Miranda has joined the a comfortable ivory leather and mahogany wooden sofa.

Waldemai slips in quietly and goes to stand at the back, where he can hear all the purdy words.

Miranda is already present! She is on a couch, patiently waiting for the reading to commence! She's all about expanding her horizons and taking in some culture.

Agostino is also quiet as he enters the room, dark eyes glancing around for a few moments just inside the door. He then makes his way over to one of the sofas to take a seat, easing himself down.

Agostino has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Helena stands near the lectern, smiling at each person who comes in. In her hands is a little journal, a red ribbon holding a place amongst the pages. Her fingers fidget around the journal a little nervously, though if she's nervous, it only shows now and then in a bite of her lower lip. Eventually, with most people having settled in, she steps forward to greet everyone publicly.

"Thank you for coming to this little reading... I imagine the strange happenings of this past week may be keeping some from being able to join us. I know at least one of my readers has a meeting to attend to, regarding the state of our city and the odd happenings of the last couple of days." she begins. "For those who don't know me, I'm Princess Helena Redrain, and also newly a scholar -- an Adept -- of the Academy here." Her cheeks grow a little rosy at stating this title, a new one to her. "Thank you again for coming and making a little room in your schedules for the arts and the written word."

Miranda applauds politely, trying to be encouraging. She smiles warmly, however, looking eager to hear whatever is read.

A good sister never misses another sister's Important Thing, so Elgana arrives at the Reading Room with Arthen Dayne in tow. Tugging the hood of her scarlet cloak back, shaking free some raindrops as she does, those dark eyes shift about looking for familiar faces. But then Helena is starting up so with a finger pressed to her lips as she looks to Arthen, she tugs the explorer by the arm and leads him off somewhere to settle in and listen. Of course, she gives her sister a little waggle of fingers in silent greeting, and big sun warmed smile as she does, while she listens and settles herself into a seat, letting Dayne settle into his own.

Etienne has joined the Stately Sofa of Somnolence.

Etienne settles in to the comfortable sofa which may prove his undoing, carefully seated and wearing a friendly smile, when the sound of clapping emerges he follows softly.

Leaning back comfortably in his seat, Agostino listens to the Princess who is hosting the event with a distracted smile on his face. He too applauds for her when he hears someone else doing so, before dipping his head slightly in greeting to Etienne.

He's a little wet from the rain, sure, but Arthen Dayne's made it, right there with Princess Elgana. He's rid of his coat fast enough, leaving it behind just before his poetry companion presses a finger to her lips and tugs him along. Maybe he doesn't quite get it, because while he's being pulled to his seat, he starts slapping his hands together for Helena, "That's a Redrain scholar there! Look at her, doin' poetry!". It's loud clapping, if brief, enthusiastic though, it goes well with his big smile. But he does find a seat, full of supportive spirit, if not great supportive etiquette.

Monique is settled on the couch alongside the Archlector of Gild and the Greenmarch beauty's clapping is far more boisterous and vivid. She nudges Etienne. "You'll read your new psalms, won't you, Blessed Etienne? They're so very inspiring."

"To begin, given our small size," Helena begins, before Elgana and Arthen's antics make her giggle, "I thought we might just have a very casual prompt for a quick little writing exercise -- I know not all of you are writers -- or maybe you don't think you are -- but thinking creatively can help in so many ways in our lives, and poetry can be an amazing way to open your minds to new ideas. So... just to get us started... and I have quills and paper for anyone who doesn't carry with them theirs at all time like some of us," Helena holds hers up, guilty of such. "This is quick -- no more than three minutes. Start with this line, and see where it takes you. If anyone wants to share what they write, they can, and if they don't, we'll move on with the reading. The line is: The truth is..."

Waldemai laughs quietly to himself. He does not reach for quill or paper, but instead stares off into space, lips moving.

Accepting the paper and quill she is handed, Miranda begins to write. Likely just the first three words. She pauses to think, then smiles and begins to focus, writing on her paper with a practiced hand. Her expression is amused and pleased, both. After a few moments, she puts her quill down to wait for the others.

