(OOC)The scene set/room mood is now set to: The lights shining from the windows of Rabble Art beckon visitors to enter, providing a cheery contrast to the gloomy streets of the Lowers. A fire has been lit in the hearth in an attempt to dispel the chill from the air and furniture has been arranged throughout the room to create gathering spaces. The tables boast a wide variety of supplies to choose from: paintbrushes and paint in a wide array of colors, charcoal sticks, parchment, clay for molding, writing utensils, and so forth. A table of refreshments has been set out, a modest but delicious-looking spread on offer for the guests.

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove arrive, following Cesare.

Rabble Art frequently entertains visitors from the Lowers, both regulars and first-timers, but on occasion, an invitation is issued to the residents of the city at large. Such is the case this evening, the community art center providing a humble but inviting setting for those who are drawn in, whether by curiosity or by a desire to create. Scraps of parchment have been collected in a bowl, prompts scrawled upon each strip - potential inspiration for those who prefer a random suggestion to their own ideas.

Samira mills about the room, seeing to last-minute adjustments with a glass of whiskey clutched in hand.

Cesare bursts in the doors in a swirl of colors that matches the interior of the room much better than it does the swirling gusts of white outside. He's covered in a fine dusting of snow, but other than that obvious sign of his trek, seems remarkably untroubled by the weather. Most unlike the majority of Setarcans one may encounter in Arx. Perhaps he's an alien. "Samira," he greets warmly, shaking his coat off and hanging it aside. "I thought I would come by and see what inspiration struck me this evening. How are you?"

That the winds are howling through the streets outside is clearly /not/ a deterrent for Patrizio Pravus for once - wrapped in his heavy cloak, he finds his way in to the warmer interior of the community art centre, as much as he's equally sure to check that he's not trailing snow with him, or spilling it from his shoulders. His usual accompaniment is not with him, and indeed, he seems to be at least trying to not draw as much attention as he ordinarily would, even as he's moving over to greet Samira. "I feel like it's been an age since we've actually spoken to one another," he offers quietly to Samira. "How are you, Messere?" A chuckle, and a dip of his head as well for Cesare, before he offers, "Whisper Cesare, I trust that you are well? We /do/ seem to be moving much more in the same circles of late."

3 Proscipi veteran guards, a soft grey rabbit with huge floppy ears arrive, following Cassiopeia.

As the opening door brings a blast of cold air with it, Samira turns to face the newcomers, a momentary grin brightening her dark features. "Cesare, Prince Patrizio, I'm glad to see you both." No trivial, politely uttered platitudes here, she obviously means every word. "I'm not sure many are going to be interested in braving the weather tonight if they can be tugged warmly in their homes instead," she admits wryly to Cesare. "But I'm eager to see what inspiration might bring this evening as well. I'm doing well enough, no complaints. You?" It has indeed been quite some time since she and the Pravosi prince have had time for a proper conversation and her expression grows faintly rueful. "I figure we've both been keeping busy. Hopefully with more pleasant things than bad. You two are acquainted already?" She glances between the pair, recognizing that introductions might not be needed.

"Oh yes," Cesare agrees with a nod. "Prince Patrizio was one of the first people I met when I came to the city, as a matter of fact." He chuckles, running a hand over his hair to rid it of excess snow. "I think most of us have been quite busy. And now that it's winter, as you say, most people want to stay tucked at home if at all possible, so it's all changing a bit. Less people out and about. Imagine the profusion of events there'll be when spring comes." He picks up a paintbrush and considers it with a discerning look. "Have you talked to Legate Bianca yet? She's back in the city, now. I'm sure she'll be delighted to meet you."

Cassiopeia rushes inside, closing the door quickly behind her, as though she's being chased by the snowflakes. The young woman tries to slip in quietly, unnoticed, knowing she's a bit late, but the woman, over six-feet tall in a short puffy dress, might not be as covert as she thinks. Unbuttoning the coat, her cheeks are flushed from the cold. "Oh this is fun," she murmurs, a smile creeping on her lips. The young woman takes a few steps inwards and immediately she sees a friendly face that makes that smile grow exponentially. "Cesare!," she exclaims, rushing over to where Cesare is standing, offering the man a hug. This brings her in the path of both Patrizio and Samira. "Your highness," she greets the former, offering a polite bow before she looks at Samira, an unfamiliar face. "Hello, I know nothing about art," she admits to her, "but I thought I might find somewhere warm and friendly to spend a bit of time. I... cannot spend every hour hiding inside, it's just... not healthy," she murmurs with warmth and some level of excitement.

