Berenice sweeps into the bar with a toss of dark hair and a whisper of floral-embroidered aeterna, looking, of all things, amused to be here. And accompanied by the loveliness that is Juniper Whisper, arms linked. She pauses near the entrance, considering the seating options; her gaze narrows on the sofa Mydas is already occupying for a moment, and then eventually it lands on one of the booths. "That will do," she decides, sauntering over.

Berenice has joined the A private booth.

The time of the Catharsis has come. The Black Fox has been prepared, various seatings available to its guests, while drinks aplenty await them as soon as they pass the door. Mydas occupies a sofa, the Prince casual in his bearing without ever exceeding the limits of high nobility. Clad in umbra and with a glass of whiskey in hand, he doesn't rise when he speaks up, the bass of his voice easily cutting through surrounding conversation. "Nobles, commoners, and all the various strata in-between, welcome to the Catharsis. Some of you might have come hoping to unleash verbal slaughter upon your enemies, others might have joined us out of fear from having others speak against them. Others still might be here to enjoy what they hope will be glorious chaos. Imagine that." he smirks, surely not his case. "The Catharsis can be all of that, and then some. In fact, it can be practically anything you might wish, for it is your contributions that will shape it." He scans the room with gold eyes, moving upon faces both familiar and not. "As we go to face yet another crisis in the coming days, it is important that one does so without the burden of a troubled mind and heart. Without distractions. Hence, you are welcome and encouraged to speak the truth and free yourself from whatever weights you down. Joy, sorry, hatred, love, I don't particularly care which you choose. So long as you speak your mind, and do so honestly." And then, finally, he stands. "And as we begin this Catharsis, I raise a toast." He raises his glass, waiting to be joined, or perhaps simply gathering his thoughts, before he speaks. "To the truth and the plain speech my wife Freja enjoyed so, and ultimately killed her." He drinks, his toast made, and motions to Jordan in case the man has anything to say. Or perhaps he's just inviting someone to take a shot at the poor knight. Who can tell? Either way, the Velenosa prince is back to his seat, apparently satisfied with his contribution.

Juniper, drenched in stars. Or, failing proper stars, diamonds. A suitable escort for the brilliant elegance that is Princess Berenice! The courtier is content to allow her highness to choose their seating and as she settles into the booth, might be heard murmuring, "Do you suppose everyone is here to watch and listen and ogle, or to actually speak up?"

Juniper has joined the A private booth.

1 Templar Initiates, 2 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Cassandra.

Lethe heads straight to the bar once she arrives. She orders a wine and gives a nod to those nearby.

Rosalie has joined the A deep brown leather sofa.

Gregori wanders in dressed nicely the sides of his head freshly shaven. Hes obviously looking nervous and shy this things arent really his thing normally. But he was asked to attend so attend he is. He walks to the bar and orders an ale as he watches people to see if he spots anyone he knows.

12 Thrax Elite Guards, Crow - Thraxian Steward, Lilybelle - The Claw of Arx, Matilda - Shaggy Wolfhound arrive, following Victus.

From over at the bar, Rowenova looks up from ordering up a couple wines, whatever Draven may have wanted. She wolfishly grins over toward Mydas, "Chaos, yes!"

"To plain speech and its consequences," Aureth answers, dropping his elbow on the bar behind him and raising his glass to Mydas. One of his eyebrows lifts at Mydas's choice of opener, and there's a hint of crook to his smile as he adds, mildly, "Though they be dire or no." He is all draped in gold and white, elegant but not nearly as sparkly as the princesses and Whispers present.

Jeffeth has joined the A private booth.

"I think we'll either be dreadfully disappointed with dullness or get to enjoy a slaughter," Berenice says brightly as she settles with Juniper at one of the booths in the tavern. Her expression is a bit dry when she turns it to Mydas, listening to his introduction, and she plucks up a glass of wine from an attendant to take a sip.

Rosalie traipses into the Black Fox dressed in golden seasilk, boasting iridescite around her throat and champagne silver around her ring finger. She swans into the room, looking like she's practically floating, glowing with excellent health and good cheer. She waves here and there to those she recognizes and moves towards the comfy-looking couches where the host is seated. Settling in, she places an order for tea and sends a bright and cheery smile towards Mydas.

In from the summer heat is Victus, hands dipped in the pockets of his coat as he wades into the Black Fox. A familiar sight, given that Niccolo had installed Lilybelle her very own catbed in one of the corners. It is of course entirely unused. "So is this one of those things where drinks are being served or we pick our poison?" This loud question posed to Mydas as the High Lord is approaching the couch, already in the process of making his controlled fall onto the cushions when he's still two steps away from it.

Arriving in the Fox, Cassandra looks around. And spying her fellow Legate, makes her way to the bar. "Aureth." she greets with a thin smile before she moves to take a seat at the bar. And she orders her own wine as she settles in.

Cassandra has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Trudging in a little late, the large form of Jeffeth Bayweather is quickly sliding through the room with many a walking-bow over to where Juniper and Berenice sit, quickly lowering himself into a seat with a rumbled, quiet, greeting.

Victus has joined the A deep brown leather sofa.

Rowenova beckons Gregori closer to the bar and motions to a stool here even though he has already ordered his ale. "Good to see you as always! I hope this will be fun for you to get some of those stuff and things you bottle up out!"

Ophelia arrives amidst a flurry of people entering the Black Fox, which makes it easy for her to slip toward a less crowded spot. Alas, said 'less crowded spots' are becoming more and more scarce! So, she breezes by some of the booths where folks are already sitting to see if she can squeeze in somewhere.

"If someone doesn't say something bad before the night's done, I'm picking a fight with family." Mydas remarks to no one in particular, before pointing towards Berenice. "Maybe that one." Aureth's comment is heard, and Mydas lifts his glass in salute to the new Legate. "Figured you might like that one." he says with an amused smirk. Rosalie is greeted with a nod, though her cheery smile isn't quite matched. Mostly because he doesn't keep a sun in his mouth. "Both!" he replies to Victus. "It's hosted in the Velenosa Ward, what DID you expect?" he asks the High Lord.

"My take on the Catharsis is, to lend from Prince Ettore's words, a way to let go of the weight in your chest. We carry regrets, we carry resentment, hurt, anger. Many of us will face danger in what can feel like a few days. Many of us may not be here in a few months. So it is that I'll start: I acted like a proper asshole to someone who was in mourning, at the wrong place, and the wrong time. The fact is, my sense of personal pride was wounded, and instead of redressing it directly, I chose to use irony and to run my mouth instead of listening. So to that knight over there," Jordan points to Jeffeth, "I apologize. I've lost my parents, but you lost the only person you have known for a parental figure. Then I was ungraceful about it from other people who spoke out in your favor after the fact, and still carry anger at them. Nevertheless, I'll listen to what you have to say about me first, because, as far as guilt and deserving a verbal lashing goes, I think it's only fair one of the co-hosts gets it first. Say your mind, if you'd like."

Gregori hears Rowenovas voice as he takes his drink and makes toward her especially as he was beckoned toward her. "Well the pleasure is mine. Not much to get off my chest really unless you count my desire to move up the ranks of the scholars and follow and do Vellichors bidding." He says with a smile. "Not much has me to bothered."