Monique quite readily reaches for paper and quill, a smile stretching her lips wide. "Oh, I /like/ this prompt," she says with what might be far too much eagerness. She scribbles something out with very little thought required. And smiles wider.

Etienne nudges Monique with an elbow. "I'm sure no one came to hear a sermon." though the smile remains, he joins the rest with a small bit of writing mixed with moderated pauses for thought.

Agostino takes a quill and parchment as well, an introspective expression in his eyes. He considers the blank parchment for a short time before writing something down, and once he is done, there is a wry grin on his lips. Giving s slight shake of his head as he reads it back a bit, he then sets the quill aside once more.

Elgana doesn't look horrified at Arthen's antics at all but she does give the explorer a little look before he settles down but it's all good-natured. The prompt and the paper and quill get her to perk up as she accepts it and goes quiet and thoughtful before she starts to scribble something down across the paper. Scritch scritch scritch.

"All poetry is welcome," says Helena softly to Etienne's comments to Monique. "Much of the poetry of the world is faith based, and beautiful -- we are all the better for it, even when it isn't specifically our own faith it's based on. Universal truths touch all of us. But you can read if you are comfortable doing so -- we are happy to hear them." She smiles, watching the room, then nodding as it seems most people are through with the writing.

Her hands clap together. "Okay, Time!" she calls out. "Does anyone want to share? If you wish to - feel free."

Holding her parchment, Miranda offers her words, reading, "The truth is without struggle in our lives, in whatever form it may come in, we cannot know our full capabilities. It makes us strive to be better, even if we don't realize it at the time." Her voice is soft and warm, if a bit shy.

"Hey, look at that! I've got some pages in this little book!", Arthen Dayne says, seeming pleased with himself for being accidentally prepared for this. He pulls the book out of his pocket, and it does not look like a thing that's for show, messed as it is. He does take a quil though, stealing a bit of Elgana's ink so he can jot something down. He murmurs while he does it, out of writing habit, "Truth is, if I'd ever known Lycene fam-..". He realizes what he's doing, casts a glance around, tears out the page to crumple it up. "Well, I messed that one up anyway..", he awkwardly mentions, kind of under his breath. When Helena calls time, the seasoned explorer scribbles harder for about a deliberate twenty more seconds before putting his quill down.

Waldemai says, "The truth is I don't need quill or paper as I cannot read or write. Never wanted to, never needed to, bause anyone can write anything with those little squiggles. If I want the truth I listen to the sound of a man or woman's voice and watch their eyes, because someone talking to me has to talk to me, and that's the truth."

Arthen gets a fond look from Helena, who doesn't suppress her smile, and when Miranda shares her thoughts, her smile widens. "Very true, and very wise." Waldemai's words make her tip her head in his direction, listening to his declaration. "Also wise," she says with a solemn nod.

As he waits for some of the others to go before him, Agostino looks about, listening to each of those who read their contribution in turn. By the time it gets around to his turn, there is a somewhat amused look on his face. When he is ready, he remains seated, glancing around briefly before speaking up, making sure to do so loudly enough that his words are clear, "The truth is often more complicated than we believe." He then folds the piece of parchment up, keeping it in the palm of his hand.


"I might even say always," quips Helena, with a nod for Agostino. "Thank you for sharing that."


"Does anyone else want to share their truths?" Helena adds, her impish smile returning, now that the nervousness is mostly worked out. "And please give me a show of hands if you'd like to read a poem you've prepared. I have a couple, but I want to be sure to give every voice its due."

Monique dips her flame-bright head as she listens to others and their truths to tell. There's a thoughtful look when she lifts her emerald eyes to the others. She grins at Agostino's. "I cannot argue with that. The truth is, I once stole all the quills in this academy with His Majesty. My apologies."

Arthen Dayne's content to listen to people reading their snippets, at least until he's sitting there with that small book in his hand and nobody else is standing up to read. So he does. Because he's here to participate! But in his reading, loud and clear, he becomes someone else for a moment, "Truth is, life is just hard sometimes. You can't save everything. Some days it's goin' to feel like you can't save anything. But you can't save everything, even if you try with all you've got. At some point though, you are goin' to run across somethin' so worth saving that you will try with all you've got. If you're lucky. That'll change you. You know, even if it hurts or whatever. It probably will, if you're givin' it everything.". That seems to be all the man wrote in his three minutes, and he sits back down.

