Mason wasn't going to go, but the Mercy managed to convince the Desert Prince to drop by and make an appearence. And he was nice to offer his arm to Sophie, entering together. The man looks a bit subduded, perhaps paler than usual, which is an accomplisment given his so naturally darker skinstone. There's a wordless glance to Sophie with him, but for the moment, he says nothing, just looking to be apart of the crowd.

Valencia strides into the Stone Grove shortly after Damon. She nods to the others and takes a seat beside Lord Damon on the benches. The little princess quiet and introspective at the moment, though she does take a moment to admire Tempest.

As people begin to gather in the Grove, Signe's attention slants down to the canines around her. With a quiet whistle and a pointed glance elsewhere, she sends them off -- or, more obviously, Atila. The dog cuts away and trots purposefully out, followed by the direwolf's lazy lope as Tempest follows him out.

Atila have been dismissed.

For someone who so normally strides rather purposefully into gatherings, Aislin seems to linger near the entrance more than usual. She settles in at the edge of the grove with her arms folded in front of her, watching silently. Perhaps it's just a southerner's discomfort with shamanism.

Tempest have been dismissed.

Bethany has also arrived. Driven, still, to discover and learn about the Northerners - considering it as a way to correct her personal folly of the night before. She nears Jeremiah, respectfully keeping her voice low - her gestures minimal. "Be glad to listen to you, Jay. I will be speaking to the Archscholar, very soon. He saw through my potential bribery attempt by pastry."

Cybele has been stood talking to Khanne and Signe, but as people begin to file in, the northern prodigal offers a nod to the pair, and draws back towards the altar.

Cybele has joined the altar.

Signe has joined the altar.

Sigurd slips into the gathering. He doesn't say much to anyone, just nodding to the occasional face as he moves to stand somewhere near the back of the gathering, arms loosely folded over his chest.

Sophie looks a little wan and weary herself. Perhaps she just ended another long day of doing whatever it is that Mercy's do. Glancing around to take in the sights, something about the Stone Grove seems to give her a sense of peacefulness. Not so much, though, as espying, "Cybele!" to whom she calls out and fondly smiles.

Anze enters the stone grove with Julea tagging along with him. He pauses for a moment at the entrance to the grove to eye the changes before he crouches down and begins removing his shoes.

Cybele has left the altar.

Serafine steps in quietly, attentive, respectful.

Jeremiah seems content to keep rather severe and quiet himself, lingering near Bethany, attention up on the altar. "Bribes to forgetfully-starved scholars. Clever, Bee. Should've thought of that," he comments with subdued humor that fades as he continues to watch the altar.

    Julea arrives with Anze, though she holds back a touch, watching as he removes his shoes. It takes her a moment, but she's soon crouching down and tugging her own boots off. She doesn't leave them, instead stuffing them into her pack.

Damon smirks up at Serafine from behind him and pats the bench next to him, "Park it."

Curran slinks in among a few others, standing aside from the entryway and trying not to draw any attention.

Freja stands before the altar as people begin to trickle in. The Redrain is garbed in simplistic leather strips that bind her chest, covered entirely in runes. A sheer skirt with a moonstone belt allows only the whisper of the outline of her long legs as she moves about, picking flowers from the Grove in a pattern that she alone knows.
     Moving back up towards the stone slab of the alter, she motions for Signe to join her and then turns her somber eyes to the crowd gathered. "Whether you are here out of mere curiosity or the genuine faith of the Northern traditions, welcome. I will keep this short and sweet for the sake of the bonfire to follow." She turns her eyes to Signe then. "As though of the North know, no advantage nor guidance can be asked without the proper boon paid. Before I enter this ritual I will allow a few questions, if required. Limited to three, so choose wisely."

Khanne quiets from her previous conversation, watching all those who enter the grove with a curiosity to her misty grey gaze. Those she recognizes get small smiles and nods, most specifically to all of the other Redrains, Sophie, Serafine, and Damon. Sigurd gets a smile when she notices him, her lips curling up a bit more at his presence. Freja then begins to speak and her attention is turned to her, her demeanor falling to one more calm.

Anze sets his own boots to the side and then finds a spot to watch the ritual, wriggling his toes in the grass of the grove for a moment and feeling just a little more attuned to the feel of the place.

Bethany nods with an agreeable hum, as Jeremiah perfectly understands her intention, and when more folk gather - she seems to do that clever trick, of a household servant making herself hide in plain just. Or, in this instance, just slightly behind Jeremiah. A Mercier shadow.

