Bianca slipped into the shrine, shifting with Sir Alren in her wake toward the worship benches. The old templar remained back to hover over those gathered, keeping watch especially as two Archlectors were currently present.

Barbara, the stalwart Stormward secretary, 4 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Ford.

Lethe arrives with an eager smile. She tries to find a good place to sit.

Sparte has joined the Musicians Platform.

Sparte is there, going around like the busy helper he is with Wilhelm alongside him. Since he isn't leading the debate today, he is doing the task of making sure there are those other things that go into it available. Comfortable cushions, drinks, places for people's random goats and kittens to have a snack and not eat anyone's hat. Sparte hasn't settled into his own seat just yet.

Entering the shrine at his own pace, Ford looks a touch distracted. Until he sees the debate sign. An eyebrow goes upwards. Go on. Leaning in Ford reads it a bit more, purses his lips and looks over to the musician stand. Fuck it. He goes up there.

Ford has joined the Musicians Platform.

Stepping into the Shrine, Sorrel heads over in Bianca's direction to socialize with her cousin. She's got a bit of a grin on her face, and she settles in on the benches. "Archscholar!" she greets. "I haven't been to one of these yet. But I heard the last one was really interesting."

Kenna emit Kenna pops her head into the shrine, glances about, then seems to make the abrupt decision to go in all the way. Edging around some people who have settled on the benches Kenna smiles at ~everyone~ but doesn't launch into the talk-forever mode just yet.

Wylla's focused today, or as much as she can be. The easels and the random musical instruments have all made their way into piles in corners. The shrine itself is still not even half built, a tarp once again thrown over it to keep any inclement weather from breaking into the part that doesn't have a roof. Candles have been lit, and the short redheaded Archlector settles at the main debate table, drawing in a breath at the sight of the crowd. "All right. Please be seated. I will begin the debate shortly. There's wine if you'd like some, although please don't get too drunk and start shouting? There was some shouting at the last one." Meanwhile, her kitten makes its way through the shrine, forever seeking attention.

There's Leta, displaying a variety of rich bright pigments on her person. Reds, yellows and greens for the most part. Her cloak's loosely over one shoulder as she wanders in, peeking curiously at the stand and at the people gathered here. She saunters over to the non-participating section of the crowd, bows her head respectfully to the others here, then takes a seat. After some maneuvering of her sword, she's comfortably seated, and settles in to listen.

Leta has joined the worship benches.

Bianca's smile turned to Sorrel, rising to properly embrace the woman. "Princess. It is good to see you. I attended one some time ago, but this is the first of this series I've been able to make. I think I may snatch myself a glass of wine, though. Would you like one?"

Silvio lifts his hand and motions for some wine, simply expecting that someone is around to do that for him. "The last one /was/ entertaining. I loved it." When he sees Sorrel and Bianca, he smiles amiably to them and tips his head to royalty. "Delighted to see you both..."

"Oh, yes! That would be lovely," Sorrel replies to Bianca, hugging the woman happily. She turns slightly and smiles at Silvio. "Ah, it is my dancing partner! How are you? It's been awhile since the Gala; I hope you are well."

Bianca turned a small bow to Silvio. "Your highness, pleasant to see you as well. What was the topic?" She gestured for the Velenosian prince to join them at the benches, snagging two glasses from the platter he summoned and offering one to Sorrel.

"So," Wylla begins, "first question!" She looks between Ford and Silvio, blinking a little at them. Her fingers flick on the table set up nervously. "Do colors have any resonance beyond the merely emotional? That is to say, when we think of the color 'green,' we might think of nature, or the sea, perhaps, or a green dress we saw on someone once. But does the color green itself mean anything at all? Or is it just the emotions we attach to it?" She gives Sparte a look, as if to ensure she's doing this right -- but the question itself was confident, even if her demeanor isn't really.

Sparte has joined the line.

Silvio has joined the line.

Ford has joined the line.