Miranda does not raise her hand, but then does so, at the last moment. "Does it matter if it's super short?" Again, a bit of a shy look, but she's willing.

There's a nudge of elbow from Elgana to Dayne as he steals a bit of ink but she doesn't cause him to smudge that line, nope. Wasn't her! She grins as she finishes scribbling something down. When Helena calls time she leans over to read what Dayne has written down on his sheet of paper. And then she falls quite as others take their turn to speak, her smile soft as she listens to every word he has to say. Another little nudge is given to Dayne before Elgana clears her throat, "It's not very good but it's all I've got, so here goes-- The truth is often worse than fiction, but it is in truth I find myself. It is in truth I find the slow, inexorable unraveling of me into you. There's a comfortable sort of thing, between your soul and mine." And then she looks down at her paper, a little bit red faced. "My sister is the poet and scholar for a good reason."

Helena laughs aloud at Monique's response, then her expression softens at Arthen's, her brows drawing together in that 'oh look, cute puppy' sort of way that young women often get. "So lovely and true," she murmurs, before turning to Miranda. "Short is fine! Poetry has no requirements!" And then that look returns again, as her sister reads, and her eyes shine a bit, glimmering at the corners. "That is beautiful, shut up." Sisters...

She smiles. "Thank you for humoring me with that little exercise. Words have power. Truth has power. Words can be truth or lies, but both have power in them. Poetry works best with truth, though. Our hearts recognize the lies our minds don't, sometimes."

She fidgets with that journal again. "I have... I think three short poems to read, and then we can open the floor to others.

Agostino bows his head to Helena when she addresses him, telling her simply, "You're welcome, Highness." He then chuckles at what Monique has to say, giving the marquessa a grateful look as he settles in to listen to the last couple of truths before the evening's hostess announces that the poetry is to begin soon.

The Redrain scholar moves behind the lectern so she can rest the journal on its surface, biting her lower lip as she selects one of the pages. "These first two poems are part of a set called Atlas. Or what will be. I have yet to write the East or West," she begins. "This one is called A Northern Nature -- for those who can't quite grasp the northerners' love of the mountains and forests and snow."

A Northern Nature

The entirety of a mountain beneath my feet,
the horizon stretches out in blue infinity.
Below, a river carves a silvery path
through lush forests to wind her way to sea.

At night, the shadowed moon hides her face,
and aside from the campfire's golden glow,
no man-borne light blots out the brilliance
of starlight dusted across obsidian sky.

Whitewaters roar, louder than any beast,
and yet somehow lull me to sweet sleep,
a canopy of stars above me,
the embracing earth beneath.

Her reading is soft, though loud enough to be heard easily by the small, intimate group, clear and lyrical, though not overly dramatic -- she is a scholar, not a performer.

Monique listens, enjoyment writ plain on her lovely features, her eyes closed to better absorb Helena's masterpiece. She lets out a soft sigh when the woman conclues, something undoubtedly wistful, some yearning. "Wonderful," the Minx of the Marches murmurs quietly.

Waldemai shivers a bit. "I'm from down to Southport," he explains. "Your cold mountains are a little much for me." Yes, the poem is evokative.

Miranda listens quietly, smiling a bit as if taking that imagery and fixing it in her mind's eye. She does not stare at Helena, though she does sometimes watch her as she reads. A little bit of a nod, for whatever she's thinking. She offers a polite clapping for the poet and scholar, showing appreciation for her work.

Elgana shoots a quiet little grin at Helena, nose crinkled and cheeks still bearing that little blush. But it is to the poetry the other Redrain royal listens, watching her sister as she speaks and when she's done breaks into applause. "Lovely," she says warmly, affection in those dark eyes as she smiles at her sister.

Etienne listens closely, all the while keeping a side eye on Monique, "That was splendid. You should consider writing more. The world could always use more books of poetry."

Helena glances down at the murmurs, her cheeks growing rosier with the comments. "How do the Whispers and bards do this," she whispers, mostly to herself, though it's audible to the rest.