Deva wanders in, carrying a bear like it's just any other day. As Freja begins the ceremony, she looks for a comfortable place to sit and watch.

Sigurd remains entirely silent. His eyes watch mostly Signe, smiling faintly as he watches her upon the alter in sibling pride. But he voices no questions, and continues his silent vigil of the proceedings with rapt interest from his position near the back and slightly apart from the others.

"Sister Sophie Valardin!" Cybele beams bright, distracted from the journey to the altar by the Mercy's call, and moving towards the southerners. "Who are your friends?" Pausing to take in Freja's pattern of movement with interest. And her instructions to Signe, even more so.

Perhaps to himself, perhaps to Bethany, Jeremiah speaks up: "Gods and Spirits help us if that becomes one of the questions," he remarks, eying Cybele and the Freja once more, probably unserious. Probably.

"I am not Signe Nightgold. It will not be." Cybele looks to Jeremiah. Eyes narrowed to a slight glare.

Mason does not feel any peaceful, but then again, there seems to be a lot on the man's mind at this particular moment. No happy and jovial man with curry like he was so recently. As Sophie's escourt, for the moment he just gets tugged along in whatever direction she happens to be going in.

    Signe shadows Freja to the altar, standing alongside her near the great stone slab of it. She shares a few hushed words with the Shaman before considering the arrangement of flowers she's picked and dipping her head in a nod. Her gaze casts out toward the crowd gathered around and -- upon spotting Sigurd -- her lips twitch into a grin and she acknowledges him with a scant nod before returning her attention to the Redrain beside her.

Sigurd gives the tiniest of amused snorts at Jeremiah's call. He shifts to watch the man, a few things seeming to click on his face as he spots the man near to Bethany. He smiles faintly, then turns to look toward the alter once more.

Deva has joined the benches.

    There's a touch of awkwardness to Julea as she holds back, her fingers pulling the hood back to expose hair and bare feet sinking into the ground, toes giving a bit of a wiggle. She's attentive though, eyes sweeping the crowd gathered there, and picking out a few familiar faces among them.


    Quietly and with little fanfare, Darren heads into the grove, a rather large and intimidating bear prowling at his side. He takes a glance around before he heads for the benches, to take a seat beside Deva and murmur a few words.

Darren has joined the benches.

Bethany ducks her head behind Jeremiah's back, eyes averted, head bowed. The faintest punch of a small, ineffectual fist against his shoulder.

Cybele's glare is met with a considering look and the barest of smiles from Jeremiah before he ducks his head deferentially, perhaps in time with bethany's punch...then turns his attention back to the altar.

Mason gets /gently directed/ towards Cybele before Sophie breaks from his arm to give the shaman an affectionate hug. Then, in a soft tone, so as to not disrespectfully draw attention, she makes introductions. "Prince Mason Grayson," which she says with a completely straight face, "this is, Cybele, the Walker Inbetween of the Children of the Sun and Moon."

"No, I will not be answering who her friends are as one of the questions, and since there seems to be none at present...let us begin." Freja speaks softly to Signe at the altar, explaining things softly in what is clearly a lesson to any with eyes to see. "The boon is always weighted against what is to be asked. The scales must never be tipped one way or the other, the balance maintained between the mundance self and the true self." She removes her albino bear headdress then, speaking softly to it with her mouth against its muzzle. Her eyes open slowly and seem distant now, unfocused as the crowd is forgotten and she lays out the pelt with care on the altar.
     Still she speaks, "I ask for protection, for guidance of my childhood home. Farhaven. As long as Redrain remains, it will stand Until the Last...but even we need help."

"Prince Mason Grayson. Well met." The northern prodigal murmurs quietly, with a nod of greeting as Sophie's hug is accepted. And once the most of the friendly welcome is dealt with, Cybele nods to the altar, encouraging both Mercy and Prince to pay attention.

Damon leans over to murmur to Valencia.

    While there's no space left on the benches, Julea does move around towards them, giving Darren a polite dip of her head. Fingers tug at the tips of her gloves, drawing them off and tucking them into the pack as eyes find Freja and Signe at the altar, watching the pair curiously as the former speaks.

Damon has left the benches.

Bethany speaks softly to Jeremiah.

The introduction gets Mason's attention. Enough for him to smile a little. "I've heard plenty of things about you from your friend." he nods in Sophie's directions. "I'm hoping that we could talk ourselves at some point." And at that, he goes to listening.