Turn in line: Sparte

Sparte gives Wylla a semi-discrete thumbs up before realizing he is sort of doing it in response to the question, so gives a nervous grin and stumbles through an answer. "Well, uh, lots of things are known by the color they have and the meaning we associate with that. I guess it is hard to imagine a color as a pure abstract for me, I always see colors as happening to things. But... If I think of different colors on the same thing, the meaning changes. A red rose or a black rose or a, well, green rose all feel pretty different to me. So I guess I don't think the color itself has a meaning so much as it influences the meaning of whatever has the color? If that makes sense?"

Turn in line: Silvio

Silvio uses both hands to engage himself in the topic, just so suddenly moving from the man who was chatting with Sorrel, to lifting his voice with lilting sparks, "Ahh...but the debaters must be here. I am afraid I must stay. The last debate was about twins...but this one...about color. I have so much to say about color." He stands up from his seat, and turns as he speaks, making sure to meet eyes with each person, and their hosts. His long waves sway with his passioned movements, and he speaks with his hands and his pink, plush lips, "Color is more than color. Color is a language. I wish more people spoke it well, or understood it. Gold means wealth, prosperity, and a lovely cornflower blue is so innocent...where a deep, jeweled blue is anything but. Intuitively, I believe we all know in some fashion, which is why a child in a dark, jeweled color seems so odd, for this is a color of maturity, whereas their brighter shades are joyous and open." His chin tilts up. "The harder it is to describe a color, the more complex its meaning. Think of rust...think of those blues and greens that no one can quite decide which one it is, think of the greyish purple, that seems a ghost of a color, and conveys lightness, trepedation. An army in yellow...can we even take it seriously? Yet, an army in goldenrod seems fierce."

Turn in line: Ford

Bianca has left the worship benches.

Sir Alren leaves, following Bianca.

"It's all a matter of perspective and preference, I would say. In regards to colors. The kinds of feelings and thoughts that say, Violet would bring up in me would be vastly different from the feelings the very same color would bring up in any of you." Ford starts, "However, that's not to say that we don't associate colors with similar emotions. Take Red for example; Fire, passion, love." Eyebrows lift slightly and his head tilts, "Blood." Looking from face to face like a good public speaker would, he carries on, "I think the resonance colors carry is that we all perceive them differently. Even on the opposite end of that, some of you may love brown, or a yellowish off white. Others may even wretch at the very sight of it. In a way, colors exist entirely within the eye of the beholder, we look at all the same palettes, the same swaths, the same dollops of paint and bolts cloth. Yet every shade means something else for everyone else. Color may very well be a language.. but that language is unique to everyone who knows the words."

Wylla smiles, drawing a breath. "I think we're in agreement! There's not much debate, though. Let me try to think of a more debatable topic." She pauses for a moment, her gaze going to the back of the room, before "Aha!" chirps out of her. "Do you think that other places see the same colors we do? Do you think in Eurus, let's say, they have the same associations we have? Do -- do they see red roses as we do, or children in jeweled colors as strange, or red as fire and passion and blood? Please, anyone, feel more than free to join in! It needn't be just..." Her hand flicks to the central table.

Ford has joined the line.

Turn in line: Ford

Sparte goes in to lean in next to Wylla, saying something quietly in her ear before moving on to continue helping with the drinks and such.

"I think quite literally, colors are colors, any one and anything with eyes will see the same shades as we do, but I don't think it would be a stretch of the imagination to think that the people of Eurus would have different interpretations of colors than we do." Ford says, gesturing back towards Silvio, "Your Goldenrod army may be met with mockery and laughter to Eurus soldiers, instead of a fierce and proud perception it gives off here. A red rose could be thought of as an insult, or a symbol of ending relationships." He lifts a hand and turns it over, palm up, "IN truth, we have no way of knowing, but it's safe to assume that they do interpret things differently than us."

Wylla smiles at Ford's response, but as Sparte's whisper she nods. "All right. New question." One which Sparte has quite clearly given her. "What do we think pigments mean in the faith? Does Jayus have a color? Does Gild, besides the obvious? So on and so forth. What do you see each god as -- as depicted in colors?"

Kenna has joined the line.

Finally! A question that Kenna doesn't have to think about - "I'll be //right// back." That to the people the woman has been whispering at before she pops up to go forth.

Ford has joined the line.

Sparte has joined the line.

