Those entering are greeted individually, with formal bows from those in darker livery and a selection of drinks rotating upon mirrored trays to keep liquid refreshment always at their fingertips. Specially hired messengers begin to make their rounds, delivering individual cards tied with silken ribbons to every guest, as if sharing an illicit secret personalized for each. A heavier fog cloaks the marble of the ballroom floor, swept aside with swifter movements, but always returning to curl about the ankles of those present. Musicians strike up a musical piece with a light, yet seductive, quality, while featureless dancers manipulate their forms behind illuminated translucent screens to add further to the shadows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A messenger arrives, deliveri-- just kidding, Talen isn't that important. He's probably Esera's messenger or something.

The invitations called for black attire but a woman enters shrouded in pearly gray, shimmering seasilk vying with the deeper sheen of satin, the matte of lace. It's as if the moon has descended to make an appearance in the darkness and she glows among all of these shadows. Veiled, her face just a hint of features beneath a sweep of seasilk, the Lady Dawn can be identified more by her greater height and the confidence of her movements, than by any other tell.

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

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

It is hard to greet the Gemecittan contingent individually, since when they roll, they roll deep. Seriously. There are people in the party that arrives that aren't even Gemecittan: the Duchess Nadia Nightgold and Lady Aislin Ashford, to name two. It is at the front of this group that Lady Sylphie Zaffria leads, wrapped in her velvet gown, her fingers resting lightly on Valkieri's forearm. It is a pretty picture for a moment, to be sure, before she turns away to gather her note from the servant who delivered it, smoky eyes sliding over it before she tips a chin to Valkieri. Then she slides forward further into the room, gaze sweeping for people she knows.

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

Nadia arrives on the arm of a masked Thraxian prince, and hers is a truly enamored smile as she takes in the splendor of the the ballroom, fingers curling through the wisps of fog shrouding the marble floor with a tinkling laugh. As specially hired messenger approaches with a ribbon-adorned card, she collects it between the pinch of her fingers. An elbow is pressed into Dagon's side, leaning in with a quick whispered word to her companion of the night as they sweep inward into the soiree on the heels of the Gemecittan party.

Mask or not, it's entirely impossible to mistake Audric for anyone else, despite having changed from his usual 'whatever is the cleanest' to a suit of black silk and a butterfly mask. The giveaway is the fact that the mercenary leader is speaking entirely too loudly to his companion about the ins and outs of the sellsword business.

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

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

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

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

Black is at least easy to match. Cara's ensemble echoes the theme of ravens, glossy blue-black feathers on her mask. When the messenger hands her the task, she glances at it and observes to Aislin at her side, "Goodness. I hope yours is easier than mine."

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

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

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

Valkieri is one of several of the Gemecittan retine to arrive together. Despite the quite public sniping that goes on between them at various times, it is Lady Sylphie Zaffria that he has given his arm to for escort. He looks impeccably tailored in shades of ebony black, unadorned but perfectly fitted to his frame. He doesn't argue when Sylphie receives her message and moves to slip away, though; he's receiving his own soon thereafter, and he opens it to scan the contents quickly. There's a hint of tension in the corners of his mouth before he slips the card into a pocket of his tailcoat and begins a scan of the room.

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

Dagon enters, Nadia on his arm. When he receives his card, he gives it a small glance, and lets out a sigh. He leans in and whispers a response to his companion and then moves forward. "Come, I need some time to think on how exactly I want to accomplish this task without completely and utterly embarassing myself."

It takes a moment for Samantha to process what she's seeing when she arrives in the Balroom. The darkness, the flickering flames - it's both overwhelming and delightful. She wears no mask - instead, her face and single bared shoulder and arm have been dusted with with artfully applied smears of black - charcoal, perhaps, overlaid with some kind of red powder that glimmers when the firelight catches it. Her hair piled high, away from her bared neck, the elegance of the gown in sharp contrast to her wild, otherworldly makeup, like a glowing ember casting shadow.

Pietro strides into the gala at the heels of his liege lord and lady, matched in height and full face mask to his twin, who walks beside him. The stark black mask he wears obscures his features and hides the breadth of his smile when he glances at his card. He resists the immediate urge to show it off to Vincere and instead folds it and slides it inside his vest. "Good evening, and what a lovely night it looks to be," he says, and then, squeezing Vincere's shoulder briefly, turns and strides off through the flowing mists of the floor to hunt for the refreshments like a man on a mission, or at least, a man with a hollow leg.

Though Aislin wears a half-mask, the Ashford lady is still quite readily recognized. The scar on her left cheek is clearly visible, for one, and there are not that many others who have such strikingly pale platinum hair. She enters in the company of her cousin-by-marriage (and the Gemecittan party), apparently accompanying Lady Cara in the name of Ashford solidarity. She takes her designated task, peering at it for a moment before slipping it into a pocket concealed within her long tunic. "Easy?" she asks Cara. "Perhaps not, but at least /possible/."

Dafne arrives in the swarm of Gemecittans, wrapped in a dark cloud of black silk silvered with rich lace, pale shoulders left bare by the cut of the sleeves. She wears a short veil instead of a mask, her full lips traced in dark red beneath it. She glances about her, a glint of curiosity beneath her veil, and reaches out to accept her task. "Oh," she says, reading it, with a purse of her lips.

"You're awfully blatant and forward about the going on's of these things." A masked woman conveys to the not so quiet sellsword merc beside her. The tall Northerner woman is hard to miss, towering over most of the fairer sex here in the Southern lands. Freja speaks aside to Audric as she enters, a smile curling her lips behind a mask of pure dark lace. It matches the gown of sheer silk far too perfectly, though leather bindings are strategically placed for modesty's dake. "When is training to begin?" she asks, carrying on some conversation from before.


    A few minutes behind the others is Darren, though his face is mostly obscured by the black bear half-mask he wears. Upon his arm, he escorts the Princess Isolde, murmuring something quiet to her as they pass by the servants. He accepts one of the ribboned envelopes, though he doesn't unseal it yet, instead leading the Mirrormask with him further into the room so that he has a better vantage point from which to look upon the other masked guests.

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


     Usually easy to identify by her mass of black curls, Joscelin's brown skin and plump, height-challenged, curvacious shape makes it impossible to mistake her as anyone but herself, even with her mask and a-typical garb. Her curls, however, have been straightened into a fall of thick, black, straight hair that brushes the back of her thighs. When she receives her task-card, she blinks. Dawnstone earrings glimmer in her ears as she looks about for a suitable target. And spots Samantha, the jeweler striding over to the dark-skinned woman. "Hello!" she says brightly.

The scrape of steel is heard as a darkly clad man enters with clawed sollerets and taloned gauntlets. The helmet that sits upon the swordsman's head is of Mirrormask design and the visor is closed. With one of those sharp fingered hands wrapped loosely and informally around the pommel of a sword, Talen marches up the staircase toward the twin thrones. "It's impossibly busy," he throws to the nearest family member upon mounting those steps, his eyes noting Valkieri on his way in. "Lord Gentleman Scholar Valkieri Rubino, how do you do. I am appreciating your fine gift, a /whole/ crate of wine that you sent. Thank you. You are a fine fellow and true to your word."

Talen is overheard praising Valkieri for: Lord Gentleman Scholar Valkieri Rubino gives whole crates of wine, they say.

Shadows and smoke alike, cinereous silks in a sheer conflagration smolder up the curvaceous body the Lady of Tor. Calista Fidante arrives, san mask for now but a swatch of plain black lace weaves in her fingers. Her long dark hair, glinting off hints of blackened cinnamon in the ballroom's dim lighting, is left loose, veiling part of her face with a touch of mystery. She moves across the room in smooth, slithering steps towards the middle of the room where she pauses to read her 'task' for the evening. Mirth dances across ruby lips and she folds the card again, hiding the note in the front of her deeply scooped neckline.

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

Silas slips into the ballroom donned head-to-toe in black leather and sporting his own raven-motifed mask. It was not the finest leather, but it was styled to suit this particular night, with assymetical lines and leather 'feathers' along the sleeves. He receives the gift the messenger bestows upon him, but reads it with a frown. He shrugs and folds it closed again.

"I hardly need to be secretive about them," Audric says, letting out a laugh. "After all, anyone can hire them and it's hard to keep tactics quiet when that's the case." He grins and accepts a card, glancing down briefly to read over it. "Oh, this is going to be fun? We aren't supposed to share what our goal is, right?" He scans the room briefly, a reflexive act to check for familiar faces. Oh well.

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

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

    It's not hard to pick out Isolde from the rest of the partygoers. She's, well, looking much as she always is, though her newer outfit does make quite a statement. She smiles warmly as she spies a seaful of black and masks, smiling happily at the sight. She kisses Darren's cheek after the whisper, murmuring back, waving off the attendant with the ribbon'd card. She motions to one of the quieter places, chuckling to herself.

"The Lyceum," a masked man in an obsidian outfit with metal stars steps out of a shadowy corner linked at the arm with a woman wearing a gown of sheer umbra that seeps from the shoulders. The Duke offers a respectful bow to the Grand Duchess and lets go of her arm to address those gathered. His voice is deep, and stately. His half mask shows his mouth, and the hint of a smile that rests on his lips. "There are many opinions held about our collection of Southern city states. Some, think it of a nest of villainy and treachery, of threats that slink around corners in the night, waiting in the shadows for that poor sap to walk by. Or for that unlucky soul that happened to pick a goblet of poisoned wine." The man snatches a glass of wine from a server walking by, and drinks from it. "Others believe it to be a decadent paradise, filled with pleasure houses, hypnotic stimulants and the finest food and drink a person could afford."
    That hint of a smile becomes more prominent. "The truth of course, lies somewhere in between. If you look for it, there are certainly dangerous alleys covered in shadows and there are certainly smoke-filled hedonistic dens. But what makes the Lyceum so special is its people. We are proud, we are free thinkers, and we're gifted with a streak of independence that both perplexes and entices foes and friends both. But even more relevant tonight, we certainly know how to have fun. So I invite you all to join us today, and for the next few hours leave your worries behind, your old self, behind. Dare to follow us into this world of smoke and shadows, and enjoy the pleasures and delights that are waiting to be found." He pauses and holds up an envelope. "You've all received or will be receiving an envelope, in it you'll find a secret task that you are to perform throughout the night. Once completed, you'll be able to burn the note, reveal yourself by removing your mask and be rewarded for it. In addition, two special prizes will be raffled amongst those that complete their tasks." He pauses and gestures all around him. "So now go, drink, dance, eat, enjoy yourselves and you have our thanks for joining us tonight."

Isolde has joined the Decadent Couch.

Darren has joined the Decadent Couch.

Sylphie, it appears, has decided to let prey come to her: the woman wrapped in black velvet but unmistakable, perhaps, in the shortness of her domino mask against her sharper features, takes a seat at one of the couches by herself. She even leans back, claiming one arm to drape herself against as she watches the ballroom with those narrowed, grey eyes that miss little.

Sylphie has joined the The Scandal Couch.

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

Dawn, in the guise of Lady Moon, keeps to the periphery-- as if staying to the sidelines would make it impossible to spy the person not garbed in black. But she's distracted by the card she's been given and seeksa pool of lanternlight to open it and read. Whatever's there draws a soft hum of amusement, easily missed in the crowdnoise. The card is hidden away-- perhaps that many-layered skirt of lace and seasilk has secret pockets-- and she turns to survey the Duke through the haze of her veil, as he addresses the throng.