    While there's no space left on the benches, Julea does move around towards them, giving Darren a polite dip of her head. Fingers tug at the tips of her gloves, drawing them off and tucking them into the pack as eyes find Freja and Signe at the altar, watching the pair curiously as the former speaks.

Damon rises from the benches and moves to stand with Serafine in the back, gesturing Valencia over.

    As Princess Freja begins the ritual, Signe slips forward, effiecient and silent as she gathers the white flowers the Redrain had gathered from the Grove. She handles them with reverent care, an eye kept upon the other woman and the albino pelt as she arranges the snowy blossoms in a basin at the altar. The Nightgold is fixated on the proceedings as she sets them just so, attention on Freja as she ghosts back to her side.


    Darren looks up as Julea moves towards, offering her a bold grin. He leans to murmur something to her, before his eyes return to the ritual at the altar.

Sigurd is completely silent, watching the ritual begin with a solemn, attentive expression. He laces his fingers behind his back, standing behind the benches and seeming to be completely at ease with the ritual.

Valencia looks up and nods to Damon. Giving an affectionate smile to Darren and Deva, she gracefully rises and joins Damon and Serafine in the back.

Khanne sits at the benches paying reverent attention to Freja and Signe at the altar. There is a flutter of activity and some small communication going on around her, though she barely notices. Some may get brief glances from the corners of her eyes, but otherwise, her focus is rapt. She sits with a strong posture, head held high, hands folded gently in her lap.

Introductions made, Sophie loops an arm through Cybele's and respectfully watches. Alas, she missed Khanne's earlier smile.

Valencia has left the benches.

Deva waves at Valencia, and the others that move to linger in the back. For now, she stays seated next to her brother, murmuring to him every so often. There's a quick smile and a polite nod for Julea, as well.

The Redrain Shaman motions and speaks softly to Signe once more as she explains further what is to take place. "The boon." Her hand reaches up to behind her ear and the pressed, preserved bloom that she had tucked there to hide in her curls. "Farhaven is in my blood as much as any Redrain, a part of all memories up until a few months ago when I came here. Mother, as I loved her and still do, grew this through winter. As dear as it is to me, so is the future of my biggest love." She presses it against her lips and speaks softly against it, eyes glazed over once more as she reaches forward with a steady hand and drops the aged bloom into the basin along with the additions Signe had made
     The urn is reached for next, its dark contents poured into the basin along. A sweet fragrance escapes from the basin to the first few rows, stirring up fond memories for whomever smells it - the effect differing based upon the individual. "For home, for what was lost, and to prevent what may be. Spirits, I ask you to guide me."

Anze maintains a quiet watching of the ritual, with Julea moving away standing alone watching the altar and the shamans. There is a slight shake of his head at the murmurs and greetings going on between all the people but otherwise no comment.

Aislin watches the ceremony at the altar silently from her position at the edge of the Grove. She's demonstrably far more focused on the ceremony than on any socializing, as if this were a chance to learn some new bit of lore to tuck away in the files of her mind.

Julea has joined the benches.

Straightening some, Jeremiah quietly observes the ritual, Signe as much as Freja: he offers a few quiet words over his shoulder, probably to Bethany, shrewdly considering the altar and the ritual.

    Julea moves a few steps closer to Darren to return a few more quiet whispers, and in doing so, she dips her head in greeting to Morrighan, Khanne and Deva. A quick wave accompanying. Her eyes scan the crowd, searching and eventually finding Anze, she gives him a quick grin, before her focus is once more on those at the altar.

Cybele murmurs quietly to Sophie and Mason - then spots Aislin and offers a small smile and a nod of greeting.

Khanne closes her eyes then, letting the wisps of scent flow around her. She inhales deep, a meditative breath filling her lungs as the aroma from the basin is appreciated, triggering the memories it is meant to provoke.

Sigurd closes his eyes, smiling warmly as he breaths the scent in deeply, then out. He doesn't seem surprised by the sensation, and quickly he has his eyes open again and is watching the alter and both of those upon it.

Damon clasps his hands together in front of him and closes his eyes, drawing in the scent when it arrives all the way to the back, taking in a deep lungful of the stuff. He smiles warmly.