Silvio makes a slight face and has promptly sat himself down. He does watch Kenna though as she boldly joins in.

Turn in line: Kenna

"White absolutely counts, right?" Kenna asks, but doesn't wait for the answer to her question. Instead, "Skald is white without question." She punctuates that with the smallest of head nods. "A choice is like putting paint on a white canvas. It doesn't stop the other colours from bringing out their best hues - just like all of us." She's more to the point than some of the others as she finishes up with all the confidence of youth.

Turn in line: Ford

Once Kenna finishes, Ford steps up again after a quick drink of water, "Let me know if you guys agree with these." Time to start counting on fingers, "Gild, Gold. It's hard not to make the comparison but the words sound so alike. And when I think charity and prosperity, I think warmth, and there are few colors warmer than gold. Gloria, Red. Honor, War, Chivalry." Ford clamps his fist, "Strong words, strong ideals, and a strong color. Jayus, Sky blue.. My mind immediately goes to seeing the clouds, every changing. One minute it's a rabbit, the next a stag. That's creativity at it's most pure, is it not? Lagoma, A vibrant green. Growth, life, purification. Limerance, a warm pink. Something we would all associate with Love, I'd think. Mangata, a deep sea green. That one needs no real explanation. Petrichor, Earthy brown. Sentinel, Steel Blue. Skald.." Ford gestures back to Kenna with a smirk, "White. The Queen of Endings is Black. Vellichor the color of parchment, and Tehom...is mirror a color?"

Lethe has joined the line.

Kenna winks back at Ford for his agreement with her, then trots herself back to her seat and settles herself down in her seat again firmly.

Turn in line: Sparte

Sparte grins a bit at what Kenna says. He thinks for a while and slowly shakes his head. "I'm going to dissent here. I don't know that Skald would agree to being restricted by any one color. White feels like the absence of choices being taken to me. His sigil is a wolf, so he might favor the colors of a wolf as well. Then with Gild... We usually use silver knights and gold counts, but there are other coins too. Copper bits, platinum dukes, orichalcum kings, and even alaricite queens. Not that I've ever so much as seen those last three." Sparte gestures to Kenna. "What I feel like you just did was associate an emotion with the god, then a color with your emotion. To you choice is white, it isn't colored by the choice yet being made. You see it as a canvas because you're at a sort of crossroads. Perhaps in time you'll see choice as a story already written in and that will change." Sparte looks to Ford. "You've a better way with words and emotions than I do, but surely you see why I'm saying what I am. Perhaps there is no one right answer, perhaps your warm pink for limerance is every bit as true as the rainbow of rings I envision for limerance, a mass of differences coming together."

Turn in line: Lethe

Lethe looks around. "I don't believe I can answer for all the gods but for the Queen of Endings she is often associated with darker colors and red. I think that she is a bit of other colors too. She is fond of humor and to love her is to love life. I think our lives and our beginnings and endings are filled with many colors."

Silvio claps a few times for Ford and Kenna. "So well-thought out. And Mirror isn't a color, but it feels...metallic at least."

Ford shrugs lightly with a smile, "Worth a shot."

Wylla's smile brightens when Ford mentions Jayus. She listens, though, nodding. "Um. Maybe... maybe silver, for the Thirteenth?" She uses the more polite term, perhaps advisedly. "It's a balance between white and black. Or a rainbow. Those differences coming together. All different colors -- all different choices -- " Her fingers trace something she doesn't have the speech to voice.

Then, as the kitten bounds back onto the table, Wylla finds her voice again, asking another question. "What color do we think of for universal things? Beauty. When we think of beauty, what color do we see? What does the most beautiful man or woman we can think of look like? What color is their hair, their eyes, their skin? Do we all agree? Are there people we all find more beautiful? And... and if anyone says red hair and blue eyes..." She tries to sound threatening, but it fails miserably, even as Splat prowls the table, a blur of color himself.

"Would Burgundy hair and hazel eyes pass?" Said Sparte, for no apparent reason.

Kenna has sat down again and is about to strike up conversation again when her eyes catch on the kitten. "A //kitten!//" Just ignore her as she kneels on the floor and does a finger wiggle towards the small creature. Please come!

