Whispered invitations quietly spread through the dissolution of the Assembly telling of a celebration to take place at Malespero Tower. Not /immediately/, but near enough, time for folks to catch their breath before moving from one crowded room to another. Admittedly, the parlor is neither so large as the assembly hall nor so full. Staff is yet busy setting out an assortment of finger foods both sweet and savory. The alcohol's already been drawn up from downstairs. Most notably, there's a rather large cask of Nilanzan red dated 1004 AR which has undoubtedly resided in the tower cellar since the former Marquis Salazar Argento's brief but (tragically) storied rule. Inherited, really, but Lianne has a happy habit of calling it /stolen/, and doesn't stolen wine just taste better?

The newly named duchess already has a glass of that particular treat in hand as she rests against the arm of one of the chairs near the hearth. The fire is warm, but moderate, the parlor likely a little chilly for Lycene tastes, but that should change as more friends and family arrive. Maybe even more so if any dissenters follow, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. For the moment, Lianne seems content to simply /breathe/, to have this moment to settle into all of the excitement removed from the larger audience. She lifts her glass to Narcissa, who'd accompanied herself and the duke-consort as they fled from the assembly, and murmurs, "To actual wine." Of all the things she could toast at the moment...

3 Black Fleet Reavers arrives, following Raven.

Ian comes wandering in, in unhurried fashion, and stops by the door, waiting for Raven, as they've apparently arrived together, and in mid-conversation.

Cesare is practically aglow with excitement, passing out glasses of wine to those present, greeting many familiar faces as they arrive to Malespero Tower. He came straight over after making his pleasantries in those rushed after-Assembly minutes, but if the fractious gathering has had any effect on him, it's impossible to tell in the moment. If it were a different emotion, one might call it eerie, but given it's joy he's radiating, it's certainly no such thing. A musical laugh rises out of him as Lianne offers her toast, spiraling upwards into the heights of the tower, and he shakes his head. "To persistence," he counters. "Effort, and talent."

Deva arrives with congratulations on her lips and a bottle of whiskey under an arm. It looks like she's been a bit busy since the Assembly, with her crimson ponytail slightly askew. She's solo for now, scoping out the room with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes as she tries to place faces and names.

Having found just enough time for a detour back to the Clement home for a change into comfortable silken attire, Adalyn arrives promptly at the time the whispered invitations listed. She may be outfitted in calming shades of blue, but between her firelit golden hair and her radiant smile, she projects a sunny warmth and enthusiasm. "Duchess, Duke," she calls, fondness to be found in her gaze as heads to greet the newly elevated pair. "Congratulations. Well-deserved, of course. May House Malespero continue to flourish."

Medeia wouldn't miss this, and that whispered invitation makes it past the Assembly and to her ears just as the duties that kept her from attending wrapped up. So here she is, grinning as she approaches Lianne. "/Duchess/," She makes the point of suffusing both syllables with respect as she dips a curtsy, "Congratulations to you and all of Malespero. This is truly a moment to celebrate." The lady's eyes flick to the 'stolen' wine, a slight shake to her head. "To the victor, the spoils. Rightly so." Then, she makes herself scarce, finding a drink and drifting toward a wall to people watch.

12 House Velenosa Guards, Ibasia, the Velenosa Lady-in-Waiting arrive, following Jaenelle.

Alessia strolls into the room with a curious look around her before her dark eyes land on Lianne for a moment, the amber flecks sparkling within. "Congratulations, duchess." Her impassive features rapidly melt to pure jubilation. "I am /so/ happy for you, my lady." She moves closer.

Raven steps in not long after Ian, stepping in close to speak in conversational tones

Whispers were well received within the Assembly and the gossip amongst the streets are quite hard to ignore where the festivities will be held for the evening. Cornelius arrives with little fanfare, save for turning to the gruff looking man accompanying him to divest himself of his mantle and cloak. He meanders inward to the notable cask that has been wrangled for the guests' enjoyment. Procuring a glass, the Blackshore raises his glass with a slight smile directed to Lianne and Apollo, "To your health and prosperity, Duchess, Duke. My sincerest regards for the hospitality of opening your home to us here." With his praises offered, a slow shuffle of feet carries him to Ember, to have an aside.

Emerging into the parlor, Venturo isn't precisely dressed for a party, in the same black leather frock coat and a forest green shirt with black breeches. His pale eyes survey those who have already gathered or filtered in, and a flash of a smile is cast to his patron, the newly acclaimed duchess. The highest sign is that he doesn't even make a face at the wine, before he settles into a lazy lean at the base of that grand staircase.

With her arm extended to escort the Archduchess, Sorrel walks with her sister-in-law and looks rather pleased about life. "It's rather kind of your newest duchess to offer us wine, especially after you wowed and delighted with your story of drowning someone in wine. Poetic, perhaps," she says lightly in that inspiring voice of hers, amusement ringing through easily.

"To actual wine." Narcissa echoes the cheer the newly elevated Duchess makes, raising her own glass by its stem. A ghost of a smile plays at the Fidante's lips as her golden eyes drift to scan the room as others begin to appear. Deva's arrival gets a soft laughter and the accusation, "One of the days we are going to start a commotion if we are not careful, Princess."

Ian gets a glass of wine and, the conversation between himself and Raven still continuing, finds a nice wall to lean against.

Lianne laughs for Cesare's addendum, thankfully after she's swallowed, and raises her glass again with, "That, too." A bit brighter, a touch more serious, she appends, "And to making the right decision." She might not specify precisely which one she means, but there's a hint of same pride and admiration she'd worn for Jaenelle at the assembly in her expression now, if only for a moment, just before she drinks again. To Adalyn, she murmurs, as if impishly impressed, "Not so much as a quack." Straightening, she steps in close and, if permitted, offers a one-armed hug to the Clement sword, her other hand occupied with wine. There might be a murmur of, "Thank you," while in so close. Her bright smile turns to Medeia with warmth, gladness, a sincere, "Thank you," that then follows to Cornelius. Again, her glass lifts, she drinks. Maybe she'll start pacing herself at some point. While there are smiles, greetings for the rest, Alessia gets more pointed address, fondness in her words as she tells her sincerely, "Thank you. For sharing in this joy amid your own grief. There is always room for both here. Should you need anything at all, my friend..."

"Isn't that half the fun, though? Maybe we could all use a good commotion," Deva insists to Narcissa, approaching the woman with a mischievous smile that twists the corners of her lips upward. She watches Cornelius for a long moment, as if trying to place him, and then nods and lifts her bottle toward Ember in recognition.

Octavian, a silken spaniel, Ruslana Stormshead, an aide in Kennex livery, 3 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Zoey.

Jaenelle can't help but grin towards Sorrel as she escorts her into the Parlor, "so let me tell you all the things that I decided during the Assembly. Alis is going to teach me how to use a..." she squints a little, "a mace with a chain? Flail. She is going to teach me how to knock people's heads off. Victus once threw up in a bush, so I am going to have someone send him one. I was trying to convince Deva to return to the Lyceum by seducing her with violence, but then Alis offered the flail thing, so I divirced Deva and Alis and I are running away together. You're welcome to join," she tells Sorrel.

Raven is loitering off to the side chattering with Ian. She flashes a crooked grin when he gives her a look as if calling her out on something.

Leaning away from the newly appointed duchess, Alessia gives a forlorn smile. "I am coping well, but I'll keep the despair at bay. The culprits will be found." This she says with resolve, as she heads off to settle on a seat.

"You are well armed for such, both wit and...well, actual armor." Narcissa remarks, pointedly looking Deva up and down. "I only ask that if the commotion become too heated, that you not leave me behind in the turmoil and help me with a hasty escape?" Her congratulations already made to Lianne before the others arrived, she simply smiles at Lianne through the throng and allows others the space to approach.

Apollo got caught in the garden by his assistant with a flurry of missives, and then cornered - very briefly - by his guard. Maybe wanting some sort of details about security, given tempers at the assembly, or the rumors he heard. He slips in, giving bewildered looks to everyone, even if his hands are spread and smile bright. "What have I missed?" he wonders from the entry.

There is a newly named Duchess in the building. It makes sense, because this is her building. There is also a newly named Countess in play -- apparently, rather than throw competing parties, Ember has decided to crash Lianne's party and make it a double elevation celebration. (Or maybe she just wants to celebrate the good fortune of her good friend Duchess Lianne.) Either way, Ember sheds her cloak at the door, and from that point onward, is not wearing very much. There are her inky leather boots, there are jewels, and there are strips of umbra silk that connect the jewels and form what is, according to some, allegedly a dress. And that's really about it. She has a glass of wine in her hand already as she moves to approach the hostess, pausing only to murmur with Cornelius Blackshore. "Congratulations, Duchess," the unsmiling Redreef Countess says. "I would curtsy, but I don't think I've had enough wine yet to give everyone that kind of a show."

Alessia has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

"You've chosen wisely. I adore Alis, and it makes me a little sad that she now sits where I cannot pass notes to her during Assemblies," Sorrel replies to Jaenelle with a little giggle. "Victus once intimidated a bush, and it turned out there was a werewolf inside, and that didn't go so great. Really, there are lots of reasons not to trust bushes these days. Or trees. I'm definitely suspicious of trees. They might have bugs in them, you know, and the bugs are trying to kill me. I mean, the werewolf was not trying to kill Victus, I don't think, but it was intimidated enough that it shredded his alaricite breastplate before running away. It probably would have been crankier if Victus had vomited on it." She nods, then, and adds, "It'd be a delight to run away with you and Alis! We'll have a good adventure."

Zoey is not normally the type to be fashionably late, but in she strides with her head high and her smile dazzling. She glances around, seeking the new Duchess. She spots her, along with the Crimson Countess (formerly Bloody Baroness) and heads their direction. "Does that mean if we ply you with more drink, you will give it a try?" she playfully teases Ember as she comes close to her and Lianne.

"Am I so easy to read, Archduchess?" Deva catches enough of Jaenelle's story to smile in amusement and place a hand over her heart. "I suppose someone else shall have to steal me away with violence. Alas." Narcissa's observation brings a wider smile to her lips, and she looks down at herself and tugs at the strategically wrapped leather top that reveals more scars than usually seen along her limbs. "I assure you I would never leave you to fend for yourself, Lady Narcissa. Part of our commotion will include a very elaborate escape plan too. I am practiced in such." There is a slightly amused crinkle of her eyes at Sorrel, and a very dramatic sigh. "I'd be fun too."

Lianne's remark draws a genuine gasp from Adalyn as she belatedly recognizes a moment of opportunity forgotten. Laughter escapes her, bright and airy, and she presses a hand to her forehead. "I was so overcome by the excitement of the news, I /completely/ forgot my intended mode of address. But don't you worry, opportunities abound now." Playfulness shifts into something more serious, though no less bright and pleased, as she steps forward and wraps her arms around Lianne to return the hug, careful not to jostle the duchess's drink. She murmurs something quiet in the other woman's ear before stepping back to clear room for other well-wishers. Catching sight of the bewildered-looking Apollo, she grins and waggles her fingers in his direction.

Unlike Zoey, Savio IS the sort of person to appear late to an event. 2 for 2 on late to events today, but who is counting. Plenty of familiar faces here, but he does pause for a moment upon arrival, uncharacteristically wallflower-like as he takes it all in, all VIPs and merriment and the not-unfamiliar seas of celebratory conversation enveloping around all the guests.

With drink in hand and a bit of the wall to support, Medeia gives many smiling nods and waves as she sees people come in to celebrate the elevation of House Malespero. When Apollo enters, if she catches his eye she gives him a curtsy, but otherwise she's just enjoying all the people having something to be happy about.

Raven continues the idly chatter with Ian and watch the room, her gaze tracking Zoey as she sweeps in to social butterfly.

"Only everything," Cesare says. He drifts over to the doorway, a pair of glasses in hand, and gives one to the shiny, fresh Duke Malespero, then rather abruptly decides rather than pulling him in the direction of the Duchess, which his tugging at Apollo's other hand might have indicated, to embrace him instead. It is probably a proprietary Whisper technique which allows him not to spill his wine or Apollo's in the process. /Then/ he's pulling Apollo in Lianne's direction. "Drink so much wine, my lord, you're going to need to be well-fortified."

"I certainly hope so," Lianne murmurs to Alessia as she straightens just a touch, standing a tiny bit taller. "At least one of us deserves satisfying resolution." She drinks to that, too, nearly emptying her glass. Thankfully, there's staff on hand to see to its prompt refilling.

Turning to Apollo, Lianne answers, "Several fine toasts, but I've more in me." Those prior had been small things, shared between individuals, here, as she lifts her voice, the duchess addresses the room. "To my fine husband, Duke Apollo Malespero, who may, for the first time in a year, have a name and title which will stick for more than a season or two." An affectionate tease, to be sure. Looking then to Ember, she continues, "And to Countess Ember Redreef whose ferocity in battle is matched only in her fervor for celebration. Gods..." There's a memory there, but she doesn't give it voice, letting it bubble up as just laughter and wide eyes. Then, at last, she turns to where Sorrel and Jaenelle stand, her voice yet clear, but warmer, "And to my sister, Archduchess Jaenelle Velenosa, who I chose when there were easier options available, who has supported me and my house, my family, who has lead the Lyceum with erudition, strength and grace since before she carried the title she does now. Thank you for providing the lead I will always choose to follow. I am, at once, humble and proud to count you both family and liege." It's a moment, then, before she drinks, a little lump caught in her throat, but when she does, gods does she drink deeply.

Khanne was a little late to arrive to the Assembly, and here she is, again, a little late. "Hello!" she announces as she walks into the door. "I heard there was drinking... Hi! I am here to celebrate!" She looks around, searching for Lianne. She heads right up to her, no matter who she is talking to or what she might be talking about. Unless stopped, she without a word wraps her arms around her friend and puts a loud, emphasized smooch on Lianne's cheek. "Mmmmmwah!! Hello, Duchess!"

Unless, of course, she was stopped, then she would probably scowl a bit and contemplate ways to get back at whomever stopped her.

Ember lifts her glass to Lianne's toast, and offers an appendix to it: "And if anyone messes with her -- I'll kill them." Her own toast is much more to the point, and of course subtle and full of clever, allusive wordplay and double and triple meanings in the way that everyone surely expects from Ember. She reaches over to take hold of Zoey's bicep. "Now let's drink." That seems to be an answer, in some way, to Zoey's teasing question.

"Here, here!" Alessia shouts from her position, a glass of wine in hand, raising it up at Lianne's words.

"That might have gone better had he not decided to /shout/ at the werewolf in the bushes," Apollo observes as he hears Sorrel; he's heading for some wine when he catches a finger waggle from Adalyn, a curtsey from Medeia. To the latter, he bows. "Lady Medeia," he says, fondly. "I'm so glad you're here -" oh, there's a glass being pressed into his hand by Cesare. And a Whisper Wine Maneuever. He knows this one! Well... he may be slightly rusty. There's a little splash out of the glass, but it lands on no-one's clothes. "Mm," I'm not sure I'm allowed to," he says. "I've been told I'm not /Lycene/." But he turns to attend that bevy of toasts with unmistakable fondness. He /certainly/ lifts his glass for the first. "I think this one might be safe," he says. As safe as anything is in a Lycene house. "Countess Ember, congratulations," with another lift. And to Jaenelle: "Your grace. Your handling of the temper at the assembly was nothing short of inspiring, and I thank you." And he lifts his glass to her and, finally, drinks.

"If you have the escape plan secured, then I shall see to it that a properly large commotion shall be made to warrant its use." Narcissa promises Deva, a pale hand placed over her heart. When toasts are made to the others, she lifts her glass appropriately - though drinks lightly enough to wet her black-painted lips.

There's a sudden shattering of a tray as a server breaks into tears, leaving the room in distress, unable to contain his emotions.

Cornelius caps off the rest of his wine from the prior toasts, accentuating the gesture to Lianne's closing words as he takes it upon himself to fill up another glass. Daring. Hopefully, the Blackshore does not get too much into his cups. With fresh wine in hand, he meanders about the parlor after pacing off from Ember, taking a moment to catch Deva's momentary stare before he is wandering to take appreciation to the art on the walls.