    Reaching out to pluck a candle from the side of the altar, Signe pauses only to admire the dried bloom as the dust settles around it. Her eyes flit to Freja with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, something bittersweet along with it as she dips the flame down to brush the dried flower, which immediately catches. Once it's set aflame, the blossom burns within moments before catching the dust within the basin on fire as well--

    And with a great gout of bright flame, hastily avoided by the Nightgold lady, the whole basin fills with ash and fire as it's consumed in a spectacularly eye-catching display that sends smoke billowing upward, the sweet scent of the mix followed by the heat and a smoky kick.

Cybele draws a deep breath, leaning a little more on Sophie and Mason as the scent of the mixture carries on the wind - eyes brightening at the gout of flame, and the shaman grins a little at the billowing smoke.

Creature of the senses that she is, Sophie's eyes hood a little, a tad dreamily as she takes in the fragrance and the sight of flame, which causes a reverent flash in her eyes, for fire is sacred to her blessed and beloved Lagoma.

When Signe moves to light the concoction in the basin, the fire kindled in a flash that throws light into the Grove like lightning struck, it dies down and when it does Redrain men throw a torch on the bonfire that had been prepared so that there is another rush of flame and light not even a minute after the basin is consumed.
     As the bonfire distraction is made, Freja has drawn a whalebone from her belt that has been whittled to a fine point. The honed tip is dragged across her palm and down to the wrist, stopping just before the rune. She holds her hand out over the flame while eyes are distracted and lets the blood drip into the basin, though red rivulets escape and trickle down her wrist to twist and twine with the whorls tattoo'd into her skin.
     Freja steps back and places both her hands on the altar then, breath shallow as she stares forward, eyes dead to the world and unseeing. She'll stay there for a few minutes until she blinks slowly, regaining herself. "And now, for growth. The bonfire is lit, the ritual complete. Stay, help us celebrate the new season. There is whiskey and vittles aplenty." Her tone is hollow though, a whisper of what it once was at the beginning of the ritual - in spite of the radiant smile blessing her features.

Bethany peers around Jeremiah's shoulder, curiously, and now paying closer attentions to the movements of the ritual - the order, the placement of objects, the reverence of the words. Flowers, fire, smoke. It's a little overwhelming, and, if she were not so composed she would be - oh, she starts - there's a bonfire, now.

Whatever memory that is inflicted upon Mason, he makes little note of it, but it's enough to make him look away for moment, as if the memory was breaking his concentraion on something else entirely. The whole spurt of flame, smoke and the blood-letting, especailly the latter, almost seem to get a wince out of the Ahj'oni man, but he returns to his casual watching. As watching for something in particular. Or mentally taking notes.

Sigurd glances to the fire as it is lit, but quickly turns back to Freja, watching as she slices her hand. He nods once, slowly, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring something unheard under his breath, almost pleading in tone. He smiles faintly afterward, however, and then once the last words are spoken, he slowly unlaces his hands from his back, relaxing slightly in posture.

There's that flash of fire and Jeremiah flinches just slightly, blinking some...and then he works his matching hand into and out of a fist as Freja draws blood, keeping quite still otherwise.

Of course the bonfire being lit gets a glance from her, but still, the shaman watches Freja and Signe more closely, a small smile forming on Khanne's lips as she sees the ritual completed. She, like Sigurd, gives a small nod, only then letting the bonfire attract her attentive gaze more fully. Quietly, she sits watching the flames dance and lick at the air, small sparks drifting up into the sky.

When the bonfire is gone and the ritual ends, Aislin finally stirs from her position near the edge of the Grove. She offers Freja what almost looks like a brief hint of a smile as she crosses the Grove to approach Mason, Sophie, and Cybele, greeting the small cluster with, "Your highnesses. Walker."

Beth looks back, from the bonfire (the distraction worked on her) and back toward the altar, head tipped at a quizzical angle. Unsure of Jeremiah's reaction, she merely watches him. Quiet. She lifts a hand, placing it center of Jeremiag's back - between his shoulders, leaning in to speak, "Eat drink and be merry? Or, bend an ear? Or, Mercier scurries to find the Scholar with Jay in tow?"

    A breath is drawn past Julea's lips in a quick rush as the bonfire is lit, and she can't help but release a low whistle to accompany. Her head dips down, and hair falls around her face for just a second before eyes rise and she scans the crowd.

Freja takes the basin then which still crackles with flame and smoke, stepping down from the altar then to carry it to the bonfire where she pours it out slowly into the roaring flames. She speaks softly to Signe as she does so, offering kind smiles to any she passes along the way.