Waldemai has joined the line.

Splat sees a willing victim -- that is, a kind soul cooing at him. He leaps off the table, bounding straight for Kenna. Thudda thudda go the kitten paws.

Turn in line: Waldemai

Ford has joined the line.

Waldemai crumples his hat in his hands, clearly overwhelmed by the topic. Still..."To me, as a smith, color is both important and beautiful. When you heat good steel it goes blue, and then red, and can be turned from a bar or a plate into something very nice. And then when it's quenched, it goes back to gray and can be polished. But the colors have to be perfect, ot the piece is brittle, so when it IS perfect, it's also beautiful." He sits down again, still not putting on his hat.

Kenna has joined the line.

Silvio has joined the line.

Kenna sweeps the kitten up into her arms and cuddles the small creature gently. "I need one of you," this is said quietly, the woman completely taken by the kitten. She //is// listening and promptly bounces back to her feet with the kitten in her arms as she does so.

Turn in line: Ford

"There is beauty in the contrast of colors. I believe it is those people that we find the most striking. Dark hair...but lighter eyes. Light hair, darker skin. It is less the precise color, for I find pale, blond people to look sickly." Silvio shrugs and then leans on one elbow, "Like art.../contrast/ grasps our attention."

Is it time for Ford to adorn that trademarked Ford Kennex smirk. Why yes, yes it it. "I don't think that's a particularly fair question, Archlector." He smirks in Wylla's direction, "To say that beauty is associated with a specific color is not only unfair, but untrue." He looks down and pinches the collar of his violet coat, "This is a beautiful coat, but it doesn't share any of the characteristics of my wife, Vanora, who is a gorgeous red haired, green eyed stunner." Ford gestures to Kenna again, then Sorrel, then finally to Wylla, "The three of you look nothing alike, but I'd easily call all three of you beautiful. In fact, I'd double down and say the fact that you all look entirely different is what makes you all the more beautiful." He pulls his sword from his belt and displays it, "This is a beautiful bit of craftsmanship, but I'd much rather look at Princess Sorrel, than I would this sword. Colors merely serve to enhance the beauty, they don't define it."

Turn in line: Kenna

Wylla suddenly doesn't have much contrast at all, despite Silvio's words. Ford's words make her cheeks start to turn as red as her hair, her gaze flicking away. She shoots Sparte a look for help, murmuring, "Um..."

The poor kitten gets held up as Kenna steps forward. ONce again she's succient - "I don't think you can put color to something as vibrant as beauty, or life, or virtue. Look at this small creature." Who Kenna has completely fallen for, "He has so many colours in his fur, none of them define him, just make him unique - and yes you are so cute!" That obviously to the cat as the woman steps aside.

Sparte leans in to whisper to Wylla something quietly.

Turn in line: Silvio

The kitten bats affectionately at Kenna. New friend! Meanwhile, the Archlector listens to Sparte's whisper, adding to Kenna, "He had a few brothers and sisters! He was Blessed Roran's. But he was the most colorful one, so he was the one I picked." But she's still beet red, and her gaze goes to Sorrel, uncertainly. "Do you -- do you have anything to say to..." She doesn't know Ford's name, and ends in a desperate little, "... him?"

Leta has joined the line.

Turn in line: Leta

"Ford Kennex, that is one of the most awkward things I personally have had uttered in my presence," Sorrel admits, since Wylla has called upon her. "Really, really awkward. Please stick to using your own wife as an example of someone you find beautiful. She'll appreciate it more. She deserves more than to be compared to a sword, though, and so do I." She doesn't seem angry, just uncomfortable.

"I love him." That is said firmly before Kenna reluctantly sets the kitten in her lap, allowing him to go free if he wishes, or to say and be loved beyond love for a little longer.

Ford waves his hand, "It was an example, your highness. Not a come on."

"It's still awkward," Sorrel replies to Ford plainly. "Don't name names next time."

"My most sincerest of apologies, your highness." Ford says with a dip of his head.