Ember is about to say something downright /nice/ to Apollo, when the server drops the tray. She blinks, stares for a moment, then looks over at the Duchess and Duke. "...I wasn't going to kill /him/," she says. "...I think."

Ian belatedly realizes there was a toast in there somewhere, and lifts his glass. He doesn't catch sight of the source of shattering glass in time to do more than catch sight of the tray on the ground.

Cesare lets out another of those laughs, lifting his glass, but the second the tray shatters, his head turns in that direction and the expression on his face shutters, turning blank. His eyes meet Lianne's, Apollo's, look around the room seeking Alessia's and Sorrel's. He murmurs something to Apollo, his tone turned urgent.

"Gods are they alright?" Alessia asks as she dabs at her chest, the stone on her necklace glistening.

Raven follows suit, though her gaze snaps about at the commotion, "That keeps hapening..." She notes idly.

Zoey lets out a laugh and opens her mouth for some sort of token protest to Ember, but the sound of shattering draws her attention. She turns her head sharply, jut in time to see the servant running away. "What happened there?"

Savio has found a glass of wine in hand because of course he would never not, and it is lifted at the word of the toast, sipped... a somewhat concerned glance has turned toward the fleeing, crying servant, but if he has either help or insight to offer, none of it is forthcoming now.

"Then we'll make quite the team," Deva beams proudly at Narcissa, upnodding at the Fidante with a great deal of confidence. That expression flickers a bit as a tray drops -- oh no, not the alcohol! -- and she watches after the server with a squint of concern and confusion. "Did I miss something?"

Ian blinks at Raven. "... It does?"

"It's hard to intimidate bushes without shouting," Sorrel begins to retort to Apollo, and then the tray is dropped and she goes white. "Should we evacuate?" she wonders, giving Jaenelle in particular a protective look. "They may have found us. We should go. This is what happened before Whisper House was attacked. Overly emotional servers. I think we should leave. This could get very bad very fast."

Evaristo choses that moment to somewhat tipsily - and late - join the party. "HOORAY! Congratulations!" he says and grabs a glass to toast, then watches with somewhat horrified fascination as a server runs off, crying. "Not /again/!"

Adalyn procures a glass of wine just in time to lift it in answer to Lianne's toast. She startles with the abrupt shattering of the tray, glass frozen in hand midway to her mouth for a sip. Her eyes widen faintly as she scans the room, gaze following the servants abrupt departure. Her smile fades into a look of immediate concern, tension threading through her posture.

Narcissa watches the servant bursting into tears who leaves the room, the raven on her shoulder following her eyes with perfect, unsettling mirrored movement. "It appears there is a torrent of overwhelming emotion?" she floats the idea. "Or all our talk of commotion stirred something in the air."

"Deva" Jaenelle greets the woman warmly as she hears her voice. "No, just with a good time is all," a wink is given in Deva's to punctuate her words. "Let us hope that Victus does not make it a practice of poking bushes, or anything else that may kill him" is said to Sorrel afterwards. "Maybe he should focus on grass? I can see yelling at a bush," she grins towards Apollo, "but it would be silly to laugh at grass. We should speak to," she then says to Sorrel but then Lianne is speaking to the room. She softens, lifting her glass to Lianne then to Apollo in thanks for their words. As the server begins to cry, Jae's brows raise as if she expects someone to tell her something, her amusement slipping quickly.

Apollo coughs lightly over his glass at the commotion, the murmur from Cesare - and his eyes swing about the room. They slip /right past/ Alessia - and there's a game attempt at moving on, but they go right back, and he stares, jaw flexing.

There is certainly no stopping Khanne from cheek-smooches, that affection landing post-drink. Lianne leans right on in, wrapping an arm around the redhead and reciprocating that kiss, albeit a bit more tamely. "Darling," is crooned low and sweet to her friend before attention returns to the others, a warm smile offered to Adalyn, a laugh and yet another swig for Ember and her bid toward... drinking, probably more so than the violence, but she certainly doesn't object to the promise of retribution either. Not quite protection, but nearly. A lift of her glass, too, toward Apollo... but she doesn't drink this time, not when that glass shatters, when weeping follows. That gets a look from the marquessa. "Accidents happen," she assures cheerfully. Nevermind that she might be keeping an ear out for unnecessary *creaking*. Other staff rush in to clean up the mess. Surely, nothing at all to worry about.

Rising up from her seat, Alessia takes another glass of wine as she approaches Savio with a warm smile on her lips. "Messere, how have you been?"

Raven nods to Ian and explains in a low, quiet tone.

Ian might have missed WHY the tray fell, but he's plenty aware of the change in the timbre of the room. He sets his glass aside somewhere, regardless of whether where he puts it is a place where glasses ought to be put, and tugs his gloves from where they're tucked into his belt to put them on while he and Raven talk.

Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a reaver, Fluffy, a wild nanny-cat, 2 Eswynd shieldbearers, Loryk, a cocky but amiable reaver, Butterpup, a Graypeak Mountain Dog leave, following Medeia.

Raven's gaze flicks up when she spots Alessia approaching Savio, her lips purse when Savio's called Messere, keeping a close eye on that in the event Savio looks like he needs a friend.

"I'm sorry, Jaenelle, I don't think we should wait. We need to secure the perimeter," Sorrel says to the Archduchess a bit seriously. "Lord Ian. Raven. Will you help me with a walkabout? I want to see who, if anyone, may be in proximity to the Malespero Tower." She looks to Lianne and Apollo, then. "Duchess, Duke, if you have a basement of any sort, would you be so kind as to position some guards there? I would like to know that nothing comes up from below."

Smooch delivered, Khanne leans in to murmur something quietly into Lianne's ear for a moment before looking to the others that surround the new Duchess. "Pardon my intrusion, I will let her enjoy your company unhindered once more." She gives a wink and slinks away, looking for a drink and a place to settle.

Savio seems surprised when Alessia comes up to talk to him, of all people. Both brows lift at the use of 'Messere', but before he can say anything about it he just sort of -- stops. Frozen there for a moment as though nothing, nothing and no one, at this party exists except for Alessia. She commands all of his attention. And it's such an innocent question, a nothing question, and yet, Savio is slooooowly unraveling. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he replies to Alessia. It doesn't even make sense for what she's asking. "I'm so -- I am so sorry, please, I don't --- I don't know ---" Wine glass. Set aside. Face, in hands. SOB.

"Gods, your highness. Why would that be necessary?" Alessia looks up at Sorrel with pure befuddlement. "If we're in danger, please let us know." She seems utterly alarmed as she dabs at the dampness around her chest, the stone still glistening.

Cesare's gaze takes a turn around the room, up, up, down again, but lands back on Apollo eventually. His expression is so placid, but he shoots Lianne another look and whispers something into the Duke's ear, finishing his first glass of wine at a pace that is much more quick than it deserves. And then Savio is - sobbing, suddenly, and Cesare's eyebrows go up, so high, his hand clenching around Apollo's wrist where it's still holding.

"Archduchess Jaenelle; it is a delight to see you as always, any potential tears falling alongside trays aside." Narcissa extends, seeming nonplussed as the alarm goes up at Sorrel's behest. That raven on her shoulder however keeps pivoting its head about. "Shall we circle the wine glasses? I fear I have naught to defend myself, save a quill."

Ian clearly had keeping an eye on the place on the brain, based on the fact that he's now wearing his heavy, protective gloves. He detaches from his place leaning against the wall. "I'll be with you in just a mo --" He'd started to look over at Savio about something, but Savio is apparantly, uh, busy right now. His gaze flicks towards Zoey, and there's a note of irritation there, leaving her to join Sorrel. But he does it.

Raven notes to Sorrel, "Of course. One moment first. Be along shortly." She moves to step over towards Savio, offering him her steelsilk bandana to Savio, "Here you are, Lord Proscipi. Are you alright? May I be of assistance?" She offers a mild smile to Alessia, "There need not be danger to be vigilant, your highness. I am certain there is nothing to fret."

"I suppose," Zoey says in response to Lianne's assurance that 'accidents happen', but when Sorrel start asking about security measures her smile fades. Then she hears a more familiar cry and slips away to Savio's side, wrapping arm around him. "Savio, what is wrong?"

Something Khanne says quietly has Lianne's expression going a bit soft, a little helpless, some weird crease of worry filtering in. She squeezes her friend and murmurs, "All sorts of new adventures, mm?" and gives her a bit of a squeeze before letting go. Her gaze flits to Savio and Alessia, from Alessia to Apollo, from Apollo to Cesare. To the latter pair, she offers a reassuring smile that only grows brighter, more secure as she, at last, looks to Sorrel. "There are already," she promises, gesturing toward one of the closed doors, a single guard beside it, scanning the room. There are guards, too, at the hall which leads deeper into the tower's lower level and a couple nearer the entrance, along with staff to help guests get situated. Everything's in order. Nothing's breaking. It's fiiiine. This drink is /not/ a toast.

Perhaps the servant's clumsiness could be explained away by being overcome by emotions on a momentous day. But that sob reaches Adalyn's ears and she turns, frowning with evident concern as she watches Savio. Her eyes linger briefly upon Alessia, then flicker to the Malesperos, to Cesare. "Is everything alright?" The question is voiced aloud although it's unclear to whom in particular it's aimed: Savio, Lianne and Apollo, the room at large?

"I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Savio's just gone totally to pieces over absolutely nothing. And now people are asking if he's okay, which is somehow worse?! "I need to go. I need to leave. I'm so sorry," he stammers, and then just turns and flees, without even taking Raven's bandana. It's getting worse. The plummet is getting worse. But he is, at least, sparing everyone else from it. RUN AWAY RUN AWAY!

Apollo, having tracked Alessia straight over to Lord Savio, sets underway toward the pair. He stills for Cesare's hold on his wrist, and looks back, teeth testing. And... blinks. He looks up, looks around... and listens. "I think we might be fine unless the tower starts creaking," he says. His brows loft, and he looks toward Sorrel. "Can we exercise a little temperance, perhaps? A panic serves... well, not us." And he flashes her a smile. There's a whisper toward Cesare, and a glance toward Lianne; he seems restless, even if trees -aren't- taking over.

When Savio pulls away and starts toward the exit, Zoey looks to Raven. "Did you see what happened?"

Uncertain and largely confused, Deva opts to chug the rest of her drink and search for another. When you can't be of assistance, drink more. Oh look, a painting! She wanders idly and aimlessly.

Evaristo is sort of just hovering around, violet eyes darting about part paranoid, part intrigued. Still, seeing Savio break down like that has him setting his glass down and not drinking anything more. He scratches his arms suddenly, swallows hard and then turns about to leave too.

Alessia stares at Savio leave with furrowed brows, sipping from her glass. "Wha... t the fuck?" She asks simply as she looks around. "Is all okay?"

Raven's eyes widen and she gives Zoey a bewildered look, "Only that his title was mispoken but such things happen that's usually not the result. I have no idea." She looks to her Reavers, "Stay with Lady Kennex until my return." she offers to Zoey then an apologetic, "Please excuse me, my lady." a bow, "Your highness. Please excuse me." And with that she hastens to follow Ian and Sorrel

Jaenelle's eyes shift from Sorrel to Narcissa, looking rather put out at the sudden need to protection and crying and everyone knows basements are just wine cellars to noble houses! "Lady Fidante, hello. I have heard that Lord Prospero has returned to the city, I have yet to see him in person since his return but he is one of my favorite people." Then to Sorrel, "should I...," she extends her hands towards the door leading away as people seem to be slipping in that direction.

"Oh, I'm sure Savio knew I meant no such offence." Alessia says to Raven with a sorrowful look. "Though what noble would react that way to mistaken titles? It it entirely ignoble."

Ember watches the party go on for a moment, exchanging whispers here and there. Her quiet conversation puts her in the vicinity of Alessia, and she says, "...I think you know as well as anyone how much drinking occurs on an Assembly of Peers day, my Lady." Well, that's how Ember's brain is choosing to make sense of all of this. "I am not yet in my cups, but forgive me -- I am seized by the impulse to celebrate, and you are the closest." And that's the story of how Alessia got bear-hugged by a barely-dressed Ember.

Zoey nods to Raven without protest, then looks to Alessia. "I do not think so. Everyone is on high alert, or making their way out," she says.

Raven says, "IT is very out of character, I assure you."

As Savio flees sobbing and spilling apologies everywhere, Lianne looks to Fajra who nods. A small thing, that communication, assurance that there will be follow-up with the disappearing bard added to an agenda later. "I'm sure everything's fine," she murmurs to Adalyn, and she does seem sincere in that. "An emotional day, mm?" A hand sets to Adalyn's arm in momentary apology. She moves to approach Jaenelle and Narcissa at the increasing egress, murmuring something softly to the pair.

:inches toward Lianne with a cautious look, seeming genuinely alarmed as she murmurs to her.

"I don't trust this sort of accident," Sorrel replies to Alessia with a very neutral face, her evergreen eyes wide and utterly serious. "I feel that nothing is lost in being paranoid here. Sometimes it's worth being paranoid. Tears and dropped trays occurred in Whisper House right before the attack by the Su'tavi, and there are people here who happen to be on their list. And while the building is not yet shaking, for which I am grateful, I am still not certain that everything is fine. Please permit me to be paranoid. Sometimes they really are out to get you."

"If alarm was raised every time someone melted to tears, the guards would be exhausted day-round." Narcissa remarks to Jaenelle. "Yes, Lord Prospero has returned to the city and our villa; we are very glad he is back with us, though I fear for my library. He has an -awful- habit of borrowing without telling me." She is mildly distracted by Deva's admiring of art, about to say something before Lianne is murmuring to her.

"List?" Zoey asks Sorrel. "What list? Who?"

Cesare is still as a stature where he's stood next to Apollo, his dark gaze fixed now on Alessia even as she declares confusion and ignorance, looking very hard indeed,. He shakes his head, eventually, to Apollo's whisper, but doesn't say anything else. A faint queasy look comes about him as Savio leaves so quickly, as glasses are set aside, and he forces himself to blink, inhaling deeply and looking away.

Cornelius turns his head every so often to pick up some conversational beats, sipping lightly onto his red as he seems content to behold some of the paintings on each wall, cerulean eyes drifting to the ornate rug thrown amidst the guests' feet. A remark about the Assembly has a steady smile fix to his face, "I believe every given formal Assembly day should be followed with a relaxing entanglement of libations and /diving/ into one's cups. Especially as tensions have either ebbed or flowed since all business has been brought to the front."

Raven siiighs, "Your highness." her tone aggreived and her look Pointed. She looks to Zoey and assures, " It is merely prudent to be alert, my lady. At present there's no need for anything more than an ounce of caution. I'll explain it upon my return, yes?"

Lianne offers a small smile to Alessia upon her approach, answers those murmured words with a shake of her head. "No, darling. I know you were a bit distracted at the meeting before everything went awful." Surely, it's just a matter of Alessia not recollecting the cause for concern. She regards Narcissa a moment, lips pursing briefly. "Perhaps a touch. Perhaps I ought make a few arrangements, mm?" With that, she dips a nod to both the Fidante and the Archduchess and steps away, moving back toward Apollo and Cesare to confer quietly.

Raven mutters, "... due respect your highness, ... only thing more dangerous than danger is ... amoungst a bunch ... hysterical nobles."

A messenger hands a note to Ruslana, who hands it to Zoey, who then reads it and frowns before saying something in another tongue to her aide.

"Or is he just moving the books out of order so you're not sure where to look? That's what I would do," Deva comments idly to Narcissa with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "That really -is- what we need. A cup big enough to do laps in," she asides to Cornelius with a short, amused laugh. Her gaze follows Lianne around, curiously so, but she seems cool and collected for now.

"This is my /home/," Apollo says, with an elevated impatience toward talk of evacuation. "If the Su'tavi would like to take it from me, they will find themselves ill-spent in the attempt. Have some wine, enjoy yourself." He drains the rest of his glass, and he looks at Cesare, a deep breath following. "Let's find another glass, mm?" He turns, noting the approach of Lianne, and attends the quiet conferring; there's a murmur, to Cesare.