"Ophelia!" Berenice lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers at her cousin in invitation. She blatantly ignores Mydas. And then wrinkles her nose at Jordan introducing things with an APOLOGY, of all things. She didn't come here for that! Or something.

Gregori has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Ophelia has joined the A private booth.

"Didn't you two already have that shit out?" Aureth asks, crossing his feet at the ankle in a flare of golden skirts and hooking the heels of his shoes against the rungs of the bar. "I know entirely too much about this dirt to suppose it was still festering after all this time."

Aureth also tips a slightly dorky wink at Prince Ettore, because he is at least slightly dorky, but I forgot to put it in my pose.

Helia ambles amblingly into the Fox, with the most benevolent look of snooziness plastered across her face. All the appropriate bows are given, smiles, waves, all that stuff, with bigger smiles for people she knows. She tilts her head at Jordan's words when he speaks, looking amused thanks to the quirk of her mouth at one corner.

"The dispute was resolved. The interpersonal conflict isn't. Cheers to you, though, Legate." Jordan nods to Aureth. "I still want to hear what he has to say about me."

Then Helia sits her butt down somewhere.

Juniper's smile goes brilliant with Jeffeth's arrival and she is not shy about linking her fingers through his as he settles on the bench beside her. But with Jordan's remarks, her brow rumples. Dark eyes slip from one man to the other, her expression piqued and curious. "...that started out much nicer than I expected," is her lone remark.

"So find my own drink if I feel like living another day. Got it. Or at least, a day without the severe runs." Victus muses in kind to Mydas as he comes to 'foomph' beside the man on the couch, along with Rosalie. "I don't got a lot to get off my chest that doesn't already get off my chest on its own or via third parties. Were you hoping to start some raving fires in the middle of the Ward though? Because the Archduchess is probably gonna like that quite a lot."

Maxene, Pellinor, 4 Thrax Guards, Honey Snuggle, a Velenosian Angora cat arrive, following Alarissa.

Rowenova says, "SIR JORDAN! I WISH YOU COULD HOLD YOUR LIQUOR!"

Rowenova just shouts that across from the bar toward the booth back there.

"Oh, by the way, did I mention I had made more of my Foolsbane? I kept them in specially marked bottles, none of which bear the label of Foolsbane." Mydas helpfully supplies to Victus. "If you're really lucky, you might actually find my last invention. It's actual poison, by the way." Unfortunately for all involved, Mydas is both extremely amused, and laying the irony thick upon each word. He might be joking. He might be serious and just looking forward to someone having a bad surprise. "Perhaps, depending on how strongly they feel, right now we're mostly just looking at the cold ashes of whatever was going on between Sir Jeffeth and Sir Jordan."

Alarissa has joined the A corner booth.

With a small smile down at the Whisper next to him, there is a gentle squeeze given to her hand. The large knight looks up with an arched brow as he is addressed. The big man watches Jordan throughout the apology before slowly givign a nod over to Jordan. "Thank you for the apology." Comes the rumbling voice of the large man, leaning back some at the table. "I accepted your first apology, and I accept your second." Jeffeth calls out.

Another person makes her way into the Black Fox. Two swords adorn her hip, and sway with each of her movements. The Templar, Dame Emilia, makes her way towards the bar and takes a seat without so much as a glance to anyone else.

Emilia has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

"A rather dull, self-serving opening to make yourself look gracious, Sir Jordan," Berenice calls over languidly.

Alarissa knows where her husband was going abd decided to give chase. When she enters, she doesn't head for where her husband is sitting but instead makes her way to Jordan's chosen booth, a glance to Rowenova and then Jordan.

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor, Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor, 1 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Brigida.

"Some of us are earnestly nice, not pretending to be idle rich while we secretly despair of boredom, Princess Berenice." Jordan winks at the Velenosa.

Jordan says, "But I'm not a nice person. Sir Jeffeth is."

"I see you all plan on boring everyone here," Aureth says with the roll of his shoulders in an easy shrug, and leans back again on the brace of his elbow as he tilts his glance towards the ceiling of the bar. "Very well. Shall I have a turn? Princess Alarissa Thrax, I see you hiding over there. At one point in our mutual past, I wrote you a lengthy letter esentially ripping you apart for hypocrisy due to a misinterpretation I made of something you publicly wrote in a white journal. I apologize for misinterpreting you. The next time I insult you, publicly or privately, I assure you it shall be based on something you actually said and not an invention of my own mind." He sniffs his wine experimentally, but he's already been drinking it, so if it's _that_ alcoholic, he would've noticed by now, surely.

Adora stomps her way in and then seems briefly surprised by the crowd of people. But her usual scowl slides into place pretty quickly as she makes her way to the bar. "What is this, some kind of gathering for people who need bookcases?" she asks loudly, "Well, aren't all you fuckers in luck, because it just so happens I make the beat bookcases in all of Arx." she drops some silver on the countertop and points at what she wants to drink.

"Cousin Berenice? Rich? Please, if that were the case we wouldn't be throwing silver at her to keep her in the latest style." Mydas calls out. "Or I'm told it's the latest, is it?" and there his attention turns to Rosalie, clearly expecting an answer. But Aureth comes to the rescue! "Note to self, if I do this again, invite more Harlequins." he muses out loud before taking another drink from his glass.

Anya, the cool as an ice cube Champion apprentice, Renn, the mousy, scholarly brunette, Morgan, a roguish looking gentleman arrive, following Caspian.

Harmon has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

"I'll just start mixing bottles together till I get something that I like. That works, eh?" Victus snorts as he starts doing just that. Grabbing one bottle of something, ordering another bottle of something and then getting a third bottle of... something else. Once he's got a glass he's starting his amateur cocktail hour. "Well I might as well get involved in /something/." The Prince's gaze starts trailing over everyone in attendance, prying the inner recesses of his mind for a complaint or quick insult. Finally, he picks. "Sir Jeffeth." He calls to the man. "It annoys me that you're fucking huge and you can do a perfect handstand summer-sault shiggy-wiggy wooha bullshit without fail. Stop making the rest of us who hit our heads on ceilings look bad."

"Is it hiding if I'm sitting in plain sight Legate?" Alarissa calls out, ceasing her conversation with Jordan when her name is called out. "You were entitled to your own interpretation. It's not like you cross the threshold into Thrax and see for yourself. Though you are always welcome to." She offers a smile to the man before turning back to her conversation with Jordan.

Harmon shuffles his way inside, belt and pouches jingling with all of his random bits and tools that he carries with him, swimming in his oversized robe before he slides onto a barstool.

Helia has joined the A corner booth.

"I don't think anybody here needs bookcases, and thankfully there is a strict 'no violence' clause in this meeting or the moment someone with more alcohol in their blood decided to pick a fight, you'd make a fucking killing with chairs, Mistress. You do make those, right? Not just bookcases? Just making sure." Jordan watches Aureth, then Alarissa, then Mydas' retort to him. He smirks. "Depends on the vantage, Your Highness. Not all of us seem to get a bucketful of gold before we take a piss."

Adora has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

"I've been to Maelstrom," Aureth says lightly. "I found it wet."

Rowenova says, "HOUSE HALFSHAV HAS THE BEST SERVANT IN THE WHOLE WORLD!"