1 Kennex corsairs arrives, following Cecilia.

Leta is just sitting there, mildly bemused by the turn the conversation's taken. She uncrosses her legs and gets up, one hand at her pretty sword, one hand at her hip, "I'm just not sure you can rightly answer this question, can you? I'm pretty good looking if I do say myself. I got a mirror and all, mind you. I keep it covered up, 'cause of the demons, but I got one," she says with a bright smile, then gestures at her face, "And what am I? Pinkish? Blue eyes. Blonde hair." And here she doffs her feathered hat for a moment. "But my woman's - well, I'd say different shades of brown, you know? But if I said brown, am I saying I like her because of that, or am I saying I like the colors 'cause of her? So I'm not sure you can draw - you know, a right conclusion from it." Then she looks around, "That's just - sorry." And she sits down.

Cecilia strides into the Shrine and pauses, her blue-gray eyes lifting to take in the array of offerings and pieces left to please the god. She takes a few appreciative moments before her attention shifts from the artists to the artisans and arguers at the debate...

Sorrel looks mollified by Ford's apology, and she nods with a little smile at him. "Thanks," she said. "It was just ...awkward."

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

It's with a start that Kenna realizes the time. "Oh baby, you must go." The kitten gets shooed off her lap. Turning briefly to ~everyone~ she murrmers, "It was //so nice// to talk with all of you!" then pointing to Lethe, "Do send me a messenger lady Lethe, so we might go shopping!" And the woman takes herself up and out.

"A question!" Wylla's voice is a little nervous at the building tension. Meanwhile, Splat is still gamboling around Kenna, in no mood to break away. "And I think you," she tells Leta, with a nod to Cecilia's late entrance and a wave towards the worship benches, "are right. I think the people we like maybe inform our tastes just as much as our tastes inform the people we like. I think... I think we might have different tastes, but we might like people..." she's getting a bit lost in her own words, "despite our tastes. Um. A final question. This, um, Master Fatchforth just told me. You'll like this," she tells the crowd, but she nods to Waldemai. "It's about gemstones. That's not forging metals but it's close. Dragonweep is always red, but it comes in every sort of shade of red just about. No other gemstone shifts in colors quite like dragonweep does. Do we think there is a reason for those different colors?"

Kenna has left the worship benches.

Sorrel has joined the line.

Turn in line: Sorrel

Sparte has joined the line.

Cecilia has joined the line.

"Actually, I've heard of blue dragonweep before," Sorrel says with interest, looking to Wylla. "And that red is merely the most common color of the stone. After all, they get their name from being tear-shaped. Some people think it's got mystical properties, and the red ones are somehow tainted by something. There's a lot of superstition surrounding dragonweep. Probably because they're so rare and beautiful."

Turn in line: Sparte

Silvio has left the Musicians Platform.

Ford has joined the line.

Silvio has joined the line.

Sparte offers a bit of a weak smile to the others present. "It has been a curiousity for me for a while, dragonweep. I admit I've spent time studying it and have convinced a few others to study it with me in the past." Sparte looks over to Sorrel. "I've heard the same. I don't want people debating in a state of uncertainty, so I'll share this. A Cardian captain wrote on Dragonweep once, and some of his writings were translated. It described an incident of Dragonweep as having been shed by actual dragons, parts of their souls that had been filled with too much sorrow to bear anymore. Whether that is a story or not, whether that is the only origin of dragonweep or not, I can't say. Yet I'm still left with a range of questions." Sparte looks around the room. "I know that isn't an answer, and may just give you more questions. If so, good. Perhaps they are questions that will one day be answered."

Turn in line: Cecilia

Cecilia returns Wylla's nod with one of her own, taking a moment to flash Ford a sibling-smile before finding herself a seat on the worship benches. She settles into her seat with a near-effortless movement and rests one arm across the back of her seat as the other plays with the golden charm hanging on a chain about her neck.

Wylla smiles towards Cecilia, but she listens to the answers, nodding. "I... do dragons cry red, then? Or do they cry different colors, and the red ones only cry the most? Or..." with a nod to Sorrel, "... are they the most, um, tainted?"

Cecilia has joined the worship benches.

Silvio grins and rubs his chin with one finger. "I rather think the shades of Dragonweep have superstitious meaning to some people, but...to my mind, the more unusual the shade, the greater the value. If there were more of it...you know, I would like to do a study on this. Everyone, just...let me borrow your dragonweep items and I will get back to you after the next party on how my research went."