    Signe's eyes remain on Freja as she lingers close, dead silent during the extent of the basin's burn before she dips her head in and asks a few things, the bonfire burning tantalizingly nearby. She sticks close to the other shaman, hand moving to push back her hair as her gaze inevitably drifts to what remains in the basin.

Looking back at the touch, Jeremiah considers the offers in order, a briefly distant look fading from him, shaking his hand off. Eat drink be merry? Considered. Bend an ear? Tempted. Find the Scholar? "Let's," he decides, almost instantly accepting, nodding. "To the Scholar. Since we've both invitations," he then informs her.

It takes a moment before Sophie is drawn fully back into her situation awareness, and she amiably greets and most welcomingly smiles at, "Lady Aislin. Well met." Summer sky eyes flit to Mason, carrying a measure of concern, and she uses her free hand to give his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Anze watches the bonfire for a long moment, having not moved or spoken since the ritual started. He blinks eventually, clearing his sight a little and he looks across the assembled people in the stone grove, though for the moment he just stays there.


    With another quiet word to Deva, Darren rises from the benches and slips out now that the ritual is complete.

Darren has left the benches.

Once the bonfire is lit and the ritual appears to be over, there's a moment of hesitation when Morrighan furtively glances about before she rises to her feet. She quaffs down a bit of liquor before loping over towards Freja after she steps down from the altar. The redhead does wait, however, in a pause between the noblewoman's conversing with Signe before she sidles up to Freja, eyeballing her hand with a narrowed squint. "You're goin' tae take care o' tha', right?"

Cybele tugs at the two companions who, by now, have gotten an arm each - except for Aislin who gets a nod to follow along. "Hello Loreseeker," the shav says with a bright grin. Moving towards the bonfire after Freja, beaming bright. "Maid Eternal. Signe Nightgold." Greeting fellow shamans. "I should very much like to discuss what you did here tonight, at some point, if I you deem me worthy." The young prodigal pauses, and lets go of Mason and Sophie, bringing both hands together and offering a small nod of respect, gaze lowered.

Sigurd slowly begins to drift through the crowd, aiming to end up near Signe, to whom he murmurs, "Excellently done, dear sister. I knew you would do well, of course." He seems pleased as he reaches to squeeze her shoulder gently before starting to withdraw, leaving her and the other shamans to their discussion with a nod of respect to Cybele and Freja.

Mason is going to remain in his own head for some time. That is until Aislin greeting and Sophie squeeze to his arm brings him back from whatever mental gymnastics that he was doing. "Hmm?" he blinks, looking away from the bonfire over to Aislin. "Pathfinder. Good to see you."

Aislin glances over to offer a nod to assorted Nightgold cousins, before turning her attention back to Sophie and Mason; she'll leave the shamans to their discussion without intruding. "I admit, I'm a little surprised to see how many southerners came to this." She doesn't sound displeased by it, though.

With a smile, Sophie admits to Aislin, "I attend when I am able. Northern hospitality lack neither warmth nor rugged charm, and I fine it important to find commonalities between our cultures and practices of faith." Lower case 'f', from the utterly devout Mercy.

Signe grins at Cybele, then Sigurd, the mien of gravitas she's taken on during the ritual crumbling away like the dried flower in the flames as she reaches up to squeeze her older brother's forearm before he's off to socialize elsewhere. "Only what was meant to burn ended up burning, so I call it a success," she calls after him playfully.

Freja's words are dulcet, a tinkling laugh escaping as she remarks to Cybele, "Whyever would I -not- find you worthy? Is there something wicked this way that walked you did not tell us?" The scout is certainly more impish now, for whatever reason. A vulpine smile curls one side of her darkened lips and she looks down to her hand then to Morrighan. "I had nearly forgotten..." She shakes her wrist, a few drops of crimson landing in the dirt before she rips off a small strip of her skirt to bind her palm. "The Spirits are not as ..well, finicky, Signe."

Khanne remains at the bench, watching those at the altar with a more relaxed posture and smile. She lifts a hand to brush wisps of hair away from her face into a somewhat more tame state. After a moment, she finally rises and stretches, arching her back a little and lifting her arms up into the air. Lowering them once more, she folds them against the curve of the small of her back and begins to walk over towards Sigurd. "I am glad to see you could make it, Lord Sigurd."

"It's all new to me but...not as much as I thought." Mason offers, a little distracted. "Eurusi religious ceremonies are alike with things like this. I find myself surprised by how many similarties there actually are." There is a certain 'distant' tone to how the man talks for the moment. "Though I doubt I'm going to be preforming any Eurusi ceremonies anytime soon. I'm no priest."