Adalyn attempts to muster a smile for Lianne. "Indeed. Emotions run high today, it seems." Even so, as her eyes follow the duchess's path toward Apollo and Cesare, her composure slips and she briefly appears lost, agitated. Cornelius's suggestion seems to be suitable, the Clement Voice abruptly lifting her glass to drain it, or nearly so.

"That is why some of my most beloved, and potent, books are chained to the walls." Narcissa responds to Deva. "That is not enough at times to make Lord Prospero admit defeat and renew his efforts for my tomes tenfold." Her brow furrows slightly, "I am certain somewhere in the Lyceum, -someone- has seen to a pool of wine though...that really does not make one wish to drink from it if others are actually drinking from it. The quantity of wine, not the possibility to -swim- in it, is what is appealing."

Deva is afforded an easy smile, Cornelius nodding somewhat before it falters as his mouth hangs for just a moment, "...mm, be that wise, however? You may not be able to fish all of them out of there enough to close the Assembly for the evening. Then, we shall have more than simple outbursts at Peer assemblies to contend with." Though, despite his suggestions, the red in his glass is nursed diligently and with respect. Barring that it is his second glass.

Jaenelle ahs softly as people begin to explain things. "Some caution is certainly acceptable, expecially with what happened and the way things progress." She takes a sip of her wine as if she may need the distraction. "He was always very studious, and now I know not to invite him to touch my books if he is not capable of treating them with respect. I'll just read it to him myself."

Alessia downs a glass of wine as the conversation in the room continues, as though a way to cope with the panic. "Gods, why don't we play a game?" She suggests suddenly, with widened dark eyes, glimmering flecks of amber within. "A good way to keep our attention from these things."

"Another glass," Cesare agrees immediately, turning to retrieve just that from a passing server who is much less distraught. He leans to listen to what Apollo and Lianne murmur quietly to him, and nods, which isn't a terribly clear answer to any of what he's been asked but - it /is/ an answer. He passes a glass to Apollo, reaches to run a hand along Lianne's shoulder and squeeze. The smile he musters up is small and uncertain, but willing enough.

"Waht sort of game did you have in mind?" Zoey asks Alessia after she hands off a note to a messenger.

After setting Alessia down from her big ol' bearhug, Ember rests her hands on her hips. "Indeed," she says to Apollo. She pats the sword belt at her hip. "I could be wearing even less than I am now and as long as this is at my side, let anyone try to invade this manor house. They will fall at my feet." The revealing nature of Ember's dress shows off so, so, so many scars -- she has enough scars on her absurdly fit body that it's like she's lived a hundred years on the battlefield without leaving it. "No one will ruin this day for the Duchess and Duke. Or for me."

It must be noted: The entire time Ember said and did the things in the above paragraph, while keeping a straight face otherwise, tears have been openly pouring down her face from both eyes. She's blinking a bit more than usual to see through them but otherwise it's as though she's hoping that if she maintains her usual intensely stern expression otherwise, no one will notice that she's crying. Except for how it's obvious anyone who looks at her will notice unless they're just looking at her boobs. And even then the tears are eventually gonna reach /those/.

"Please, yes, a game." Narcissa implores, agreeing with Alessia near instantly. For the Archduchess she has but a knowing smile. "If it will save all our books, then that is a sound idea indeed."

Deva opens her mouth, closes it, and then squints at Narcissa. "That's very clever and also terrifying. Do you ever get a neck cramp because you can't move while you read them?" Serious question, asked with the straightest of faces. "An actual pool would probably be very sticky," she says, sounding resigned and tipping her chin toward her neck. "I don't think anyone would think of anything I say as 'wise'," she confides to Cornelius in response, a twitch of a smile curving the corners of her lips. "Back to the drawing board," she shrugs both scarred shoulders and tosses back another long gulp of her drink.

Ian was starting to step away from Sorrel and Raven to approach Ember on their way out, and is, once again, drawn up short. Now he's looking really confused. He looks back at the two of them.

Ember's hug surprised Alessia a little but she returns it all the same, a fond smile on her lips. "That isn't a lie. If anyone can protect us at all, it is the Courageous Countess." She says as she pulls away, continuing to sip from her glass.

Raven blinks and stops as she notices Ember's crying. Raven snarls, there's an emphatically irritable string of cussing under her breath.

It could be said that with age comes wisdom and experience. Though, the oldest Blackshore seems to not be too privy as to exactly what hysterics, or lack thereof, were occurring. Cornelius is caught almost off-guard by the weeping Ember to a point where he was caught staring a bit too long. By providence of Deva, he is saved as his attention is roped back in with a flurry of blinks, peering off to the woman, "I doubt that is the true case, your Highness. We are afforded a moment to surprise ourselves from time to time. By the Gods, do I know /I/ have, more than recently." His glass is raised to Deva, and up it goes. Down the hatch. "Back to the 'drawing board', indeed." And that drawing board happens to be the cask of Red. Cheers.

"You look /radiant/, Countess," Lianne tells Ember. No mention of the tears, no address of that unusual dress earlier. But now, in this moment of defiance and defense and a very tear-streaked face does she issue compliment. With a nod to Alessia, the duchess agrees, "A game would be a fine diversion." From the extra guards taking up posts here and there just in case, for example. No exits blocked, no, but watched. Just in case. With a look to Apollo as she reaches her free hand to hold briefly to Cesare's arm in answer to that shoulder-squeeze, she proposes, "Two truths and a lie, perhaps? Would you be so kind as to lead us, darling?"

Lianne has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Zoey has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Zoey plucks a glass of wine from a tray. "Excellent! I was about to propose the same," she tells Lianne.

"I did not get to speak with Lianne," Jaenelle looks completely put out at this, the crying and breaking of glass having stolen this from her. She notes the guards as she approaches Lianne. Her voice is soft, expression just the same, as she speaks to the woman.

Apollo glances - for just a moment - Ember's way, but so quickly back to Lianne, to Cesare, expression inscrutable. Wondering. "Yes!" he says. "A game. If someone can ... find me another glass of wine, I'll lead off. Two Truths and a Lie, a game from Suj'abbat." He clears his throat. "The truth-teller makes three claims. Let's see. Those who think the first is the lie, raise your glass; if you think the second is the lie, take a drink; and if you think the third is the lie, abstain from both. Everyone understand?"

As Ian, Raven, Cornelius, and so on stare at the Crying Countess, Ember makes eye contact with them as though to challenge them, but doesn't stop crying. She's at least not /blubbering/. She cries quietly and with dignity, as one would expect from old blood of the Compact of Arvum. When Lianne compliments her, she says nothing, but nods in acknowledgment and takes a loooooong drink.

Raven follows Ian and Sorrel out with a dark, irritable scowl for some reason.

Cesare raises his eyebrows at Apollo. He retrieves /another/ glass of wine from a passing server, and presses it into Apollo's hand, so that Apollo is now double-fisting wine. A good start to the game.

"Recently? How so?" Deva cannot conceal her curiosity-- or much of any expression, really, open and expressive as she is. She crosses one arm over the other, glass still dangling from her fingers now that it's empty. There is a slide of a look between Cornelius and Ember as the man looks toward the Countess, and she tilts her head with no small amount of confusion. "That's true. We never know what we're capable of until circumstances force it out of us. There's always something to learn about ourselves." Any deep well of seriousness is quickly abated as she looks for a server to trade glasses with.

"We understand," Zoey calls toward Apollo from the seat she has taken.

Lianne's smile warms as Jaenelle addresses her, a quiet reply murmured in response. At the end, there's a small smile, an inquiry, a sip of her wine. She offers a nod to Apollo as he lays out the gameplay.

"I have a means to unlock them." Narcissa reassures Deva, also adding, "...and the chair at my desk does move. I will have to show you the library sometime to quell all fears and concerns." A rare invitation, that, but she lowers her voice for the Redrain as it is given. As a game is promised she moves into that vicinity proper.

Narcissa has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Cesare has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

"Oh! That's the game they play in Suj'abbat. Gods was I interested in the Eurus a while back. Fun games though!" Alessia seems super interested in joining in with the game, sipping from her glass as she straightens in her seat.

"A game sounds lovely," Adalyn agrees, nodding to Apollo in affirmation of her understanding of the game. She glances down at her glass, only now realizing she will require more wine before playing. While moving to find a refill, she intercepts Cesare, voice low as she murmurs a quiet remark.

Cornelius passes off a glance to Apollo and the fellow guests looking to gather for the game. At first, the lord makes for the cask again but Deva's line of questioning has him pause briefly, holding a conversation to her as the game's players are assembling, "More so an observation on how my new time within the city shall be spent. One could summarily say I have not been the most social of my family." Ember's gaze was met with indifference, though the rise of a brow showed something bordering concern and confusion. "Shall I escort you for composure, Countess?" Attention returns to Deva, "Good or ill circumstances, yes. You can be sure to be tested either way." And his glass is soon refilled with more red wine. Glass three.

Khanne had delivered her congratulations and walked about, trying to find a good place to settle and enjoy the festivities. But when the game starts, she twists her lips and looks about, slowly side-stepping her way to the door.

Ember lets out a quiet breath, and looks to Cornelius: "I do not intend to leave the party with the Duke's game only just beginning," she says, firmly. "...however, this dress has nowhere to place a kerchief. ...do you happen to have...?"

Apollo, looking down to see he in fact has a full glass, and then another, gives Cesare a peevish look that... dissipates as soon as it appears. Maybe it's a double-fist the wine sort of day. He can handle double trouble, can't he? "Shall I make it four truths and two lies, then," he jokes, with Cesare. A deep breath, and - "Two truths and a lie. The first: I've twice had approval from the sea for my work. Second. I once got lost in tunnels under the city, and had to be shown a way out by a Nox'alfar. And third, I once delivered a memory in a jar of ashes."

Zoey casts her vote in Apollo's game by taking a drink, indicating she thinks the second statement was the false one.

Cesare blows a kiss to Apollo, shamelessly, and crosses his feet in front of himself neatly as he listens to the first three truths, or rather, two truths and a lie. "The Duchess should be banned from playing against her husband," he says jokingly, "and vice versa." but then raises his glass with a shrug.

"Oh. Of course you do." Deva wiggles her glass at Narcissa, as if to say 'look, I've been drinking, logic is out the window.' And yet, she smiles brighter in a sheepish fashion. "I would enjoy that very much," she adds, bowing her head to the Fidante. There's a flicker of... seriousness? as Apollo proposes an Eurusi game. Her posture stiffens a bit, and she peers down into her empty glass. Yes, time for more. "Neither have I! Been gone a long time," she tells Cornelius with an understanding nod. "To, ah, figuring the social stuff out." Empty glass lifted to the Blackshore, she cracks a broader smile between Cornelius and Ember while she too finally gets a refill. Finally, her shoulders ease lower. There is a finger-wiggle after Khanne before the shaman escapes.

Cornelius passes a solemn glance to Deva, then to Ember; in a time of need. His hand rises somewhat to curtail Ember's brimming fury, but it does not come. "Nor should I see myself to leave, as well. But." His free hand disappears within the ironwool coat, to retrieve a swath of folded cloth that is held aloft for Ember to claim, "Let it /never/ be said Blackshore is eager, yet proud, to aid Redreef." Deva's toast was not ignored, a pleased smile on his face as the two share in a like-minded exclamation, "Indeed, to putting on our social airs."

Lianne doesn't seem certain of the answer, caught weighing the details of a few of the options. In the end, she lifts her glass and holds it there, casting her vote for the first. "I think you underestimate how clever my Duke is."

Drysi, a young shaman apprentice leaves, following Khanne.

Ember gives a gracious nod to Cornelius -- one hand accepts the cloth while the other lifts her glass, signifying statement number one. Then her glass lowers and she dabs at both eyes, really only trying to dry them out a little, not actually fix her (admittedly minimal) makeup or make herself look like less of a wreck. She's sort of listening to Deva and Cornelius's conversation, but... priorities.

Amari is probably quite late for this, but here she is anyway. Maybe she's just heard the news. She is smiling brightly when she's shown into the parlor, by her lonesome and hobbling gamely along. Eventually, she ends up squarely facing Apollo and though she's caught his truths and lies on the way over, she makes no guesses. She has no glass yet. Instead her eyebrows both go comically high, her jaw drops and she points at him. Delayed surprise, it would appear. She'd saved it so he could enjoy the reaction.

Empty hands are liable to find themselves full tonight if they remain empty too long. While there is a broad selection of libations available, the house favors an old Nilanzan red circa 1004 AR when urging drinks into empty hands.

Deva stares at Apollo for a long moment, and then drinks in an exaggerated fashion. Is she really solid about that guess, or does she just want to drink? Probably the latter. "We're quite the colorful corner over here. Blackshore. Redreef. Redrain. I like it," she asides to Cornelius and Ember with a flash of amusement in her eyes. Spying Amari's entrance, she waves quite a bit with her free hand and bounces up on her toes. She's had a drink or three by now.

Apollo watches around the group, features settled into a rather neutral shape. And he smiles warmly at Cesare. "The first to guess correctly," he says, and then changes course, turning his eyes on Zoey. "Was Lady Zoey, though I saw that, Princess Deva." A smile brightens his features. "I've never been lost under the city at all, though I'm sure there's still time. Lady Zoey, why don't you go next." He goes to settle down by the fire, having a sip from both glasses - but pauses, seeing Amari, a brighter smile taking his features. He lifts both arms, inviting a hug he can't quite /give/ because... well. Hands full of wine.

"Tt." Ember wrinkles her nose slightly at Apollo. "I thought you were going to brag that it was far more than twice." There /seems/ to be humor in her tone, but with Ember, who knows. She glances over to Deva and say: "Red and black. It's a good set of colors. The Redreef Estate was recently renovated -- redecorated in such a color scheme. It's striking -- intimidating. Exactly what I wanted." She's stopped actively crying, at last.

Raven has been buddled with Sorrel and Ian murmuring lowly and sizing up the room. She looks at Sorrel and then Ian each as they speak and then her gaze turns towards Alessia and there's a deep breath and a mild sigh. She lifts a hand in an appealing gesture and seems to be making her excuses to Sorrel and Ian before turning and make her way towards Alessia. She summons a wearied smile, "Lady Alessia! IT has been too long. May I borrow you just briefly please? My word I won't take much of your time."

Hearing her name, Alessia looks up at Raven addressing her and there's a bright smile on her lips for the woman. "Of course!" She rises from her seat to walk toward her. "Anything for Bas' loved ones." She walks over to her.

Alessia has left the a cozy stone fireplace.

Ian returns to the main room with Sorrel and Raven, exchanging a few words on the tail of some conversation. Presumably they wouldn't be returning in such good order if they'd been fighting evil foliage outside, so that's good at least. He seems a little surprised when Raven breaks off to go be social.

"Twice," Lianne breathes, clearly having thought that seabound approval had only found Apollo once. Or maybe more than twice! When Apollo spreads his arms like that, she looks toward the source, a welcoming smile turned toward Amari. That humor dims a bit as she watches Raven's approach to Alessia, but that's not her business, is it. To Narcissa, she offers a quiet huff of laughter, a murmur of, "/Away/."

Cornelius smiles easily as Ember accepts the token, content that she will not be able to compose herself. A sip of his wine is taken before Deva remarks on the trio's colors, "It most certainly is, especially within the autumn months. Though, we are bound to stand out like a pair of mismatched and misshapen boots at a gala." The free drinking Blackshore seems to be content to sit out of the game, but casually peers along at the guests' answers and actions.

Sorrel seems disinclined to interrupt the goings-on with their return, so she simply nods politely to Ian after Raven has wandered off to be social, then heads over to rejoin Jaenelle. Far calmer than before, she still seems a bit on edge.

Zoey grins to Apollo. "I was there one of those times the sea favored your work," she reminds him before standing. "Let me see... I once helped bring down a great white bear on a trip up north, I was born during an unusually powerful storm, and my husband gave me a pen as a wedding gift."

"Excuse me, Duchess, I'm going to soundly squish your Duke." Amari declares as she crosses the space and glasses be damned. Apollo's getting hugged, if only after some arrangements to spare her white gown a soaking, "Just hold those glasses out to the side and stand still for a moment. Congratulations, both of you. I regret so much now that I left the assembly early."