Here is the difficulty with investigating the food while you are wearing a full face mask: Pietro picks up a long skewer with pieces of roasted chicken and glistening onion, and finds that he can't actually eat anything from it delicately because he is wearing face mask. Sigh. He lopes at an easy swagger back towards Valkieri and Vincere, one skewer held in each hand. "Look at this," he says to Valkieri, blithely interrupting his conversation as he thrusts one of the skewers at him. "I'm going to starve, my lord." His dark eyes skip up over the armored figure noisily praising Valkieri nearby and any change in his expression as he sweeps his gaze over the gleaming armor is, of course, invisibly behind the obscuring mask.

Upon her arrival, Kima is presented with an elegantly designed card. She deigns to take the note within black gloved hands and reads it over once before secreting the little item away. The black-masked Lioness then looks around and through the veritable throng, mouth pursed ever so slightly as she makes her way more fully into the ballroom.

Nadia allows herself to be swept along, her envelope tucked away into the cascade of iridescite-veined silks twinkling beneath the hazy lighting cast from lanterns above. "Surely it cannot be that terrible," she surmises to her companion with a humored smile, a glass of wine collected for herself and the prince.

Ianthe steps into the ballroom, gazing around with admiration in her eyes. Dark curls are gathered at the crown of her head and fall gently against forehead and cheek, dark against the blackness of her mask. She blinks when she is handed her task and then, after reading it, laughs abruptly. She tucks the card away, still chuckling to herself.

Esera stands at Niccolo's side, and though she is masked, she is unmistakeable. Her hair is braided intricately, drawn up and threaded with black gold and star sapphires. Her gown does the Lyceum proud -- sheer, and if it wasn't umbra, it would certainly be transparent. She is a walking shadow, as she leaves her masked father's side, to walk farther into the ball room, and to look at each darkly dressed guest with eyes that burn just a little too bright.

Freja speaks softly to Audric as they enter, her arm lightly wrapped in as they are both handed envelopes along with a glass of some dark wine. She laughs brightly and shakes her head, curls already falling free to rebel against the braid that had been attempted.


    Chuckling, the man in the bear mask will flash a wide grin at Isolde. "I can tell, regardless," Darren says aloud to whatever was whispered to him, the man taking Isolde's hand to draw her over to the couch they've claimed. He briefly looks over to the Duke and Esera as they make their appearance, then cuts across the crowd before he returns his attention to the Mirrormask, setting down upon the couch beside her. It's only then that he'll cut open his envelope to read what's inside, chuckling to himself as he does so.

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

Dafne slips her little card into the neckline of her dress, lips still in that thoughtful little pout. "Would any of you like a drink?" she inquires of the little knot of Gemecittans and friends.

Dagon listens to the hostess give instructions. With a long sigh, he looks over to Nadia. "Please pardon me. I want to go ahead and get this over with now so that I can enjoy the rest of the evening without worrying too much about this." He coughs and then lifts a hand. "My Lords and Ladies, I wish to present to you... a song sung in taverns all throughout the Isles. I hope that you enjoy this as much as the sailing men of House Thrax enjoy it being sung. If not, well..." He sucks in a breath and begins to sing.

Way down on the sea where fishing is thick
Where women are women and sailors come quick
There lived pretty Charlotte, that girl we adore
The pride of the isles, the sailing man's whore

She's dirty, she's vulgar and she spits in the street
Why whenever you see her, she's always in heat.
She'll lay for a silver and take less or take more
She's the pride of the isles, the sailing man's whore

One day in the shallows, no pants on her quim
A sea serpent saw her and flung herself in
Charlotte the Harlot gave sailors the frights
The only cunt on the isles that rattles and bites

One day when I returned from sailing along
My hands on the wheel but my hand on my dong
Who should I meet but the girl I adore
The pride of the isles, the sailing man's whore

I got off my ship and I reached for her crack
But the damn thing was rattling and biting me back
I took out my crossbow and aimed for its head
But I missed the damn serpent and shot her instead

Her funeral procession was forty leagues long
With a chorus of sailors singing this song
"Here lies a young maiden who never kept score
Young Charlotte the Harlot, the sailing man's whore!"

Dagon lets out a long breath, takes his card over to be burned and then removes his mask. "All done!" He murmurs to Nadia, somewhat apologetically.

There's no mistaking the thread of tension that marks the annoyance in Valkieri's frame. He turns his gaze slowly to Talen as the man calls to him. "Master Talen," he says, his voice unmistakably a sneer. "You are too kind." He's still glaring at the man when Pietro bounds back up. "What," he says to his vassal even before he looks at him; it's only a moment later that his gaze shifts to Pietro with a furrow of his brow as he tries to figure out what the man is talking about. "What?" he says again, and then he's distracted by Dafne's reappearance. He's about to answer when Dagon strides to the forefront and presents his -- song. "I would like twenty," he says to Dafne, voice dry and eyes still on the Thraxian prince.

"It's only fair," Audric says to Freja, before leading the woman over towards the closest table of drinks. "Feel free to break away if you need to accomplish a goal." He grins at the woman. It is not visible behind the mask. "Well, damn, I was hoping to be the first done. Oh, well." Ever the improviser, he snags a few shotglasses from a passing server, setting them on the table and filling them with whiskey. "So! Since our hosts have been so generous to provide us with so very much alcohol, who would care to join me in a toast?" Once he's done filling a ridiculous number of shotglasses, he picks up on. "A toast! To the generosity of the Velenosa!"

Talen levels his eyes on Pietro, pale gray-blue visible through the visor just enough to be noticed. It's about then he's provided the paper which he takes, breaks the seal on and looks over. With a long suffering sigh he rips it up and stuffs the pieces into the pcoket of a passing server. "Make that forty," Talen tacks on for Valkieri to Dafne while he lowers his hands.

Samantha regards Joscelyn with merriment, albeit caution, in her expression. "Hello." she replies, tone soft and amicable. "Quite an evening, isn't it?" It's not hard to determine that there's a task at hand, so she gives Joscelyn the bulk of her attention.

Drea steps into the the ballroom, some of the tense flatness to her lips -revealed by her half-mask- relaxing after her head slowly turns to take in the mist-covered ballroom. Her examination of the black-clad congregation is interrupted when a messenger approaches her near the entrance, and she immediately strips off the violet ribbon to scan the contents. She lets out a quiet snort, folding the message, and looks up to study Dagon as the half-masked man begins his song.

Isolde settles on the couch beside Darren, lowering her voice to speak with him, motioning vaguely.

Calista catches sight of a few familiar faces but she moves towards Esera first to greet her hostess. Though mid-stride, she stops and quirks a curious brow at Dagon. The Prince of House Thrax comes out of his shell it seems and sings the rendition of the lewd song he wrote about in his journals. She cannot contain the laughter but places a hand to her mouth, chuckling beneath. "Bravo!!" She shouts and offers the Prince a round of applause.

Right. Well. To arms. Dawn is only a little hampered by the veil, when surrounded by such eager and well-trained servants. A gesture of her hand stops one with a tray on which full glasses and a decanter of wine is perched. Imagine the servant's surprise when the Lady divests him of the entire tray, as if she were not here as guest. And off she goes, gliding in spite of the heaviness of her multitudinous skirts. When she reaches the Gemicettas and party, a glass is plucked from the tray for each of them, offered one by one. "Drinks, everyone? To toast the generosity of our good hosts."

Boldness adorned Acacia, masked as she may be, in diamonds and silk. Scarlet curls had been collected off of her neck, as if to be able to conceal her identity further should it not be draped about her shoulders. Keeping to the shadows and the translucent screens, she instead dictated the messengers, with the note cards delivered to each individual as she rotated from couch to couch with a watchful kind of slink. She'd paused, only once, to bear witness to the Duke, before rotating to try to capture both Joscelin and Ianthe by approaching them from behind.

    Servants with trays offer individual smoking pipes and other accessories to those who may wish for them, with sampling pouches of various ingredients, most of which are certainly legal with occasionally that which might be contraband to those who aren't obviously law-affiliated.

"Drink more. That helps." Freja points out to Audric oh so helpfully. "...or so I hear. Is yours oh so daring?" She makes a show of standing on her toes, trying to peer over his shoulder and into his envelope. A toast being made, she grabs for the whiskey being poured and promptly joins Audric. "A toast to the Velenosa!"

"It sounds like you are both looking for that crate of wine now," Pietro says. His smile shows in the bright snap of his very dark eyes as he glances between them. "Seriously, how am I supposed to eat this? I mean, I can just about move my mouth enough to talk -- I'm sure you were worried I wouldn't be able to do that--" He gestures with his skewer, and then glances back at Talen again. "I heard you speaking about Lord Valkeri here and his fabled generosity," he says, his voice ingenuous bright and a little too loud. "Tell me, were you being sarcastic?"

It appears that Sylphie left her group too early; they are entertaining all the best people! But she, she will sing out to Esera even as the Archduchess passes by the couch she reclines on, "My Archduchess of Flowers, won't you join me for a moment? I will not keep you from your duties long, I promise."

Nadia lifts a brow, pale-glazed lips parted in breathless askance toward Dagon. She finds herself quieted, however, when the prince begins to sing with little fanfare after his voice beckons for the attention of guests and their hosts alike. "Well," she exhales a baited breath, her hand freed from the crook of his arm to join Calista in the slow-building of applause. "You did far better than I could have, pre-drinks, Your Highness," she promises on a tinkling laugh.

Calista is overheard praising Dagon for: Skilled tongue indeed.

"A drink would be lovely," Cara answers Dawn, her feather mask tilting in greeting. Compared to the bedecked and bejeweled around her, the lady's gown of simple silk is almost stark and severe -- and yet it suits her, framing her long neck and pale skin. Also, it doesn't show stains, which is highly convenient. "I believe Lady Dafne was also offering refreshment. It seems, at least, that we shall not go thirsty at this to-do."

Nadia is overheard praising Dagon for: Bold and courageous, as always.

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

Aislin -- or at least, the masked woman with Aislin's hair -- pauses, walking a slow circle around Cara to examine her outfit. After all, so few showed off their outfits to each other /prior/ to the gala. "Black seems to be the color of choice tonight," she observes wryly. "I wonder how many have tried to add a color more to their liking into the ensemble. A touch of silver, or blue, or red, or gold." She turns, however, to greet Dawn with a respectful bow. "Of course. Thank you."

Once the words have been delivered, Niccolo inclines his head to Esera as she steps away to greet others. The man walks over to a server, carrying a number of drinks. He selects a glass of wine, sipping from it and then steps closer to Audric and Freja as they speak of their toast. The mask obscures his features, but there is amusement on his lips as he sips from his glass.

Audric downs his shot, then lets out a satisfied sigh. He glances around briefly, shrugs, and breaks into a grin. "Well, I suppose it isn't going to be -that- easy," he says. "And drinking more -always- helps, Princess. It's just a good rule to live by."

Dafne tilts her head, with a swish of dark curls and silvered veils, as Dagon...sings. She considers the Thraxian prince thoughtfully. "I read a great deal," she comments, entirely too innocently for a Lycene, "and I am not sure I know what all those words mean." She bobs a little nod-curtsy toward Valkieri, skirts swaying, and slips away, returning a moment later, carrying with her a tray of drinks. She carries it a little awkwardly. She's a noblewoman, not a serving maid.

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

Oh boy, a reason to drink. Kima manages to grab a glass of something or another in time to thrust it into the air and mumble something not quite intelligible.

"Just take it off the skewer, honestly--" Valkieri's long-suffering is interrupted by Dawn's arrival, and he takes her in with a sweep of his brows and a distinct note of recognition. There's a hesitation before he awkwardly shifts closer to her and leans over to murmur something privately to her. He straightens with a clearing of his throat. He's very suave.

A servant delivers a silk-wrapped card to Esera, and it is just as she's reading that card that Sylphie calls her attention from across the room. She returns the card to the servant, and turns toward Sylphie. Even masked, the crowds part for her as she walks, her gown a dark haze that flows behind her with each step. "Duty does not belong in a gala, does it?" she asks her, when she's close enough to murmur the question.