"At least I know what style is to have more than one outfit," Berenice calls back to Mydas with a sunny smile. "I can't even blame it on you growing up a Northerner, considering how well-dressed Messere Juniper Whisper is." She gestures idly to Juniper at her booth. "But /someone/ has to offer a public, social face of the family that anyone wants to look at." With that thought, she takes another sip of her wine.

Rosalie offers a smile and wave towards Alarissa from her seat on the couch before moving to fix up her tea the way she likes it. As she lifts her cup, she glances towards Mydas at his question, then looks over to Berenice. Studying her outfit for a few moments before commenting, "Actually, the full skirt is from last spring, the plunging neckline never leaves fashion, but the belt is... quite dated. Floral prints -have- made a comeback, however, so there is that. And for the shoes... the lace around the opening was more a thing two winters ago, less so now. Now lace ruffles at the sleves and necklines are all the rage. Or lace overlays atop a watercolor patterining." She sips her tea.

Lethe has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Lethe has joined the A corner booth.

Rowenova wolfishly grins as she drains back her wine glass then orders up a white whiskey she ultimately insists be poured in her current, crystal glass.

"Everyone always needs bookcases," Adora replies to Jordan, raising her glass his way, "But I also make chairs and chests and just about anything you can think of with wood and I make it better than anyone else in Arx." She glances back and forth as people start talking across the room to each other. "There's a no violence clause? You silks take all the fun out of hating people."

"I'd humbly suggest that the height of fashion is probably whatever Princess Berenice is wearing at the moment," Aureth says with a glance at his neatly manicured fingernails. "Unless you want to die, probably."

Draven has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

"If there were people who are essentially nice, then their niceness would be banal," says Brigida, walking in just in time to catch the end of what Jordan is saying. "Better to be the uneasy mix of pleasant and unpleasant most people are. Then overtures of niceness or cruelty hold meaning." She pauses to look over the crowd, then heads over to the corner booth. "Your highness." Leaning heavily on her knobbly walking stick, Brigida settles down. "Is this more about apologies, statements of frustration and anger or general fashion?" One of her ever-present attendants moves to her side, takes out a bag of apples and hands one over. "Thank you, Aletta."

"Is that what you wear if you want to pick up Nox'alfar?" Jordan asks of Aureth. "I assume your career as Archlector of the Queen of Endings had its benefits in the arena of fucking exotic peoples." He looks to Brigida, "You can say whatever the fuck you want, Blessed Brigida. The world's your oyster."

Brigida has joined the A corner booth.

Berenice looks pointedly at Rosalie's full skirt when she attempts to call her own dated, then looks back up to her face with a delicately arched eyebrow.

The big man blinks over to Victus, now, brows arching even further. He looks back to Jordan. Then back to Juniper at his table. There's a light frown weighing on his features before he looks back to Victus. Jeffeth gives a soft shrug. "Sorry. Your Grace." Is offered weakly. "I could probably help you try and get in even better shape if you wanted." There's a beat as he looks down to Victus picking up his glasses and bottles and all that. "You would probably need to start drinking a little less." There's a light, apologetic smile.

"Blessed Brigida. Do join us? We seem to be enjoying the back and forth and it's interesting so far."

\Alarissa states

"I've never had much trouble in that regard, Sir Jordan," Aureth says. He leans back again on his elbow and lifts his chin with a crooked smile at Mydas. He says, "While the Mirrormasks hold a mirror up to everyone to encourage people to understand and recognize their worst selves, the Harlequins take the piss out of everyone in honor of Our Lady of the Terrible Puns ... so we do try to liven up the party. Brigida is quite correct that the entirely pleasant are also the depressingly drab; who else shall we take the piss out of today? Shall we do Victus next? Your Grace, are you really so abominably stupid that you eat cosmetics due to their unfamiliarity or is this mere showmanship dunceness that you put on for the little people?"

Caspian enters The Black Fox without much fanfare, he is mostly quiet as he looks around, looking around at whoever showed up. He stands near the door, looking unsure, like he isn't sure if he even wants to be here.

"Obviously not, and you've got good taste, too, considering your daughter is the hottest weaponsmith any side of Arvum." Jordan rolls his shoulders in a slight, carefree shrug. "Well done. Not sure if you raised her or not, but you must be damn fucking proud."

After it is poured, Rowenova downs her whiskey from her crystal glass, and then shouts aloud, "GUILDMASTER CASPIAN! FORGIVE ME FOR HURTING YOUR ASSBONES!"

Rosalie smiles brightly towards Aureth, "Actually, I ask Her Highness Alarissa for advice when I want to have something new made. She -is- after all one of the top two ranked women in the city. The other being Mistress Yasmine, I believe." Catching Berenice's arched brow, Rosalie giggles, "It was a gift, from the Duchess Tyde. I would never be so crass as to accept a gift I don't intend to wear. Its also most comfortable right now."

"Hana is the best, but she did so entirely of her own native talent. I didn't even meet her until she was an adult," Aureth admits, "because that is how terrible a father I was. Doesn't stop me from being incredibly smug, though." He open-hands a shrug towards Rosalie, and says, "I mean, I'm certainly not going to critique Alarissa's fashion sense. I've seen her clothes. I'm not /stupid/."

"YOU'RE FORGIVEN!" Caspian shouts back to Rowenova, giving her a wide grin as he pats his ass. "Just be careful! This is the best ass in Arx, don't ruin it!"

"I -have- been tried for my taste in clothes and fashion and found not guilty of bad taste in that respect." Alarissa calls out to Rosalie. "By the crowns court." She returns back to conversation at her table.

"Bucket? What do you take me for, a Count?" Mydas replies to Jordan. But Berenice fires back! "My, Velenosa truly is in quite a bit of trouble if its best face is still beaten by commoners." he remarks, frowning with marked concern. And then Rosalie gives her answer, and the man grins. "And that's why I don't bothe with fashion. That, and my incredible dislike silver-sucking leeches." A meaningful look is given to Berenice there. "But at least this one has a pretty face, how blessed am I?" But Aureth certainly is stealing the show, and the prince laughs. "I don't know if he'd offer much resistance, unless he's all liver." The man did create a potentially violent chemical ensemble there.

"Grandmaster Caspian, you're not supposed to lie during the event," Berenice chides him.

Cassandra sits back quietly, watching the shenanigans and not having much to add at the moment.

Rowenova assures Caspian, "I will be careful!" She cracks up after Berenice!

Victus squints at the big Sir Jeffeth. "Oh... Well... Apology accepted, but you definitely coulda made me hurt inside a little more. Drinking problem is low hanging fruit." He says as he begins guzzling whatever horrid concoction he's made. It elicits an immediate gag reflex reaction, and some heaving chest compression. After physically punching his torso till it goes down all the way, he's settled, just in time to perk up at Aureth's quip. "Hey, listen. It smelled good and the only cream I knew up to that point was the sourish sauce you put on top of fresh catches. Frankly I just needed one lick to figure out it was not food and the rest was way out of proportion. But yeah, I hope it entertained a little more than the usual bustle of yellin' at clouds in journals for self-validation via angry mobs that most people get up to."

Quenia makes her way into the Black Fox a bit late for the opening of the event. She's dressed in a lovely flame licked aeterna dress, accompanied by a pair of fiery hairpins and earrings shaped with tiny phoenix. She gracefully makes her way to the bar to get a glass of wine, and then turns around to look around the room. She offers warm smiles and a light nod of the head to each person she knows, then turns to whoever has the floor to see who is speaking and what it is about while she waits for her wine.