"That sounds fantastic," Deva lifts her chin and gives Ember a wide-eyed smile. "Inspired." With a wry smile for Cornelius, she tips her head to the side. "There's nothing wrong with wearing boots to a gala. I do it all the time!" she insists before casually sipping from her glass again. "Less likely to have a fiasco on the dance floor that way," she explains a beat later, in a lower tone of voice.

Raven wanders a bit aways with Alessia, her gaze on things nearby but not on Alessia as she talks. Her hand lifts and there's a pinch of the bridge of her nose for some reason.

Deva also grins at Apollo and raises her glass toward Zoey, the round's winner. "Too fast!" she laughs.

As Deva points out that there's nothing wrong with wearing boots to Cornelius, Ember looks down at her own boots. They're /nice/ boots. But they're still boots. "Hm."

Ian, the husband in question, returns to Zoey's side. Maybe there's no evil foliage outside, but he seems inclined to stick a lot closer to her than he was, before.

Oh, pish. Apollo wraps those arms around Amari, glasses both danging from fingertips. The grin on his face is nothing short of /delighted/, eyes wide for a moment as he murmurs something in her ear. Over her shoulder, he takes a sip for thing number two - Zoey's lie, he thinks.

Zoey offers Ian a smile when he returns to her side, making note of Deva's lifted glass and Apollo's drink. "Anyone else making a guess?"

Cesare considers. Lifts his glass as well.

Newly filled wine glass in hand, Adalyn settles in by the fireplace, raising her glass to indicate her guess. When Apollo announces the true lie, she tsks in mock disapproval although a glimmer of amusement flashes in her eyes. "Only twice?" She purses her lips in consideration of Zoey's remarks before raising her glass to guess at the first being the lie. Amari's entrance is noted, bringing a widening smile as Ada gestures to the seat next to her when she's ready to settle in.

Ember considers Zoey's options, and then pointedly abstains from either lifting her glass /or/ drinking, apparently choosing option #3.

Adalyn has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

"Due a proper squishing, I believe," Lianne croons to Amari, smile warming when she makes good on that threat. She might almost miss Zoey's might-be-lies for it. No, she's caught them, but it takes a moment of consideration. "I like the idea of the first," she tells Zoey and decides to set her hand atop her glass, a mark of abstaining.

Narcissa concedes to just drink from her glass. "I fear I missed the explicit rules of the game, but this seems in spirit of it."

The hug lasts long enough for some whisper-whispers to pass between Apollo and Amari before she carefully steps back and pats his chest fondly. "Alright, back to the game. Apologies for the interruption, but it had to be done." The hug had to be dispensed. Retreating, she catches Adalyn's invitation and heads that way. There's time then for her to notice the others in the parlor, and give out friendly smiles of greeting. Deva, spotted, is waved to on the sly.

"Oh, you mistake me. Mm, it /must/ be the wine now." Cornelius chuckled, twirling his glass a bit, "My wording was meant for the colors stand out in winter months like a pair of misshapen boots. Not that /all/ boots are a sore sight. My boots, for instance." Cue the glance down to the sharkskin boots, which by comparison, did not seem to be so nice as opposed to the boots that Deva and Ember could sport. "I'd endeavor to say both of your boots are much better than mine own."

Amari has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Raven gives Alessia a vaguely pleading look as they speak quietly amoungst themselves. It's not quite puppy dog eyes but it is border on outright plea.

Zoey chuckles. "Those who chose the first are correct," she says. "I helped bring down a bull elephant seal once, but no bear of any color. Her Highness was first to point out the lie, so I think that makes her next. Princess Deva?"

3 Thrax Guards have been dismissed.

2 Thrax Elite Guards have been dismissed.

Lady Teonia Redreef have been dismissed.

Aryka Wyrmfang have been dismissed.

Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog have been dismissed.

Lianne clucks her tongue as the lie is revealed, that clever muddling of details catching her again. This time, she drinks, no vote, but surely approval for Zoey's formidability. With Deva called upon to go next, she looks that way hopefully. Will she be joining in?

Cesare looks quite merry at having chosen correctly and finishes his glass of wine, summoning a server for another and then beckoning Apollo to come sit next to him. He almost gets another glass of wine, too, but Apollo still has those two mostly-full glasses, so instead he just sends the server away and slides to the side a bit, indicatively. There's enough room for Amari, too.

Apollo has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Ian leans his cane against his leg while he takes his heavy gloves back off and tucks them into his belt again.

Ian has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

"Ah, of course," Deva laughs a bit for Cornelius, amusement in her eyes. "My boots have been critiqued before. It's a sore spot for me. But that's a tale for another time." The Redrain then gins at Zoey, until she realizes that makes it her turn. "Oh, blast, I have to go now? Mmm, okay." A free hand lifts to smooth back crimson hair out of her face. For a long beat or two, her expression is one of distracted thought. "I once shot a man in the eye. I am an excellent juggler. And cats make me sneeze." All this is is said with a remarkably straight face, as if she is pulling on all of the well of composure available to her this many drinks in.

There's a sudden euphoric sound from Alessia along with the word 'not!'

Lianne squints a bit at Deva, but that's all the hesitation she has in her before she drinks. She's not buying that juggling bit.

Raven siiighs and her head tilts forward to look at the ground briefly. There's an affirmative grunt and a brief wry comment followed by a bow as Raven seems about to leave Alessia to enjoy the festivities.

Zoey covers her glass. Who would keep a pet that makes them sneeze?

Oh, yes. Apollo, having been hugged, having had a glass of wine, having two more in his hands, having had an elevation - having had a day tense and good and strange and good again: he would like to occupy one of those couches and some closeness. He might wind up smooshed right between Cesare and Amari, and sort of... gazing, mushily, at his wife. Oh, he's the worst. He looks up at Deva, squints, and uh... grins, suddenly. Drinks his whole (first) glass of wine. "I may ask for proof," he warns.

Adalyn grins as she watches Amari head her way, her expression the sort that suggests she has things to share. Attention returned to Deva, her lips pursed as she thinks. "I feel like I might believe any of those, but..." She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink to guess the second.

Cesare squints at Deva. He could believe she juggles, but of the three, it seems the least likely, so he, too, drinks.

Narcissa listens to Deva with a small tilt of her head before choosing to place her hand over her glass, signaling the abstain to drink and vote the third as the lie.

"What did you shoot the man in the eye with?" Amari asks Deva the hard hitting questions. It's important to know, right? She glances to Cesare for support in this and when someone sweeps with drinks she takes up a glass with a murmur of thanks. Apollo, as he settles in is leaned towards, "What are the rules?"

"I am mildly offended that so many of you think I can't juggle! Gods, I'll prove it here and now," Deva scoffs and waggles her glass at Apollo. "I learned how when I--" And then her expression deflates like a popped balloon, and she very quickly shakes her head as if trying to move the subject on before anyone notices. "Lady Zoey was the first to win, but Lady Narcissa hasn't gone yet-- so it's all you! Cats don't make me sneeze. I like cats. And dogs. And, anyway." Ahem. "With an arrow, Amari. Tolmar Brand! That piece of shiiiii--" Again, she cuts herself off and starts coughing into her glass of wine. Much better.

There's a sudden white cloud near one of the doors, with no real explanation of the source. Even the servers who were stationed nearby seem confused. Some nameless guests seem to have disappeared during this time. As well as one named, Alessia.

Raven says, "Gods-fucking-damnit."

Zoey lifts her glass to Deva. "That is a fine shot, indeed!" she says before taking a drink and turning her attention to to Narcissa.

Apollo murmurs aside to Amari - though loud enough to hear: "You state two truths and one lie, and everyone guesses - raise your glass to say the first is false, drink for the second, and cover your glass for the third." He answers, then glances aside at Cesare, giving him the longest look, the sort of inscrutable one only learns at Whisper House.

Narcissa checks composure at normal. Critical Success! Narcissa is spectacularly successful.

Raven doesn't look surprised. Just DEEPLY irritated.

Between Deva and Ember's response and the game happening around him, Cornelius was content to simply watch and be part of the festivities with his wine in hand. It was soon his attention brought to one of the doors, facade of indifference soon breaking to one of mild concern as his cerulean eyes sweep along the door and the possible smoke near the cracks. His finger taps lightly at the bottom of his glass.

Ian looks towards the door, then over at Raven, then back to the door, but seems less seriously concerned this time, and more confused, with a side of WTF.

One of the guards nearest that exit slips out, through that puff of... smoke? She doesn't worry about source, quick to act and make sure there's no funny business on the other side of it. By the time she returns, the cloud is already dissipating. She shakes her head to her fellow guard at that particular post and shrugs. The rest of the report is quietly given, and though the guards remain on alert, they haven't deemed that strangeness enough to disrupt the nobility again. People leave parties all the time. It's not like anyone left /bodies/. It's fiiiiine.

Raven turns and stalks back towards Sorrel and Ian, looking like she'd very much like there to be a hazard she could stab. Yes. The Blackheart looks VERY stabby.

Cesare doesn't seem particularly distressed at getting the answer wrong. In fact, he's rather delighted to learn that Deva can juggle. "Demonstration!" He demands. "Demonstration! Please! Your Highness. There must be fruit around here, or knives, or something."

Ember has walked away to get more wine. She's faced away from the mysterious white cloud and all of the excitement, because she's quietly arguing with one of the servants about something -- well, not really so much an argument as the servant is standing there and being quietly bullied by Ember over some complaint that's so perfectly banal that it doesn't warrant even describing in full. By the time Ember is done being awful and has her wine, the smoke cloud is gone, and so is Alessia. "...mm?" She's not sure what everyone's making a fuss about.

Ian asks Raven a question in an incredulous tone of voice.

1 Thrax Elite Guards, 3 Thrax Guards, Torsney, an attentive high strung law clerk arrive, following Natasha.

4 Thrax Guards, Natasha arrive, following Romulius.

Raven draws in a deeeeeeeep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose muttering lowly to Sorrel and Ian.

Alessia is there one moment, but gone the next. There are many things House Fidante is known for, but apparently the tutelage of its infamous Duchess is paying off for the Voice; Narcissa does not even bat an eyelash and continues along with the game. "I never doubted you could juggle, Deva. As for the arrow in one's eye? You have had many travels and it was certain to come up at some venture or juncture." She nods once, sealing that matter before lifting the one hand not holding her wine glass to count off her own supposed truths hiding one lie. "I have seen foreign and unknown stars, I have gained one's trust for the sheer point of betraying them, and I have learned tongues unspoken." It was never, ever going to be simple with the legendary riddlemaster - she does border on exhausting at times.

Deva starts to say 'thank you' to Zoey but only gets through 'tha--' as the vanishing happens. Blinking in bewilderment, she holds a hand up to her chest and hisses lowly as if pained by something. There is a distracted nod for Cesare, but a beat later she's following Cornelius' look toward the smoke. Both eyebrows lift high, posture stiff and gaze alight with burning curiosity. Again, whether it's the answer or not, she drinks after Narcissa speaks her truths.

"Yes, yes, demonstrate," Apollo says. He -did- say that he'd demand it, didn't he? He's in his cups; doesn't notice the cloud. Not in a avoiding-acting-like-he-noticed-it way, but in an actually-didn't-notice-it way. He considers, then... raises his glass, for the first of Narcissa's statements.

"Princess?" Zoey asks, taking a step closer to Deva, the game momentarily forgotten.

Cesare is evidently unruffled by the dramatic - or, pointedly undramatic exit. Evidently. He barely even glances in that direction, instead listening to Narcissa's declarations with a blink, and a lean in toward the Duke, a quiet titter of laughter. Does Cesare titter, really? Apparently he does.

"Knife juggling! Now /that/ sounds lively." It likely comes as no surprise that adrenaline junkie Adalyn Clement would be eager to see such a thing. She takes a few sips of her wine before the next person has time to share their truths and lie, sending a distracted glance over her shoulder to the ruckus behind her. Focus is quickly lured back by Narcissa's remarks and she squints, then raises her glass.

"Brand definitely deserved that and worse. Well done." Amari lifts her glass in a respectful toast to the Redrain for her excellence in shooting people in the eye. She can relate. She's famous back home for doing much the same. There's weirdness afoot though, and maybe not really noticed the white cloud, but there's a mild look of growing concern for all of a second at the tension and Deva's sudden reaction to something. When that occurs, she sits upright as if shocked, but rather than scream about a white cloud monster stealing her soul, she cracks up a little instead. It's fine. Her hand goes over her mouth and she holds it together, with a glare at Apollo for some reason.

Lianne doesn't entirely miss the commotion, but she does breathe a quiet laugh for Deva's exasperation at how few here are aware of her juggling capability. When she lifts her glass, though, it's for shooting Tolamar Brand right in the eye. That /does/ merit a drink. There might be a flicker of gladness upon her features for Narcissa's quick continuation of the game. When she drinks, it's intentional. A vote for intentional betrayal, though she does seem unsure. It's just that the other two somehow seem more likely. "Drunken knife juggling might tend toward /bloody/," she poses to Adalyn, but it doesn't seem objection.

Ember is looking over at the door because everyone else is looking at the door. "What? What did I miss?" she asks Cornelius, Deva, and Zoey. "Did someone drop another tray?" She also takes a drink, but only after looking at Narcissa first and confirming at this is an /intentional/ /answer/ drink to the game.

At the moment, the gathering is somewhere between pleasant game-playing and heightened awareness after a mysterious disappearance in a puff of white smoke. It's been a strange celebration, to say the least, but most of those gathered are over by the hearth enjoying themselves, playing Two Truths and a Lie, the celebration yet ongoing.

Nevermore, that constant corvid companion, of Narcissa's makes for where that puff of smoke was. He finds perch near it, and preens both wings. A caw is emitted, its utterance hollow before he slumps in his perch and returns to the Fidante's shoulder.

"And not a single soul covered their class? It would appear we have no victor this round. How do we proceed?" Narcissa asks her hosts.

"...I thought the third one was a sex thing," Ember admits.

"So did I," said Apollo. "They said /I'm/ not Lycene enough, gods."

If no one else seemed to be a bit put-off by the now dissipating smoke, Cornelius is not going to raise anymore suspicion over it other than a simple twist of his brow before hiding behind the rim of his wine glass once more. He shrugs haphazardly along to Deva, glancing along to Ember as she calls upon questions, "I...your guess is as good as mine at this point. I would say the wine is effecting me, but when does it usually not? Thankfully, no. No more tray droppings." Ember's admission elicits some startled blinks from the eldest Blackshore, pausing at his wine glass as he muttered something to himself.

Lianne laughs rather abruptly at Ember's admission, bright and brief. To Narcissa, she murmurs, "And /I/ can imagine your tongue doing all sorts of unspeakable things," with sufficient sweetness to suggest it is /not/ a sex thing. Not entirely. There's a glint in her eyes that suggests some idea's taking shape, but she says nothing more. Instead, there's a flicker of curiosity toward Nevermore then a question for his companion. "Who's next? The Crimson Countess perhaps?"

Deva doesn't seem to be listening for a long moment or five. Her green eyes narrow with such sharp focus across the room, jaw tight. Only when Zoey takes a step closer does she start snapping back into the moment. The Kennex gets a wordless shake of the Redrain's head, some concern still unvoiced for lack of words to describe. "It usually was produce," she blurts out, eventually, whether that's an answer to a question posed or just a belated elaboration. Her hand remains where it is, like she's got some sudden and intense round of heartburn. She begins to pass off what is now an empty glass, and is clearly weighing an option or two in her mind-- and yet she's frozen right where she is, boots in place.

Whatever game might be taking place is almost certainly not the sort that either Thrax entering the parlor is terribly familiar with, the tradition not one that had ever taken deep roots in the Mourning Isles. If either have played it, it must be the princess, as the man whose arm she arrives on is distinctly *not* the sort to entertain such things, whether or not maternal heritage lies in the Lyceum. Romulius hasn't heard enough yet to find some sort of hiding spot - or a convenient excuse to depart - and so it is that he scans the chamber with interest, eyes seeking out those whom the celebration is meant to honor. When they find his father instead, there's a pursing of lips and flex of jaw, but he still makes to lead towards where Malespero's guests have congregated. "Duchess, Countess." He chooses to ignore discussions about tongues. "Congratulations are in order, I'm told." There's a glance towards Natasha, then, for her to offer the same. She *is*, after all, patron to both women.

