Aconite checked dexterity + alchemy at difficulty 9, rolling 3 higher.

Aconite drops Hopper's Big Day, a sculpture of a rabbit done in white blossoms.

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

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

Fiore, the elegantly long-limbed androgyne arrives, following Caprice.

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

(OOC)The scene set/room mood is now set to: The field has been outfitted in a large festival though it has been carefully blocked out so that the majority of the field is left to be explored on one's own outside of the celebration. Allowing one to bask in the beauty of the floral landscape. Here and there people dot the fields with baskets of various flowers braiding out floral crowns for anyone who wishes them out of a rainbow of blooms.

Massive white pavilions with spires that fly brilliantly colored flags define the main part of the festival. Folding chairs have been tied with colorful ribbons and have been set out in groups but are easily shifted and moved around to allow for groups to shift organically. There are tables under the pavilions lined with a variety of cooled juices, and a buffet of tiny decorative cakes, bite sized pies and finger sandwiches of all sorts.

The maypole is ready for those who wish to take ribbons to dance, and around it an area has been sectioned off for dancing with a tiny stage raised between the garden party area and the maypole dance arena. Here is where Performances will take place between sets by various bands from around Arvum.





Gio takes a single, delicate dried crimson flower petal from scribe's leather satchel.

ST: Bows of colored ribbon tied into the boughs of the trees lead people out into the wide floral fields that stand not far from the Lodge of Petrichor. When one emerges from the tangle of trees into the field one is greeted with a sight of people from all social standings are re-discovering the magic of the massive area. Sculptures are dotted throughout the landscape, currently the biggest and most notable are a massive white bunny and a depiction of a massive bull. People move by these marveling at the works created in flowers.

The band plays a airy whimsical tune that encourages dancers across the round open space, a few toy with the ribbons of the maypole waiting, it would seem, for the announcement that the weaving dance will begin.

Apprentice Whispers are careful to help people with the ridiculously fancy fingers foods and a few borrowed Fidante retainers are making their way around with wine and juice bottles offering refills.



Aconite is overheard praising Cassiopeia.

Aconite is overheard praising Cesare.

Aconite is overheard praising Gianna.

Cassiopeia is already here, having come early to help set-up for the event. The young woman is wearing a gown that is inundated with flowers, keeping on theme for the festival. There is a warm expression on her face and it is hard not to be cheerful, during such an event. There is a table behind her, where people are placing their own flowers, brought in vases or pots, or even just clipped from the vine to situate them for the scrutiny of others. The young woman is offering smiles to those that come into the field, happy to play hostess and bring those gathered together. Taking a moment as the event stars, she makes a few announcements. "For those wishing to enter the flower competition, please bring your flower to the table and judges will take a look at them and we will announce the winners, later on in the event." A breath before she continues. "If you are entering the fashion competition, you will notice a collection of judges wearing a diamond orchid pin. She points at the once she wears, "these were made by the ever talented and lovely, Softest Whisper Cesare," she adds. "Please make sure you greet the judges, say hello and let them see your outfit. At the half-way mark we will deliberate and announce the winners along with the flower competition!," she has a soft voice but is able to make it carry as she then goes to greeting people who have since arrived.

Gianna gracefully wafts across the field, a dark vision in a dress that is... inspired by a flower? It's an odd flower. It's black, for one, and there are white seasilk whiskers at the waist, drooping over the gown's skirt. She might have done her usual striding but she did hurt her ankle not long ago. Stupid grape stomping. Gianna makes her way to Cassiopeia, bowing very slightly forward at the waist. "Marquessa," she greets. "Everything looks lovely. Where is Whisper Aconite, I wonder?"

Frogshield, the Oathlander battle turtle, Lady Astraea, a provincial Oathlander, 4 Valardin Knights arrive, following Damiana.

Cesare is dressed in an outfit adorned with blue-gray poppies and wearing a familiar set of iridescite jewelry. "Oh, I must give all credit to the Radiant and her jeweler apprentices, she did all the hard work of crafting, I simply designed them," he demurs, waving his hand. Pointing at the maypole, he murmurs something to his companion who has arrived with him, faintly amused by whatever joke he's making.

