy the remainder of your evening," and then Hadrian's attention drifts back to the table as he lowers himself back into his seat.

With the explanation of the game, Eleyna rises and addresses Ian and Orazio with nods and a faint smile tugging at her lips, "Please forgive me, but I'm afraid if I don't head back to the Estate, poor Jiacomo is going to have to carry me home. It would be cruel to such a devoted servant. It's been a pleasure to meet you, Lord Kennex. It is always a joy to see you, Father Orazio." She offers a nod in Symonesse's direction as she rises to leave as well.