"Well, yes. I suppose since we've been drinking, that'd bring an added element of danger to the equation," Adalyn admits with a wry grin toward Lianne. Knife juggling will clearly have to wait for another time. Her smile dims briefly, expression growing distant and contemplative, before the banter around her brings a brief flash of amusement, however distracted it might be.

Cesare raises his eyebrows to something Apollo says in disapproval. "I'll go next," he offers to Lianne, lofting another - another? - freshly-filled wine glass. "Truth the first: In Setarco when I was a fresh-faced youth of no more than fifteen years of age, I was invited to play for the Pravus royal family, and that is precisely where all the trouble in my life truly began. Truth the second: I once had a vision of a white bird flying high in a cloudless sky as blue and unbreakable as a gleaming sapphire, only for the sky to shatter and a whole bevy of serpents to writhe out of it, and that's why I've always been afraid of snakes. Truth the third: While I have been known to write and play most instruments with my left hand, on the rare occasion I am seen to be performing a feat of strength, I do so with my right, and I can also write right-handed, too."

Ember stares at Deva for a long moment in blank-faced confusion, and then is snapped out of it by 'Crimson Countess' being invoked -- a second too late, because she's still not quite settled into being addressed by her new title. Speaking of, she nods toward Romulius. "Your Highness." Toward Natasha, "Your Highness." She doesn't curtsy because her dress is made of basically nothing. Back toward Lianne: "You don't have a funny nickname with your title." Whether this is a complaint or an observation, who knows. By the time she's done greeting, Cesare has stepped up, so she's off the hook. For now. And she takes a drink.

Lianne regards Deva with muted concern; were it not for Zoey already approaching the princess, she might be inclined to do the same, but best not to crowd. Best, instead, to agree with Adalyn's deferral of the demonstration. Later, or until someone can snag a few oranges from the kitchen; they need only ask. Now just doesn't seem to be the moment. When Natasha and Romulius arrive, the duchess rises to greet them, to embrace one then the other. "So glad you could make it, both of you. We're playing a game. And drinking stolen wine." And maybe wondering at the concerning departure of one of the guests. Two of the guests? Look, there's been some strangeness. But Lianne doesn't mention that. "Come." There's room enough, surely. She snags a refill for her wine, though her first lift of her glass toward Cesare is in gratitude, not answer. She'll need a moment to consider.

Lianne also asides to Ember, "As it should be," with an arch of her brows that teeters between certainty and challenge.

Satisfied that Deva is all right, Zoey steps back again. Looking to Cesare she covers her glass, but overhearing Lianne she sharply turns her head and echoes, "Stolen?"

Raven hufffs an exhale and FINALLY turns her attention to the party though she doesn't look particularly jovial.

Firelight reflected in her gaze, Adalyn studies Cesare for a long moment, considering before placing a hand over her wine glass to indicate the third choice.

Not necessarily known to attend many social events and prefering to while away the late hours, especially, buried in paper, it stands to reason that her broad-shouldered companion must've either done something to convince her to abandon it or come to her rescue upon his insistence. Natasha certainly doesn't know what she is expecting, having missed the earlier kerfluffle, but once arrived on Romulius' arm and led towards both newly-elevated women, there is a barely-perceptible upturn on the corners of her lips that carries a glimmer of both pleasure and pride. Dark eyes follow her husband's cerulean stare towards his father in the proceedings, a brief squeeze delivered on a powerful forearm - the diversion is, however, brief, when her attention returns to where it ought. "In order, and well deserved," the princess tells Lianne and Ember. "Congratulations again, my ladies. Truthfully I wasn't certain what I was expecting at the Assembly today but I was heartened by the demonstrated support in both your elevations." The newly-made Duchess' embrace is returned, followed by a press of her lips to the air next to the green-eyed woman's cheek in typical Lycene fashion, though ever conservative, they do not touch her skin. "I was fortunate that a meeting was canceled, and Rom took the opportunity to sweep me away before it could be filled. A drink would be lovely."

Amari lifts her glass, and then nearly puts her hand over it after seeing Adalyn answer so. Almost, but no. Her hand stops its ascent and returns to her lap. Then she nearly has a drink, forgetting that it's one of the ways to answer. That's a hard stop then, just an inch from her mouth. She'll have it figured out for the next round, definitely.

"It was not a 'sex' thing. My liasons and trysts, if indulged, are kept to the pillows and sheets they are committed on." Narcissa answers Ember. "I fear I am horrid at the games, do forgive me, Duchess Lianne. I did not mean to put a damper in your party. I rather plainly meant 'languages'. "

Apollo considers a moment, then lifts his glass. Because... because... who knows why. Maybe he /wants/ the other two to be true.

Cornelius turns to regard Prince and Princess Thrax, eye sweeping from Natasha and Romulius with cordial bows and greetings. "A very good evening to you, Prince, Princess." There was a hold of gaze toward Romulius for some untold seconds, parting his lips somewhat but for all the intermittent chatter he is part of, Cornelius retreats and seeks to fill his wine glass before fetching two more. Carefully, he settles his own upon a lip of a nearby table, approaching Romulius and Natasha with a glass; he looks to be a dutiful guest as he shares an exchange with Lianne in a cordial smile, raising two glasses intended for Thrax. "Great minds, Duchess."

Ian is hanging around Zoey, still, his expression flat. He doesn't look like he really belongs at polite parties like this one, but here he is anyway. He nods to Romulius and Natasha.

Raven finally grabs a drink from somewhere and belts it back in one smooth if graceless chug.

"From my predecessor," Lianne explains to Zoey. "I laid claims to all that once belonged to Salazar Argento, save the coat on his back and that insufferable bird that somehow managed to talk as much as he did which, I assure you, was no easy feat. The man had a /talent/ for hollow verbosity." Her lips draw thin at that recollection. Warmth finds her features again as she looks to Narcissa and assures, "I know," without any hint of concern whatsoever, plainly fond of the Fidante. "I will count myself fortunate," she murmurs to Natasha, even as she sets a hand atop her glass. She's not certain, but... well, she's proven terrible at this game in its entirety and isn't trouble at the prospect of being wrong again. Cornelius gets a curious look, brows arched, then a dip of her head in gratitude for his quick assistance.

Deva drifts from where she was leaning against a wall, a woman on a mission. Sort of. She heads toward where the smoke was seen, nosing around for a moment. Hand still on her chest, she scowls and seems to disappear into the hallway for a while. On edge, this princess, and terrible at hiding it.

"Well played, Prince Romulius," Zoey tells him. To Lianne's explanation she nods.

Narcissa drains the rest of her wine and gathers the sulking Nevermore before waving a fond farewell as she excuses herself.

Narcissa has left the a cozy stone fireplace.

3 Fidante House Guards, Nevermore, the sulking raven leave, following Narcissa.

Cesare looks around with an arch expression as guesses are made, waiting a fair amount of time before revealing anything further. Then he laughs, the sound spiraling upward toward the ceiling. "I'm not afraid of snakes at all, and I've never had such a vision," he acknowledges. "I /can/ write with my right hand, poorly, and I'm surprised I'm not more fondly remembered from all those Pravosi birthday parties, tea parties, comings-out, goings-away...perhaps I have changed, having lost all the baby fat." He winks to Lianne, settles back into his seat. "Lady Adalyn, you next."

If Romulius had any intention on joining in the game, conviction in that arena almost certainly finds some faltering when Narcissa's frank response to an even more frank musing earns a look of mild surprise, but then the Duchess is all but insisting. Ian's nod is met with one in return, but attention diverts to Cornelius and the drinks being delivered, one accepted with a smile that's too forced to truly be considered polite. "Thank you, Father." His overbearing sense of politesse doesn't keep him from referring to the lord by a more familiar term, at least, and there's a quick murmur to Natasha before the former Blackshore makes his way towards Ian and Zoey's perch. On his way, at least, there's an acknowledgment of Lianne's explanation of the wine over a sip of it, "The Marquis had better taste than you give him credit for, Duchess, for all his faults." A more hushed greeting is given to the pair of Kennexes afterwards.

The Lord and Lady Kennex's greetings prompts a lift of her fingers in a return wave to the Sword of Stomward, and a flash of another smile towards his wife, though whatever Natasha deigns to say to Zoey is delayed, for now, at Cornelius' approach. "My lord," she greets, the cant of her head angling towards Lianne's murmur. "You and I both," she replies, a surreptitious wink that occurs so quick, it may have been imagined directed to the Malespero lady, before silence returns to listen to Cesare's revelation of his two truths and one lie. Attention flits to Romulius at his soft words, nodding once in acknowledgment and following the wake of his stride towards the Kennexes.

It's so quick, and done with so little emphasis by someone who has done so little of interest tonight that it would be easy to miss it happening at all, but Ian gives Romulius' shoulder a brief squeeze.

Apollo belatedly realizes Natasha and Romulius have arrived, glancing up from murmurs with Cesare and darting attention paid to the game. "Your highnesses," he beams, from mid-way through his third glass. He might be a little tipsy, in the most shiny, pleasant of ways. It just happens that he's looking that way at just the moment that Ian Kennex expresses affection or solidarity or... something. It's something! It gets a head-tilt, and a smile.

"But such attention to detail," Adalyn protests with a laugh after discovering that Cesare's vision was the lie. "Alright, then-" A pause is taken, a moment devoted to a quick sip of wine before she begins. "First: I once hid in an underground tunnel playing a game of knuckles while waiting for a tribe of angry Abandoned to pass by above ground. Second: I once wielded an embroidered pillow as a weapon against an intruder in Clement House - rather poorly, I might add. Third: My favorite prank thus far has been helping to hide a series of Petrichor stick figurines in the garden and awaiting their discovery."

Raven grabs another drink and watches the Blackshores with open curiousity. Her eyebrows lift just a hair at Ian's discreet gesture.

Apollo lofts his glass quickly, grinning. Luckily, the glass is not -so- full that it splashes, this time.

Sorrel has been sitting next to Jaenelle, chatting quietly with the Archduchess, but she looks up at Romulius and Natasha as they arrive, offering the two a smile. She doesn't have a drink and she cannot remember the rules, but she narrows her eyes thoughtfully at Adalyn as she makes her truths and a lie.

"I was at that party," Lianne reminds Cesare affectionately. "You were the highlight of the evening. As you usually are." Lifting her glass, she toasts to the Whisper. To Romulius, she then clarifies, "Oh, no no. I do not discredit my predecessor's taste in wine. It's one of the few things he did right. Of course, he drank an awful lot of it. He was also very devoted to his family. Not to the people of his march, but I have no doubt he'd've followed his traitorous father to the ends of the earth." Someone's tongue might be a bit loosened by the wine. She watches Narcissa's departure, thoughtful, then Deva's, concerned, but when Adalyn speaks, she returns her attention there. Surely, Fajra's taking notes on all the letters the duchess will need to write later. "Oh, I can /picture/ the second." That can't possibly be the lie. No, she'll lift her glass, too, voting for the first.

Raven pauses briefly to murmur something to Sorrel then ables to someplace to watch the games.

Amari hahs quietly to herself after Adalyn has listed her truths and lie, she takes a long drink from her glass. Probably too long really, to have been polite. She was clearly thirsty.

Cesare squints at Adalyn with tremendous discernment and puts his hand over his glass. "Your favorite prank /had/ to have been something much more daring than that," he says. "I will be disappointed if it's true." He turns to mutter something quietly to the Duke, a small smile hovering about his lips.

The exchange between father and son does seem indeed forced on account of both parties; though give credit to the men of Blackshore to keep the act completely civil in public, these days. Cornelius bid a gentle nod to his son, a response seeming more heartfelt than what he was greeted with, "You are welcome, son." A smile is bid to Natasha with as cordial a bow as he had granted Romulius, "Your Highness." With drinks delivered, Cornelius is content to stand back and leisurely watch as he sips on whatever is left of his red wine.

Jaenelle stands after speaking softly towards Sorrel, "I should return home, I suppose Alaric will want a detailed list of what happened because he used to do the same for me when I couldnt attend the meetings. Be good" she leans down to kiss Sorrel's cheek before slipping out.

Zoey takes a drink from her glass in response to Adalyn's three statements.

"Duke Malespero." Natasha's greeting towards Apollo is both fond and teasing, mischief lighting her eyes briefly - clearly, there is pleasure there, also, in calling him such, her attention wandering away from Romulius and Ian. Espying Sorrel nearby, her newly procured glass of whiskey is lifted to her cousin in a long-distance toast of greeting, and while Cornelius' interaction with his son is one observed from above the crystalline lip of her tumbler, nothing is said out loud. She seems content to listen to Lianne's remarks on her predecessor, having little practical knowledge regarding House Argento, but there is clear interest in it - something, however, draws her attention back to her husband at the quiet murmur he shares.

12 House Velenosa Guards, Ibasia, the Velenosa Lady-in-Waiting leave, following Jaenelle.

Briar, a quiet young woman arrives, delivering a message to Raven before departing.

Adalyn's eyes sparkle with mirth as she watches the various guesses. "I admit the second was the lie. It was actually my father who threw the pillow." She laughs, shaking her head at Cesare in apology. "I'm sorry to disappoint. Perhaps I should have said my favorite of the most recent. There've been too many pranks to remember. But this one went on for months and I loved it for the build-up of suspense my partner-in-mischief and I felt." She flashes an impish grin at Amari and lifts her glass for another drink. "Lady Amari, your turn?"

It's not clear if the game has been explained or if Romulius wishes to enjoy the wine, but he takes a sip of it all the same. Perhaps Ian found enough words to tell the rules, but it's more likey his wife would have been the culprit. Apollo's address is met with a lift of glass in greeting, echoing Natasha in a "Duke Malespero." That one likely wasn't a guess. If he's at all suited for these sorts of gatherings, he's doing a poor job of showing it and attempts to greet the many familiar faces are less successful than he might prefer. For now, he seems more content to engage the Kennexes in their quieter conversation.

Ian definitely didn't say enough words to recount the rules. Also, he shrugged when he said whatever he said so it's possible he's shaky on the rules, himself. Despite having been here this whole time.

There's a look Apollo gives Cesare, glass still lofted, bewildered and ... well, an attempt at restrained. But Natasha and Romulius' greetings are just in time, and he winds up laughing, even if his face is turning a certain rather red color. He attempts to drink the last of that glass, coughs a moment as he lowers the glass, and tells Cesare: "It's Duke." With... no, not a straight face, whatever's got him almost /giggling/ he's only managing (at best) getting the words out. Then he turns up, looking like he could keep right on giggling right in Natasha and Romulius' faces. "I'm so glad you both came," he says, and means it. And then he scowls at Adalyn. "Adalyn," he says. "You swatted me with that pillow at least once. I should challenge you for how... incensed I am that you would -lie- about your -lie-."

Lianne huffs a quiet laugh and murmurs, "Apples and trees, mm?" of Adalyn and her father. When Apollo makes his addendum, she looks like she might want to agree with him, but instead wonders, "Are you claiming to have /intruded/ on Clement land, darling?" Then she drinks and looks to Amari, smiling.

Zoey clearly represses a laugh before saying something softly to Natasha, Romulius, and Ian.

"So am I," Natasha replies to Apollo. "As isolationist as it sounds, it was the first Assembly I ever attended - most of my time before was spent in the Isles assisting His Grace in various matters that needed adjudication." She is still relatively new to Arx and the mainland, compared to near everyone else in the room. "I wondered if it was always so...lively. But it was a momentuous one all the same - I was happy to be there for it, considering." There's an appreciative look cast towards both Lianne and Ember, mirth glittering in her near-obsidian stare at Apollo's remarks towards Adalyn...and one that seems to only intensify at something Ian says.

"Well, you didn't give us enough details," Cesare childes Adalyn teasingly, before turning to give Apollo an imperious look, rising, and then bowing so deeply that he's practically folded in half. "My sincerest apologies for my lapse in etiquette, /Duke/ Apollo. How ever shall I make it up to you." To Lianne, he adds, "He often comes into rooms entirely without knocking, you know, he's lucky he hasn't got a puny fist right to the face by now."

Raven bows to Sorrel, preparing to depart it looks like.