Making his way carefully along the gathered masses coming to attend, Baldessare offers a smile to each who he passes. He did not come equipped with a flower, unfortunately, and casts a gaze around to see if someone who was better prepared than he may have one he could borrow. Preferably before anyone notices.

When the Softest Whisper mentions needing an escort - follow me, he said - Gio is far too much the Lycene to turn such an honor down, because he does. He arrives, a death's head in subdued colors, finery dotted with heart's blood-red ruby and a golden skull. Tucked into the slightly parted teeth of the skull is a single (perfect, at least to Gio's eyes) dried red rose petal. He didn't quite understand the nature of the celebration until now, and Gio's lips twitch into a thin smile, clearly enrapt, despite the quiet manners. He inclines his head to listen, laughs, and responds.

The young woman's attention turns to Gianna as she greets her and her eyes taken in the sight of her gown. "Lovely to see you, what a stunning outfit, thank you for showing it to me." At the mention of Aconite, "oh she is here, but I imagine she is buzzing about, she is the one behind this operation. I am so glad you could come out," she adds with warmth.

Off in one of the flower fields laughter springs up as one of the crown-weavers crafts a clover flower crown for an awkward young man but it's just a bit too big so it sits jauntily, falling over one eye.

Aconite is out amidst the growing numbers of festival goers, a fanciful vision of pink and rose gold with a pop of purple, embodying contained chaos. Bouncing around the field to ensure everything is running smoothly. For the moment she's found herself by the stage talking to one of the band members.

A chorus of 'Ooo' comes from the direction of the canopies where someone has unveiled an ice sculpture of a rose with rose petals frozen inside.




Walking alongside Lady Astraea, Damiana arrives at the gathering. A smile rests upon her face as she pauses often to admire the smell of this flower or that, seeming to truly enjoy the ambiance of this event.

Gianna inclines her head to Cassiopeia. "Just let me know when you'd like me to perform," she tells the woman. She glances around again, spies Aconite, and heads that way. "Whisper, how lovely. Both the event and your outfit. Peaches? I don't think I've ever had fruit-related jewelry. Apparently I need to reconsider that."

"Oh no, an ice sculpture?" Cesare asks, looking over in that direction as the beautiful piece is unveiled. "That isn't going to last long. Shall we have a closer look, and then perhaps a bit of a dance?" He tucks his arm through Gio's and inclines his head in the direction of the sculpture with a tick of his eyebrow.

Aconite puts Velvet skin, a peachy lotion in A small purse with a thin pink ribbon for a strap.

Gio lifts his chin up, dreamy gaze considering the beauty of an ice carving, and he draws a breath in through his nose. "Yes, Softest Whisper, please - there's a very poignant beauty in an ice scuplture, isn't there - it breaks the heart just a little, reminds us to appreciate it while it lasts." Gio's hand rests over Cesare's arm tucked into his, leading the Singer of Setarco in that direction.

A careful negotiation, and Baldessare has procured a flower. Not the fanciest, and certainly not show-worthy, but enough to make it look as if he put some effort into showing up with one. He makes his way over towards the stage, exchanging polite greetings as he goes, looking to find himself a good spot to watch the upcoming performances.

Cassiopeia offers Gianna an appreciative smile, "I would say, whenever you are ready, I think everyone would be delighted see the performance, so perhaps sooner rather than later?," she considers to her, showing her own excitement for it. "Would you like me to introduce you?," she asks, lowering her voice a little.

Damiana continues along with Lady Astraea in a meandering path towards the stage area. Pausing again, here and there, Damiana seems to relish leaning her face in close to the fragrant petals, inhaling deeply to appreciate them. After a slow and steady pace, she finds herself near the tiny stage. Lady Astraea identifies a pair of adjoining seats, and both of them sit down.