"That can fuck someone up, you know." Jordan says, to Aureth, lifting his mug in honor of Hana, though. He drinks, and then adds: "Glad it didn't." At Berenice's quip at Caspian, he laughs. "Also, Princess Berenice is completely right for the tenth time in her life." He nods to Victus' words. "One reason I stopped writing and reading Whites, may Vellichor forgive me, is the whole fucking Oathlander monologue on honor, duty, and those things. I understand it, I do, but when you limit your topics of conversation to that, and maple, and bacon, you're fucking lacking in diversity. So if I missed anyone from the Oathlands here, please pass it along: take a note from the Velenosa or the Thrax or the Redrain in hosting bashes. The Gauntlet doesn't fucking count as a bash."

1 Silvershields arrives, following Yasmine.

"It certainly persuaded anybody who has ever worn cosmetics-- which, by the way, is most people -- that you've probably been hit in the head a few too many times," Aureth tells Victus with blithe humor, and then tells Jordan, "Thanks for that. It was her mother's idea. I had no idea she existed."

Quietly, Cassandra rises to look at Jordan. "I am currently assembling a tournament for after this current crisis that will include jousting, archery and a grand melee. I will endeavor to make sure that your honorable and dutiful bashing needs are addressed and that the principles of both the Faith and Legate of the Arts are met." With that, she moves to retake her seat, but not before adding. "Honey is better than maple."

Caspian lets out a laugh back to Berenice, grinning her way as he says, "I would challenge you for that, but I'm not allowed." He pauses a moment, then speaks allowed, saying, "Speaking of which, I got a grievance to air. Y'all are not petty enough. I'd love to see more challenges, but y'all get along too well. Where is the pride? The envy? The arrogance? I get there are threats uniting us and such, but it's alright to squabble over little shit!"

"I think Gloria would be disappointed in all of you," Emilia's voice rings out with a neutral tone. "You worship vainglory and conceit. I hear many apologies, and some confessions, but the sound in my ears is just like the sound of something that seeks absolution without feeling any guilt or regret." She sighs, glancing towards the crowd, "I came to witness bravery and humility. Where is it?"

'Clearly not in the Legate Aureht" Alarissa offers up.

Caspian adds at the end, "Then again, I might be biased."

"Certainly not," Aureth answers amiably. "I don't really have anything to address with anyone here that requires either humility or bravery."

"Probably in the Shrines," Berenice replies to Emilia carelessly. "Did you actually listen to the theme of the party before you decided to attend?"

Rowenova whisper whispers to Gregori, gives him a firm pat on the back there, gets more booze, drinks that down, then shouts aloud yet again, "DUKE VERCYN!" Coughing sideways into her bicep armor, she soon pipes up, "WE LOVE YOU!" the implied we probably including those who are not here right now.

Late to the party, as usual, Yasmine enters in an utterly ridiculous dress. Froths of laces are... everywhere. Along with sapphires. For all that, the gown fits her like a glove, showing off a figure honed by years of dancing. Dark hair is swept up from her face, with a few curls tumbling down to brush against her bare shoulders. She glances around for a place to sit, the expression on her face cheerful and rather open as she observes those already speaking with curiosity.

"Mistress Yasmine, care to join us?" Alarissa lifts a slender arm, beckoning the woman over.

"I've been hit on the head /several/ times." Victus muses back dryly. "I killed for a living for about 14 years straight. I mean I still do, but I used to too. Was that or get drowned. I'm sure you did something similar before you also got richer than most of them little people ol' see in their lifetimes." His cocktail of horror is lifted back to be downed, a little smoother this time. Not by much, but a little. His eyes trail back to Jordan. "At least keep a record of blacks man, you can scream in silence and Velichor will still be pleased you're at least recording some knowledge."

Adora raises her hand, "I hate all of you and think you're mostly useless." she pauses halfway to bringing her glass to her lips. "Bell Bookcases and Cabinets is still here for all your woodworking needs, though." Then she drinks.

"I'll look forward to fighting it. That, and the Tournament of Roses that didn't happen before all this shit started going haywire. I even learned how to be a better jouster for that." Jordan looks to Victus. "Are you participating again this year and maybe giving the cat a Rose Barony if you win, or are you going to request a well-deserved three-thousand-stone monument to Thraxian Rum? I'm really not sure what High Lords can get out of a King's Boon, but it'll be interesting to watch what's the legal limit." He grins at the Archlector of Gloria. "Mead is better than maple whiskey, for sure."

Emilia glances towards Berenice with an expression that lacks recognition. Slowly, the woman rises from her seat, and slowly turns towards the crowd. "I know what the theme of this farce is: empty, meaningless, words. I admit I expected too much." She closes her eyes, nodding, "But I have real grievances to bring to bear," she says, glancing to Berenice, and then the others, "I trust that is within the scope of the theme?" she asks, looking towards Mydas and then Jordan.

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it. I reserve all my ten silver to say to the Blacks. But it's not always useful." Jordan replies, to Victus. Then, he nods again, to Emilia. "Air them away."

"Nope," Aureth says blithely. "Not I. I was an entertainer, not a thug. A child of privilege, too; just a much poorer privilege than the Peerage."

Though this would not normally be her kind of shindig, Estil could not turn down such a wild invitation. Still, she sidles into the already packed tavern. Few - if any - faces are recognizable, nor does any one voice seem to stand out in the general din. She makes her way slowly around the edges toward the bar, skipping over toes and bumping someone's mug. She catches the cup just in time, apologizes profusely, and backs toward the corner booth where she has just managed to spot Jordan. "Did someone say mead?" she inquires a bit breathlessly, red-cheeked and hastily smoothing her hands down over her skirts.

Mydas sighs. "Because I am a man of the people." that the man keeps a straight face for this speaks volumes about his composure. "I shall answer your call." he tells Emilia. "I don't actually think you're a leech." he calls out to Berenice. "More like a kitten with its adorable little meows and claws." And then he turns his attention to Emilia. "Now see what you did? I've had to admit she was adorable." And then, to the grievances spoken of by the Godsworn, he nods, more seriously. "Proceed, please. While I'm not one to turn away laughter and good humour, this gathering IS for all of us to shape."

"Hi, Lady Estil. Meet Princess Alarissa, Helia Andrasko, Archlector Brigida and Lady Lethe Tyde." Jordan introduces the lady to those at his table, smiling to each. "Feel free to say your piece when you feel like it, too. That's what this is for."

"Sir Jordan, you do the city a great favor by relieving us from the contents of your Whites," Berenice says dryly. She shoots a glare at Mydas, clearly finding the idea of being noted as /adorable/ to be far more offensive than the idea of being a leech. "Do you think if you add a few more mirrors to your ensemble that people will finally find you scary?"

"Also, I don't like this event, because," Caspian points to Adora, "See? That would have been a perfect thing to challenge." He says with a small grin offered up to Adora. "If she was a noble." He says with a small shrug.

Quenia accepts the wine that's offered to her at the bar, and delicately takes a sip of it as she listens to people speak back and forth to one another. She raises an amused brow in Adora's direction when she declares that she hates everyone and then offers advertisement of her business. Rather than travel to a different seat, she settles neatly on one of the barstools for the moment.