Ford laughs, looking towards Silvio before taking a drink of water.

And as her question floats into the ether, Wylla looks a little askance, adding to herself, "I'm not -- I'm not very good at this." But Silvio is speaking, and she's brightening in relief. If there's a joke that the man made, she missed it, shooting a puzzled look towards Ford before turning back to the brightly clad Velenosan. "I don't think -- I don't think you should borrow people's things. I'm not sure that would be good." She clears her throat. "Um. Does anyone have any questions they would like to pose? You can ask them. And, um, wine. Please." A soft smile. "Thank you."

Micana, Golden, an Oakhaven bloodhound arrive, following Lucita.

"I think I'd like a bit of dragonweep myself, if anyone's giving it away. And I certainly don't mind red, because I do love the color red. It might be my favorite color, even," Sorrel remarks with a bright laugh. "My armor is red. And my sword is red-violet. It's a pretty good combination, I say."

Sparte has rolled a critical success!
Sparte checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.

Sparte digs in his pouch, pulling out a red stone and tossing it over to Silvio. "Think fast. Enjoy the research." Could it be? Giving away dragonweep?! That seems unlikely.

Lucita is late, but she did come to the event. Quietly she makes her way toward a spot to sit, her dog and Micana staying back at the entrance, well out of the way. She looks toward Sparte as he passes out some sort of red rock to Silvio.

Lucita has joined the worship benches.

Leta glances at the rings on her fingers and shakes her head with a soft smack of her lips. "I belive I'd sell it and buy a whole lot of stones in all kinds of different colors instead. The more the merrier. Especially if it's cursed," she says the latter with a curious glance in Sorrel's direction, then pushes herself to her feet.

Wylla murmurs in surprise as Sparte tosses the stone, looking wide-eyed at him. Meanwhile, Splat sees a dog. Another friend! And the calico kitten is over there, fur standing on end, ready to pounce on the dog. Wylla doesn't notice, giggling at Leta. "You could sell your cat drawings! People would buy them. I like them."

Silvio checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 4 lower.

Silvio is not expecting to be thrown things! He reaches up to try to grab the precious item, but...alas, it baubles around before finally falling on his lap. He picks it up and eyes it, before eyeing Sparte, "What a gift...first one I've received in Arx." And he absolutely winks at Sparte. Then he looks at Wylla, "I was just teasing, but I am absolutely trustworthy borrowing other peoples' items." He holds up his hand in a vow.

Leta blinks in Wylla's direction, then breaks into a friendly smile and shakes her head, eyes lowered, hands raised to politely refuse the praise. "You're much too kind, Archlector. They're just scribbles, that's all. I'd hope no one buys one of mine when there's real painters they could be buying from." She bows her head, then gestures outside the shrine, "I oughta get going, but that was an interesting talk and all."

"But they're funny! And they show your perspective. Which is... cats." Wylla nods solemnly at Silvio's assurance, smiling at him. Even now, servers begin to start around the worship benches, trays of wine at the ready.

Sparte is overheard praising Wylla for: For running a lovely, relaxed event. Not everything has to be high stress.

Wylla is overheard praising Sparte for: Such a lovely helper! And he has some very pretty rocks he gives away.

"I rather enjoyed this talk, yet again. THe Salon surely does know how to entertain. Perhaps not as full of vitrolic as the last one, but interesting none-the-less. And you, my dear," Silvio addresses Wylla, "are lovely when you blush."

Sparte checks his pockets, finding a short list to read from. "Well, uh, speaking of vitriol... Blessed Aleksei will be leading the next debate, and it'll be about Skald. In about a week's time. I hope to see some of the same faces then."

Leta has left the worship benches.

Once more, Wylla is, of course, turning red. She drops back a little, nodding to Sparte. "Go to that! Aleksei is better at the, um, talking than I am. Thank you all!" Her hands clap together once. "If you'd like a prayerbook and you haven't got one, please take one. Gods walk with you."

Cecilia gets Jayus's Uncommon Prayer Book from a basket of free prayerbooks.