Rinel enters the Hundred Cities with a spring in her step, looking around her as she lets her cloak loose. "Oh, it's nice and warm in here."

Alessia makes her way into the inn, wearing a dress. Yes, that's right. She's wearing a gown of gorgeous seasilk in shades of teal and blue, with long sheer sleeves that flow gracefully down to her wrists in graceful trumpets, and an elegant and slender skirt that trails across the floor. Her hair is done up in an elegant updo, and her face is even made up with a hint of gloss on her lips, and subtle hints of khol and moonlit shadow to accent amber eyes beneath elegant dark eyebrows. That ridiculous glaive is nowhere to be seen, and she almost looks a proper lady if one can ignore the rough callouses on her hands and the slightly predatory way in which she moves.

Duarte is directing the arrangement of the brunch buffet, which is nearly complete but hardly of fine food selection. It is mainly mugs and coffee at the ready. His eyes have a habit of flicking to the entrance each time the door is open. Rinel earns a glance and a nod of recognition. Alessia earns another....but then another, as her current comportment is nearly the opposite of their last meeting. She earns a smile. Graham, a bow. "We are just arranging the copious amounts of coffee promised." He says nothing of the food.

Rinel curtsies to Duarte. "Lord Amadeo." Then to Alessia. "My lady." Then to Graham. "Lord Stonewood." She smiles at Duarte. "I heard tell of a story-telling gathering."

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

Alessia glances around on entering, and gives a smile to Rinel when she greets her. She then spies Duarte, who appears to be directing things, and her features brighten. "Count Amadeo," she says pleasantly, "what a pleasant surprise." She inclines her head in his direction. "I heard there were to be ghost stories?" she inquires with a hint of anticipation, glancing around. She'll take a cup of coffee when they are ready, and then moves toward a table. She sets the mug down and unfastens her own cloak and drapes it across the back of her chair before seating herself.

Rinel reads the message, then blinks. "I... have to go. I'm sorry. I--I have to go." She practically runs to the door and is gone in a flash.

Alessia has joined the Large Table.

Graham looks about the room not his usual hang out but one must get around the city sometimes. He will move to perhaps get a drink though he tilts his head as he's greeted but the other soon swiftly moves off "Have I done something wrong?"

"Ghost stories. Yes." Duarte says, returning a smile that nearly mirrors the one received. "And a pleasure to see you again, my lady." He stands properly before the coffee table. "The telling of stories - at random times during the day - is a great Bravuran tradition. Such brunches are rarely hosted in any proper sense of the word, but I must inject some propriety and decorum into the proceeding for the sake of Arxian sensibility." A beat, "Do you know any good ones?" Duarte waves the other lord nearer - nevermind whether he came for the stories or not, Duarte is the gregarious sort. "Come join us, my lord."

Alessia glances off toward the door as Rinel hastily excuses herself and bolts out the door, then lifts her shoulder in a little shrug, and settles in. She's apparently not going anywhere. She then looks to Graham as if seeing him for the first time, and laughs. "Oh, I wouldn't take it too personally, my lord. I have been known to do that on occasion myself," she adds, with a glance at Duarte, before she glances down into her mug. She looks up again after a moment, and listens curiously to Duarte's description of Bravauran customs. She smiles. "Actually, I don't know any off the top of my head," she admits. She looks toward Graham then, and gives him a nod with an encouraging smile.

Rinel returns looking somewhat sad and very confused. She settles in and orders a cider quietly.

A waiter politely informs Rinel that cider is not currently being served - only coffee - as is the true Bravuran custom....According to the Count. The waiter seems unconvinced, however.

Rinel blinks. "Oh," she says. "Well. Coffee it is." She smiles wanly.

"Thank you, i'd like to join indeed." Graham moves to find a seat though he looks as the other returns. He moves to sit and seemingly to speak something in quiet tone before he sits.

Duarte bows pleasantly for Alessia, "All the better. The authors of Bravura crafted this fine tradition to spark the imagination to improve their craft. The stories are often improvised." So as not to leave the others out, his gaze shifts between Rinel and Graham. "When a single author feels stuck, or wishes a breath, the story is passed on to the next for its continuance." He bows again, "Such is the CUSTOM! and beautiful tradition of Bravura."

Rinel takes an appreciative sip of coffee. "Mmm." Whether this is to the directions or to the drink in her hand is unclear.

Alessia glances toward the door as Rinel returns, looking sad, and there is a hint of concern in the Mazetti noblewoman's amber eyes, but she doesn't intrude on the woman's privacy. Instead, she offers a polite smile of welcome, and then turns her attention back to Duarte as he continues to explain about the Bravuura custom. She curves her lips in a little smile. "I see," she says, picking up her mug, and warming her hands on it. "Perhaps you might start us off and show us how it's done first, my lord?" she suggests, before lifting her mug of coffee for a small sip.

"I would expect nothing less, my lady." Duarte says in a friendly tone, and small nod of his head. "I will do my best to represent the intrepid authors of Bravura - but I warn it may leave you wanting." He clasps his hands and his gaze rises to the ceiling as he thinks.

"It wasn't long ago that the small village of Sephora was ravaged by the horde of ravenous dire beasts. A ravenous and bloody raid! It left their small population lacking in men. Every able bodied man - including children 10 and older - drew sword in combat of the beasts. Most died. Those that didn't succumbed to the poisonous scratches of the beasts. In all the village but a single male child survived: a young lad of three.