"I wouldn't have missed it for all the mulled wine in the world," Patrizio assures Samira, with that warm smile of his, even as he's contemplating that bowl with the scraps of parchment - no artist is he, perhaps, but he doesn't seem either like he's actually avoiding it in terror. "And I actually saw the Legate the other night, while I was out and about - briefly, and my concerns were admittedly more about more temporal matters, but she seems in good health and prepared to hit the ground running now that she's back. But...." His grin shifts from Cesare back to Samira when he nods. "As the good whisper says, we are quite so, yes. I'm slowly after all this time getting a good grasp upon who I do and do not know."

And Cassiopeia's arrival is just such an example, as he chuckles and briefly dips his head to her. "Marquessa," he offers softly, and gestures to Samira. "Messere, have you before met the Marquessa Proscipi? We're slowly acquainting her with the concept of an Arxian winter."

Samira's demeanor has shifted in slight, nearly imperceptible ways with the broadening company stepping into the art center. Slightly more polite, a little less of her dark, sarcastic edge on display, but that Lowers lilt to her words can't be denied. "I think it's kinda fitting that we receive only those who were willing to brave the cold this evening. Makes it feel like it means more somehow, and it's nice to spend time in a smaller group than navigating a rush of people." Is that a hint of relief for not having to host a mass of people? Cassiopeia receives a polite nod and a small smile. "I always say you don't have to know anything about art to enjoy it. Don't even have to believe you're skilled in it, either. It's about the process. Glad you came. I put out a bowl of prompts for anyone who is feeling adventurous. I'll warn you some of them might be a bit abstract." She shakes her head in direct answer to Patrizio's question, adding, "Nice to meet you, Marquessa Proscipi."

Blue, a cantankerous western bluebird arrives, following Gael.

Blue, a cantankerous western bluebird leaves, following Gael.

Cesare closes his eyes, perhaps a bit dramatically, and plunges his hand into the bowl of parchments, retrieving one of them and unfolding it to peer curiously at it. "Oh yes, she mentioned she'd run into you and Raven complaining about the cold." His tone is wry - but as soon as he spots Cassiopeia his expression turns to genuine pleasure, and he returns her hug gladly. "Nonsense, Marquessa. You know plenty about art. All that's required is that you enjoy it, after all, and have a thoughtful mind. Samira, Marquessa Cassiopeia is a good friend of mine. Marquessa, Samira is a wonderfully talented painter and a fellow Disciple of Jayus. I'm going to do something which is not a poem or a song, tonight. Challenge myself."

Cassiopeia's cheeks flush at the mention of winter, as though she knows that cold it outside waiting for her. Ready to pounce! Rather she puts her attention into those she is near, a warm smile heats up her features and she offers it to Samira when she is introduced to her, "lovely to meet you Samira and to spend time in your place of art.," she says with appreciation, eyes drifting around. "I do appreciate art and those with the gifts to do it," she says with some certainty glancing between Cesare and Samira, "and I have spent much time with artists and adore that ability to see the world differently, capture what others might miss... and spent countless hours siting still for art," she says wincing a little, but the smile is easy. Cesare's hug is warm and affectionate, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek, seeming a cultural greeting for her. At the mention of the bowl she finds herself curious and she cannot resist the chance it brings. A hand reaches in and she pulls out a piece of paper, "I am not quite sure what I will do but...," she looks at the paper. There is a moment she is flooded by a rush of emotions, each one playing out across her face. A mix of joy and sadness in her eyes as she folds it back up and she murmurs, "that's perfect."

That bowl has been calling to Patrizio, so while the others are conversing - and the prince has gotten himself a drink - there's the thrust of his hand into the bowl to root around and see what he comes forth with. The script on the parchment is examined carefully, with a crease of those well-plucked brows while he considers the words in ink, and the worlds of meaning behind those words, before he turns to consider the various aspects of the artistic tools that linger nearby.

"It's always a pleasure to see Rabble Art filled with people who understand the importance of art." Samira remarks to Cassiopeia, her expression suggesting the woman is welcome here anytime - provided she's willing to brave the streets of the Lowers to get here. She watches with a look of satisfaction when a few of the prompts are snagged for use. "If what you choose doesn't inspire, you can draw again or choose your own subject of inspiration. I won't be bothered," she assures her guests. Cesare's declaration piques her interest, her brows lifted as she sends a curious glance his way. "What medium will you be using to challenge yourself? I'm eager to see what you come up with." She crosses her arms over her chest, clearly taking pleasure in watching the others mull over the prompts. "If someone wishes to think up a prompt for me, I'll attempt it. It'd only be fair."