ST: Aconite smiles at Gianna, lifting a hand her direction, to the side and open to invite her closer. "Lovely to see you as well, thank you, I thought it would be a nice to try a more subtle approach for once. Your look is breathtaking as always." The Whisper touches Gianna's elbow briefly, "I hear your performance at the Blackrose is going to be talked about for years. We're fortunate you're here. Have you gotten yourself a crown yet?" She wonders warmly nodding the direction of one of the crown-makers that appears to be making crowns of wildflowers for dancers.

Damiana and Astraea pass near a barefoot group of dancers that are breaking the mold and frolicking out amongst the flowers with nigh tiptoed steps through the tulips. The offer the two springs of baby's-breath to adorn themselves with before they're traipsing off once more.

Meanwhile under the awning housing the tiny cakes a small, slightly messy, dispute takes place and a cake is lobbed like a snowball by one man into the face of another. Thankfully a pair of Whisper apprentices intervein and the two men are charmed away from the potential conflict.




ST: Aconite smiles at Gianna, lifting a hand her direction, to the side and open to invite her closer. "Lovely to see you as well, thank you, I thought it would be a nice to try a more subtle approach for once. Your look is breathtaking as always." The Whisper touches Gianna's elbow briefly, " We're fortunate you're here. Have you gotten yourself a crown yet?" She wonders warmly nodding the direction of one of the crown-makers that appears to be making crowns of wildflowers for dancers.

Damiana and Astraea pass near a barefoot group of dancers that are breaking the mold and frolicking out amongst the flowers with nigh tiptoed steps through the tulips. The offer the two springs of baby's-breath to adorn themselves with before they're traipsing off once more.

Meanwhile under the awning housing the tiny cakes a small, slightly messy, dispute takes place and a cake is lobbed like a snowball by one man into the face of another. Thankfully a pair of Whisper apprentices intervein and the two men are charmed away from the potential conflict.




Gianna gives Aconite one of her almost-smiles, inclining her head. "Thank you. A crown?" Gianna absently adjusts one of the whiskery tendrils at her waist. "Perhaps after the performance." Another nod, and she raises her hand in greeting to Cesare as she passes by. With a little twirl in place to show off her gown. A nod to Cassiopeia. "Please do."

Cesare allows himself to be led over to the ice sculpture, examining it with fascination, returning Gianna's greeting as they pass. Each angle reveals a different bloom swirling within, and the shape slowly softens as the day's heat begins to melt it. He snags a flower crown from one of the crown makers and places it atop Gio's mane of raven-wing black curls with a self-satisfied nod, looking over his shoulder at Gianna and Cassi's exchange. "I imagine I'm soon to perform as well, then. Have you ever seen the Nightingale sing before? She has a tremendous voice."

Finding his way to the stage area, Baldessare manages to avoid making any further faux pas, that he is aware of, anyway. As he spots the Nightingale being guided to the stage, he offers a bow of his head to her, if he should happen to catch her glance. Promises kept, and all. He locates a seat and adopts it as his own, settling in until the performance.

Cassiopeia takes the cue from Gianna and then nods to Cesare, confirming he will be next up. The Marquessa is offering the two a smile before she steps into the centre of the field. The woman lets the fullness of her skirt twirl as she settles there and she lifts a hand up, conveniently holding up a flower and waiving about. "Lovely festival goers, we are in for a special treat today. We have a selection of especially talented performers. The first of which really needs no introduction, but for those that might be new to the city. I present to you, the Nightingale of the Bard's College and Legendary Performer, Gianna Delvecchio!," Cassiopeia waives the flower a few more times, watching as petals drift around before she is stepping away, giving the focus over to Gianna.

Gianna inclines her head to Baldessare as she takes the stage, resplendent in a gown of black starlight silk. There's a hint of approval there for the Prince. Chin held high, she waits for silence. She can do that; whispers hush as people pause to listen to the utterly famous Nightingale of the Bard's College. It's a fame she's cultivated over the years, since her arrival in Arx. It's a fame well-earned. Hers is a voice powerful and true; she carries a song with clarity, lifting the spirit toward whatever emotion she cares to evoke. And today, she evokes hope.