Esera has joined the The Scandal Couch.

Silas is overheard praising Niccolo for: A true stem-winder of a speech, I must profess profusely.

"No," Talen says in reply to Pietro with his voice dripping in sarcasm, naturally. "I was being one hundred percent authentic, I promise you. It is just my tone of voice," he lies openly. It's so genuinely thick with that lilt that it might very well be truth to those who don't know him. "On my honour," he finishes. Staring at the man's mask across from him, he finally evaluates verbally. "I could probably stuff the entire skewer through the mask. I would be hoping to aim for your mouth. I may miss."


     Joscelin has to laugh at poor Dagon, before smiling brightly at Samantha. She opens her mouth to say something, is briefly stalled by Acacia murmuring at her back, nodding to the woman as she turns her attention back to Samantha.
     "A friend of mine spoke highly of you and I've been wanting to meet you ever since, but time has been hard to come by. Please," she offers, gesturing to a table with a bottle of wine and a few empty glasses. 'Let me pour you a drink?" the jeweler asks.

Freja stage-whispers behind her hand to the Merc. "Do you need help, darling? It can be arranged. There must be plenty of people here with inhibitions and cares let down."

Dagon grabs a drink from the tray of a servant who's passing by. He takes a long, long sip before offering Nadia a faint nod. "Not quite the task that I was expecting, but better to get it done and out of the way than have to fuss over it the rest of the night. Besides, anyone who arrives late will miss out." He grins and gestures. "Where shall we go and sit? Or would you like to go and handle your task?"

"Four of you won't, at least," Dawn tells Cara, amusement still humming in her voice. With the glasses parceled out, she takes the decanter and angles that towards the glasses the women hold-- a drop for Cara, and one for Aislin too. "I've two more I need to refill," she goes on to claim before pausing, seasilk-swathed head vent to Valkieri's murmur. "Ah. A gentleman with sharp eyes. Will you drink as well, my lord? The moon requires it of you tonight."

"Aha! An insult!" Pietro exclaims. He sounds ... not insulted. He sounds ... delighted. He is too busy being ridiculous to immediately notice that Dawn has swept over to join his general party on a cloud of moonlight. Instead: "Sir, we must duel immediately," Pietro tells Talen very seriously. "And you see, I am armed." He holds up one of the skewers, and then the other. Seared onions drip with a drizzle of grease down one of the long wooden spokes. The other one is more heavily bechickened and carries a strong scent of pepper. "Choose your weapon, if you please."

"Oh, it's fine, I'm just very lazy," Audric says, raising a second shotglass towards Niccolo as the man approaches. Audric, however, is absolutely awful at recognizing people, so he just offers the man one of the spare shots. "Care for a drink?"

"There won't be a duel," Talen says almost too boredly. "It would be a waste of your time, an embarassment to your liege and generally a disruption to my family's party." The Sword of Lenosia lifts his chin and turns his head away from Pietro, a sign he finds no threat nor desire to humour the demand.

Taking the glass, Aislin now turns to examine Dawn's outfit. She steps around her to get a better view of any decorations attached. "One of the few not wearing black! Are you so fond of silver and grey?" Her comment is lightly made, more curious than anything else.

Calista slinks her way towards Niccolo and those who may be around him as Esera is swept away. "Your Grace, what a spectacular event. Everyone looks exceptional this evening, including yourself." She slips on the swatch of lace around her eyes now, veiling those shadowed emerald eyes.

Valkieri takes a distinct step /away/ from Pietro. "Hardly," he snorts to Dawn, "but I don't believe I'm allowed to say more. I believe Lady Dafne is already fetching me one, and I imaging I wouldn't hear the end of it if I already had a drink in hand. But I can assure you I intend to be well-libated." When Talen responds, he sighs slow and thin and looks to his vassal. "Pietro--"

"I won't be outdone by my own escort," Nadia surmises, slender fingers disappearing briefly to draw out her slender notecard from its place tucked within the vaporous wisps of seasilk shrouding her form. "I won't be but just a moment, Your Highness. Why don't you go and find us a seat, and I will join you shortly?" She suggests to Dagon, her pale eyes already flickering over the numerous masked visages of guests mingling throughout the ballroom.

"That I do," Niccolo tells Audric, and as a server walks by, he puts down his glass, still filled with wine so he can accept the shot from the mercenary. He inclines his head, lifting it in a silent toast. He looks from him to Freja and offers a faint smile to her. When Calista approaches, the man includes her in that faint smile. "My lady, you look incredible yourself," he tells her and dips his head. "And thank you for the kind words. I'm hoping that people are having a good time," he glances around.

"If four of us drink well, what merry tales we might tell," Cara replies to Dawn, lifting her glass in salute, "Though I suspect strong drink might bring more awkward gentlemen to sing." She peers at Aislin for a moment, adding, "Dear cousin, whatever are you doing? Is it some new form of wooing?"


    Lounging on the couch, Darren will glance up after something is quietly spoken to Isolde to narrow his gaze 'round the ballroom. He's not focusing on anybody in particular yet, just taking in those that have gathered. Then, he's back to murmuring something to his companion there on the sofa, his blue eyes amused there under the mask.

Samantha can't help but chuckle at Dagon's choice of song, and while she has no drink yet to lift in toast, she does call out along with the others in salute to the House. Her attention returns to Joscelin quite promptly. "Your friend is quite kind. I'd be delighted to join you. This is only my second social outing here in the city, and it's quite overwhelming." The ease of her smile is at odds with the otherworldliness of her face makeup as she moves to sit at the table indicated. "You have me at a disadvantage, though. It seems you know me, but I have yet to learn your name?" There's a pause. "Or would you rather not say, in deference to the evening's theme?"

By virtue of having been there when a particular mask was delivered, Kima knows to seek out the chap with the butterfly on his face. She insinuates herself between said butterfly-man and the tall red-haired lady and says, quite boldly, "Would you mind if I borrowed him? Five minutes, and no more." Clearly, Audric gets no say in the matter.

Arriving stylishly late to the gala were a pair of masked young women from the Valardin House, with Princess Isabeau leading her young sister Sophie in tow as they arrived; guiding her much like one would deal with a skittish foal on its first ride, "Dearest sister, you look absolutely ravishing." The pair were dressed in the same dark clothing as everyone else present, Isabeau's dark golden curls the only colors to accentuate her outfit. Taking Sophie by the arm, Isabeau guided her sister towards some of the refreshments, asking her, "Do you see a soul you recognize beneath these masks?"

Isabeau is overheard praising Sophie for: Going outside of her comfort zone.

Aislin turns to Cara, bemused. "Is it so far-fetched that I might have discovered a new interest in fashion?"

"Where there's darkness, there must also be light," Dawn tells Aislin, and though her smile is hidden, the sound of it is woven into her voice. But then the crowd around her is moving and she mimes Valkieri's backwards step, turning to see the spectacle of Pietro threatening Talen with a skewer of onions. "...goodness," is the Lady's mild observation. A firmer grip is had on the wine decanter. "Ah... if you'll forgive me, ladies, my lord, I've two more I need to ply with drink before I can have my eyes back."

Dagon sketches a bow in Nadia's direction. "Very well, I will go and do that and shall eagerly await witnessing whatever task that you have been given." He leans in to briefly whisper something before stepping away to go and find someplace to sit that's not yet overly crowded.

Silas hears Dagon's song, but he doesn't quite listen to it. In the same way he's in the crowd but not truly. The appetizers and drink seem to currently have the bulk of his attention, but he moves to casually eavesdrop on the throngs of people passing by.

Dagon has joined the The Misconduct Couch.

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

Calista inclines her head to Audric as well before offering a few more words to Niccolo. "I believe they will, Your Grace. Seems the festivities are well underway after that tawdry display of sailor shanties." She gives the man's arm squeeze as she gives the room a look over. "Now to figure out who my prey will be."

"Rude!" Pietro complains. He sights down the skewer like he is thinking seriously about chucking it at the side of Talen's head, but of course he doesn't. He turns a look of aggrieved innocence on Valkieri. "What? Anyway, hold that thought-- I've just completed my task, the card doesn't say I have to actually force the duel to happen, merely issue the challenge." He puts both his skewers into his off hand, slaps Valkieri smartly on the arm, and then turns to bound off through the crowd with far too much vitality animating his long legged strides.

Esera has left the The Scandal Couch.

"Pass more of those around." Freja interjects as Audric gives Niccolo a shot. The Redrain woman begins to pass them out to whomever is near. "Here, you cheeks lack color. You look dry. You need more Spirits within you." The numerous excuses she gives, the last one being a poor attempt at a pun from the Shaman as she practically shoves whiskey shots into people's hands ((ooc: feel free to make yourself a victim)). Clearing her throat all too dramatically, she holds out a hand for Audric to help her balance as she steps up onto a chair. Raising her glass, the lace-masked woman with matching gown allows her usually soft voice to carry well over the crowd. "A toast!" Another clearing of her throat, and she presses her hand solemnly over her heart. It seems terribly somber and dire. "I drink to your health when I'm with you, I drink to your health when I'm alone...I drink to your health so often that I'm beginning to worry about my own. TO HEALTH!" She tosses back the shot and hops down, hoping that others know how to follow suit.

Nadia is overheard praising Freja for: Drink, to the last!

Esera shares a few murmured words with Sylphie, and afterwards rises from her seat upon the couch. She regards Pietro with an interest that is piercing, bright-eyed -- an interest designed to pin a man where he stands. She approaches him, and takes him by the hand before she so much as offers a courteous 'hello'. "Will you offer me the first dance of the night, my old friend?" she asks him, and for all that her voice is arresting, there's warmth in it too.

"I think it passing strange, yes, given your propensity to range," Cara replies nimbly to Aislin, not quite smiling as she sips her drink. "You show more interest in ruined towns than ever in silken gowns."

"I think that technically completes my task," Audric says, breaking into another grin after he downs his glass. "It didn't say -how- I had to get people to do a shot with me." He looks over at Freja, shrugs, and passes more shotglasses around to anyone nearby. Even if they already have a drink. It then becomes their problem to not spill it. And then there's a Kima between them. "Well, hello."

As the Archduchess rises from the scandalous couch, so does Sylphie, without anything scandalous at all happening! Instead, the woman in that backless, velvet gown crosses towards the brazier and drops her card into it, allowing it to burn in green smoke. She stands there for a moment, self-satisfied.

Sylphie has left the The Scandal Couch.

Samantha has joined the Libertine Table.


     Joscelin pours Samantha a glass, saying, "He's a scout, so his descriptions are fairly sharp, and you're rather unmistakable by his description." She hands the dark-skinned beauty the glass, then moves to pour herself one as well... and then just takes the whole bottle. She gestures to one of the tables. Then peers around looking for Ianthe.

Joscelin has joined the Libertine Table.

From Joscelin and Ianthe, the masked Acacia had slipped to a newer screen, murmuring something behind Talen's shoulder when she went. That serpentine approach had her pausing for a short measure near Niccolo's shoulder, head tilted slightly in his direction. Afterward, she tracked after Dagon's newfound place, keeping to the shadows and hardly disturbing the grounded fog when she went.

Dafne slips through the crowd, with a sway of her hips designed more to maneuver her full skirts through the crowds than anything else. She shoves the silver tray she carries toward Valkieri (thankfully, without spilling anything). On it sit four glasses of dark wine. "Drink, almost cousin," she encourages. "I understand is brewed from the blood of maidens." Her lips curve into a smile beneath her veil.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Between the rather rousing singing of a familiar sea shanty to now a toast offered by Freja, Ianthe doesn't stop grinning. Of course there is her own task to perform, but she take time to enjoy the spectacle of all these high born lords and ladies acting very much like the rabble in a tavern on a pay day. She hasn't enjoy herself this much in years.