Cesare has picked up a piece of vine charcoal before Samira's even finished asking her question, brandishing it like a weapon. "A prompt for you, hmm?" he asks. "These all seem quite philosophical. So perhaps I'll go with something precisely the opposite of philosophical. I should like to see a piece of art about an irresistible woman with the face of a cow, the legs of a lizard, and the tail of... a skunk. Hmm?"

Cassiopeia looks at the art supplies, her brows lifting upwards as she seems unsure what to take. The young woman doesn't seem to have any idea where to start, but she's keen to jump in regardless. "Paint. I think I will paint...," she pauses and closes her eyes. Something strikes her because when they open, they are emotional again. "I know just what I will paint. Oh! I will hang it up in the House somewhere," she says with a growing smile. Picking up some parchment, she selects a paintbrush and she waves it around before she settles herself. "I suppose mine can be... interpretive art? Is that a thing?," she wonders, uncertain, but it will be an experience no doubt. Brushing the bristles against her cheek, she reaches for a couple pots of paint, grey, red, white and blue.

Moments pass where Patrizio's weighing the idea of the materials before him. "I think that Bas is almost certainly going to have my head for doing this," comes the soft voice, even as he glances back to Cassiopeia, Cesare and Samira, before he's turning to pick up the charcoal sticks and a little bit of the paint, and moving over to work on the parchment as he begins to sketch, first with the sticks..

Samira derives obvious enjoyment from watching the reactions to the prompts as they are read and considered - so much so that it takes a moment for Cesare's words to sink in. When they do, she barks a laugh and turns to regard him with a wry grin. "One irresistible cow-faced, lizard-legged, skunk-tailed woman coming right up. Remind me to invite you to come up with all the prompts next time, yeah?" She nods encouragingly to Cassiopeia before offers verbal coaching. "Sure it is. It can be whatever you'd like it to be." Patrizio receives a curious look too for the remark made before she settles down with a paintbrush in hand.

Cesare checked dexterity + sewing at difficulty -1, rolling 45 higher.

Cesare flashes Samira a grin, waggling his eyebrows. "Party games are part of Whisper training, you know," he teases. Probably this is a lie. Possibly it is not. "I can't wait to see her. I mean, I see her in my dreams every night. But I can't wait to see my dreams realized." He pins a piece of parchment to an easel and takes his place in front of it with a sort of unshakable confidence which suggests he knows what he's doing. He does not, to be clear. But it /seems/ like he does. And in a way he certainly has the ease of someone who has spent a lifetime doodling in the margins of his notes, and a natural line quality that comes with the delicacy of a carefully-trained hand. Or maybe that's just some magical quality which comes with being a leftie.

Cassiopeia lifts the paintbrush and she dips it into the black paint, and then mixes it with a little white, creating a nice grey tone. Looking at the parchment she draws a large oval in the centre. Then four sticks extending from the bottom. This makes her smile, she lights up as she starts to colour in the oval with the paint. Looking up at the others, she is curious what they are doing, but mostly she is focused on the piece she creates. "I cannot recall the last time I made anything," she says honestly. Despite this, she seems to be content to do what she is doing.

"Most of the time, I am destroying things. Bas is the creator," comes Patrizio's voice with a note of some amusement as he's doing... something on the parchment. Steady lines of things, and parapets - quite likely a fortified wall - though he's now and again crumpling the paper as if he's going for some kind of texture... and then he's bringing the paint brush into play to start adding dabs of colour, and a consideration for Samira with the brightness of her response to Cesare's prompt. "Some of us do better following orders," he says, as if to poke some fun at himself.

"It's outlined in the introductory course to Whisper Event Planning, huh?" Samira asks of Cesare in a tone of voice that suggests this makes perfect sense. "If she's the sort of dream you look forward to, I can't imagine your nightmares." She can't resist sneaking a few curious glances at the others as the engage in the process of creating, but after a moment, she turns attention to her own canvas. "Destroying things can be really cathartic. But so can creating."

Cassiopeia paints a larger blue circle around the grey oval, her brows are scrunched together as she concentrates. The young woman is putting her best efforts forward and where she lacks skill, she shows a genuine desire for fun. Glancing up at Patrizio she offers him a warm smile, "there is place for all types. To be great, one doesn't need to know everything, but merely be willing to listen," she offers, a gentle tone, but quick to share a thought to the prince. Turning her head sideways to look at Samira, she seems curious what she is doing, but then looks over at Cesare with a fond smile. The brush returns to the parchment and she is filling in the blue. Whenever she sees, is no doubt a rich story, beyond what is merely showing up for everyone else. It takes her on a journey and she reflects that in her mannerisms. "This is... different," she muses as she moves the brush across the surface.