Quenia has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Yasmine dips her head to Alarissa and crosses to the Princess' seating as she, somehow, attempts to manage that ridiculous train. At this point, it probably needs its own couch.

Yasmine has joined the A corner booth.

Estil has joined the A corner booth.

"To be fair, Master Caspian, any commoner here could have challeged her as well!" Rosalie calls out helpfully, with a bright smile.

Caspian turns to Rosalie, offering another shrug as he says, "Normally, challenges are a noble thing, though I've fought for commoners before when duels were lacking. Shirtless and covered in oil..." he turns to Aureth to give him a knowing smile.

"Mistress Adora, you hate us, but you -love- our money." Alarissa calls across the room. "Confess."

"A thug?" Victus quirks a brow and shakes his head. "No no, see, I was a soldier that killed Shavs and what were legally branded as traitors. That made me a noble thug." As he lifts up for another drink, his eyes trail to the door as a servant seems to be calling him over. One looking more like a Thraxian brand sailor than a Lycene. He sneers. "Ah fuck, it was just gettin' good." He downs his drink and sets it aside for the moment as he stands, though he answers Sir Jordan. "I might get into it for the competition's sake. But I got a championship belt that's real shiny last year, so there's really nothing I'd want with a boon. We'll see. Anyway, I gotta run, so I concede whatever arguments are going on. Whatever you think, it's true." He makes a move for the door, stumbles over two steps, and then rights himself. "I'm good."

Rowenova chimes in after Alarissa, "What she said!"

Victus has left the A deep brown leather sofa.

12 Thrax Elite Guards, Crow - Thraxian Steward, Lilybelle - The Claw of Arx, Matilda - Shaggy Wolfhound leave, following Victus.

12 Thrax Elite Guards, Crow - Thraxian Steward, Lilybelle - The Claw of Arx, Matilda - Shaggy Wolfhound arrive, following Victus.

Adora raises her glass to Alarissa, "A love of silver is something I think everyone can agree on." When Caspain adds that last bit she snorts, "Gods forbid. Then I'd have to wear some of these ridiculous outfits we see here tonight."

'he wears it to bed every other night and makes me praise him!" Alarissa winks at her husband.

"I know, right? I've seen the error of my ways. I valued my words too much and made them public, when I should have kept to myself. Definitely something to consider at your leisure, Your Highness. It's done wonders." Jordan rises and bows to Victus. "For what it's worth, when you laughed after I retorted at Prince Barric's spiel about not taking the farm out of the farm boy, you made an instant friend in me. You're someone I actually respect very much, and hope to fight you at the Tournament. Have a good night, Your Grace. Gods bless. And don't die from overdrinking."

Victus raises his glass to Jordan. Only, he doesn't have a glass anymore. The gesture isn't lost though. Then, he's gone!

12 Thrax Elite Guards, Crow - Thraxian Steward, Lilybelle - The Claw of Arx, Matilda - Shaggy Wolfhound leave, following Victus.

Rowenova cracks up and gets her shout on as much as her drink yet again here, "NOW THAT I KNOW HOW TO BRAWL, I WANNA KICK VALARIAN IN HIS ONLY BALL!"

"Must suck to only have one ball." Jordan suddenly looks very uncomfortable in his seat. "Can't imagine the pain."

"Wouldn't people merely see themselves in the mirrors?" Mydas asks Berenice. "I suppose if the implication that the greater darkness is the one they contemplate within themselves." he remarks, pensive. "That was a far more insightful argument than I thought you would ever make, cousin." he congratulates her. "And, I'm quite sure, not what you were going for at all." he grins at her, gold eyes bright. "Ah, but keep sharpening these claws, little kitten." he adds with the utmost condescension, the likes mastered by the highborn everywhere.

"You could do a lot with only one," Yasmine pipes up as she orders herself a drink.

"I imagine it doesn't continue to hurt after the wound itself has healed, Sir Ober," Rosalie responds with a chuckle.

Anya, the cool as an ice cube Champion apprentice, Renn, the mousy, scholarly brunette, Morgan, a roguish looking gentleman leave, following Caspian.

Emilia nods to Jordan, with a grateful expression, and then straightens up. "When I was younger, I was punished and humiliated for not defending myself when I was beaten black and blue by thieves. I refused to turn my sword against a fellow man, for that I was deemed a coward." She tilted her head, and sighed. Her expression is hard to read, "But it is fine, I've forgotten about it, and I've forgiven. But every day, I watch people, much like yourselves, who carry ideals, and lift them high unto the air, as if to proclaim their dominance and superiority," she spoke in soft tones, "But I saw those same people, who starving, under a burning red sky, turned on their ideals, and ate their flesh to sate their hunger, and drank the blood to sate their thirst." Her eyes narrowed, voice as hostile as a brandished sword, "It is a fact, that we seek shelter in another, no matter if they're good or evil, righteous or wicked," she pauses for a moment, "It bothers me, that we still have the arrogance to pretend we're great. It bothers me that we still shout such brave words like 'duty', 'honor' and 'righteousness', as we sacrifice our purity to avoid hardship." She turns back towards the bar, and says, "Frankly, it hurts me more than anything else I've experienced, and I have experienced quite a lot."

"It rather sounds like you haven't forgotten about it at all," Berenice notes of Emilia with widening, innocent eyes.

"I don't pretend to be great, as anyone who owns something from my shop will confirm," Adora notes to Emilia. "So, my arrogance is well earned."

Helia shouts over to Adora, "How much do those fuckin' bookcases cost?"

"I do have a rather lovely jewelry box from your shop," Berenice adds to Adora in a surprisingly complimentary tone.

After listening for a bit, and finishing off her glass of wine, Quenia makes her way out of the bar, nodding politely to those she passes as she does.

Quenia has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Yasmine scoffs slightly and tilts her head at Emilia. "Purity? Ha. Purity don't feed you. Is cold comfort when you see your babies starving or your mama sick and in pain. You do what you have to do to survive. Everyone does. You do what must be done. Lofty ideals are for those that have the luxury for them. Ideals -are- a luxury. Being able to stay pure is a luxury. Ask any kid who ever starved in the Boroughs, love."

"What the fuck are you fighting for if it's not to prevent people from suffering extreme hardship? We all have our challenges - even Princess Berenice there - and they make us stronger in the end. The degree, and severity of what challenges these happen to be depends on the walk of life you've chosen. I see, from your swords, you're someone who fights. What do you fight for?" Jordan asks of Emilia.

Jeeves, a sophisticated valet, 5 Silvershields arrive, following Rook.

"I have to spend /so/ much time deciding on an outfit every morning," Berenice says in support of her many, many challenges.

"And which bottle of wine to drink from, first." Jordan adds. "My bad, by the way, that I used that bottle to cook some stew."

"I could mock your words. Mock the soul you've bared. Or perhaps I should poke holes in it like I've done with every zealot I've encountered lately." Mydas tells Emilia. "But I won't. It's true, we sacrifice the purity we could achieve. We sacrifice that which, if we followed as exemplars, would bring us closer to the Gods. We sacrifice, because we were never pure. Humanity, was never pure. This world we inhabit, isn't pure. The only place that can ever hold the purity you believe, is Elysia. And this?" He motions to the room around her, its people. "Well, we're rather far from that, are we?"