Agostino listens attentively as the princess reads a poem inspired by her home, a smile curling his lips. When she is done, he joins other in offering her light applause as he nods toward Etienne and remarks encouragingly, "Well done, your Highness. It was a lovely verse, and read beautifully."

Helena gives Agostino a nod of appreciation, though her cheeks are officially red now, not quite as scarlet as the cloak she wears. "This second is the Southern Sun. I'm sure after the last few weeks, many of us would have dreams of summer and can relate.

"I dream, on cold nights like these,
of lying beneath a southern sun,
cooled now and then by salten breeze,
sipping wine, sugar liquid-spun.

Everything tastes of pomegranate and lime,
sweetened in the sun's warm rays,
my lips sting from this citrus kiss in time,
my skin feels burnt from sunshine's gaze.

Ocean winds tug at clothing and hair, 5rlike an impatient lover's hands,
to find something hidden, now laid bare,
when one braves the southern sands."

Her eyes stay on the page after she's done with this one, before reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of blond hair behind one ear.

Miranda smiles at the poem about the south. Her eyes close and her smile is genuine and wistful. Oh yes, this lycene can totally picture this poem, this imagery. She gives a bit more of a whoop! with her applause, clearly approving this piece.

Waldemai nods at that. "I've seen the toffs out doing that, mid-summer." She shakes his head. "Woosh! After a long day over a hot forge, we'll be in the bay until dark."

"Bring that one North with us?" Monique encourages Helena with a wide smile. "I've a feeling we're going to need it for inspiration to keep going!"

As the second poem is read, Agostino gets a far off look in his dark eyes, and the smile on his face becomes more wistful, before turning just a little rueful at the end. In spite of that, he applauds quietly again, though this time keeps any comments to himself.

Elgana is once more caught up in the swirl of her sister's words, her smile soft and warm. "I'm not quite ready for summer but after that? I may yet change my mind," she declares with a firm nod. "You have such a way with words, Helena."


Helena bites her lips and smiles at the praise, chuckling a little at the whoops and quips. She mouths a 'thank you' before turning the page in her journal. "One last -- this one is... a little more about truths, I suppose, and less about pretty images. It's called Haunted." She clears her throat, and begins to read, her voice somber, her voice falling into the rhythm of the words, a slow cadence.

"We are all haunted

by words we've said,
by things we've done,

by things we've left undone,
by words we've left unsaid.

Ghosts are not always spirits of the dead.
Ghosts can be anything forsaken.

Resented, regretted, and mourned,
Ghosts can be moments not taken.

Ghosts can be Love unattained,
Love abandoned, neglected, forlorn.

We are all haunted by what we regret,
Let it not be for Love, unnamed."

This poem seems to affect Miranda far more than the others. The previous images were beautiful in their way, but this is thought-provoking and Miranda sits, taking it all in. It's not that she does not like it, her expression suggests otherwise. But it is poignant and she seems to take a moment before standing and applauding this, "Well said!"

Is it time to clap yet? Arthen Dayne stands up and claps, because maybe it's time for that, with Princess Helena's third poem having come and gone. He looked like he enjoyed it, and he dang sure sounds like he enjoyed it too. "Wow, that was somethin' else! I am just about ready for some southern sun now! Maybe not so ready for hauntin' regrets, but real well put! I was gettin' pretty melancholy for the right reasons!". A bit more thunderous applause from Redrain's historian, before he finds his seat again.

Remaining quiet for the last of the poems that the evening's hostess is reading, Agostino's expression turns thoughtful in a way that matches its title. A few times, he glances toward the door, and he remains silent even after she is done. At least until Arthen's boisterous applause and remarks snap him out of it, causing him to clap as well, smiling warmly at Helena from where he is still seated.


Miranda's and Arthen's effusive praise and applause make Helena's cheeks flush anew, and she ducks her head. "Thank you, that's all I have. Lady Monique, I think you wanted to read? And then Lady... Miranda, I think it is? It's so nice to meet you in person." No doubt they've been at the same events, but there are so many people to meet and greet and cheek kiss and the like. "And maybe a psalm, if we can entice the Archlector, to top us off." She seems eager to get out from behind the lectern, moving to fall into a collapsed puddle beside Elgana.