"The citizens, after the lengthy rebuilding process, struggled in town halls and strategic meetings of the elders to find solution. One dreary eve, as the women gathered in the chapel of Lagoma, a hooded stranger entered. She wore a dark hooded cloak and wielded a jagged walking stick of oak."

Rinel pulls out a paper and starts taking notes as she sips her coffee.

Duarte raises a brow slightly, casting a lingering 'what the hell are you doing' sort of look at Rinel as he keeps telling the story. After the next sentence the look is gone and his eyes search the rest of those present, "The woman waited in the middle of the aisle until the attention of all gathered were directed her way and a hush fell over all. Staring only at the ground she spoke in a raspy voice, that started soft and quickly rose to a shout..." Duarte speaks as the woman would, starting low and raising voice, "beware...the.....RAVEN!" and just then!

Nevermore, the albino raven arrives, delivering a message to Duarte before departing.

Rinel starts at the appearance of the raven and spills ink all over her paper. She looks at the spreading inkstain ruefully. "That was a cheap trick," she complains.

Alessia's attention is all on Duarte, while she sips her mug of coffee. For her part, she seems interested in the story. She sits forward a little in her chair, resting her elbows on the table before her, watching him over the rim of her mug with interest as he tellls the tale of the old woman. She jumps a little as well as said raven flies into the room, her eyes tracking its progress. She then gives a delighted laugh, and claps her hands. "My lord, you seem to have an uncanny knack for predicting arrivals," she says, seeming impressed, and curious too, her eyes watching him a bit thoughtfully.

"Yes, my lady." Duarte addresses his one fan. "But it is mostly lucky really..Would you care to carry the story from here?" He gives Rinel a wan look, "I am truly sorry about that. I could not have predicted the RAVEN!"

Nevermore, the albino raven arrives, delivering a message to Duarte before departing.

Rinel is ready this time and simply stares at the raven. "The Archscholar is busy tonight," she says wryly.

Alessia looks skeptical, but she seems ready to give it a go at continuing the story, looking thoughtful for a moment. "'The RAVEN!', the old woman repeated, even as the raven landed on her bony shoulder," she goes on, doing her best to improv the story as best she can. "'It is a messenger... a herald of doom.'" She rises to her feet, so that she can project her voice better. "The old woman stared around at the women, who huddled around the single male child remaining to them in horror. But despite their efforts to hide the boy, the old woman saw him, and shuffled over to him, her walking stick tap-tapping on the floor."

Alessia looks around, lips curving into a hint of a smile. "'The Raven has come to claim what is his,' the old woman cackled. The bird on her shoulder cawed and flapped its wings, its eerie cry piercing the night." Alessia glances around, looking intent. "But, one of the women, the boy's mother, steps forward. 'Please, raven. Have mercy on us. He is the last. Take me instead.' And then, one by one... each woman steps forward, and claims the boy as her own son, begging the raven to take them in his place." The noblewoman smiles, glancing about. "Oh, but the raven is so, so very clever. They are intelligent creatures, even when they are not supernaturally inclined. The old woman tilted her head, as if receiving some unspoken message from the raven. 'Very well,' the old crone screeched, 'the Raven has accepted your offer!'"

"And then, a flurry of black feathers surrounded them, in a chaotic storm, a whirlwind of musty, inky blackness. And when the whirlwind subsided," Alessia finishes, her voice lowering slightly, "all that remaind was a small boy standing within a flock of ravens, marked with a raven tattoo. To this day, his ghost still wanders that abandoned village, calling for his mother, who could no longer care for him, and the ravens... the ravens perch amongst the trees in the bare branches, flocking too and fro in search of their lost son. Even to this day, if one were to visit Sephora, the ravens flock there still."

Duarte is absolutely riveted by the story, and Alessia's presentation and a half-smile graces his face throughout. When she finished the tale he claps his hands. "Bravo! My lady!" the man is clearly delighted. "I should say! You possess an imagination that rivals the very one that crafted your beauty." He motions to Lady Mazetti, "Let's give her applause." As he does so - raven feathers....Raven feathers everywhere.

Nevermore, the albino raven arrives, delivering a message to Duarte before departing.

Nevermore, the albino raven arrives, delivering a message to Duarte before departing.

"White feathers," comments Rinel, picking one out of her coffee and sighing deeply.

Alessia laughs with delight, and also seems a bit relieved to have it done. She bobs a quick curtsey, then resumes her seat, taking up her mug of coffee once more. She brushes a few pale raven feathers from her shoulder, and smiles contentedly. "I like this storytelling thing," she decides. "I think this should be a regular thing." She beams at Duarte, and raises her mug to him. "Thank you for the inspiration, my lord." She drinks.

Duarte clasps his hands together and bows in receipt of the kind acknowledgement. "And I believe it shall. The truest tradition of Bravura are these little unscheduled respites. And on that note, we shall close today's meeting." He smiles warmly to the attendees, "Our great city of Arx, in fashion, aesthetic and invention, is well served by Bravura. These little social gatherings and traditions, however, are largely unknown. I wish to promote the fine people of my city and share their traditions with the nobles and commoners alike - to garner support in the form of trade, goodwill and recognition. May you all have a fine rest of your day."