Ophelia finishes the rest of her wine and slides the empty glass forward on the table she shares with Berenice, Juniper, and Jeffeth. She's then standing up from her seat and making her way out of the tavern with a smirk for her cousin's fashion dilemmas. And wine dilemmas. All the dilemmas~

Ophelia has left the A private booth.

Rowenova gets up and sets her empty glass on the back of the bar counter before shouting aloud, "LORD ARIK IS THE BEST BOSS WHO EVER BOSSED PEOPLE AROUND! LOOKING FORWARD TO BEATING HIM UP, SO I CAN GET A PAY RAISE!"

It's rare you ever seen Rook in the Lycene ward, yet today, he is. As he enters the Black Fox, he clasps his hands behind his back and slips through the crowd, though with no direct aim at first. Oh, he spies Yasmine, and she gets a smile and the appropriate air-kiss. Alarissa and Rosalie each get a brief wave, then his arms are drawn back behind him once more. At some point among it all, he comes and stands beside Jeffeth, and stage whispers right out of the gate, "I am terribly insulted I didn't grow to nine foot seven like you. Honestly!" Maybe he's just warming up. Roasting and arguing aloud doesn't come easily to a courtier, among many things.

"Why do you wear a dead animal's head?" Jordan asks Rowenova.

"Well it is great then, for the sake of the discussion," Emilia tells Berenice, "That someone would remind me of that event." She then looks to Adora, and says, "Your arrogance is not well-earned. Because you own a shop, and sell trinkets, you think you amount to something that has any meaning?" she queries, "You think your riches, or your art, contributes to the sanctity of our spirit? Do you think it contributes to the defense of the weak?" She then turns towards Yasmine and says, "You ask the orphans and the children of the Boroughs about me, and you will find your answer. I gave all my wealth, and all my possessions to them. Who dares question if I have done anything for them? And still, I am nothing. But if I am nothing..." she doesn't however finish that sentence. That is mostly because Mydas' words attract her attention, and she sighs, "I am not angry at you. I am angry at myself. At my own weakness."

"Sir Jordan, you've never seen the inside of my bed chambers, much less the contents of my wine collection to steal from," Berenice tells Jordan dryly. "You must be remembering a very desperate dream." She finally eyes Rowenova after yet another sudden declaration. "You are being /excessively/ annoying," she tells her.

"Whoever said anything about a bedroom? You said I could keep the bottles when we first met at the Hundred Cities' bar." Jordan points out. "That's what I'm apologizing for, a second time, in fact. I don't want to see your bedchambers. For all I know, that's where you throw your unwitting victims to your pet vipers."

Gregori has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Tatiana, the Tantalizing Tale-singer, Svetlana, the Sultry Secretary, Cadern leave, following Gregori.

Jordan adds, "I'm flattered, though. Prospective victim or not."

Rising from her seat, Cassandra leaves a few coins before she's moving to head out of the building, a bow of her head towards a few before she's heading off to who knows where.

Cassandra has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

1 Templar Initiates, 2 Templar Knight guards leave, following Cassandra.

Rowenova looks flatly at Jordan, except the very edges of her lips smirk, "Because it is sexy!" She stands up to her full height with shoulders back before fluffing back the fur with one gloved hand. She then wolfishly grins toward Berenice. "I am!"

Juniper has attended all with fixed and bright-eyed interest. The volleys, the parries, the merriment and scolding. Her hand tightens on Jeffeth's and some subtle shift of weight sets her gown to scintillation. "I think," she observes quietly to those at the table, "that this more reveals the cracks than mends them."

"At least it's not some giant albino bear." Mydas remarks to Jordan with the voice of someone who has had far too much experience with that. "And much as I hate that we HAVE to speak the truth, but my cousin has a point." he remarks after Berenice. "And what will you do with this anger? Leave it there festering? Repress it and pretend it doesn't exist, or will you make use of it?" he asks Emilia, his gaze far more serious when he focuses on the Godsworn.

1 Templar Initiates, 2 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Cassandra.

Berenice wipes a stray drop of wine from the corner of her mouth. "Pet vipers? Nonsense. I eat my food once I'm done playing with it." She smiles benignly at Jordan.

"Didn't question you darling, but as one of those used-to-be 'orphans', if you patting yourself on the back for it, you are doing it wrong. You wanna do something real useful? Wake up and realize that they is more than just orphans in the Lowers, love. Why don't you try giving one of those people a -job- instead of a handout? What about looking at them as people instead of a cause for your righteousness because I guarantee ain't no one down that that cares how pure you are. They just wanna eat tomorrow." Yasmine absently blows Rook a kiss as she settles in.

"Gods, no," Adora says flatly in response to Emilia. "I sell chests and bookcases, not just trinkets. Fuck the sanctity of the spirit, hello the fullness of my bank account. Oh, you donated your shit to the children. How noble of you to do so and run around telling everyone how noble you are about it." she scoffs.

"I'm actually having fun for the first time in months, not having to mind my words." Jordan comments to Juniper, "And as I told Princess Berenice, I actually like her. She's entertaining to observe. Now, see--" He laughs loudly at the Velenosa's retort. "that's an interesting retort."

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

"I do believe that riches and art contribute to the human spirit," Aureth says altogether mildly. "I believe that the human soul is a varied gift, which may be enriched in many ways, remarkably. Its worth is not determined by what it has, or has not."

Rowenova already stood up before, so now she weaves her way through the crowd toward the entry/exit way. "I miss my man. I am going to go home, but before doing so: SIR FLOPPINGTON IS A VERY GOOD BOY INDEED: HE FORGIVES YOU ADORA!" Then, after she last words like a rude person, they flee the scene!

Rowenova has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Sir Floppington, the soulful hound leaves, following Rowenova.

1 Templar Initiates, 2 Templar Knight guards leave, following Cassandra.

"Oh good, the wild woman is gone. Now there's only... A surprising amount of them left." says Mydas from his seat.

"Who the fuck has a giant albino bear, by the way, Prince Ettore? Why can't people have normal animals?" Jordan calls out, belatedly.

"I'm not surprised you find me so interesting, Sir Jordan," Berenice says mildly with another sip of wine. "I imagine nothing's more mysterious and incomprehensible to you than a woman who refuses to bed you."

"She made the alcoves in the family shrine. She glowered through it all. And she has made the furniture in the shackles. In fact, blessed. May I abscond wiyh you whileI have you?"

"Oh, damn, she got you there," Estil offers to Jordan, nudging him with an elbow and grinning at Berenice.

From the corner booth, Helia just cackles loud at Berenice's quip.

Rook drifts away from Jeffeth after he gets his internal crisis over his size out to the man, pats him on the shoulder almost affectionately, and then wanders off from the knight of Solace to spy another person to flex his bluntness. "Ooh, burn," he provides for effect, for Berenice and Jordan.

"My wife Freja. She killed it, thought it would be a good idea to wear it." Mydas answers casually to Jordan. And at Berenice's comment... he smiles. Surely not pride in that smile of his. Surely. Amusement, however, is far more easily seen.

Rook has joined the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Jordan laughs at that. "Ow. Good one. Given you just admitted to murdering your lovers, though, I'll thank Gild for that."