Samantha is overheard praising Esera for: Being bold and making the first move.

"I'm surprised you didn't get on better, considering both of you enjoy testing my temper," Valkieri says to Talen in a deadpan as he watches Pietro bound off. He looks down at Dafne as she returns, looking rather concerned for the potential fate of the drinks she carries. "I'm sure," he says, eyeing her as he plucks a glass from the tray and lifts it to drink.

"Before you do that," Niccolo takes Calista hand. "Come, dance with me," he says, giving the woman an expectant look. He downs that shot along with Freja and Audric, setting the glass down. "If you both would excuse me," he offers to them, turning his attention back to Calista.

"I think your man is addled in the head," Talen announces for Valkieri, watching as Pietro sprints off with his skewer-swords. Games don't seem to be on the young Lenosian's mind as he threads his focus through that crowd toward the archduchess. The interaction is observed unerringly for a moment, then he blinks once and turns his focus away. "Addled and blessed," he corrects for the Rubino nobleman. "Your temper is easily won, my lord. I dare say it's not at all a test. You should consider the teachings of the Thirteenth to strengthen your composure."

Samantha doesn't precisely blush, but her response is a simple, "Thank you." She doesn't seem inclined to preen, and takes her seat with attentive intent on her conversation. At something said at the table, she smiles, firelight catching the ruby red glitter on her dark skin as she replies.

Dawn carries her wine about to a table occupied by two she knows well: Joscelin and Samantha. Though whether they recognize her? That remains to be seen-- though the question becomes less mysterious when she speaks to address them both. "The moon commands that you drink, my ladies," she says, as she tilts the decanter above whatever glasses are in evidence-- and no matter what they might already have at hand!

Freja's toast complete, she hops down from the chair and nods to Kima. "Of course, Lady. Feel free to take him, but do return him unscathed. I do need him in one piece." She laughs easily, her smile bright. "And of course I would like your company sooner rather than later, if possible." A small salute is given and she heads off to put her little envelope in the blue flame, the task completed.

Silas has joined the Libertine Table.

The wine, once drunk, is nothing of the sort; it's a standard vintage, if very fine, tasting richly of summer fruits and lazy sun. "Would you like some blood-wine?" Dafne asks of Talen, gesturing with her tray. The wine jiggles alarmingly in the glasses, but does not spil.

Partway across the floor when Esera catches up to him, Pietro turns in a pivot, and the full face mask he wears prevents him from displaying his surprise particularly beside the widening of his dark eyes, ringed by dark lashes. "I humbly beg your pardon, my lady," he says. He executes a bow. He is still holding chicken while he executes the bow. This is not the most ridiculous he has looked tonight. "It would be an honor to share a dance with you, though I think you may mistake me. On account of the mask and all." He looks around for a moment, hunting for a servant to callously abandon his chicken burden. Dignity!

Nadia immerses herself fully in the crowd until she has lost herself amidst shadowed silks and debonair masks that accentuate the faces of nobility rather than truly hide them. Diamonds and filigreed iridescite twinkle within the pale shafts of light cast from lanterns above as the masked duchess glides past throngs of bodies, green eyes dancing from one form to another until her attentions are stolen by a pair of bodies seated upon a distant couch. Hers is an impish smile, unhurried in her encroach upon their territory.

Nadia has joined the Decadent Couch.


     Joscelin blinks at the moon, gold eyes sparkling a moment later. "My dear, you've gone backwards," she says to Dawn, grinning, and acks! as the Moon-woman fills their wineglasses to the brim.


"Hmm?" Calista's eyes widen a touch as Niccolo invites her to dance with him. Perhaps he disturbed the method of how her mind words and broke her out of some reverie. "Of course, your grace. It would be my pleasure to dance with you." Her arm threads in his and she leans in to murmur something or other. "I'm going to have to be creative with this task.." The whisper is so soft that it only hits Niccolo's ears. But she does continue the conversation with hushed tones.

Acacia carefully rounds her way back towards the familiar Princess, presenting a lighter bow and then producing a bloom to share to her after the completion of her toast.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Kima offers Audric and Freja both a toothy grin, dipping into a courtly bow before offering her hand to Audric. "Join me for a dance - I can wait until after you've burned your note or whatever it is we're supposed to do with them." Hands clasped together, Kima then says to Freja, "I shall of course return him to you in one piece. It would be dreadfully rude of me otherwise."

Samantha looks up at Dawn, and now her smile is a bit more sly, more in keeping with what a creature made of flame and smoke should be made of. "Well, if the Moon tells me it is so, it must be true and truly done." The Marquessa takes a healthy swallow of her wine - not quite a chug, but damn near close.

Arriving stylishly late to the gala were a pair of masked young women from the Valardin House, with Princess Isabeau leading her young sister Sophie in tow as they arrived; guiding her much like one would deal with a skittish foal on its first ride, "Dearest sister, you look absolutely ravishing." The pair were dressed in the same dark clothing as everyone else present, Isabeau's dark golden curls the only colors to accentuate her outfit. Taking Sophie by the arm, Isabeau guided her sister towards some of the refreshments, asking her, "Do you see a soul you recognize beneath these masks?"

Even through her mask, the look Aislin gives Cara is somehow palpable. "Well, perhaps it's a night for uncharacteristic behavior." But that's all the comment she makes on Cara's particular manner of speech. "But you have to admit, it /does/ seem a bit oppressive, all this black. I'm sure there are colors you'd prefer more, aren't there?"

Her task done and the card burned, Sylphie now slides gracefully back across the room to rejoin Valkieri, stepping to his side without a word. Her brow lifts a little at Talen, though so does her soft smile. "You competed in the fencing tournament, did you not, sir? You were quite marvelous," she offers in greeting to him.

"Oh, she wants a dance," Audric says, nodding once. "I suppose I can do that. But you've not escaped, Princess. I'll be back in just a moment to stea-" He pauses for a moment. "...do either of you know any dances for three people? I've the best idea."

"Terribly rude. Scandalous to. I might even have to -frown-." Freja attests to Kima with a feigned pout as she goes off to procure another whiskey, standing off to the side by herself now that her escort has been whisked awya.

Silas stops beside Dawn, perhaps abruptly, when she approaches the table with Samantha and Joscelin. "Looking luminous as ever, Lady Dawn. Silver suits your complexion better than black," he observes before swinging his gaze to the other ladies present at the table. "Mind if I join you? I fear I may get lost otherwise and that would be a most disheartening calamity." He then sighs wistfully. "Apologies in advance for the impending vocabulary bombardment."

Her task done and the card burned, Sylphie now slides gracefully back across the room to rejoin Valkieri, stepping to his side without a word. Her brow lifts a little at Talen, though so does her soft smile. "I hope my companion is being entertaining," she offers in greeting to him. "Or that you are entertaining him, as I had to abandon him for my task."

The mask hides the gesture, but the curiosity is there in Niccolo's eyes. He inclines his head to Calista and motions to one of the servants, gesturing him over. Words are whispered, before he turns his attention to his companion, leading her to the floor. "He'll take care of it," he says, meaning the servant and in response to Calista's quiet words. Once they've reached the dance floor, he rests a hand against her back, the other holding her hand. A few moments later, the dance begins. He speaks quietly to Calista.

"Backwards? Oh no, Mistress, I'm going in exactly the direction I needed to, to succeed." Dawn's voice deepens with suppressed laughter. "And may I say, the both of you look absolutely beautiful tonight. Thank you for your smiles, and your indulgence." The decanter is placed on the table-- they might need more, after all!-- and she produces her card, fluttering it at Samantha and Joscelin as if it were a fan. Her grin is only implied, and lingers when she glances aside at Silas. "Too kind, Sir. I need to go claim my prize, but help yourself to the wine. I'm assured it's of the best quality."

"My composure is clearly commendable, because I've yet to attempt physical harm on you, Master Talen." Valkieri offers the man a vacuous smile and reaches to clasp his shoulder, although he probably squeezes harder than is necessary. "I find my restraint positively /godly/." He doesn't quite glance down at Sylphie as she makes her way to his side.

"I do not mistake you," Esera says, with resonant certainty. She draws Pietro's hand to her hip, and sweeps him out onto the dance floor, with an intimacy that bespeaks old familiarity -- not, perhaps, the familarity of friends, but the familiarity of lovers. Body language speaks far clearer than words, sometimes, and her body language tells an age old story. "You needn't be so formal!" she assures Pietro, with a laugh.

"A shade I savor? I'd answer for a favor," Cara teases Aislin with a wink beneath her mask. It's not especially hard to guess who she is, given the relative lack of nearly six foot tall ladies with hair nearly as black as the feathers on her mask. "But for you I'll speak true -- my favorite color is blue."

Talen considers Dafne with the weight of his attention for a moment and then extends his gauntlet, claw outstretched. "Yes, very well. Thank you, mistress...?" It's left up to the masked woman to provide the monikor she wishes to be known by. The goblet or glass is secured and then he draws it back into his personal space, as yet to drink however. "Extensively, my lady," the man announces as his shoulder is clapped. "My lord, you might be quite right."


    Darren will raise himself from the couch after a few more short murmured words with Isolde, reaching to take her hand and tug her up onto her feet as well. He will tip his head to Nadia though, saying quietly to her, "I have something that needs to be done, my lady," he will say to her, before tugging Isolde along, just a few steps further into the ballroom. And then, he'll rather gracefully and suddenly take a knee, seizing Isolde by the hand .. and he will begin to sing.
    The Highlord in the Bear mask cannot hold a tune. It is loud and boisterious, and sounds more like a Tavern bawdy shanty than the true serenade that it is. But the lyrics are there, shouted more than they are sung, his voice echoing at least in their part of the room: "There is no joy or pleasure, or any good that one could feel, or imagine which does not seem to me worthless, whenever your sweetness wants to sweeten my bitterness," he takes in a deep breath, and continues on, "Therefore I want to praise you, and adore and fear you, suffer everything, experience everything, endure everything, more than I desire any reward." It really is a song, even if it doesn't rhyme. Promise.

Cara is overheard praising Acacia for: What marvelous tasks, and lovely favors too!

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.


     "Oh dear," the jeweler intones, Joscelin's voice edged with laughter. "Task?" she asks, gesturing to one of the many empty seats at the table. "I've finished mine, I only need to burn my card."

"I am from Southport," Kima says seriously. As if by that and that alone the pair of them should simply /know/ that /naturally/ she knew a dance involving three people.

Samantha beams when the knight takes his seat. "Silas!" she declares joyously, and it looks for a moment like she might try to somewhat girlishly hug the young man, and then pauses, hesitating for a moment considering the state of the gala, her body makeup, and his inclination to allow being hugged. It's also somewhat awkward given his mask. She settles for offering him a sheepish grin instead, adding slyly to Dawn, "Well, you know me. Alays glad to be of service."

Let it never be said that Princess Sophie does not adore her sister enough to do just about anything to bring Isabeau some measure of joy. Things, such as, attending a ball at the Lyceum. Truly, the Mercy of Lagoma would be feeling vastly more comfortable wading through corpses littering a battlefield as the fighting rages around her. Golden hair drawn into an elegant braided updo, her gown is of a daring cut that was not at all her idea. Such a pity that she is a woman of her word and agreed before she had any idea just what fashion of garment her sister had commissioned on her behalf. Thank the Gods that one of the servants was able to skillfully add further lace to ensure a modicum of modesty, although, really, it's still pretty scandalous even if only by Valardin standards. "I lack magic vision, dearest sister," is Sophie's reply as she's ushered towards the refreshments, but not before courier proffers her a notecard sealed with a ribbon of violet silk.