3 Black Fleet Reavers leaves, following Raven.

"Duke Apollo Malespero." Adalyn places emphasis on title and name alike, her chin lifted in a defiant fashion. "I ought to challenge /you/ for insinuating that I would ever view you as an unwelcome trespasser to House Clement. I'll have you know, I only swat my pillows at people whose company I thoroughly enjoy." Merriment gleams in her eyes despite her outward attempt at adopting a severe expression. It disappears the moment she laughs, glancing to Lianne, then to Cesare. "Sometimes it's the little details that matter, isn't it? And next time, Whisper Cesare, I vow to be much more thorough."

Something said between the two Thraxes and Kennexes in their hushed conversation elicits a flash of white teeth into a grin from Romulius, shoulders lifting into a half-shrug as he offers a remark to Zoey. When attention turns back towards the gathering at large, there's more amusement at the state that the newly-elevated Duke has found himself in, even if he's not able to offer too much comment on the man's alleged trespass on Clement lands. "Perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity."

Amari has a look to either side, to just make sure she's not going to jump up and steal someone else's turn when they're eager and ready to go. She stands, and takes Adalyn's spot, her expression pensive as she attempts to dredge some truths up and also invent a lie. "Gods. Let me think." A moment more, and she has some to share, "When I was seventeen, I ran away from home, and lived in the wilderness... for two years. What else. I once very nearly married into a Mourning Isle's family of some importance, and finally, I hand stitched all the pillows that Adalyn and her father have used as weapons."

Zoey considers the three statements a moment, then covers her glass.

Ian's quip - or is it? It's certainly difficult to tell with his flawlessly deadpanned expression - prompts a chuff of what might actually sound like the precursors of a laugh that doesn't fully blossom. With Amari's turn presently up, she tries her hand at the game by placing it on top of her glass.

As for Cesare's inquiry, Apollo looks like he might have an ideas. A whole series, say. (With a lot of complaints?) But also a faint pique. Adalyn answered Lianne /for/ him, see. "Depends who's doing the accounting," he says, giving Lianne a crooked grin. There's a smile shot at Adalyn that has all of the affection her pillow-flinging behavior might imply, turned back on her; he just missed the detail, yes. He goes to drink for Amari's lies, but finds his glass empty, and looks over his shoulder, waves his glass around in the air, and is promptly handed a fresh one. "Horrible of you to call my wife as your Champion," he says to Adalyn, and drinks, pointedly looking at Amari.

"It's what he does," Lianne murmurs in answer to Cesare, but her eyes are set upon Apollo. "He enters rooms." As if that were something special. The duchess might get a little bit moon-eyed, staring at her husband, all that mushiness interrupted with a laugh for Adalyn's excellent threat of /thoroughness/. She'll drink to that. Thank gods she manages to swallow before Romulius' joke inspires another laugh. When Amari offers her might-be-lies, Lianne looks between her and Apollo and Adalyn, searching for clues. She lifts her glass. Maybe she meant to drink, but her mouth is busy asking, "What am I defending?"

Ian certainly doesn't look like a man prone to quipping, all evidence from the people he's talking to to the contrary.

Cesare retakes his seat - except that Apollo has sloshed into it, and he ends up sitting half on Apollo as a result, which entails a bit of re-situating before he finally gets a chance to take a drink. "I have read about your embroidery in the Whites," he says to Amari with, perhaps unearned, confidence.

There's another sip of wine from Romulius, again ambiguous in whether it's to quench thirst or else respond to Amari's part in the game. The laugh from Natasha manages to distract gaze from elsewhere in the room, eyes instead turning to drift between his wife and Zoey. He's fallen into a similar silence as Ian, now, though he certainly seems less serious about it.

Almost, but not quite; a slowly widening smile finds the top of her glass instead, Natasha camouflaging the expression with a sip of her whiskey. Eyes lit like embers, fueled by her earlier amusement, meet Romulius' cerulean stare in the doing, but she doesn't address or make a comment to him verbally. Instead, she seems to be waiting for Amari's revelation.

Adalyn grins widely at the three potential truths which Amari presents. She'll not give any hints by playing this round, however, instead taking the opportunity to rise and refill her drink, her movements lacking a bit of their usual grace by now. When she returns to her seat, she settles in, more draped than seated, and sends an affectionate and lingering glance toward Apollo. She arches a brow, gaze sliding to Lianne and back again. "Is that what I did? You poor thing, with the two of us against you..." Her grin grows mischievous before it becomes concealed altogether, wine glass lifted once more.

"I love tents, to this day, and I was almost Lady Amari Tyde. Lady Jael stitched at least one of the pillows, so that was the lie. We both had no idea what we were doing. That afternoon spent jabbing our fingers was one I'll always remember." Amari reveals very solemnly. "Who's next? Perhaps... we put a Thrax on the spot?" Natasha or Romulius then, she turns on both with a broad smile and lift of her glass.

"I think it was Lady Zoey who got it first, if we're keeping some kind of score." Amari quickly adds, but she'll let the officials rule as they will.

"Aha! I was right," Zoey declares. "Sadly I already went, or I would be next." She casts a glance to the newlyweds beside her at the mention of a Thrax, but seems unwilling to put one forth as a possibility.

Sorrel is suddenly glad that she is not sitting next to the other Thrax here, and she keeps quiet for the moment, vaguely amused.

Ian takes a very slight step to the side, once it's clear the next person on the hot seat is Zoey's call, such that he takes himself out of his wife's line of sight.

"Details," Cesare replies, shaking his head. "What must I do to get an embroidered pillow? Particularly what must I do to be beaten with one within an inch of my life? The thought thrills me." His voice is perfectly even, so much so that it is impossible to tell if he's joking.

"Once the officials call for my turn, I'll happily offer my two truths and one lie - but only if Rom recuses himself from participating if anyone thinks to look at him for a hint at my turn," Natasha remarks in reply to Amari in easy camaraderie, her elbow nudging her husband briefly.

Lianne is oh-for... uh. How many people has it been? She's certainly not keeping count. Just like she hasn't kept count of how many very generous glasses of wine she's enjoyed tonight. She'll enjoy another, thank you. "The two of when?" she asks of Adalyn, all wide-eyed and still totally missing that thread. "You do know that Lycene tradition says that pillows are for /smothering/ not slashing, yes?" Okay, maybe not /entirely/ lost, but that's a wild swing. She sips.

The duchess turns a look toward the Thraxes, all three of them, yes, she sees you, too, Sorrel, and butts in, granting them time. "/I/," emphasized just to make a point that this is, indeed, the beginning of her turn, "once went to Sanctum on an errand for the Master of Questions." Lianne pauses, considers, grins happily. "Once, a very pretty princess gave me a dead bird in a box, and it remains one of my favorite gifts I've ever received to this day. Aaaaand once, Prince Tyrval told me of his delight and despair." Oh, yes. That's a good assortment. Pleased with herself, she looks to Natasha and tells her, "You're next." Not yet, but next.

Zoey lifts her glass.

Apollo squirms out from under Cesare. Like... eighty-five percent. His brow furrows at Amari but he doesn't seem -that- distressed that he's terrible at this. "It can be arranged," he tells Cesare, and then studies his wife a moment. He peers, and peers, and peers, and then... covers his glass. Even if he wants a drink.

Identified to take the next turn, Natasha dips her head in acknowledgment, before taking a sip of her whiskey - her guess on Lianne's two truths and one lie.

If there's a Thrax to be put on the spot, Romulius is content to let either Natasha or Sorrel absorb the attention - thankfully, Lianne seizes the spotlight and his wife offers herself for the slaughter afterwards. The game might be the only spot where he is willing to put Natasha forward towards something he views as any sort of danger, but that will go without mention by him. He follows Zoey in the lift of his glass, and this time there's no sip that follows it. Perhaps he is making some effort to play, after all.

"They're adorable pillows, though, so the efforts paid off. They sport all sorts of delightful words." Adalyn supplies these details oh-so-helpfully while casting a grin to Amari. She can't quell the impish look that arises as she hears Cesare's commentary. "You probably need only ask nicely. Maybe. As for the pillow action, I'd oblige. Might even let you have you to fight back if you wished it. Oh, gods." She pushes up to a seated position, drunken inspiration arriving. "House Clement ought to host a pillow battle of some sort." Looking entirely pleased with herself, she turns to listen to Lianne and, after a moment's thought, takes a sip of wine.

From out of Zoey's line of sight, Ian squints in thought and, remembering the rules, covers his glass.

Apollo may spend a few seconds too long looking back and forth between Adalyn and Cesare for it to be any kind of subtle that he's -visualizing- this future pillow-beating. "That's a perfect idea," he says, of the pillow battle. "Absolutely perfect."

Amari knows just the way Cesare might get his hands on an embroidered pillow and she shares it with a soft laugh, "Marry. All of them have been wedding gifts so far. It's best to go into marriage properly armed and slightly embarrassed." She returns to her place, and expecting a Thrax, she seems a little disappointed they've all three slipped the hook. To Natasha's comment she can't help but nod, "That does sound fair." Right, the Duchess is up. She's listened to intently, and her cheek is rubbed as she thinks them over. Before long her hand is resting over her cup. "Prince Tyrval never seemed so chatty as that. Not even when plied with puns."

"I'm having trouble picturing him admitting to being delighted by anything," Ian agrees with Amari.

Cornelius glances from Natasha and Romulius pleasantly, a rather tired (or tipsy) expression set onto his face. He seems to waft away from the table the cask is hoisted onto, a new glass of wine in hand as he meanders closer to where the guests were playing the Truth and Lies game.

Cesare, with fifteen percent of Apollo beneath him, looks at Lianne testily. He takes a drink.

Having no glass, and in fact being rather surprisingly sober for a Thrax, Sorrel just holds up three fingers thoughtfully.

Lianne watches with utter delight as everyone makes their guesses, the first three resulting in an even split. Oh, yes, she's so very pleased with herself. "A point to the most perfect of patrons," she declares after it seems everyone's rendered their bets, her glass lifted to Natasha. "And one for the most magnificent Lady Adalyn who, I hear, will be hosting a grand pillow fight in the near future." She drinks to that thought. Or maybe to reveal her lie? "And one for the ever-enchanting Cesare, even when he's making faces like that at me." Her smile is nothing shy of affectionate, and that holds as she explains, "I, in fact, gave that bird as a gift, selected just for her." A fond memory, a hint of dusky blush coming to her cheeks. "It didn't last an hour in her hands, but that's a story for another time." Catching Amari's answer on the subject of pillows, she wonders, "Are we absent an accessory?" as if maybe he's hoarded one away all for himself. Then, with a bow of her head to Ian, she admits, "The word might've been /thrilled/, but I liked the alliteration." Lifting her glass toward the newlyweds, she provides another example. "Now, Natasha!"

After having made his decision, he also asides to Amari, "Whispers don't marry, my lady. Or, if they do, they're no longer Whispers. Which is why the Duke here is no longer a Whisper on two counts, and we never let him forget it." He does toast Adalyn, however. "Whisper House will sponsor as many pillow fights as House Clement cares to hold." And boy, is he smug about being correct. The loveliness of his smugness, even as unflattering a word smug is, is probably enough to forgive both the smugness and the testy expression he focused on her before.

"Ian, will you distract his highness for a bit so people cannot try to read him for clues?" Zoey asks her husband.

After wetting her lips with another pull of liquid gold, uncomplicated pleasure plays over Natasha's features as she watches the collective engage in a social drinking game; it's a new one on her, one that she's never had a chance to participate in before, but her interest is plain. Anything, really, to exercise her perception - and is visibly pleased when her guess proves accurate. With the radiant hostess calling for her turn, there is no hesitation when she presents her two truths and a lie; doubtless that she had them prepared the moment she offered herself as a sacrifice for House Thrax. "In order to save me from certain peril, I was once bound, gagged and stuffed in an empty wine casket by my companions," she begins. "I also used to sing, and I apparently had some talent before I abandoned the art. Lastly, I once had dinner with a werewolf."

Apollo drinks, without reservation. This may be another moment of wishful thinking.

"Uh," Ian says. He looks at Romulius, then points at a wall. "Stare over there until she's done." He's telling Romulius to turn his back on everyone else.

Zoey thinks about it, squinting a bit as she studies her patron, then hesitantly sips her wine.

Apollo does glance over his glass at Lianne, brows high, and - licking his lips after - says: "In the - second - mmm." He smiles, rights his face, and says: "In the bedroom, I think." Whatever -that's- about.

If Romulius is meant to be holding off from offering clues, he's doing a poor job of it - before any acquiesence to the direction to turn about, there's a scowl on his face at mention of her rescue from 'certain peril'. There might be a huff of the breath after the last, but it's drowned by a sip of wine. Nothing about this seems fun enough to him to be called a game.

Cesare considers the vat of wine which is sitting out. He considers the size of the Princess Thrax. He lifts his glass. He looks between Apollo and Lianne, and shifts, eyebrows raised.

Ian further blows the 'don't give it away' thing by staring at Romulius. "You seriously stuffed her in a wine cask?"

Looking amused now, Sorrel holds up two fingers. She still has no glass, but if she did, she wouldn't be able to remember which move to make to vote.

Lianne considers all the possibilities, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, before lifting her glass, leaving it lofted as she looks to Apollo. "Right. The room with the bed in it." She giggles. Gods, how many glasses of wine is that?

Amari groans quietly, both for having guessed wrongly, and for Whispers not being able to marry and thus earn themselves an embroidered pillow. Apollo and Liane though, yes, "I think you're both due one, when I have time to sit and stitch one together. What word though?" Adalyn is given a long, measuring look. Surely she has suggestions. But wait, there's a Thrax on the spot now! She turns to lean in over her knees a bit and stare intently. "There are werewolves everywhere anymore. You can't dine in public without them joining your table." She goes with a sip of her wine based on that.

The question from Ian doesn't seem to do anything to bring cheer to the newly-anointed prince. Romulius turns towards Ian, his answer not quite hushed enough to keep from some part of his response carrying further than intended. No part of it is pleasant.

Romulius mutters, "I ... no such thing. ... nearly ... against Lord ... ... it."

"I'll have to remember to hear that story sometime. Sounds interesting," Adalyn notes to Lianne, although it seems the evening has provided introductions to many stories she might like to hear, and who knows if she's too drunk to properly remember to inquire about them all in future? Cesare's offer receives an answering lift of her glass. With her free hand she points to him, then to herself as if to silently suggest that such an event must surely happen. Amari's question of which word to embroider earns a look of pure mirth, as though she's got plenty of ridiculous suggestions, but Natasha declares her three potential truths and Ada focuses upon the information given, brow furrowed in thought. Eventually, she uncertaintly lifts her glass.

Zoey and Natasha trade whispers, and afterward she grins.

There's a hint here that Ian's not taking regarding how serious Romulius considers this situation to be. The kind of serious where you don't ask a list of incredulous questions about it.

Cornelius pursed his brow together rather curiously, canting his head at there was a subtle mutter of 'werewolves', that was soon drowned out by the pull of his wine glass up to his lips, taking a swig as he took note of Romulius' turn and generally sour demeanor over the questions posed to Natasha. Or the perception of his nature.

"I have to wonder about the way I live my life when everyone in this collective seems to hold no surprise that I would end up bound, gagged, and stuffed in a casket for my safety," Natasha remarks after taking quick accounting of everyone else's guesses in the room, bemusement present on her features. "But my lie was the third. I've never shared a meal with a werewolf."

Lianne's brows give a little waggle at Adalyn's bid for future storytelling, the smile which accompanies it downright flirtatious. She laughs at the revelation of Natasha's lie, shaking her head. "I was so /certain/ it was a trick of details. Gods, I'm awful at this game." And that doesn't seem to trouble her in the slightest. Other things Lianne is at the moment: happy and possibly a bit inebriated.

Apollo - who seems to be at least twenty or twenty-five percent under Cesare at this point - tells Amari, "Mmm, how about..." he has no idea. Lianne, help! But he elbows Cesare, trying to get to his feet, lifting his glass. "I've got another one!" he announces. But he's... kinda stuck. "Augh. Someone else take a turn. Ce/sare/!" Worst/best Whisper?

Cesare pipes up, "Princess Sorrel!" He does not move.