A flower is, after all, a rebirth. It is anchored in darkness and it strives sunward to bloom and display its loveliness. A flower has meaning, its own language. A flower is a triumph of colour and scent. Gianna's song explores this theme. Take heart and nurture the tender shoots of hope. Cultivate beauty and joy and colour. There are so many kinds of flower, and that variety is glorious. What would the world be if all flowers were the same? There's a message of freedom in her song, of resisting sameness and embracing diversity. This is, perhaps, a message in a time when the Compact fights against an enemy who would enslave them all to serve himself. Of course, she never outright says it, never names that enemy, but it's the sort of song that could inspire someone to stand tall. To have hope.

"Her reputation precedes her. This will be a day for firsts - flower crowning, and Nightingale's singing. It pleases me, Softest Whisper, and I - am glad you asked me to accompany you." Gio answers, soft, until it's time to hear Gianna's legendary voice.

Settling back into his seat, Baldessare looks happy to have arrived in time for the show. He joins the rest of the gathered crowd in voicing their appreciation for the finery worn by Gianna as well as the way that she presents it.

ST: The display of the petals suspended in ice has a secret! A small crowd has gathered to see the incredibly rare ice sculpture. A wine glass is placed at the base, where the intricate petals form a small spout and a bottle of Maiden's Blush is poured over the petals creating soft falls and sparkling rivulets through the petals and finally making their way into the glass, chilled. Such a rare treat is certainly going to be a hot commodity especially since the heat has already begun to dull the precise curled edges of the ice roses petals.

Aconite lingers on Gianna's outfit for a moment before she's called across the field to tend to one of the many moving parts of the party.

The ribbons on the chairs, trees and maypole are caught on a gust of breeze that ripples through the tree boughs and across the flowers of the field.

As word travels through the crow that the Nighintgale's rumored performance might be beginning soon people start to come in from out in the fields of flowers and begin to gather in the chair's and even sitting around the outer barrier of the dance area in anticipation.

A young couple sits near Baldessare and they lean close and ask, "Is it true at the end of the fetival all of the flower sculptures are going to be torn apart?"

Appearing somewhat confused for a moment, Damiana leans over towards Lady Astraea as the hubbub appears surrounding Gianna's modeling. Lady Astraea murmurs softly in her ear, and Damiana nods before offering applause as well.

Baldessare leans closer to the young people to offer a response, his voice hushed as he anticipates the song to start any more, and he dare not disrupt that. "They would die quickly with time anyway," he explains. "I think I heard someone say once that the tearing apart represents change and regrowth. I am not certain what the custom is behind it, but it is practical at least."

Ohhhh yes, Cesare is getting a glass of that chilled wine, and one for Gio too. He will absolutely fight anyone who tries to suggest that they have any right whatsoever to have a glass before him. No, not really, he's too polite for that. He turns to watch Gianna's performance with a soft, vague smile for the familiar theme she offers, and one which he entirely approves of. At the end of the song, he lifts his hands in applause, and his voice in a cheer.

Cassiopeia has abandoned the flower during the performance and at the end of which, she is applauding. "How stunning, thank you so much Nightingale," she says with a wistful tone. "How perfectly suiting," she gushes and then she lets there be pause for a long minute. Then she speaks up again, "next up we have the always amazing and ever talented, Softest Whisper Cesare," Cassiopeia takes another easy step making room for Cesare, the next performer.

"Marvelous, the Nightingale - " Gio manages to applaud, genteel enough to not splash a drop of wine - he had to drink some, first - and he continues until his hands ache. His pale cheeks flush and his lidded eyes are wet with unshed tears. " - That was moving." He presses the cool glass against his heated cheek, closing his eyes. "Ach, too beautiful."

Damiana adds her approval to the applause as the song concludes, a smile resting upon the entirety of her face. Lady Astraea also offers her appreciation by clapping.

Gianna smiles radiantly at the crowd when she's finished. She only smiles after a performance; perhaps she loves nothing so much as to sing. The Nightingale bows forward at the waist and straightens up with a proud tilt of her chin. Then she's making her way off the stage.