"I never said I was better than any of you. I said I did my part," Emilia says, and then glancing to Yasmine, adds: "And all that was within my ability. I am just one person, and I am neither strong nor wealthy, noble or respected." She shrugs, "But the thing is, we are at war," she says, "Money won't save you, luxury won't save you, no one will save you. The enemy is merciless and ruthless. The question is, is anyone going to care about you? Who will speak your name with the same love and adoration, that they reserve for those we respect in the Hall of Heroes? No one."

Mydas looks about to open his mouth to retort, yet instead... "Master Rook, why don't you defend the honour of silver, we're all counting on you."

"The ones I let between my legs sure sing my praises like I'm a hero," Estil anwers Emilia, lifting her cup of rum in a salute. "Seems to suit me well enough."

"I don't need to be adored like those in the Hall of Heroes." Yasmine then pauses, tilts her head, and then laughs a little. "Actually, scratch that. I definitely need to be adored and loved."

"The grace of Gild is charity as well as industry, but the grace of Gild alone is not how the Faith measures grace." Aureth rests his fingertips together, his elbows leaning back against the bar behind him, his body stretched in a languid drape of aeterna and silk, his hair bound and twisted through shining combs of jeweled gold that could probably have fed his entire family for a year when he was a kid. "Well, now that the random screaming has ebbed," he says with a glance after Rowenova's departure, "we can get down to it. My dear, your attempts to bring down the room notwithstanding, heroism is not measured by purity either; it is measured in action, in hope, in deed and in sacrifice. You may find it in the most unexpected of places. But you're unlikely to find it _ever_ by castigating others for lacking it."

"Money is /remarkably/ good for funding armies to fight wars, as far as I've heard," Berenice notes to Emilia. She flashes another of those tranquil, ineffable smiles to Jordan.

"Actually, going by the past encounters... other people are the -only- thing that will save you! It is -their- faith, -their- generosity of spirit, -their- braveness and self-sacrifice that lead them to save others in the first place! Purity of soul will not keep an Abyssal creature from biting your head off, however," Rosalie points out pragmatically.

"You know what the people in the hall of heroes have in common?" Adora drawls, "They're all dead."

Mydas sighs. "Nevermind, Master Rook, your services are no longer required." Berenice beated him to it.

"Rule number one, Lady Rosalie." Jordan calls out.

Rook navigates towards the bar where a collection of people are, pausing to rest his forearms against it, hands clasped. When he hears his name, he looks over his shoulder, to Mydas. With a glance to Berenice, he waves a hand, and calls over, "That's okay, you wouldn't have understood anyway, your highness."

4 Redoubt Buccaneers, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant arrive, following Carita.

"I'm certainly no general," Berenice agrees with Rook peaceably enough. "It was only a rumor I heard."

Brigida takes a bite from her apple, swallows. Looking to Emilia she says, "Dear, the people in the Hall of Heroes whose names we all remember wouldn't be there if it weren't for a thousand people buoying them to heroism whose names will never be remembered. We do what we can. We all do. The rich, the poor, the strong, the weak. We are all in this together."

"And so are a bunch of other people, Mistress Adora Bell. They're there for a damn fucking good reason, though. And some of them lived pretty full lives. Like that guy, the Velenosa enshrined hero, Black Blade, I think? I'm not sure why he's there since he pretty much admitted to assassinating people, but I guess never being caught is a quality many Lycenes appreciate." Jordan nods to Brigida's words, though.

"It's Velenosa. If you expected every one of our Heroes to be knightly models of honour, you have not been paying attention." Mydas replies tot Jordan.

Rosalie looks at Adora and grins, "So are many others who aren't in the Hall of Heroes and didn't save anyone. Its the fate of everyone to die eventually. Its what you DO with that life that determines if you are to be remembered or forgotten. I'm sure my name will disappear from history very quickly. I am nothing and nooen special, but I try to help those I feel can make an impact on the history of Arvum, and that's good enough for me." She pauses, sipping her tea, "Also, they pay me extravagantly for my services. Which is nice."

Frowning, Helia raises her voice, "Who cares about being a hero? Just do right by people as best you can, and stop worrying about validation from others. It's fucking dumb!"

"And you never know when someone in the Hall of Heroes has been reincarnated into someone you're insulting right now," Aureth adds, quite cheerfully. He glances at his empty glass, and then chooses to leave it abandoned.

Jeffeth is sitting here, pretty silently, next to Juniper. His eyes follow most of the conversation. Flicking from one person next to the other. When Rook came over to him he slowly looked over with a slightly bewildered glance. Then back to the rest of the talking. So much talking. And fast. Jeffeth's neck keeps turning to look in the direction of whoever is speaking. His eyes lid slightly. His chin nods just a bit.

Yasmine rises, leans over to give Alarissa a faint kiss on the cheek and a few murmured words, offers those at her table a waggle of fingers in farewell and then makes her way to the door, holding her train out of the way as best she can.

"My accidental twin is wise," Estil observes to Jordan.

"Doesn't the Thrax Hall feature /multiple/ traitors and oathbreakers?" Berenice says, casting back in her memory a bit. "Half the people in the Hall of Heroes are there because they started a war with one of the /other/ Great Houses."

"Oooooooooooo, that's a great point, Legate!" Rosalie calls out encouragement towards Aureht.

"As if I care about the trivialities of heroism, Legate," Emilia responds to Aureth. "Of what use to me is fame? It seems to me like you are the only one here who understands my true meaning when I speak of the Hall of Heroes," she considers for a moment and then speaks, "The people in the Hall of Heroes all have one other common point among them: They stood by their convictions, and never faltered."

"She is," Jordan nods sagely to Estil.

Rook corrects for Berenice, "I meant Mydas, but, you and me both regarding military." As he spies Yasmine leaving, he lifts his hands, and calls after her, "You change your mind about what you want to do every five seconds!" in spirit of the meeting, "and it's infuriating!"

"Do we know they never faltered though?" Juniper's eyebrows lift. "They didn't at the end but statues don't catch everything that comes before. None of them were perfect, or untouchable stone and legend, even if they are now."

Brigida gives Aureth a surprisingly fond smile paired with a dismissive gesture. "Once you have had a round or two on the wheel you would do well to develop a sense of humor about that sort of thing."

"Everyone falters. They just didn't falter when it was needed of them the most." Jordan retorts to Emilia. "If you have a life to lose, you will always falter eventually."

Yasmine has left the A corner booth.

1 Silvershields leaves, following Yasmine.

"Well if the insulted party wants to reveal their nature for a slight offered at this gathering, they're welcome to retort most bitingly." Mydas remarks. "Sloppy, Rook. How many drinks have you had for the courtier to skip on titles?" he tells Rook, though he looks more amused than outraged.

Aureth laughs, and props his cheek upon his fist, eyebrows up. "I already have a sense of humor," he claims. "A terrible one. That's why She likes me. Master Rook," he says, "tell me, when you bathe in silver, does it actually help you get clean?"

"I will never falter," Emilia replies to Jordan almost instantaneously. "My life means nothing compared to the Compact and the people I am sworn to defend."

"You mean the people you're raging at right now?" Rosalie queries of Emilia with a smile.