"More likely they know the sort of company you keep, and the lengths to which they will go to ensure your safety," Zoey points out to Natasha.

Romulius is less surly when he faces back towards the group after Natasha has finished her turn, though his expression is far from pleased with any part of it. "Perhaps it's indication that you might be served by refraining from those sort of adventures, on occasion." Tone makes it sound less like a suggestion than his diction does, but there's at least a hand that falls to the small of the woman's back to assure that he's not entirely out of sorts with the evening. There's a last aside to Ian under his breath before gaze turns towards Cornelius, the look a (marginally) warmer one than delivered earlier. It might be an invitation, or perhaps just another acknowledgment of his father's existence.

It has become clear that Sorrel must take a turn, and so the bard rises for a moment so that she can deliver her truths and lies with enthusiasm. "It is common for people to choose either ships or horses for their specialty, but I as good a rider as I am a sailor," she suggests with a wide gesture, looking thoughtful. A little twinkle comes to her evergreen eyes, and she next offers: "Though we were never lovers, I did swim nude with the king and the most scandalous thing that happened was a history lesson for him on the Elven War." She waggles her brows at that. Then she wrinkles up her nose for a moment, and then finally she suggests, with a broadening grin, "I have been commissioned to write songs by members of both the Metallics and the Fractals, in this lifetime.

Ian has somehow managed to pepper Romulius with probably ill timed questions about his wife tied up in a wine cask and not get smacked, so he's got that going for him. On the flip side, he's apparently made Cornelius look better by comparison.

Apollo takes a drink. It might be his guess, but it might be his reaction to being sat upon.

"I like horses," Cesare says softly, passing off an empty glass and retrieving another. He puts his hand over it, though, and settles back against his wonderful, newly-elevated chair. In tomorrow's news: Duke Apollo has so many things to recommend him. Such virtues. Amongst them, a good sofa for Whispers, only complains a little when sat upon.

Adalyn's grin widens for the coquettish smile Lianne bestows upon her. "I love this game," she sighs happily, although judging by her tone, the remark really translates into 'I love this evening, these people'. Watching Apollo's struggle, she attempts to suppress her giggles, shoulders shaking with the effort of silently stifled laughter. "I'd help, but..." She gestures vaguely - to her wine glass, her inebriated state in general, who really knows at this point? Quite amused by the options Sorrel presents, she considers, then lifts her glass.

Ian doesn't make a guess this time, either because he knows the answer and he doesn't want it to be his turn next, because he doesn't know the answer and doesn't get to be caught out on that or (and this is the most likely) because he's talking with Romulius now and has forgotten to play.

Romulius takes another sip of his drink, meant as much to be a guess as to wash away earlier unpleasantness. Continued unpleasantness, really.

"I think you're wasted in economics, my lady Kennex," Natasha banters back to Zoey, her smile threatening to expose her teeth, and one she cheekily behinds behind her tumbler. "You should have been a lawyer, instead." Romulius' remarks, however, get a faintly resigned expression flashed to him in turn, but it is one that holds visible affection, ivory features gentling in a manner that unfairly suits them once the expressive severity is cast aside. There's a step into his powerful shadow once sun-bronzed fingers fit into the small of her back, turning her face to murmur softly into the newly-minted prince's ear. After Sorrel's offerings have been communicated, she lifts her glass - her guess is the first.

Lianne's lips part as if she has a prompt answer to Apollo's wordless plea. But no. She closes her mouth, looks to Amari Very Seriously and asks, "Just one word?" She's listening still, really, but her attention turns to Sorrel, the princess considered, those options weighed. Easier, first, to follow Cesare's comment with, "I like ships." Adalyn gets a lift of her glass, that lovely liquid excuse to come to nobody's aid. And it remains lifted. Yes, that'll be her guess. Maybe Sorrel is just horrible with horses. Or boats. She might be second-guessing herself.

Zoey lets out a laugh. "Do not let my father hear you say that," she tells Natasha. She considers Sorrel's statements and lifts her glass.

"Only one - like, 'moist'." Amari confirms, and elaborates in a very serious tone of voice. Slightly embarrassing embroidered pillows are no laughing matter. There's a certain terseness in the answer, if only because she's trying also to figure out which of Sorrel's statements are untrue. Her hand goes over her glass. It's nearly empty anyway.

"I knew I should have made up something about riding a dragon across the Eventide Vast," Sorrel says with a merry laugh, grinning at the group. "I really should be drunk for this. Yes, you can take the girl out of the Oathlands, but you cannot make her a sailor. I ride very well, but I cannot sail a bit! Leading a knighthood of the sea, what?"

Cornelius seems a bit taken a back with the look from his son, timidly taking a few paces over to where the game was taking place. Romulius' invitation was well-received, if anything.

"He's so /blond,/" Cesare says, with no indication as to who he means. He slides to the side a bit. If Apollo wishes to make an ill-timed second play, now is his moment.

"I think we need a painting of you riding a seahorse," Zoey tells Sorrel. "The image is in my head now, but sadly I have not the skill."

Cesare says, "Princess Denica," Cesare suggests knowingly to Sorrel and Zoey. "Definitely.""

"Ah, do let Princess Denica know, then," Sorrel replies with a laugh, and finally, she lets someone hand her a drink.

Lianne makes a little 'ooh' shape with her mouth that doesn't actually come with any sound. A thoughtful expression, a mark of understanding. A moment later, she delcares to Amari with certainty, "Verona." As if it's of the same caliber. The sly look she shoots Apollo might imply it is, thought gods only know how. When Sorrel reveals her lie, the duchess laughs, bright and triumphant. She got one right! "I knew it." She did not. Still, pleased with herself, she takes a celebratory drink. "Lord Cornelius, Lord Ian, will you be joining in the festivities?"

"I'm very festive," Ian protests to Lianne, deadpan.

"THANK you," Apollo says, pushing up to his feet. He finishes his wine first, and says: "/I/ can still juggle after -" he looks down at his wine glass, back over his shoulder at Cesare, like - was he keeping count? "Four glasses of wine!" he says to the group. Then: "I once questioned the Master of Questions." He frowns. Wonders of Natasha: "Does that make me the Tyrant of Questions?" His brow furrows, then smoothes. Admission: "I still have questions." And third: "And I haven't stolen anything from anyone here." He lofts his wine, like to have a drink - and then, because everyone is so detail oriented: he clarifies: "Tonight." Oh, but his glass is empty. He's going to need another glass. Where are the servants? Where are the guards? Where is his wife? He turns on her, and actually /giggles/ at the word she proposes.

If Romulius has been making guesses as often as his imbibement would suggest, he's not had a terribly good deal of success. Apollo's statements see a lift of glass - given his current state, the Duke's ability to juggle is, generously, dubious.

Cesare rises from his seat. "Demonstration," he demands, pointing one entirely steady finger at Apollo. To a passing servant. "Oranges, please." And then, "Post/HASTE/" when the young man doesn't hustle with enough verve for Cesare's mood.

Cornelius pauses a moment as steps take him to the group, a look afforded to Romulius as his son finishes with an aside, to which is responded with a rather flattened expression of his brow lowering rather stoic. He shook his head gently, raising his glass, "I simply wished to see how the evening was going, Duchess. I'm afraid I have been quite immersed in the hospitality you have in that cask there whilst admiring the depictions on the walls. I will have to bid my permission at your leisure to abstain, but do not let my dourness prevent such revelry."

"I've questioned the Master of Questions many times. Also yelled at him. Plus I once wrote a bunch of mean words to him on a chalkboard when he dragged me through what turned out to be a shardhaven, and I lost my voice trying to keep clowns from eating us," Sorrel notes with a bit of a giggle.

"Indeed," Lianne croons sweetly to Ian, pleased with that answer. No further encouragement toward truths and lies from her. After all, her husband has risen to his feet and decided to take a second turn. The third option he presents sees her hand settling atop her glass. And then /staying there/ when he clarifies. She might not know who, she might not know what, but that's where she's putting her wager. Briefly. Hands part, then, to gesture toward her lap. Lest he find the spot he occupied now filled with liquid Whisper. She takes such pride in that giggling. She wears it, even, as she looks toward Cornelius once more and assures, "You scarcely seem dour, my lord. No one need do anything they don't care to here. We're glad for your company." Don't mistake this lift-and-drink here as her guess. She's just toasting one of their guests.

Sorrel has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Ian looks from Apollo to Cesare on his lap and apparently agrees with Lianne, covering his glass. That's just too many opportunities for theft, right there.

Sorrel also seems to agree with Lianne and Ian on this one. Not that she's had anything to drink yet. But now she has a glass to cover!

Staff are prompt in their service, though the young man Cesare is commanding looks to someone else who rolls their eyes and heads off to the kitchen, leaving the befuddled servant to go back to his business, albeit with vastly more uncertainty about what he's meant to be doing than he had before.

Adalyn narrows her eyes at Apollo for a moment of careful scrutiny, possibly trying to ascertain his level of inebriation. She seems to waver between the two choices before arriving at a guess and lifting her glass.

Apollo's question of her brings forth an exaggerated mien of preponderance - Natasha even manages to make it look convincing. "I'll ask the High Inquisitor to have a portrait and plaque mounted for you in the House of Questions with just the very thing inscribed under your name," she tells the newly-anointed duke solemnly. As for her guess? She covers her hand over her tumbler.

Cesare gestures the orange-bearing person toward Apollo. "Juggle, your Dukeness," he suggests, bowing very politely before retreating to sit daintily upon Lianne's knee, apparently having mistaken the invitation for himself.

Cornelius bid a gentle bow toward Lianne with a smile, although it was anyone's guess if the smile was a bit more pronounced that a normal crease of his mouth than normal due to the amount of wine he had been having. "Duchess, I thank you for such kind praise. And I am quite glad to be here in the company I have not the pleasure to keep, regrettably. It is a fine change of pace than quietly taking drinks at the Ebb and Flow." He toasted Lianne with a nod to affirm his words, taking a sip of wine.

Amari seems to be getting a little fuzzy, as she's slow to make a guess this round. Her cup is completely empty, so it's either toast or cover. She goes with the latter, because eventually, someday, that will be the right guess. It's a probability.

Apollo checks stamina and survival at normal. Apollo is successful.

Apollo checks dexterity and legerdemain at hard. Apollo is marginally successful.

Lianne runs a hand lightly down Cesare's back when the Whisper takes up that invitation, nevermind who it was meant for. Digits settle in a curl upon his farther side, mostly so they don't lazily slip toward impropriety. "Should you ever care for company, Lord Cornelius, it's been far too long since I visited. I can't promise I'll indulge quite so much when not within the privacy of my own home and among those I call family and friend, but I assure you my conversational capacity will almost certainly be improved." She gives her wine glass a little waggle. Whether she's warning against poor conversation or crediting herself for being reasonably capable now is anyone's guess, but given the pride and pleasure she's worn all night, it's likely the latter.

Romulius looks between Cornelius and Lianne at the exchange, a brow arching at the Duchess's assessment of his father. The younger Blackshore might not agree, but the eloquent response given by the elder sees the corner of a lip curl into a smile. He must find something amusing about his bloodline's overbearing sense of formality, from the outside.

Lewis, a lanky carpenter's apprentice arrives, delivering a message to Cesare before departing.

"Wait just a minute, you soggy suspicious fucks," Apollo says, turning in a circle to make sure he's understood the votes. And then he hands off his wine glass to Cesare, and takes the oranges, and wobbles on his feet a moment. Is that an act? Nnnhghh, it might be an act? He plants his feet a little wider, just to be sure, and pitches the oranges up in the air, an easy lob, one, two, three, criss-cross up high. He almost loses it when he tries to get fancy and catch one behind his back, but... you know. JUGGLING. And then he flashes a grin, and bows, and goes back to sit - tossing an orange across toward Cesare and Lianne, and another to Princess Sorrel, she who is entirely sober. The last he starts peeling, looking satisfied, grin all tilted. He's got a pre-warmed cushion, an orange, and... probably something else.

Cesare checks dexterity and performance at normal. Cesare is successful.

Zoey applauds. "Well done!" she cheers Apollo.

"So good with his hands, he can adeptly juggle while drunk. Of /course/ he is," Adalyn remarks aloud, shaking her head wryly as though sorely disappointed that she didn't see this inevitable state of affairs.

Sorrel reaches a hand up to snatch the orange out of the air with a measure of amusement. She grins at Adalyn's comment. "Juggling is largely a matter of muscle memory, anyway," she points out.

Cesare, in possession of two wine glasses, perched upon a knee, quickly shifts the glasses to one hand and raises the other to smoothly catch the orange that is lobbed in the direction of himself and the Duchess. "He's not /that/ good with his hands," he teases, but he's grinning all the while. He twists a bit, offers the orange to Lianne, and then mock-applauds for the truly impressive performance.

Natasha, too, claps appreciatively for Apollo once she's finished conversing with Romulius quietly; there's even no visible affront when she's *lumped in* with the rest of the soggy suspicious fucks in the gathering! With Cornelius' approach, his interaction with the duchess is one that she observes with quiet but keen interest.

"Duchess, if you would certainly enjoy a spell at the Ebb and Flow, I shall most graciously play host to you and yours. Though, naturally, I would most welcome you within Blackshore Manor, as you have so graciously opened your home on the most delightful of days for Malespero." Cornelius remarked, bowing his head humbly toward Lianne before he caught Romulius for just a brief moment smiling at something. His brow furrowed along in some confusion, canting his head. Though, his cerulean eyes did scan along for any indication of Ember. His question was poised off to his son with some endearment to his words, "Rom, did you happen to see the Crimson Countess on her way out?" Perhaps the old Blackshore was just slightly above tipsy.

Apollo seems so damn -happy-, sitting there eating his orange. "I'm gonna hold you to that portrait," he says to Natasha, glancing up, eyes gleaming. Oh yes. He heard that. The smile suffuses the space. He passes an orange wedge to Amari.

Romulius should probably take some sort of offense at being called soggy, but the rather impressive juggling that follows serves as an easy distraction from any disquiet over that. In current company, there's probable danger in commenting on the talent that the Duke possesses with his hands, but the Sword is rescued from needing to make any comment there with the question posed by Cornelius. Eyes scan the room a moment, a quick shrug given in answer along with, "I'm afraid not. I am sure that if you have need of her, she won't be terribly difficult to track down." The Crimson Square is shared by the Redreef and Blackshore estates, after all, and Ember is *not* the sort of woman practiced at avoiding notice.

Lianne barks a laugh for the way Apollo addresses those gathered, the high arch of her dark brows reading /are we wrong?/ His performance earns some starry-eyed appreciation, right up until an orange is thrown their way, the hand upon Cesare tightening just a smidge before it hits. Is caught. It's caught! Such skill from the Whisper! And misjudgment, too, given how she murmurs, "You have no idea, darling," a bit louder than she likely should. She angles a sidelong look to Adalyn, a small smile. The orange finds its way to the cushion beside her, not nearly so interesting as the wine she's still enjoying. Wine she lifts toward Cornelius to pose, "Both?" with a hint of laughter. "We gladly accept the invitation to your home. Whensoever you see fit."

The duchess glances about at the question of Ember's departure. The countess is certainly eye-catching this evening, and hard to ignore at most parties, but she doesn't see her, doesn't get much chance when one of the guards comes by to quietly lean in and whisper something to his employer. Whatever it is has the enjoyment draining from her features. For a moment. She's quick to put her smile on again as she murmurs an answer and nods to the gentleman.

"Wait, I can do one that's just dragon-themed," Sorrel decides as she adjusts herself in her seat, leaning back to make herself more comfortable. "High Lord Edain Valardin once kept evil cultists from murdering me by protecting me with a shield made out of a dragon scale," she suggests as her first entry. "Valar, the White Dragon, once scooped me up into his giant palm and set me down somewhere less inconvenient for him," is her second suggestion. "And finally, I once rode a dragon to -- once again -- fight evil cultists."

"There seems to be an ongoing theme in this next round of truth and lies, cousin. I wonder what that is," Natasha remarks deadpanned to Sorrel - and with a wink in her direction that's so covert and quick that she could have simply imagined that it happened in the first place. Easing sideways for a moment, briefly leaving Romulius' side so he can converse with her father, she lowers her voice and murmurs to Lianne.