The young couple nod at the agreement that the blooms will all eventually wither but the response about it being a tradition is met with hushed curiosity.

Gianna's performance and the dazzle of her gown is met with a hearty cheer that seems to echo and bounce through the field and forest nearby. People are in awe of her sheer presence.

Aconite, who is off trying to settle which of the cakes should be brought up next has been ignoring the insistent attendant at her shoulder while she watches. Then she's pulled away to take care of the 'cake problem'.

There is only a little bit of fight for one of those chilled glasses, the attending Apprentices helping to maneuver so that the Softest Whisper and Gio are given priority to the rare wine from Tor.






Cesare hands his glass off to Gio and glides onstage, swinging his lute around from his back and taking a moment to tune it. "A hard act to follow," he acknowledges wryly, with a further bow of his head and gesture as Gianna leaves the stage, but that is his only preamble; a soft susurration of chords begins only when the crowd has quieted again, a layered sound which begins quiet, but builds. It is, like many of Cesare's compositions, a song which is not precisely /easy/ to listen to: it's full of warmth and loveliness, but each note seems to be chasing the next, as if seeking something it's perpetually longing for.

"Fingers uncurl like opening petals
A blossom welcoming warmth of the sun
We lie beneath the unbroken sky
All dreams of day's duty unraveled and undone.
Among a bed of blossoms, a painter's palette
Seeking among gardenia and thyme the perfect scent,
A wisp upon the breeze, a drifting cipher unreadable,
No single color of an endless spectrum left unspent -
Yet plucking a heartstring, pulling at marrow.
A momentary pleasure, a respite in which we stretch our ribs
The end of each flower encoded in each bloom
To exhale is not to shrink ourselves;
To curl and wilt is not a blossom's doom.
The passing shadow which cool's one's face,
The silken wisp of silver cloud,
Is only a second's balm from summer sun -
A soft and gentle heavens' shroud."

Remaining in his seat after Gianna has concluded her performance, Baldessare then settles back to absorb that of Cesare. He nods slowly in appreciation of the Softest Whisper's supreme talent.

ST: While people mingle and time passes the tents that are set up to house the various blooms are slowly filling up with carefully cut and displayed flora that has been cultivated throughout the city. Someone has even snuck a wild flower obviously plucked from nearby as an entry.

So far only the two sculptures, Hopper and the Bull, have made their debut. They've gotten a lot of attention though. People marveling at the wicker structures underneath and the way the blossoms are arranged in a portrayal of life.

For those still rocked by Gianna's song, Cesare's performance like the one previous is one of the major points for quite a few people who've come here to bask in the strange bitter-sweet celebration of fleeting blossoms that will soon wither away and become fruits. The Whisper's song embodies it and many faces are wet with tears.




where

Cassiopeia applauds as Cesare's performance comes to an end, the young woman clapping her hands excitedly. "Thank you Softest Whisper. What an incredible song," she says looking emotionally touched by it all. Then! She pipes up, "please everyone another round of applause for our amazing performances." Once the clapping dies down she grins, "now! I am going to announce the winners of today's contest. There will be more at the next event, but please, put your hands together with me," Cassiopeia claps before she announces because that's how it works right? "First up in the fashion category, with a beautiful pin and a donation of twenty-five thousand to the charity of their choice-- for their beautiful black flower gown. Nightingale Gianna!," she exclaims. Then, there is more... "And next, for first place in the bring a flower competition, Gio diMalvici!," she says. "Please, come up to the stage and let me give those one of these amazing pins, designed by the Softest Whisper Cesare!," More clapping, Cassiopeia is excited for everyone.

Gianna absolutely uses the goodwill from her performance to snag a glass of the coveted wine. She stands to watch the stage, her head tilted slightly to the side as she listens. She nods when he's finished, and carefully applauds. She was trained as a Whisper, she completely knows how to applaud with a wine glass in her hand. When she's declared the winner of the fashion category, she looks... smug. Very smug. Which should surprise no one as and makes her way back to the stage and Cassiopeia and her PRIZE.