Sigurd smiles warmly and teasingly at Signe, matching his tone as he starts to withdraw toward the back. "Well, they burned well. I suppose I shall not tell them about that poor farmer's barn, while we are on the subject of you burning things?" He chuckles a little as he then turns to Khanne, bowing slightly to her. "I am glad I was able to attend, Lady Khanne. But I wasn't about to miss my sister doing the duties she was born to do, if it could be helped."

Anze finally moves from his spot, bare feet padding across the grass until he makes his way towards Freja. He smiles at his sister "It was a good ritual sister." He gives Freja a quick hug before smiling to Signe "an to you as well. Nice to see this place lit up."

Sigurd glances aside as he sees a messenger standing off to the side. he frowns, waving the man off for a moment as he turns to Khanne. "If you will excuse me a moment?" His expression is apologetic.

Morrighan scoldingly clicks her tongue at Freja while she takes on a forward lean, enough so she might try to assess the wound and its level of severity. The redhead keeps close to the Princess, her posture and demeanor a protective one - much the same as the raven that sits on his perch, swiveling his head about, similarly eyeballing anything and anyone that draws close. "Make sure tha' it's cleaned an' what not lest it get a nasty infection," she softly advises in a murmur, ever concerned over the Redrain noblewoman's well-being.

"Yes," Sophie concurs with Mason, offering a kind if subdued smile. "Many similarities. Perhaps the Pathfinder and the Walker would be interested in such a conversation."

"Of course," Khanne dips her head to Sigurd then smiles to Signe, saying towards her and Freja both, "it was a lovely and strong ritual. Thank you so much for sharing it with us." She nods again to Sigurd and looks around, spotting the refreshments and making her way over.

    There's some quiet contemplation and then Julea starts to make her way where she'd lingered off to the side of the benches and across the grove. Her path takes her, with intent, near Anze and where he comes to stand near Freja and Signe and she pauses there to touch a hand to his shoulder, and then she dips her head to Freja and Signe. "It was." She reiterates his words.

Sigurd slips to the edge of the clearing, moving out of the area for at least a few moments, a curious look on his face as he reaches to accept the letter.

"Then I shall be happy to seek you out later, Maid Eternal, so as to not interrupt your festivites. As for my wickedness..." The northerner laughs. "My way is the crossing of boundaries, of standing apart even while being among my tribe. I should expect to be accused of at least a little wickedness." Cybele concludes. Reaching out to give Signe an encouraging squeeze and a grin. "And we, too, have needs to talk together later." Sapphire gaze coming to rest on Anze, and the shaman grins. "F'an Anze. I hope you've been well!" Taking a step back, and giving a nod of agreement with Morrighan. "For all the sacrifice is done, the spirits, I've found, rarely bother to stay behind to take in the aftermath of their offering."

Hearing the title the Shav uses uttered, Cybele takes a step back, looking to Sophie and Mason. "Oooh. Yes. I have talked some to Loreseeker Aislin Ashford about the far south. I should be very interested to learn more about the practices there."

Inconspicuous despite his panoply, Agnarr drifts into the grove, finding a place to watch the proceedings .. or what comes afterwards, anyway.

"My mother is from the north," Aislin informs Mason. "She was a Nightgold, before she married into Ashford, and I think sometimes she misses northern traditions. I thought... perhaps she'd like it if I attended this." Turning to Sophie and Cybele now, Aislin nods. "Walker Cybele and I have spoken already; I have little doubt that we'll speak a great deal more."

Serafine frowns a little, something flickering in her eyes. She kisses Damon's cheek, and Valencia's, and quietly excuses herself.

"I hardly think the whalebone is going to kill me, Morri..." Freja laughs brightly at Morri as she examines her sliced hand. To Cybele the rippling of laughter contiues, "Wicked wit whittles whilst we wicked win." It is utter nonsense but there is a smile plastered on her face. "I look forward to speaking with you again, Walker inbetween." To Anze she gives a one-armed hug with the arm Morrighan isn't currently inspecting for damage. "Where are your shoes? Silly thing."

    Signe smiles easily at Anze's approach and dips her head, mentioning to him, "I'm glad you were able to make it," then extends it to Khanne as she begins to ease away from the fire, turning toward Cybele to murmur, "A bit of time and quiet to talk would be welcome soon."

Freja adds with a wink to Khanne, "Thank you for joining. I look forward to attending your own."