Slowly, what it is that is before Patrizio is starting to take shape, the structure of a city wall, of a sea nearby - as hard as it is to see from the unpracticed hand that he has - and... smoke that rises from it. But from the smoke, from cracks and crevasses in the stone, from the crinkles in the paper, come streaks of colour, of hints of new life, and of better days to come. "Art is different," counters the prince, when he's looking up, and not quite at what others are doing, as if he's worried about being influenced. Cesare and Samira's conversation gets a bit of a smile, before he's taking a slight step back, and considering what it is that he's wrought...

Samira has fallen silent as she works, occasionally rinsing her brush before selecting new colors to add to her masterpiece. Her brow furrows, a step taken back to consider her work from a more distanced vantage point. She glances sidelong toward Cassiopeia, offering a subtle smile of agreement for the other woman's words. She nods to Patrizio, eyes returning to her own work. "It is different. In the most comforting of ways." Or so she seems to think.

Cassiopeia cleans her brush and picks another mix of colour, red and white. Enough to make a skin tone, not entirely pale, but a bit darker. She begins to paint two circles, and a series of lines. It's stick people. Little ones, two children. There are two larger children, but not adults at the edge of the blue. Like they are watching the two riding the large grey thing. That gets a head and some small ears. A smile lights her up, her eyes mixes with that bitter joy, causing them to water a little as she finds green and adds some swirls that might be plants. "Indeed," she murmurs, breathing out slowly. "It is very different," she squints at her painting, it makes her smile suddenly and she looks proud of something a child might do. It excites her.

Samira checked dexterity + artwork at difficulty 19, rolling 77 higher.

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

Cesare stands back from his piece of parchment with a hand on his hip. He considers it. It's a mirror, a large standing full-length one, almost all shaded in black except for a slash of light diagonally across its surface. The slash of light has a faint reflection, perhaps a person, but it's not clear who that reflection might be, or if it's really a person at all.

Rabble Art proves to be a cozy little building in the midst of the Lowers, humble but inviting. A table of refreshments has been set out for anyone who wishes to help themselves and a variety of art supplies have been placed upon the tables for the use of guests. A bowl upon the table holds scraps of parchments with art prompts written upon them, offered to those who might wish to challenge themselves with a bit of random inspiration. Those gathered appear to be in various stages of creating.

Samira puts a few finishing touches upon her piece - a curvy lady with the face of a cow, tail of a skunk, and legs of a lizard, just as requested - and steps back with a snicker. "Gods, I'm kinda jealous of her hair. Not to mention that gorgeous bushy tail. No wonder you dream of her, Cesare." She cranes her neck, glancing curiously toward the others to see how they are faring. Catching sight of Cesare's parchment, she draws near for a closer look. "This is really compelling. I like the mystery of it, that the audience can't quite make out who or what might be reflected in the mirror."

"Hair is a good thing to be jealous of." Patrizio smiles, even as he's taking a step back from the piece and putting down the brushes, before he shakes his head and chuckles, considering the matter. "I probably should stick to the artistry of the movements of armies and the like, where I've better skill," he finally pronounces, but there's no effort to do something horrible to the piece either.

Though that's when one of his centurions do come in from without, with a scrap of paper, and a few words to his ear, before there's a sigh that slides from his throat, and he's sketching a bow to Samira. "Thank you for enduring my awful attempt at such this evening, messere, but I seem to be required back at my office."

"You and I will have to talk about love sometime," Cesare replies dryly to Samira. He peers at the works that Patrizio and Cassiopeia are creating, pleased to see them both enjoying themselves. "How wonderful," he muses. The skill level is obviously not at all a factor in his assessment. "Ah, but I should be on my way too. I still have so much work to do on my composition for Princess Denica's opening in a few nights. Don't tell her I've been procrastinating."

A few more things are added, some pink dots as she covers what she can with paint. Then she smiles at it, and she is done. Her attention draws to Cesare's painting and it takes her aback, she goes quiet as she studies it, and then him. Her eyes shine with appreciation for the man, and his presence there. Tilting her head to the side, she allows herself to be briefly consumed by the piece before a smile dances on her lips. "That's amazing." Cassiopeia picks up her 'art' and holds it proudly. To Cesare she smiles warmly, "let's find each other soon, be well my dear," she says fondly, before dipping her head to the passing prince. "I know I will have to face the cold, soon enough," she says, glancing at the door. To Samira she smiles brightly, "thank you so much. It's been a lovely night and you a gracious host."