Rook looks, for a moment, like he's unsure if Mydas is joking. Then he smiles widely, "I mean, those are easy to come by, I hear. I wouldn't know though," he insists. To Aureth, he says, "Normally it's champagne, money is actually terribly dirty, and the bubbles feel fantastic on my..." a pause, "...skin. You need a second bath afterwards, though, so I'll answer: no!"

"Well, she never said that she'd defend us from /herself/," Berenice calls over to Rosalie with a laugh.

"By saying that, you just have." Jordan retorts. "Courage is not the absence of fear and charity isn't a lack of self-interest."

Carita's beyond fashionably late into just downright late. Dressed in violet instead of her usual umbra black, she pauses just inside the door, blue eyes scanning for familiar faces before she slides in to spot on the sofa to quietly listen.

Raises her voice again, "We all die. Doesn't matter how... actually, I don't even know where I'm going with this. Too much rum." Then she lifts her glass to mouth and slurps.

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

"Don't her vows demand she defend us from -all- attacks?" Rosalie quips back to Berenice with a giggling grin.

"That sounds nice, if sticky," Aureth says thoughtfully.

"They always say that." notes Mydas after Emilia's reply. He takes another drink of whiskey. "Mm, well said. I can't exactly fault you for that one, can I?"

Juniper tilts towards Jeffeth and tucks a whisper into his ear before she extricates herself from the booth.

Alarissa's rising, taking her time to carefully do so, making to leave it seems like Yasmine did but extending her arm to the Archlector of Petrichor. "You can tell me if there's anything missing." She looks over her shoulder to Aureth. "Legate. I've an alcove that needs blessing, if You want to do so. But I know how busy you are. Drinking and talking."

Carita has joined the A deep brown leather sofa.

Aureth raises his eyebrows at Alarissa and says, "I can think of little that interests me less than performing a personal service for you, Your Highness."

Juniper has left the A private booth.

Rook nods solemnly to Aureth, "Most definitely." Then, taking a drink from the bar he's requested, he lifts it for a sip and leans backwards and speaks aside to Rosalie in a small murmur, a smile on his face at the quiet question.

Brigida has left the A corner booth.

Harmon peers at those remaining as he sips from a glass of whiskey, hands twitching at first even as he scribbles notes into a parchment. For whatever reason, he absolutely needed to write at the bartop, with scroll and quill. As he goes through the glass, his hands steady.

"I didn't think so. You'd have to bend the stick up your arse. Enjoy your evening." And she's easing away.

"Be well, Princess!" Estil calls out to Alarissa, lifting her hand in a brief wave.

"You as well Lady Estil!"

Leaning in, Rosalie engages in a brief but quiet conversation with Rook, straightening up with a grin and an excited look on her face. She lifts a hand to Alarissa, "Good night, Your Highness!"

"It doesn't matter how I feel about them," Emilia tells Rosalie. "If this looks like rage to you, that simply reflects your own ignorance." She chuckles, "I have not turned my sword against my fellow man when my life was in danger - what makes you think that I would waste time and effort attacking you? My grievance is with myself. My inability to bear it quietly is a reflection of my own weakness. You were simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Alarissa has left the A corner booth.

Maxene, Pellinor, 4 Thrax Guards, Honey Snuggle, a Velenosian Angora cat leave, following Alarissa.

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

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor, Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor, 1 Templar Knight guards leave, following Brigida.

Rook seems to be terribly amused that he has a free license to say stuff he doesn't, and then after speaking to Rosalie, he claps to himself and then adds a little louder, "I can't believe I just said that. I am going to need to drink a little more to forget I ever did."

"May I suggest that bottle over there?" Mydas helpfully offers to Rook, pointing to an innocent bottle. Truly.

Rook says, "Oh, how kind of you. Yes please!"

Damien Pierce - A Charming Assistant, 1 Redreef Guard arrive, following Mikani.

"Of course." Mydas answers benevolently. The drink is prepared, and a glass of the beverage offered to Rook.

"Fascinating," Aureth says. He hoists himself standing, and then checks his bottom with the pass of his hand, like he'll find the stick if he flexes his buttocks. Shrugging animatedly, he says, "Good luck to you all, I do have another engagement with a very handsome young man, however. Please don't die of whatever it is Prince Ettore is serving, Master Rook; I'd be distressed to have witnessed it. Good evening, all."

Aureth has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

Binky, an asshole crow, Gregory, an unassuming disciple, 2 Templar Knight guards leave, following Aureth.

"That rather sounds like the Legate is fine with you dying so long as he's not here to see," Berenice says idly to Rook as she watches Aureth make his exit.

"Actually, rage takes many forms. In this case its a colloquillism meant to express your heated and angry responses to the people present. But if you wish to speak on ignorance, we can do that as well! What sort of ignorance do you think it would take for someone to blindly adhere strictly only to their own particular moral code, regardless of if it actually follows the vows they've taken or if their callous remarks disparage not just the people present but many Gods themselves, as well?" Rosalie tilts her head slightly and smiles widely towards Emilia. "Decrying the usefulness of the arts, of creation in its many forms, of silver and its uses both personal and public, to say nothing of completely disregarding that you have both a Legate and an Archlector in this very room yet still dare to tell them that -they- are wrong and only your version is correct?"

Salvadore, a fire salamander arrives, delivering a message to Jeffeth before departing.

Mikani has joined the A deep brown leather sofa.

Rook gets suspicious as soon as the drink is delivered in a shot glass, and then withers inside, as the words escape: "Oh, nooo," he laments, staring at it, turning it and giving it a little nosing to determine how rancid this will be. "I've made mistake," he utters, before he knocks it back. When it's in his mouth, and he swallows, there's a mild strangled sound, before he lifts his hand to Aureth as he's leaving. It's soon needed to cover his mouth though to begin coughing outrageously and has to turn from Rosalie as he's in danger.

i Rosalie helpfully thumps Rook on the back a few times and orders him a glass of champagne to help speed along his recovery.

Rook checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 40 lower.

"Oh good, I wasn't sure if it was the Foolsbane or the actual poison. You picked the Foolsbane, by the way." Mydas, ever so helpful, tells Rook while the man is coughing his lungs out. "Ingesting other alcohol afterwards may lead to interesting results." He doesn't seem worried about the man's fate. Just another Velenosa prank! And not payback for forgetting his titles. Surely.

Adora finishes her drink and stands, giving a mock salute as she starts to head out, "Bell Bookcases and Cabinets," she says on her way to the door, "Where the goods are quality and we don't hate your silver."

"And just the silver." Jordan adds, helpfully, to Adora's slogan!

Emilia coolly looks towards Rosalie and asks, "And who are you to question the moral code of a Godsworn? What do you know of my vows or the worship of the Gods? Who are you to speak for the Gods?" she questions, turning to face Rosalie with a stern expression. "I have no interest in bickering with you any longer. My objective has been met."

Jeffeth officially fell asleep. He stirs just a bit when Juniper left and then wakes up fully when a message is delivered. He looks around, with slightly wide eyes as he slowly wakes up. "Yeah!" Comes the adamant agreement to... Something. Probably.

Adora has left the A dark wooden bar with leather stools.

"And /I/ have another party to get to," Berenice says, finishing off her wine and rising from her seat with a swish of aeterna. "Lovely event you threw just to snipe at me," she sing-songs over to Mydas on her way out.