Miranda just nods and smiles, "Miranda," she concurs, "Thank you." She still looks a bit.. haunted by the last poem (ba da bum). Still, she sits once more, hands in her lap as she waits her turn.

Elgana is there to catch up her sister in a hug once Helena has collapsed into a puddle next to her. "You did great! This has been a fantastic time," she murmurs to her sister before pressing a little kiss to her cheek. And then she gives her attention to those who are about to make poetry happen.

Monique rises, ever the flare for dramatics and never the smallest of egos. There's a smile on her lips as the warning leaves them. "Now, I told Princess Helena that I wrote the very worst poetry, but she didn't believe me, so I have come to prove the claim. You are forewarned and if you wish to cover your ears, you may do so now." She clears her throat, giving everyone a chance to cover or run, as they like, and then offers:

"Eidolon
I would be sharp for you
like a knife, glittering ethereally in the night
like a brilliant question from the mouth of
a promising young student
or a delicious cheddar cheese
How is my love like a cheese?
cheddar cheese is hard... and pale yellow to orange,
the color of the rising sun
Our love rises, it does not set
paired souls, we are a round
cut in half, destined to be reunited
in the magic of digestion"

The fiery Greenmarch sweeps a grand bow, as if to say, you're so very welcome for that imagery.

Miranda blinks a bit at the poem read by Monique. For a moment, she's not sure what to do or say. She grins when the cheese lines are spoken. She giggles as it continues. But, in the end, she stands and applauds. "Now -that- is romance!" And, well, she seems genuinely moved!

Waldemai is smiling as he adds, "If you let that cheddar age good, it'll be plenty sharp, too." He sighs. "Good with a cider or a big mug of ale."

Helena looks like she still doubts it, and no doubt, the poem starts with promise, aspiring to be a solemn ode, on the face of it. But by the time it gets to cheese, her smile blooms, impishly, and she looks quite delighted by the end. "Oh, so clever, wordsmith," she says, praising Monique. "They do say the way to a man's heart is through the stomach. Maybe the path to true love is below the stomach..."

The poem starts off with Elgana smiling and the longer it goes the more Elgana's head tips to the side until finally she laughs, and gives some applause. "That is definitely romance of a different flavor!"

Helena is overheard praising Monique: Clever girl!

Etienne smiles as the poem concludes. "You've out done yourself. I think." he mentions to Monique, laughing lightly, "I think your claim is safe for all of time. He shakes his head, pale-golden hair tousled about, an ever growing grin across his face.

Arthen Dayne laughs at just about the same time as Princess Elgana does, taking his social cues from someone who knows a thing or two about being in polite poetry readings and the like. "Heck, I ought to keep a copy of that for readin' when I'm feelin' off. I ain't ever heard of love talked about like that before.". He claps for Monique, too.

Monique's poem brings back Agostino's mirth more fully, eliciting laughter and applause when she is done. "Marquessa, I have heard...and written...far worse, myself. If I hadn't come in here sober, then maybe there would have been true reason for people to cover their ears. That was just...fun," he remarks to her with a wide grin on his face.


Helena applauds, looking happier now her turn is over and the spotlight is on someone else. "And Lady Miranda, I think that is your cue," she says, with a bright smile for the Rubino noble.

Shyly, Miranda stands and says, "I.. I have two, actually. They're both very short." She gives an apologetic smile and regards the small crowd. She takes a breath, eyes a bit distant, as if whatever she's about to say brings with it considerably memories. Touching memories. Memories filled with emotion. A remembrance. Then she says:

"If life is an ocean, you are my ship."

It's short. Like, that's it. Awkwardly, she says, "So, that was that. And uhm, this second one is short, too." Another deep breath, as if speaking in front of others is not done very often. A glance about with her honey-brown eyes, then she smiles, trying to look as if she's not scared out of her mind speaking before strangers. She exhales and seems to relax, but the words she utters hold emotions deep enough that her eyes look a little misty, but her voice is clear.