Sylphie is overheard praising Acacia for: A wonderful favor, by all accounts.

Freja's scarred brow arches as she looks between Kima and Audric. "Fair warning; I am a terrible dancer. I will attempt it but, it does sound terribly not of my pace."

Dawn's withdrawal from the table is a quiet thing, her head dipped low for those she leaves. Likewise, her progress to the brazier is unobtrusive, wending through the dancers to reach the flame. A last scan of her card and she gives it over into the fire, a puff of brighter light limning her in blue-silver for a moment. Then she reaches up and delicately lifts her veil, brushing it back to frame her face rather than conceal it-- an act that will make drifting away from the dance floor that much easier!

"We're both wonderful dancers, we'll make up for it," Audric says, cheerfully, and extends the arm that Freja isn't linked with to Kima. If she takes it, he leads them both to where the dancing is happening. "You can lead us off," he says to Kima.

"Then I am delighted to find him in such company. Perhaps we may find somewhere to sit, and a drink for myself?" Sylphie replies easily, her smile only drawing upwards more at a single corner of her lips. She lifts to gesture to the couches, only to be distracted for a moment by Acacia and the gift. "Oh, it's quite lovely. Don't you think, Lord Valkieri?"

The language of Pietro's body speaks is one of less certainty, but the dance floor, at least, is a familiar enough pastime that he may yield readily to Esera's demand for his company. He dumps the chicken on a servant with a tray of wine glasses. The servant is probably confused. Oh, well. "All right, I won't be formal," he says. His hand at Esera's hip, he claims her hand in his other one -- no longer burdened with incongruous food -- and proceeds to sweep along with her into the fluid grace of the dance. "I'd rather be bold, anyway."

Nadia has left the Decadent Couch.

language Pietro's body speaks

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

Kima has joined the Ballroom Floor.

Calista's smile is slow to burn across the lush expanse of her crimson lips. She is conspiring with Niccolo and the Duke of House Velenosa is assisting. This should partially count as a task but alas, this is not the main event. "Thank you, your grace. I will have to owe you a favor." Her gown is a network of diaphanous tendrils that rise from the ground leaving her shoulders and decolletage bare. As she moves onto the dance floor with her partner, her long dark hair moves with her slow, sensual steps and sweeps across her back. Her hands to into a hold of Niccolo's choosing and waits for him to guide her in dance.

Black silk drapes around the body and flows down to the feet almost touching the floor, and a half mask slides along the face from one corner to the other leaving the jaw free. Hes late apparently, though the bright smile on Jarek's face seems to show its at least not bothering him at all. The newish face to the city is almost immediately drawn towards one of the lit braziers and the silhoutes they throw into the room.

Silas promptly begins to chatter with the ladies seated across from him in a tone a shade lower than audible, but his blue eyes don't leave Dawn as she weaves away from them. He is most curious.

"In the Lyceum it is always better to be bold," Esera says, her grip tightening upon Pietro's hands as they spin into and around the dance floor. "And sometimes, better to pretend." It is a wild dance, impassioned. If it is elegant, it is elegant only as flame is elegant -- a bright and flickering thing. "We are what we wish to be," she murmurs in his ear. "As great as we have the will to make ourselves be."

"Just follow my lead," Kima says to Freja. "The butterfly will stand between us, and suffer as he must." She then takes Audric's offered arm, who oh-so-wisely already knew who to defer to. Once at the ballroom's dance floor, Kima begins to direct the pair of them, so that Freja stands across from the Lioness as though this would be a traditional dance - except for the fact Audric is locked between them. The scale of height is rather impressive, from tall to medium to short. And short-stuff is the one taking the lead, dominant, but not exactly aggressive.

    Follow Darren out into the middle of the floor, the always-masked Mirrormask looks down at him, as he takes a knee, utterly and thoroughly amused. And then he actually does it, and starts to sing, and Isolde puts a hand to her lips, shaking her head, either holding back tears or holding back laughter (though, it's fairly obvious to those that know her.) She endures every non-rhymed lyric, every single moment of... whatever that is, and she finally just leans down, kissing Darren's forehead, then kissing his lips, putting light fingers to his cheek.
    She straightens, and, without a word to the Prince of Redrain, she turns to Nadia, a lightness bubbling in her words. "I would be more than happy to. Does that suffice as music enough to dance to?"

"Mistress Joscelin worked very hard on them," Acacia delivers easily towards Sylphie, her head inclining even as a small grin tears aside one corner of her mouth from where the mask doesn't cover it. "I should continue to hand them out, however. Do enjoy it, please." Rounding from the duo of her and Lord Valkerie, she heads towards the unveiled Dawn.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Audric has joined the Ballroom Floor.

The Redrain Princess is lead to inevitable danger by the Lioness and the Merc, but she laughs all the while. Freja dramatically bows in a flourish to the Lady Kima,

"Ah, yes. Blue is an excellent choice." Aislin raises her glass in toast to Cara, then turns her attention towards others around them. And there's someone in rose gold, the color of her mother's family. She makes her way over towards Nadia (for presumably, that is Nadia), raising her glass in greeting.

"Yes, yes, a seat and a drink for the lady," Talen urges before extending his hand with a flick of fingers in the direction of a shadowy alcove. "Let us." Not waiting too much longer before he moves in that direction, the Sword measures his steps while drinking from his glass. One would hope Dafne's drink does not contain literaly blood but if it does there's no sign of Talen spitting it out. Red wines have all manner of interesting names in the south, just as whiskies do on the isles. There seems to be a conversation in a reduced volume threaded in under louder words for the small group and it is in this that the swordsman responds next.

Talen has joined the Shadowy Alcove.

Sylphie has joined the Shadowy Alcove.

The Redrain Princess is lead to inevitable danger by the Lioness and the Merc, but she laughs all the while. Freja dramatically bows in a flourish to the Lady Kima, "My Lady, you are too kind...lead away. Let him suffer." A coy wink and she rises once more to her towering height to follow instruction as willed. The height ascension is impressive, more bars in more places almost for the more modern comparison tastes. "However will her live this down?" she wonders aloud to Kima, pointedly speaking as though Audric is not there.

Sylphie follows Talen where he leads, sweeping after him even as her fingers lift to remove her simple mask, revealing her face. As if those who knew her couldn't know her before.

Dafne only answers Talen's request for a name with a smile that curves her dark red lips, a smile that turns into a small moue of surprise at the quiet conversation. She dips in a small curtsy as if she were merely a serving maid, the two glasses remaining just managing to survive the gesture, and turns around, looking for more victims. Er. Thirsty people.

Pietro's grin is warm in his voice as he says, "Then if we shall be whatever we pretend, let's pretend to be great. I expect you've much will to bring to bear." He shifts into the spin of the dance and, putting actions to the words of boldness he claims, dips Esera low in his lean but sturdy swordsman's arms, with his masked features close to hers. "I know I do," he breathes on the verge of an unvoiced laugh.

Valkieri finally drops his hand from Talen's shoulder before he attempts something less gracious with it; he tucks it safely behind him at the small of his back. "I am sure he has as much desire to linger in my presence as I do in his," he says, his brow cinching in irritation at the quieter words Talen and Sylphie murmur. He takes another gulp of his wine, his eyes examining the Sword of Lenosia with a frustrated heat that's not /entirely/ anger. He doesn't follow them as they move off, but he does watch them for several moments with muted fury before tearing his gaze away and striding off -- somewhere else.

Niccolo takes Calista along the dance floor, with a skill that comes from years of dancing at balls and galas. The dance is somewhat more subtle than the one Esera holds with Pietro, but still very Lycene in nature. He tilts his head at something Calista tells him quietly, and replies to the woman by leaning in and whispering, before twirling her away and then to himself.

Dawn turns to meet Acacia, a hand lifted to accept the token given. Some soft words are exchanged as she looks between the Culler and the flower. Smiling, and with head dipped, she finds a more secure froth of lace to pin the boutonniere to, a splash of white against pearly gray.

A flicker of amusement lightens moss green eyes that drift after bear-masked prince and his twilight-draped companion, lingering for the barest of moments to lay witness to his brave, off-pitched serenade. When it becomes far too much, the masked lady moves to lay claim to a swath of shadowed silk draped elegantly over a silken folding screen.

    "Quite the rousing performance, wasn't it?" comes the well-humored quip on the heels of a tinkling laugh, delicately ensnaring the Mirrormask's wrists with a skillful curl of shadowed silk between her hands. "The music is perfect, Your Highness. Now, about that dance...?" The Mirrormask is spirited away and out onto the dancefloor without so much of a second thought of her companion.

"Sometimes I immediately think that I've made a mistake," Audric says, his tone dry as he's shuffled about. "Don't worry about me living things down. Dignity's one of those things like honor that I've never had too terribly much use for. Plus, the view's nice from here."

The fire is distracting, and Jarek's love of fire is present and he almost touches it. ALmost. Then, a messenger? He looks at the note and laughs a little, turning it over in his hands as he glances around the room. Some people are dancing, some are talking off to the side, and Jarek needs to find a person to glom onto.

"It seems the good lord has better company than ours," Talen laments to Sylphie as he twists upon his heel-- a scrape of steel sounding out in consequence-- and seats himself. With the mask of the Zaffria noblewoman's removed, the metal helmet is lifted and pulled free of his head, set upon his lap. Conversation ensues, an introduction perhaps unneeded.

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

Ianthe makes her way to the table at which Joscelin is seated, grinning. Her eyes are bright behind the mask. She offers a nod of greeting to Samantha and Silas at the table before seating herself. She's quiet as she watches, rather enjoying the others completing their own tasks more than focusing on trying to finish her own.

Ianthe has joined the Libertine Table.

Esera arches her back as she's dipped low in Pietro's arms. She springs back, light upon her toes, and leans into him -- leans in to kiss him, fierce and fiery, her fingers pressed to the small of his back. She murmurs something in his ear, and afterwards releases him, spinning him out of their dangerous dance. She strides across the dance floor to drop her card in the flame, and afterwards steps into shadow.

Isolde follows Nadia out to the dancefloor, leaving Darren on his knee, and moves in to claim the Duchess' hands in dancing posture, utterly amused.

Pietro stands still and straight


    There's amusement from Darren too, though unlike the Mirrormask, he doesn't hold back on his own laughter which is certainly not tears. But he seems pleased as a peach when he's kissed, leaping back up to his feet with a flourish after. "Came up with those lyrics right on the top of my head, too," he says to.. no one in particular, since Isolde's turned away to indulge Nadia on a dance. "Save one for me," he'll call to Isolde, looking all the more amused as he carries himself over to the brazier to take off his mask and drop it into the fire, watching it succumb to the scarlet flame. Unmasked now, he'll start drifting, coming alongside Dawn after, though he turns outward to watch the dance floor, where Nadia and Isolde are headed.

Cara has joined the The Scandal Couch.

Esera has joined the Shadowy Alcove.

Pietro stands still and straight for a moment in her wake, and then swirls after Esera's goal to drop his own card into the brazier in a fwoosh! of purplish flame. He unhooks his mask promptly, freeing his features from the smooth surfacing of the mask, and grins as he moves at an easy, loping swagger back across the dance floor.

Lycene in nature, yes, but that is hardly entertaining for this event or even /this/ crowd. "Then I hope you do not mind, Your Grace," Calista begins to say to Niccolo as she curls her finger to the servant who brings her a blindfold. "But I am eager to see how you perform using all your other senses." With the blindfold in hand, she slowly slips it over Niccolo's eyes and ties it firmly behind his head. Sure the card said dance with someone blindfolded. Which is what she is doing. The person is blindfolded. Yes, she could have blindfolded herself and wandered aimlessly but that is not nearly as scandalous as the Rose of Tor's reputation allows her to be.