Help himself he will, Rook thinks. He makes his way towards the refreshment fixing himself a drink before wandering away to look at the art on the walls. Ending up where the patrons have gathered, he stands behind them sipping on his drink and watching them paint. Outside a posse of silver dressed guards and an assistant wait. Taking advantage of the lull to sit down.

"No such thing as an awful attempt if it's an honest one," Samira calls in Patrizio's wake, waving farewell to the Pravosi prince. Cesare receives a sardonic grin in return, the artist turning thoughtful. "That we should. Ought to be a riveting conversation. Your sketch. Do you wish to keep it or would you be willing to have it displayed here?" She juts her chin toward the communal wall where various artwork has been hung on display. She smiles warmly to Cassiopeia in turn. "I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself. Thank you for coming and making it such an enjoyable evening." Rook's entrance doesn't escape notice, a polite offered to the newcomer. "Welcome to Rabble Art. Eat, drink, come create. You can pick a prompt from the bowl if you'd like."

"Oh, please keep it," Cesare acknowledges. "I'll have you over to mine sometime and we can drink too much and pour our hearts out to each other, hmm? Who better for it than a Whisper?" He bows slightly to Samira, with a wink, and then gives Cassiopeia a quick hug. "Yes, my dear. Soon. I promise not to fall off a cliff before then, as long as you don't get frostbite. Goodnight, Samira."

Samira puts a sketch of a darkened mirror illuminated by a slice of light in a communal art wall.

Rook looks to Samira, nodding with a polite smile. He diverts his eyes to the bowl, studying it for a small moment before returning his gaze back to her, "Cute." The man replies sincerely, "Is this one of those private galleries?"

A parting hug is given to Cesare, as Cassiopeia tries her best to clean up her paint station, before she scoops up her painting. "I think I will hang this up at home," Cassi looks down at the painting and then offers. "It's me and Savio, riding a hippo in the mud. There is Remus and Giorgio looking at us like it's a bad idea and we should behave and not ride hippos in the mud. This should go at the house museum, I will have it framed," she decides. A smile erupts, and she shares it with Rook, as she sees another enter. "Have a lovely evening," she offers collectively to Rook and Samira before the young braces for the cold.

3 Proscipi veteran guards, a soft grey rabbit with huge floppy ears leave, following Cassiopeia.

"Sounds like a plan. Stay warm," Samira calls to the departing Whisper. For a moment, as she watches him, there's only gladness and none of her usual caution. She turns a smile upon Cassiopeia, the description of the art drawing a grin and a wave of farewell. Attention returns to Rook, a moment's study devoted to the man. She gives a shake of her head in answer to the question. "Not at all. This place was build as an art center for the Lowers - well, for anyone and everyone, really. But /especially/ those of the Lowers. It's meant to be a safe place for people, a place to create and express themselves. The artwork on the walls isn't just mine. It's lots of the visitors that come here."

Rook stepping aside for those leaving, he nods in passing, looking up to Cassiopeia to meet her smile with a polite one. Once gone, he turns back to Samira. Listening, he takes his eyes away to look at the interior of the place, "I see... You say a safe place for people? Despite all the killings and crime in the recent weeks. How do you mean?" He asks very pointily, crossing his arms.

Samira arches a brow, a quiet snort escaping her. "Killings and crime aren't going to stop just 'cause there's an art center in town now. I can't control what happens out there." A paint-stained hand lifts, gesturing toward the door and the streets beyond. "But here, inside this building? It's quiet, peaceful. A refuge for those who choose to come here, and I aim to keep it that way."

Rook smiles at her snort, sipping on his drink as he studies her face before pointing to the sailors with his nose, "With the Culler's help?"

Samira glances to the trio of Culler toughs, offering a careless shrug in answer. "Sure, they help. Never hurts to have Cullers around to let people know what the expectations are. And even if they're not around, I can handle myself without any trouble." Her scrawny frame might suggest otherwise, but even so, there's a fiery glint in her eyes that bespeaks grit and a determined spirit. A swift glance over the surroundings steals her attention, her voice shifting to one of apology. "I should start cleaning up. But stay as long as you want. The food and drinks shouldn't go to waste."

Rook finishes his drink, setting it aside. He chuckles and nods, "Ok. Well, keep up the good work." Rook then says, turning around after bowing politely and leaving the art house.

Those parting words coax a faint smile from Samira. "Thanks, I intend to try. Stay warm." A casual upnod is offered to the departing visitor and then she turns attention back to the room at large, sights set upon the supplies which need to be straightened and paint spills to be wiped up.