"You are an ocean wave, my love
Crashing into the bow.
I am a galley slave, my Love.
If only I could find out the way to sail to you.
Maybe I'll just stow away."

She stands there for an awkward moment, done, clearly but looking like she may have wished to rethink offering to speak. Thankfully, the couch is RIGHT THERE behind her and she just... sits. Phew!

Waldemai listens carefully. "That would make a nice song, too, I bet."

Elgana grins over at Arthen before she nudges Helena gently with her elbow, murmuring to her sister, "You are pretty good at this." When Miranda makes to speak she falls quiet, listening rapt to the woman's offerings. She waits until after the second poem to give her applause, smiling warmly. "Wonderful."

Monique accepts all praise and criticism with good grace and much ego, then settles back down to listen to Miranda's superior performance. There's a look of relief and appreciation, and applause to follow. "I would love to make of these a collection to host in the Gilded Page," she says emphatically.


The short offerings are listened to by the Redrain host, who looks quite charmed by the first, then smiles warmly at the second. "So lovely, and thank you for sharing," she tells Miranda. "And never undersell a short poem. Size does not matter..." she, before adding, with impish grin, the addendum, "when it comes to a poem."

She rises, as Miranda sits, and smooths her skirts, as she turns to face the little gathering.

"Thank you so much for coming. I do appreciate it, and I feel I may float away on the feelings that are gathering up in me, thanks to your kind words and your warm company."

Monique is overheard praising Helena: A gracious hostess with a wonderful wit and talent for prose.

Helena is overheard praising Miranda: Lovely poems!

Monique is overheard praising Miranda: A beautiful ode to love.

Helena is overheard praising Scholars.

Elgana is overheard praising Helena: Wonderful hostess!

Miranda is overheard praising Helena: A lovely poetry reading event. I look forward to another!

Miranda is overheard praising Monique: I will never look at cheese the same way again!

Arthen is overheard praising Scholars: What a time!

When Miranda stands up to share her poetry, Agostino grows thoughtfully quiet again. Once more, his expression turns nostalgic at her words, and he applauds when she is finished. "They were both as long as they needed to be, my Lady," he tells her, bowing his head in her direction as he speaks.

Miranda just bows her head to the praise, gracious and humble in it. She does smile, pleased, clearly. "Thank you." A nod to Agostino for his kind words as well. She looks to Helena, "This was a lovely event, thank you for hosting it."

Etienne is overheard praising Helena: Bringing art of words to many

The younger Redrain turns to Elgana and reaches to clasp her hand. "I feel I may faint. I am not a center of attention person," she murmurs, but leans to kiss her sister on the cheek. "Thank you for coming to support me." At Miranda's words, she turns to offer a hand to the Rubino noble. "Thank you so much. I am glad you came! I may have more in the future, if I haven't scared away all my audience with this one."

Agostino is overheard praising Helena: 5

"Of course! It's my job to support my little sister in all of her scholarly and non-scholarly pursuits after all," Elgana says as she leans into the cheek kiss. "I'd be a terrible older sister if I didn't." Her smile turns wan as she adds softly, "I think this was a good event to help lift some hearts after all of the tragedy."

"In truth, that is why I didn't cancel it. I thought I maybe should -- I know most of the scholars are so busy researching the strange things that have happened, but... well, there's always room for truth and poetry." She reaches to offer a hand to each of the audience members as they leave the little Reading Room. "Thank you again."

Miranda rises to take Helena's hand and nods, "I would definitely be interested, your Highness." She chuckles, "I'm only just getting to learn about all there is to do in Arx. I've been somewhat shy in getting out, but.. there is much to do and be part of here, I think. And, if I may say, your Haunted poem was.. inspired." She steps back, so as not to take up Helena's time when others are here. To Monique she adds, "And I enjoyed your poem very much indeed."


Helena touches her chest at Miranda's words. "Thank you so much. I understand the shyness. I'm trying to come a little more into the light myself, these days," she says softly to the other. "I'm so glad you are, too."

Waldemai puts on his simple cap, still stained from the effects of bad snow. "Thanks very much, your highness," he says, before heading out into the rain.