    The conversation he was having evokes a sudden, exaggerated gasp from the Grayson knight. "I did not push you, m'lady, you tripped when you were in front of me." Silas stops in mid-sentence to give Ianthe a smile when she approaches. "Salutations, Mistress Ianthe."

Dawn finishes arranging her favor upon her gown and then lowers her hands, clasping them demurely at her waist. She stands tall and bright and only briefly alone, Darren's arrival drawing an upwards glance and a small smile. "How long does it take a train a bear to sing?" she wonders before joining the man in studying the dancers revolving on the dancefloor.

Isabeau, is incredibly grateful of the sacrifices that her sister makes for her; it was the very epitome of sisterly love. In spite of the dry wit returned to her question, Isabeau allowed a soft laugh to escape her lips, "If only." Accepting the message brought to her and reading it over, her eyebrows raised beneath her mask before taking a glass of wine and passing it to Sophie should she accept before taking her own, "I suppose we should attempt to accomplish these tasks." Isabeau was thankful for the mask suddenly because she was quite lost in the sea of unfamiliar individuals.


    Darren chuckles low to Dawn, glancing aside at her. "I hunted and ate a songbird before I came here to steal its gift. I had a sinking suspicion that my task would be a serenade," he smirks, tipping his chin up proudly. "It worked, of course. And the songbird was delicious." His laughter will be deep and rumbly then, as he trains his eyes back to the dancefloor.

Kima laughs richly at Audric's statement, but says nothing otherwise for the moment. The dance is simple enough, and is likely fairly comical to some viewers while promising a rather interesting diversion for others. "I do not think either of those concepts hold much of a place amongst we southern people."


     Joscelin blinks at Acacia, accepts the ... gift. Oh. Well. "T..thank you, my Lady-not," she responds, startled, speechless.

Prince Darren's serenade is difficult to miss, and Princess Sophie, with humor in her voice and gently curving her lips, quietly ventures to Isabeau, "I do believe that is the High Lord of Redrain." Seeing him toss his card into the flame, followed by her sister's suggestion they complete their own tasks, she peers down at the card stock prompt gingerly held in her own fingers. Now seems as good a time as any to unravel the ribbon to expose the mystery inside. So she does.

Dafne pauses at the edge of the dance floor, still carrying her tray with the two drinks, which are threatened but remain steady as the short noblewoman raises on her toes to look over the sea of people, some masked, some known, some unfamiliar. "Would anyone care to sip of the juice of berries harvested under a waning moon?" she asks generally, gesturing to what was formerly blood wine.

"If they do not, then what concept does?" Freja counters to Kima playfully as the dance comes to an end. She steps back and manages a curtsey for the Lady, mindful of the sheer silks and leather bindings that make up her gown. Her mask has since been removed, her task now complete. "We can't really judge his dancing. He literally stood there..."

"I did a little movement, my statement about being an excellent dancer remains entirely sound," Audric says. "And that's what's important!" He grins again, stepping out from between the two, briefly wandering off to slip his note into the brazier before returning. "It was a very lovely dance, though."

"Is that how it works in the North? Consume a thing and take its abilities? You shouldn't have settled for song, your Grace, you should have stolen its gift of flight." That's a bit of whimsy that returns Dawn's deeper smile. She lfits a hand as Dafne drifts by and calls, "I'll have a sip, my lady. I find myself without refreshment," having given away all of her own wine!

"I should have known this was coming," Niccolo muses to Calista and allows her to put the blindfold around his head, his eyes now covered. "I sometimes trained with a blindfold. Granted, it never went that well," he offers to the woman. "So we can hope that this goes better," he continues the dance, at a bit of a slower pace, while he adjusts to not being able to see. His steps take him and Calista spinning towards a servant carrying a tray, and the duke almost finds himself crashing against that poor server. But, he doesn't, still, after a few spins, twirls and a dance that had him very close to Calista the duke slows down to a stop. He whispers something to her, then adds, "Thank you for the dance, my lady," bowing as he removes his blindfold.

Nadia leads Isolde out onto the dance floor, her vibrant green eyes alight with mirth when she looks over a shoulder to slant a playful wink back at unmasked Farhaven prince. She turns then, slender fingers steepled through those of the stolen princess as they begin to dance. Vaprous seasilks and depthless umbra of their skirts swirl into one as the duchess sweeps Isolde in close, skillfully weaving an end of her pilfered silk scarf around the Mirrormask's wrist, fingers daring to tease at a sliver of flesh revealed between a break of corset and tiered skirts at her hip as she leans in close with whispered word.

Jarek makes sure to grab himself a glass of wine, who parties without a drink? And he heads in the direction of, oh, I don't know, that redhead who seems to be walking around the party who might be familiar. "Tell me" he mutters in Acacia's direction once he's close "how do you feel about trellises?" thats a good enough question to tell if this person is the one he knows or not.

"Sensuality and salaciousness," Kima tells Freja, voice decidedly serious even as she flutters her lashes at the taller woman. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment..." Kima, too, seeks to drop her note into the brazier, returning to Freja and Audric thereafter. "Now, I do believe it's time for a drink."


    "If I wanted to fly, I would've hunted and eaten a hawk," Darren replies to Dawn with a smirk, shaking his head a little. When she calls over to Dafne, he'll lift his own hand, calling out to the woman. "Does it taste anything like whiskey?" Then, he'll return his attention to the dancefloor, watching Isolde and Nadia rather closely.

Cara settles on to the scandalous couch, arranging her skirts carefully, and then simply sits and observes the party, an island of stillness in the decorative furor.

"The Highlord of Redrain? The prince, you spoke of?" Isabeau's lips curled into a generous smile as she began to step in Darren's direction, with or without her sister in tow. The mask hiding her identity, she said to Darren in a musical voice, "I hope the songbird did not suffer much before its demise. The gift it bestowed upon you was quite lovely."

Freja's catches sight of a dance out of the corner of her eyes and makes no attempt to hide the slight twitch at the corner of her lips that threatens either smirk or smile. "Please. Drinks. A lot of them. What is your chosen spirit? I know he likes whiskey." She jerks a thumb in Audric's direction and asides to him. "At least you didn't oversell yourself...I'll give you that."

Isabeau is overheard praising Darren for: For a lovely voice and ozzy osborne style songbird eating (maybe)

It isn't very ladylike, but while Dawn awaits the delivery of her drink, she swats her hand out to smack the Highlord of Redrain on the arm. Smack.

Walking around the party indeed, Acacia's hand had been close towards her bag of favors once she'd straightened a bit from the table Silas, Joscelin, Samantha and Ianthe were currently located. The masked man sight of Jarek has her head tilted to the side as she pivots to investigate him with a suitable pause. "... I think they make poor escape methods-- are you one prone to investigate them?" Another pause, before she adds with amusement, "Your Highness? I'm working, kind of. Will you drink in my stead? Lots?" Even as she says this, she steals a goblet from a passing server and indulges in a heartier sip.

"I do believe you're both entirely correct," Audric says, returning to the closest place containing alcohol and taking up a glass of whiskey. "I don't think even I know what her favorite choice of drink is - I've never seen her turn down anything."

Dafne skids to a stop, raising her tray to prevent them the glasses from tipping over (they don't. Those wineglasses have nine lives.) She selects a glass and offers it to Dawn. "I think you were my drink serving competition," she notes, with a small curve of her red lips. "But this is delicious." She glances to Darren, and lifts the tray toward him. "It does," she replies. "A little." It doesn't, really. It's very nice wine, and neither whiskey nor berry juice.

Calista laughs lightly, fingers adjusting the blindfold just a little before placing her hands back into that hold as they being their dance again. "To be honest, I hadn't decided /who/ I was going to choose. It was a very last minute decision, but one I feel was the best choice." As they twirl around the floor, barely missing servers and other dancers, Calista cannot help but laugh a bit louder. Yes, this was definitely the best way to complete this task. When their dance come to a conclusion, Calista dips into a proper curtsey. "Thank you for the dance and for indulging me." She leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, returning whispered words.

Valkieri finally drags his glare away from Talen and Sylphie to return his focus to trying to, you know, socialize. He passes by Jarek and Acacia, pausing briefly to lean over and murmur something to the lady before he moves on in his stride towards Niccolo.


    Thoguh the swat wasn't hard, Darren will fake a flinch anyway, holding his arm. "You've bruised me, Lady Dawn. I need a healer!" he sighs dramatically, his attention briefly on Sophie and Isabeau as they come over. "The songbird was very happy to provide its services. It was a noble sacrifice," he inclines his head to the two women, before taking the glass from Dafne, tilting it to her graciously.

Pietro appears more or less at Cara's elbow, spinning his mask on his finger by its strap before tucking it away, carefully tucked within the neat sartorial lines of his inky black vest. He has been unsuccessful in banishing his smile since he left the dance floor. "What lovely feathers," he says. He leans his elbows onto the back of the couch and smiles widely aside at her.

That whisper by Valkieri has Acacia immediately laughing, though she catches half of it to be muffled on the back of her wrist. Flashing a grin towards him as he departs from her and Jarek, she turns her focus back to the other man.

Dawn acts as if she hasn't just thwapped one of the highest lords in the land. Her smile is pristine, every gesture graceful now as she reaches to take the glass from Dafne's hand. "I tried to move opposite of you," she admits, "hoping not to steal your prey, nor lose mine to you. Thank you, my lady." And then she's hiding laughter by raising the wine for a drink, chin tucked low.

"I don't know that I could effer pass up helping someone else with a request like that, I mean, how could I be so rude as to not help someone in the act of drinking?" And there is a bit of a shrug and smirking a bit from the half masked face of Jarek "I am prone to investigating a lot of things, whats life without a little bit of curiosity that might get you into trouble?"

"He speaks true," Kima replies, taking up a glass of whiskey. "However, more seriously, wine is most often what I find at hand. Yet the harder liquors have their place, as well as some ale. I do, however, groan a little bit when offered water."

Niccolo bows again to Calista and after leading her out of the dance floor turns around to a server to claim a glass of wine. He brings it to his lips, drinks and is about to move again when he sees Valkieri approaching him. "My lord," he greets the man, with that curiosity evident in the duke's eyes, his face still hidden by a mask. "Enjoying yourself?"

Cara tilts her head back to look at the man standing above her, answering Pietro with a crooked smile that barely tilts her lips, "I should finish my task so that I may remove my mask, but I find the feathers charming and the mask itself disarming."

"They're tasks, your Highness, and everyone has one. You've missed song and rhymes, blindfolded dances and decadent toasts. It's been a night that's enjoyable to participate in and even more enjoyable, perhaps, to watch." Even as she speaks, Acacia offers her hand, boldly, to try to collect Jarek's arm. "But I need to deliver a favor, one of the many made by Mistress Joscelin, to Prince Darren. And probably another half dozen people. Will you escort me? I think there's a lack of suitable climbing trellises here."

Calista gives Valkieri a dainty bow of her head in a passing greeting before she slips towards the middle of the room to burn that task card, watching the rose hued smoke that rises there. She steps away again and finds herself a seat to give herself a bit of rest for the moment.

Calista has joined the The Misconduct Couch.

"Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey." Freja repeats with all seriousness, her voice having a certain gravitas as she reaches for the very thing she makes a mantra of. "I promise, dear lady, to -never- offer you water." A pause. "...and to give him a black eye if he does." She gives Audric an apologetic look.

Isolde dances and swirls with Nadia, leaning in, her lips brushing the woman's ear as they whisper to one another, not minding even the slightest.

Now that her drinks are gone, Dafne puts the tray down, on some convenient piece of furniture. Some servant will clean it up, certainly. She gives both Darren and Dawn the quick flash of a small smile. "That was very kind of you, my lady," she tells Dawn. "There was a brief moment when the thought of managing to serve all of four drinks terrified me."