3 Black Fleet Reavers arrives, following Raven.

Ian isn't normally given to noticing changes in other peoples' countenance, but maybe that just makes today not a normal day. Regardless, as Lianne's guard talks to her, his fingers twitch towards his gloves where they're tucked into his belt, like he's on the brink of tugging them loose and putting them on again. He doesn't (yet), but the thought was probably there enough for him to subconsciously want to reassure himself that they're there.

"Dragons?" Sorrel wonders of Natasha. "Or evil cultists?"

"Dragons," Natasha suggests. "Unless when you mean Valar set you on some place inconvenient, it was also in the midst of evil cultists."

Cornelius blinks rather quickly, giving a firm nod toward Lianne, "I shall not keep the doors closed to pleasant company amongst the Peerage, Duchess! But of course. I will have to confer with my brother to see when such an apt time would be in order to hold 'court', so to speak, at the manor. But, let me not interrupt." Romulius' comment had him glancing to the door as if he were bidding to Ember somewhere out there. Alas, to no avail. Cornelius padded off to the wine cask, taking a few moments to himself as he thanked Romulius and cast a belated glance of inquiry Natasha's way once she soon grabbed Lianne's attention.

Zoey says in Sylv'alfar, "The fact that two of those statements is true makes me envious, no lie," Zoey says. Lifts her glass to her lips, changes her mind, then covers it with her other hand."

"The fact that two of those statements is true makes me envious, no lie," Zoey says. Lifts her glass to her lips, changes her mind, then covers it with her other hand.

Mention of dragons seems to find a less enthusiastic audience in one of the Thraxes present, Romulius hiding a look of displeasure behind a sip of his wine. It's his guess, as well, but the game doesn't seem to be played as enthusiastically as the past few rounds.

Cesare is about to retort something to Lianne, but he's interrupted by the arrival of a guard murmuring something to her, and once the gentleman has departed, so too, apparently, has his retort. He says nothing, instead, and simply smiles seraphically, waggling Apollo's forgotten glass of wine at him.

raven,Lianne=When Raven returns to the tower, the party still on-going, she might notice there's something going on outside. The guards are on high alert, a few gathered somewhere off nearer the stables, talking amongst themselves, and a few clustered about the front door, likewise occupied. If Raven pays careful attention, she might catch some blood and guts spattered on the wall to one side of the main doors to the tower. This probably is what has the guards on alert, but they bow their heads and let Raven by all the same. Cheerfully. As if there's nothing to worry about. Appearances must be kept.

Adalyn's eyes gleam with a roguish mischief as she appears to be considering the many remarks that pop into her brain in response to Cesare's quip. Lianne's answer rescues her from having to formulate any coherent thought, the duchess's reply prompting a quiet laugh from the lazily sprawled Clement. The mention of dragons earns a curious glance. "I rather wish all of them were true."

Oh, no, they were absolutely right. The soggy suspicious fucks were right. Apollo just isn't elaborating. He's eating his orange, and passing another orange wedge to Amari; this time, from behind his hand descends a pretty iridescite pendant, right in front of her face. And he turns in his seat, leans close to kiss her cheek, and grins at her. Stolen item returned, before he pushes to his feet to go pluck his wine from the Whisper's fingers. He... covers the glass, once it's in hand. That's his guess.

Amari tips her empty glass back for an imaginary drink, then says, "He did not." She doubts. The wedge of orange Apollo passes her way makes a fine substitute for wine. Kinda. "Thank you." She says ever so properly. And another. Oh that's nice. The pendant is given such a look though. She turns her head to side eye it as it dangles before her face, and when its in her hand, her brow knits and stays knitted.

After a brief conference with the newly-declared duchess, Natasha watches as she and Cesare step off, before booted feet take her back to her husband's proximity and shadow, pale fingers reaching to re-secure her fingers over the crook of his inner elbow. Sorrel's new set of truth and lies gets a guess by way of a single digit pointed upwards to indicate her guess - the first.

Lianne checks stamina at normal. Lianne fails.

Cesare slips off Lianne's lap, too distracted by anything and everything to have a proper guess at Sorrel's second turn. He finishes his glass of wine and does not, this time, immediately retrieve another, slouching down next to Adalyn and casting his gaze toward Apollo and his orange, as if he did not just have an orange of his own which he promptly gave away.

There's an immediate tensing of form by Romulius as Natasha returns to his side, something apparently whispered causing significant concern. A hand comes to Ian's shoulder, something whispered to his fellow Sword before an arm comes to fall around his wife's back. He had been surly before - now, the man is clearly agitated by *something*.

Zoey switches to holding up three fingers so she can take a drink from her wine while she tries to to ogle curiously.

When Cesare slips from her lap, Lianne gets to her feet. And then sits right back down. Involuntarily. Oh, nope. She's just gonna wait here a second. At the moment, it doesn't seem like she's paying much mind to anything beyond getting her bearings. Several seconds and a deep breath see her push up again a bit more steadily. Surer on her feet, she moves toward Apollo, drifting past Cesare and Adalyn on her way, the former given a brush of the back of her hand against his arm as she goes by, apology or gratitude. Or maybe just a brief bit of steadying for herself. When she gets to Apollo, she leans in and mutters something to him, gravity quite likely to draw her lapward if she keeps up that lean.

Ian looks at Romulius and tugs his gloves free from where they're tucked into his belt, putting them on for the second time at the same goddamned party. His countenance doesn't change, however. He angles his head towards the other man and mutters something.

Sorrel is distracted now by Lianne's unsteadiness. "What's going on?" she says, glancing around with a measure of worry,her brow furrowing deeply. "Something's going on again. What's going on?"

Raven arrives looking sour. Like, permantly, terminally, sour. She is not loving today for whatever reason. She's wearing her Iron Guard's crest which she didn't have on earlier, "Nothing which need concern the guests." She ambles wearily over towards Sorrel to close the distance just looking-utterly exhuasted.

Cornelius meets Romulius' gaze as Natasha returns to his side, clearly concerned as he was bound to be leaving rather shortly. Tentative steps took him to his son and daughter-in-law, along with Ian as he seemed to slowly and surely beginning to sober up with the concerns that were starting to make themselves known throughout the throng of guests. Glass was deposited as he bid for Romulius' attentions between Natasha and Ian.

Adalyn makes slight adjustments in her sprawling posture to accommodate Cesare's joining her, an arm slung comfortably around him, weight shifted against him as much as against the furniture itself now. She somehow manages to keep her glass upright, although the lack of slashing contents is likely due to how little wine is left in her glass. She's less attentive than she might be in a more sober state, but her curious gaze follows Lianne's path toward Apollo.

"Damn, is this still going?" Ilira strides into Malespero Tower like she isn't hours late, making it look fashionable in her dusky velvet and glistening rose leather. She idles by the door a moment, one gloved hand on her leather-clad hip as she gages the scene and smirks. Her eyes skim from the shenanigans to the muttering, flickering thoughtfully beneath her dark lashes. "Gods, did I join this party just as it went south?" She saunters into the throng proper and searches the room for the corner that seems right, settling after a moment on the last available place by the fire. "Evening," she greets the lounging partygoers as she glides up, flashing a secret smile for Zoey and Cesare in particular.

Apollo extends his... approximately five-eighths of an orange Cesare's way, and waggles it; he turns his face up to Lianne, arm still extended like that. It slowly drifts downward as Lianne murmurs to him, forehead creasing. And he shakes his head. He sighs heavily, and if he still has that orange, he's going to shove the whole thing in his mouth.

Ian excuses himself and steps away from the hearth to join Raven.

Ian has left the a cozy stone fireplace.

The Sword of New Hope's reaction isn't entirely unexpected; Natasha's hand fans a pale array of elegant digits over Romulius' mid-back - meant more for reassurance perhaps, than any public note of affection, up until a member of the Iron Guard makes herself known. Her gaze follows Raven's wake towards her cousin, though attention is diverted immediately towards Lianne and Apollo. There's visible concern, but one that she manages to smother with a sip of the whiskey from her short glass. With quiet discussion commencing with the Kennexes and her father-in-law, she tilts her body back to the group.

Ilira has joined the a cozy stone fireplace.

Zoey watches Ian leave her side to join the Blackheart, flashes a smile and a brief wave to Ilira, then quietly says something to Natasha.

Romulius finishes a last hushed word with Ian before turning towards his father and giving another few words under his breath before attention begins to flit about the parlor. The former Blackshore isn't a subtle man, by any stretch, and it's clear enough that *something* has set him on alert.

The mood of the party has certainly shifted again. Cesare leans over, eyes scanning the assembled faces present, and takes a bite out of the orange which is being waggled at him. It's a playful move, probably meant to distract, except it comes almost immediately as Apollo also takes a bite, and if the orange were longer and wigglier, they would be like two stray dogs from a popular children's film. Instead, both of them get squirted with juice right in the face, probably.

Orange bitten, playful mood very rapidly dissipating, Cesare is, despite any appearances otherwise, not at all in the realm of tipsy or drunk as he may have seemed. He rises from his sprawl, putting a steadying hand on Lianne's shoulder, and offers the other to orange-mouthed Apollo.

Ian's demeanor is remarkably casual, considering. Or maybe calm would be a better descriptor for it. The point is that he seems neither tense, nor upset, nor even especially weary right at the moment. He's still got that last bit of armor on, though (the gloves).

Lianne leans in to kiss Apollo, sweet and silencing. "It's alright," she tells him. Just... give her a second to push upright again. Cesare's steadying hand helps. She turns, looks to the room. All that concern. She flashes a smile to the arriving Ilira, a brightness which shifts toward apologetic. Her verdant gaze sets on Raven for a moment, the Iron Guard insignia. Had that been there before? Did someone signal the Guard? Lips purse a moment. No matter. "My darlings. My dear friends. I am so grateful that we had all of you here to share in our joy, our excitement. You have certainly weathered a strange night with us and done so beautifully. Both Apollo and I are grateful." The /but/ is almost palpable. "It's very likely about time for us to call it a night, however. My guards have alerted me to further security concerns pursuant to the earlier oddities. That's almost certainly a sign that we ought to call it a night. I will do my best to keep you all informed, in no small part that I might get replies to assure me that you all returned home well and whole." She pauses after, seems to be reviewing what she said in her head. Then she nods. Yes, that's good.

Raven eyes The Duchess, her husband, and Cesare. Softly to Ian, "...what kind of party is this again?"

"Lycene, darling. It's a Lycene party." Lianne doesn't miss a beat.

Raven says, "To that end, Your Grace, Once the guests leave I'd like to speak with you and your guards?"

Adalyn catches sight of Apollo's creased brow, eyes lingering upon his features in an attempt to read his expression. She pushes herself up to a seated position and leans precariously forward, but manages to do so without toppling, a hand brushing Apollo's arm. Her voice is low, a quiet murmur, although she falls quiet to listen while Lianne addresses the gathering. It appears to have a somewhat sobering effect, her expression growing solemn and intent upon focusing. "Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

"I'm sure that with Prince Romulius, Lord Ian, and I, we can get Lady Zoey and Princess Natasha home safely," Sorrel offers as she rises to her feet. "And we can escort Lady Adalyn and Lady Amari to the Valardin Ward on the way, even though it's not the most direct route."

Raven pauses at something Ian asks her and faces the entrance, seeming to give directions helpfully as she gives him directions on how to avoid getting an eyeful.

Cesare barks a laugh at the idea of Adalyn needing an escort, winking at her. "Is it necessary that this be done immediately? I'm sure the Duchess's memory, and her guards' will keep until the morning. We've all had a very long day and a great deal of wine."

"If it's evil cultists, we'll be fine if Princess Sorrel doesn't leave." Amari thinks aloud, but she doesn't yet seem sure it's anything at all. The mood has definitely taken a turn, so Ilira's entrance stands out that much more to her. She'll glance to the Whisper and give a nod of greeting. With Liane's words, however, she slowly stands. Adalyn's questions are in her eyes, but to Sorrel's plan she says, "We could all go together to the city center. Adalyn and I ought to be fine along the Valardin Way from there."

Apollo has a lot to process. And a lot of people in his orbit Like, one of them suddenly eating half the orange from out his mouth, gods. He might be turning as-yet-unseen shades of red. Adalyn gets a slight smile, and he murmurs something to her; then he leans over toward Amari, says something quietly to /her/, too. He looks back at Cesare, Lianne, considers from his cage of people. And nods.

Cornelius bid a bow toward Lianne as she spoke, directing a glance to Apollo with a smile. He did not seem to put off by whatever security measures had been warranted, but pleasantries were still upheld, "Duchess, I thank you for such hospitality this evening. It was a lovely outing and a sincerest of congratulations down upon House Malespero." With his own business concluded, Cornelius waited along at the door until the group of Romulius, Natasha, Ian, Zoey, and Sorrel had begun to make ventures to leave as a unit.

Ian asks a couple of last questions of Raven. The answer to the first seems to erase the last scraps of his concern, and the answer to the second is the directions she gives him. He nods to her, and returns to Zoey's side again. "Probably isn't cultists. No bush growing around the place. A group of us should be fine. Probably not a good idea for anyone to leave alone."

No sooner than the Duchess has finished her announcing an end to the night's festivities that Romulius is making ready to lead Natasha and Zoey towards where Ian and Raven are. Sorrel, thankfully, prevents him from needing to make any excuse for the exit being somewhat terse. "Of course, your Highness." Politesse has been set aside, and there's no real effort made to offer any sort of polite farewell to either Lianne or Apollo before ushering whatever collection he might be charged with the protection of towards an exit. There's no comment on cultists.

Zoey says something to her protege before rising to her feet. "Back to the home ward then?" she asks, looking between Natasha and Ian. She turns to Lianne and manages a smile. "Aside from the strangeness, it was a lovely time."

Raven says, "Anyone who needs armed escort is welcome to make the requests and Reavers, Iron Guard, or myself can see to it."

Ilira laughs a soft, warm laugh under her breath and rises as quickly from her seat as she took it. Approaching the Duke and Duchess, she sweeps a fluid bow and says, ever smiling, "I'm so sorry I arrived too late to revel in the festivities with you. I wanted to extend my congratulations, before I head out." Her eyes linger on the two for a moment, crinkling softly at the corners. "I am delighted for the both of you, and your whole house. I wish you utterly the best." Then, with another elegant bow of her head, she turns from the group and strides toward the door, glancing back a moment at Raven. "I didn't bring my weapons, so I could perhaps use an escort, if it isn't too much trouble."

It is Lianne's tower, and with the Duke and Duchess calling it a night, an acknowledging and understanding nod forces glossy dark curls to cling to her cheeks. If allowed, a hand extends in offerance to her protege and her husband, to give their fingers a squeeze each should they accept. "I'm glad to have attended the last half of another interesting evening, Duchess. Duke." Her smile is a faint one, and while concern remains evident, there's genuine warmth in what little expression is present. It is plain, however, that her concern is for both Malesperos and not necessarily her own safety when whatever trouble has arrived is occurring *here*. "I look forward to the fruits of this latest development and if there is anything I can assist with, you needn't but ask." She doesn't seem to be willing, however, to tarry further with the tension she feels around her back, a nod of confirmation to Lady Zoey, before she allows herself to be led towards the route home.

Lianne laughs for Amari's words, an easy sound despite the potential unpleasantness of their current circumstances. "I'm sure she'll thwart any cultists who might try to catch you on the way." Another humored breath escapes for Ian's addition, for that dry humor of his. She nods her gratitude to Cornelius, to Sorrel, to Raven. Zoey eanrs a warm smile. "It has." She means it. Gods, she's... really struggling to just /not/ be happy right now. She's happy! Despite the genuine concern and grief trying to fight to the surface. Such strange night. Adalyn gets to see a bit more of that conflict, that confusion, as she turns to her and murmurs, "I'll be in touch, mm? For now, just get home safely." That same messy expression lingers as her attention turns to Natasha. "Soon." A promise. To Ilira, she murmurs an awfully rueful, "Thank you," knowing how poor the timing was.

And then the guests leave, they'll see... little amiss, lest they look back and catch that splatter of guts and bloods on the wall by the door. The body's been moved, as asked, and the guards are on appropriate alert for whatever it is that's happening.