Baldessare continues the applause as Cassiopeia announces the winners, once again joining those who hoot or hollar in support of the performances and arisans. He remains in his seat as the performances seem to wane, not necessarily rushing to be up and running through the rest of the field.

Cassiopeia hands out the pins and she murmurs to both winners, "just let me know which charity you choose, and I will ensure the donation is made in your names."

Tovell is a real late arrival to the festivities, trawling his way across the floral finery to join in with the stand behind crowd's rearmost attendees. Still. He joins in with those who applaud for the day's winners!

After the song which has made tears spring to his eyes, dabbed away with a carefully folded linen square that is then tucked into a coat pocket. He hears his name - pauses, and purses his lips. Gio laughs, surprised, and he steps forward - cautiously, and after offering the singular perfect petal he is gifted the prize of a brooch. Which is is rendered speechless by, and so he falls quiet - but beatific in his enjoyment of the moment.

Gio puts a single, delicate dried crimson flower petal in scribe's leather satchel.

ST: People gather to see who wins the prizes of the day. A small press of bodies, some with craned necks, to see and hear the final outcome. People in the seats are abuzz at the results. Anticipation for the winners who will be encouraged to take lead in the dance of the Maypole.

But, In the way of fickle summer weather, it begins as a sun-shower, clouds passing over the Gray Forest were fluffy and white but have began to gather and there's a distant summer thunder.

The food will not be ruined and certainly people are willing to stay and eat finger sandwiches and the bite sized cakes under the awnings as the breeze picks up again and a harder rain threatens from the distance. It will be some time before the storm reaches the flower field but it looms on the horizon.

Gianna accepts the pin with an even MORE smug look; she turns it in her fingertips and casts a glance Cesare's way with an approving nod. "Thank you," she tells Cassiopeia. "I'd like my donation to be made to the Discples of Jayus. I think that's fitting for the Nightingale of the Bard's College."

Frowning slightly, Damiana leans to the side to murmur to Lady Astraea. They exchange a few words, and Lady Astraea looks off into the distance at the impending storm, before offering a few more. Damiana nods, and taking Lady Astraea's arm the pair begin to make their way back along the path towards the city proper.

Now that the crowd has begun circulating, Baldessare rises up from his seat. He makes his way over in the general direction of the stage, now that the performances are done.

Cesare takes a moment to come back to himself from wherever he's gone during his performance, and his expression remains a bit removed even when his gaze has returned to the present. Stepping off the stage, he slips back toward Gio to reclaim his glass of wine.

A storm on the horizon forcing her to stand under an awning and eat cake while people talk about how amazing her dress and performance are? Oh noo. How awful. Be assured Gianna stakes out a spot by something chocolate.

As Gianna seeks out shelter from the impending storm, Baldessare's path arcs slightly, and he makes his way over towards her. He waits patiently for his opportunity to step up and congratulate her for her fine performance and her win in the contest.

Cesare is granted his glass of wine by Gio, and he offers a thin-lipped, contented smile at the Softest Whisper, still without words for a moment. It is not a terrible thing.

Led by Lady Astraea, Damiana moves towards the exit with far more alacrity and directness of path than when she arrived. Within mere minutes, she is on her way with her companion back to home, presumably, to escape the weather.

Frogshield, the Oathlander battle turtle, Lady Astraea, a provincial Oathlander, 4 Valardin Knights leave, following Damiana.

"Prince Baldessare," Gianna greets the man. "So glad you could make it. Lovely, isn't it? Aconite is brilliant." She tilts her chin up and regards his hat. "I adore your hat. Remind me to steal it sometime."

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove, Gio leave, following Cesare.

ST: Not everyone disappears. Some are driven away by the storm but others linger enticed by all the finery. Which means Aconite remains it play the Hostess and make sure that those who brave the warm summer rain continue to enjoy their party.

Awnings are hurriedly assembled over the floral sculptures to protect them. After all they're supposed to be dismantled tomorrow.

The Maypole is announced to be put off until tomorrow to the disappointment of many young couples who were hoping to take part in the jubilant ribbon dance. But there is always tomorrow..