Audric says, "I would never. I have some slight graces, however fleeting they are." He grins, then takes off his mask to have an easier time drinking. Which he does, draining a glass in one long pull. "Which does remind me, Princess Freja, that you should absolutely try the Saik wine. It's quite lovely, and I'm not a wine person."

When she realizes Nadia's attention is elsewhere, Aislin turns her attention from her cousin towards others instead. After a moment, she approaches Dafne, whose outfit earns a glance as well, as she circles around to examine it. "Another in black, rather than their favored color?" She pauses, and then asks, "Or is it that black /is/ your favored color?"

"Much like I couldn't refuse the task of drinking, how could I refuse escorting beautiful ladies on questionable tasks? No, that offer is far too interesting, let me escort away" Jarek is easy to have his arm collected by Acacia "Who are we speaking with next? What do you think their opinion on climbing flowers is?"

"I finished mine." Not that she can't tell that, since Pietro is no longer wearing his mask. "I was pretty sure Valkieri was going to implode from how embarrassing I am." Pietro grins wider, and then straightens up. "I think the feathers are /quite/ charming. Would you like something to eat or drink? I promise, no bird seed."

"It's a remarkable gathering, my lord," Valkieri says in the politest terms he can muster. "You're to be commended for such a production." He inclines his head a bit nearer to the Duke, murmuring something in a lower voice before straightening again.

"Call it wise competition rather than kindness," Dawn tells Dafne, her smile straying closer to a grin that makes crescents of her eyes. "But now you've finished and you can claim her prize," is added, a hand lifted and fingers lightly touched to the petals that decorate the froth of her gown.

"Should I have written you a task to climb flowers instead, your Highness? That sounds remarkably risky to your health, given the circumstances. I was horribly tempted to have someone coerce someone else to slide down the banister, but I think you'd ruin the vines then. You're welcome to try though. I have some ink and a quill somewhere," Acacia dictates towards Jarek, her head tilted in his general direction as she cuffs her hand about his upper arm and then leads him in the direction of Calista. "You're familiar with Lady Calista, are you not? If you aren't, you're missing out." Towards the female herself, she very gently procures one of the favors and delivers it, "Your favor, my Lady. I have a very remarkably entertaining Prince here in need of entertaining, also. I'll sell him for a smile."

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

"Life is all about new experiences," Kima says after Audric suggests that Freja try her family's wine. "Though I do not recommend it after having first indulged in whiskey. Maybe on an evening when you're dining upon some succulent roast meat. It pairs well." The atypical wine-talk, Kima knew it well enough. "But enough about that, you'll think me boring."

"Are you the reason he's in such a bother?" Cara turns to look around the ballroom, seeking Valkieri, and observes toward Pietro in a light voice, "It's a rare temper for him, I think, though he's being well-behaved enough not to shout or carry on, so I should award him a prize for that. Perhaps something shiny." She inclines her head, the feathers on her tall collar brushing her jawline, "I would not say no to another glass of wine -- or a dance, if you are up to the task of keeping me from tumbling over."

Nadia keeps Isolde tantalisingly close as they swirl about the dance floor. That pilfered swath of obsidian silk is a rather interesting accessory between the two, shrouding them in a haze of black when the duchess spins the Velenosan princess out with grace. Her tinkling laughter is nearly lost in the music and conversation of the gala, rose-blonde curls twinkling in the light as she sweeps in, her arm raised to shroud their faces as they come in scandalously close. One might think a kiss stolen, from their silhouettes behind the silken haze before it spirals down with a drop of their bound hands.

Oh, dear. Isabeau is on the move, and what Sophie intended to be a savoring taste of wine isn't quite so. At least the glass is only half-drained by the time she arrives behind her sister, not a single drop having sputtered from her mirth-marked lips. "Wounded pride is indeed grave, Your Grace," she intones with mock gravitas. "Often fatal. With good luck, you shall survive and even have some emotional scars." She smiles then, like a balm, just in case the promise of scars were not enough to soothe the (not-at-all) rankled bear.

"Dance with me first, my lady, and then I will fortify you with fine wine," Pietro says, holding out his arm for Cara so that he can curve his arm around her hips and guide her to the floor with a maximum of stately grandeur (or something).

"And so I should," agrees Dafne, slipping her fingers under the neckline of her dress, where she secreted her card. She takes a step, and nearly runs into Aislin. "I like black," she agrees. "The dark of night and mystery."


Darren lifts the glass to his lips, taking a few long gulps of the wine that Dafne's provided before passing his empty glass off to one of the passing servants. "If you'll both excuse me," he inclines his head to Dawn and Dafne, inclining his head back to the dance floor. "I'm afraid I have to go steal my date back from a masked thief before she's stolen for the entire evening," he chuckles, and then will start towards Isolde and Nadia, clearing his throat as he comes near. It's timed quite well with the drop of the silken scarf. "Oh masked lady, might I please have the pretty Mirrormask returned to me? You've stolen the first dance. I'd at least like the second," he chuckles, cocking his head to Nadia but his eyes rather keenly impressed upon Isolde.

"Ah, Lady Fidante? I know her, shes a wonderful and beautiful lady" There is a bright smile from Jarek to Calista "I'm both remarkable and entertaining? See, I knew I liked you Mademoiselle Acacia, you're a charmer. My kind of lady, you should sing my praises more often, they suit you well" there is a grin from Jarek to Acacia now "though, I thought I might be worth more than just a smile, but I suppose I can live with it."

"I see, than I shall toast to the Songbird and it's sacrifice. Although, I might disagree in the nobility of such an action." Isabeau responded to Darren before mentioning, "You might be in luck though, I do have a healer with me. Just, please, try to avoid eating her in the hopes of becoming a healer yourself."

"Saik wine? It sounds superb. Do bring a bottle of it by the Redrain estate sometime?" Freja extends to Kima with a kind smile. Her whiskey is tossed back without a wince and she sets it down on the tray of a passing servant. "For now, I fear my social limits have been reached for the evening. As wonderful, beautiful, and generous as this event is...I fear my dress will not last much longer."

Dagon greets Calist with a warm nod as she joins him at his particular couch. The two converse friendly as he plucks another drink off a passing tray.

Isolde laughs brightly, stopping in mid dance, to cup Nadia's cheeks and kiss her openly, fully there, before twirling away, twisting her wrist to unbind it from the silk. "Mmmmm... I have no doubt, darling. I have no doubt at all." Oh look, and conveniently, there's Darre and she tilts her head. "I... suppose since the song -was- a rather noble sacrifice, I can deign to dance with you before I make my exit." She winks at Nadia over her shoulder. "Soon, darling. I promise."

"My surprise," Aislin remarks to Dafne, "is boundless." Though her tone is light, rather than mocking; some people have rather defining traits. "But you're not wrong. There is something to be said for mystery, for secrets hidden in the shadows. After all, what's the fun of uncovering the forgotten past if none of the past is fogotten?" She inclines her head to Dafne.

Cara is grateful for the arm, for when she rises and joins Pietro on the dance floor, it's clear that the tall lady is not especially confident in her ability to dance -- stately is about the right pace for her, though she does her best. She is concentrating so fiercely on the steps, in fact, that the tiny frown between her brows is visible beneath her mask. Beneath her breath she murmurs, "1-2-3, 1-2-3..."

Niccolo stares at Valkieri, but allows a touch of a smile to dance on his lips. "Thank you my lord. And yes, that is me," he assures the man, giving him a bit of an odd look and reaching to pat him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Get the lord a drink," he tells a passing server, along with a single chuckle. He leans in and whispers something back to the nobleman. "I shall go and do the same," he says, of whatever he said quietly to Valkieri.

Dawn asides laughing to Isabeau, "Best not to challenge the Redrain -not- to do a thing, or it all but guarantees it will be done."

"I do believe that requires me to leave as well," Audric says. "After all, there was a job in the works here. Lady Kima, if you'll excuse me? I'm certain that I'll see you soon enough that the loss of my company won't hurt for too long." He drops his voice for a moment, a smirk on his face.

"Excuse me," murmurs Dafne, to Dawn and Aislin both, and moves over to the brazier with a flicker of skirts. She tosses her card into the flames, and it shots up a flame of vivid teal that casts shadows on her face as she throws back her veil.

Pietro leans in close to murmur smilingly to Cara with lips very near her hair for a moment as he guides her through the slow glide of the dance. In contrast to the wild abandon with which he swept with Esera through the floor, he is a much more staid and sturdy partner with Cara.

"Mistress Acacia, thank you! This is a beautiful boutonniere!" Calista greets Niccolo's protege with a warm smile. "Prince Jarek, it is a pleasure to see you again. How are you finding the evening?"

Cara has left the The Scandal Couch.

Nadia smiles brightly at Darren when she separates from Isolde, green eyes twinkling with mirth. "Of course, Your Highness," she presents the Mirrormask to him with a delicate flourish of a twirled wrist, making a graceful departure from the dance floor in search of Niccolo.

"A lesson that I fear I may have learned too late." Isabeau laughed delicately in reply to Dawn, "I love your outfit, the scarves make you look absolutely ethereal." Her gaze went to the departing Darren and then to Sophie before leaning in close to whisper something to her sister.

"Are you suggesting that you might be about to experience a wardrobe malfunction?" Kima asks, brows lifted. It is unclear whether the lady-knight is concerned or excited about this prospect. She then waves off Audric's words as unimportant. "Keep a cloak handy, in case that leather finds itself unable to hold back such a woman." Kima would bow again, smilingly wryly. "Until next time," she says by way of farewell.


    Darren will incline his head to Nadia, though he scarcely looks at her, the Mirrormask's hand taken to draw her into him. He's not much of a singer, but with dance he's at least better suited, and he begins to drift across the dancefloor with Isolde, in time with the music. It would seem the lumbering bear might actually be good with his feet ... at the very least, he's not stepping on her toes.

"Mistress Joscelin has a number of talents," Acacia delivers towards Calista with a warmer grin, though she tilts her head towards Jarek and conveys something else aside before unbinding her hand from his arm. "And you're very much worth more than a smile, your Highness, but can you put value on Lady Calista's own ones?"

Valkieri exhales a low, but unsurprised, sigh at Niccolo's reaction to his oddity. "Of course, my lord," he says, smile tight. He inclines his head to the duke, but where he heads to first is to the brazier in the center of the room, where he drops the card he pulls out from his coat pocket. With another exhale, he pulls off his mask and stows it into that same pocket, running his fingers restlessly through his hair for a moment as he scans the room. Then, a bit stiffly, he strides towards Dawn (and the group that surrounds her) on the edge of the dancefloor. "Lady Dawn," he says, a touch awkwardly. "Would you care to dance?"

Cara ducks her chin at whatever it is that Pietro whispers, then leans over to murmur something back in response. Her feathers almost certainly tickle his face. There is a very real risk of sneezing.

"Like pretty much all things in life, I'm finding the evening wonderful, but I'm often so very hard pressed to find myself in a situation I can't find at least a little enjoyment in. I am like a leaf in the wind, floating to wherever I go and enjoying it the whole way." Jarek says with a playfull smile to Calista and then there is a laugh and a smirk at Acacia before he leans over to whisper something back to her.

Dawn smooths her hand down over the tiers of silk and lace, smile shading softer. "Thank you, your highness. I've a courtier to thank for the idea. Master Rook, he comes highly recommended if you're in need of assistance with your wardrobe. His standards are high but," her voice dips to a conspirator's level, "the results are well worth the haranguing." Another sip is taken then, before she sets her glass on a passing tray-- just in time to greet Valkieri's approach with a look of bright interest. "Ah, the sharp-eyed gentleman has been unmasked. I would like that, thank you, Lord Valkieri."

Isabeau is overheard praising Dawn for: For looking great.

Nadia casually plucks a wine glass from a mirrored tray. "Your Grace, Lord Valkieri," she sweetly croons in pleasant greetings to Valkieri and Niccolo alike, her lips curled in a faint smile as a hand delicately rearranges her mask over her eyes. "This gala came together amazingly," she praises to Niccolo, her head tilted to watch the Rubino lord before Niccolo is her singular focus thereafter.

Pietro does not sneeze, but he does snort and grin, ducking his head as he drops a few more words in her ear. Then he straightens, gliding slow and sweeping through the waltzing steps.

"If that is the proper term, perhaps? The malfunction being I miss my armor." Freja corrects herself to Kima with a bright laugh. The Redrain woman's rare smile flashes then, brightening her pale features considerably as she inclines her head to Audric's soft words. The laughter continues, but masked behind her hand as she chuckles softly. "There is more leather than woman." She defends to Kima before responding to Audric. A flourished bow is given to Kima and then her and Audric, arm in arm, move to leave. "I did hire him to guard me for the evening, in case someone wanted my head. Since I am making my leave, I fear he does as well. You can give him a hard time later? A black eye from me, if you feel like tossing that in." A final parting smile and the pair slip out the door.

Audric has left the Ballroom Floor.

Kima has left the Ballroom Floor.

"My apologies for the random whisperings of your name," Valkieri says, smile a bit thin. "Tasks, you know." He offers a polite nod to Nadia for her greeting. "My lady." He offers his hand to Dawn to lead her to the dance floor.

Valkieri has joined the Ballroom Floor.

Dawn has joined the Ballroom Floor.

Whatever it is that Isabeau whispers, Sophie cannot refrain from letting out a small, merry laugh. "As am I, dearheart." Noticing Darren now on the dancefloor with Isolde, she lightly quips, "I see he has made a swift and full recovery."
    With an affectionate smile turned to her sister, Sophie interlocks one arm with one of Isabeau's own, and suggests, "Come," as she leads to somewhere more quiet.

"My lady," Niccolo greets Nadia with a dip of his head, as he watches Valkieri approach Dawn, asking her for a dance. His attention turns back to Nadia and he inclines his head to her. "Thank you, my lady. Those are very kind words," he says to her. "I hope you're enjoying yourself?" He asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

Sophie has joined the Shadowy Corner.

Dawn sets hand in hand, tipping a smile up at Valkieri as he guides her out. "Ah, was that your task? To unmask the masked? Well done, my lord. All I needed do was ply four people with drinks, I'm glad now to have received the card I did," she says as she performs a neat turn and sets her other hand on his shoulder.

Nadia smiles warmly at Niccolo. "Of course," she promises with a vibrant laugh. "It's been far too long since I've gotten to enjoy myself at another Velenosan soiree." Her head turns to cast a searching look across the ballroom briefly before her attention returns to the duke. "But what of yourself, Your Grace? Are you remembering to enjoy yourself while so gracefully carrying out your duties as host tonight?" she teases with warm humor.

A voice from the shadows calls, Talen's -- loud and clear. "Blacktongue! It as though I summoned you at mere mention of your name." Alongside him are Sylphie and Esera, the trio conversing in the sanctuary of their alcove. "Won't you lend us your expert advice?"

Kima has joined the Libertine Table.

Cara twirls gently with Pietro, peering over his shoulder at Valkieri and Dawn as they step onto the dance floor. Discreetly, she flashes her brother an approving wink before murmuring to Pietro again.

Now unmasked, Dafne steps away from the brazier, and turns in a gleeful little circle, her wide skirts flaring. She reaches up, smoothing her veil back from her face, glancing about her, as she crosses toward the dance floor.

Esera is standing in the shadows, half a shadow herself, in her gown of umbra, in her silken mask. Her eyes brighten at Blacktongue's arrival, and her lips play into a smile.

As Dafne has slipped away, Aislin turns her attention to see whoever else might be present. This leads to a bit of pivoting, as she scans the crowd; Nadia still seems occupied, and many others have already paired off or settled in at tables.

Though a bit stiff to begin, Valkieri soon proves himself an experienced dancer, if not a particularly remarkable one. His hand settles warm at Dawn's waist. "I'm just glad I didn't get Prince Dagon's," he says. His next words are lower as he begins to lead her on the dance floor. He /ignores/ his sister's /winking/.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

"Thank you, I shall keep him in mind." Isabeau responded after taking a sip of her wine, lowering her own voice in turn, "You are as generous with advice as you are beautiful. Enjoy your dance." Locking arms with her sister, Isabeau begins to head away with Sophie before whispering something else to her.

Nadia isn't so occupied that she wouldn't take notice of Aislin's gaze upon her. Her lips curl into a fond smile, after her gaze catches upon those platinum tresses so familiar to her.

"My enjoyment is in seeing others having fun tonight," Niccolo assures Nadia with a lift of his shoulder and tasting his drink once more. "And so far, is working wonderfully," he points out. He glances over, noticing Aislin and lifts his head. "I think someone has been looking for you," he muses, nodding towards Aislin.

Dagon takes a sip of his wine, continuing to converse with Calista in a friendly manner. His gaze does begin to look over the room, resting on a few people here and there.

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

Pietro throws back his head and laughs at something Cara says, and his teeth graze the curve of his lower lip as he grins at her. As their slow, stately dance winds towards a close, he starts to maneuver back toward the edge of the dance floor from which they entered, so that they will have a good line on the sofa. "That sounds resoundingly accurate, my lady," he says aloud.

Dawn is no expert dancer, herself. And, hampered with that cascading tiered skirt, it's only the lightness of seasilk that saves her from moving too slowly with Valkieri's lead. Still, there's grace to be had in gradual, dignified movements and she follows well. Whatever soft words offered bring a chuckle, a dip of her chin, before she answers quietly in kind.

Dafne pauses and takes the boutonniere from Acacia, turning it over in her lace gloved fingers. "Thank you," she tells her with a small smile, and reaching up to pin it to the lace of her dress. "It's lovely."

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

"Anticipation" Calista echoes to Dagon, just as slowly as he presents it to her. Her eyes lift once more to settle upon Jarek. "Are both of you acquainted with one another? Prince Jarek Velenosa allow me to introduce Prince Dagon Thrax." Her hand lightly gestures between the men. "Prince Dagon, this is Prince Jarek Velenosa." There is also plenty of space on the couch. "If you'd like to join us, Your Highness. I can certainly sit between two handsome men."

The thing is, Blacktongue was already in the shadows. The Harlequin is true to his role and nature tonight, dressed to the nines in monochromatic blacks and silvers. No bells. Never.
    The face of the older man is painted in hyperbolic grotesque so that his smile is overly exaggerated, looking near painful in the way it stretches well past those darling dimples that would appear on others. "No need to shout, Nephew. I am here." He drawls half bored to Talen, having been leaning against a pillar and examining a dark fruit in his hands. His sharp blue eyes glance slowly to Talen and his slow smile is far too cheerful, too cheshire. "What am I needed for?"

Kima, bereft of her dancing partners, must now find something else to occupy her time. That comes in the form of Joscelin, whose curvaceous form cannot be mistaken! The blonde knight eventually finds her way over to the table where the jeweler has seated herself, and Kima comes up behind the woman in order to give Joscelin's shoulders a friendly squeeze. "I hadn't the chance to thank you for earlier," she says before finding a seat.

Nadia nods her agreement to Niccolo, her hand lifted in soft beckoning toward Aislin. "Have you met my cousin, Lady Aislin Ashford?" she asks of the duke curiously, raising her glass to savor the fragrant Lenosian white. Her expression is briefly nostalgic, her lips curled in private humor behind her glass before she drinks more deeply of it.

Alistair arrives and is immediatly accosted by a servant. The Hood of the Inquisitor seems to darken as if his frown grows, the man being handed a small note card which he slowly reads his eyes scanning the 'task' he has given. The man's only response is to slowly crease and fold the note and tuck it into his robes. Perhaps 'evidence' he can exploit in the future? One would not put it past the Inquisition. He steps to the side of the ball room, stalking amongst the outskirts as he watches the party goers enjoy the fruits of civilization.

Esera pulls Blacktongue into a quick embrace. She murmurs his name in his ear -- not the name he has taken, but the name he was first given -- and then releases him from the soft, swift hold of her arms. "No bells?" she asks him, laughter in her voice.

"I don't think we've met, its a pleasure to meet you prince of Thrax" And the beaming smile from the half masked Jarek implies he is either telling the truth, or a good liar. There is a drink of wine and a shrug and a smile "sitting at your couch, at least for the moment, sounds delightful, though I wouldn't wish to get in the way of the two of you by lingering too long."

Acacia inclines her head towards Dafne with a bolder grin, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, my Lady." Retiring herself to the edge of the dance floor, she manipulates her way behind Pietro as he might be leaving the floor, procurring one of the flowers to appear near his left side, "I didn't get a chance earlier, my Lord. You know, you didn't mention to me that your brother was a twin, when you were speaking so frequently of his praises. I hope that you've enjoyed yourself thus far? These favors were created each by Mistress Joscelin."

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

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

"The archduchess of flowers is the keeper of that answer," Talen says in reply. Steely eyes are on the dancers for a moment before he returns them to his company. "Never," he adds, on the topic of bells.

"I strive for accuracy, my lord," Cara answers Pietro, voice dry, "And I thank you for the dance -- but I believe I shall shed my feathers after all. Do not feel you need dance attendance on me, though -- there are so many delightful people here, and I am the least of their number."

Sylphie's smile remains for Blacktongue, offered in greeting even as she says nothing. Instead, she finally turns away from her companions to briefly find a servant and finally procure herself a glass of red wine to hold. Maybe drink.

Jarek has joined the The Misconduct Couch.

Still masked, Aislin inclines her head to Niccolo as she approaches. "I fear few disguises work well enough to conceal my identity, mask or no." The platinum-white hair, combined with the scar on her cheek still visible beneath the mask, are proof enough. "And we have met, albeit only briefly, at the training center not terribly long ago."

Isolde kisses Darren on the lips as their dance comes to an end, and with a light laugh, she slips away.

Isolde has left the Decadent Couch.

Pietro lets out a laugh that sounds suspiciously cacklish. "He's the handsome one," he assures Acacia. He grins happily at her. "It's been a lovely party. Amazing, really." Looking bright-eyed at Cara, he says, "I hope you enjoy yourself too, m'lady," and lifts her hand to his lips so that he can brush a quick kiss to her knuckles.

As he dances with Dawn, perhaps a hint of tension seeps from Valkieri's shoulders. He even smiles the slightest amount -- you can see it! Tucked away in the corner of his mouth. But all of his words remain low and private to her.

Ah, the highborn come marching along, careless of what the wee people think - a tall young man with a mane of brown-black hair comes sweeping in, wearing a blue and silver mask - where there are eye holes and mouth holes, muslin black cloth has been cast, creating the featureless expanse that this man is. Six feet tall and draped in fine silks blue as the summer night sky or the deepest of ocean depths, he has gold tasseled epaulettes and gold embroidery on his fine blue finery. A silver sash, shaped like a lightning bolt, crisscrosses his chest, and he walks in on long, languid steps, like a hurricane bearing down on some hapless coastal village.

Salazar pauses and then heads for the hostess with the mostest, wherever she may be found. Salazar Argento - if his Stormborn apparel attests to him (though perhaps one might confuse the man for one of his male cousins or perhaps his younger brother) - is here to make good on his commitments to House Velenosa. He pauses briefly, casting a veiled gaze at the dancers, before gesturing to the train of men - blue linen, cloth turbans, a general piratical air to them, with plain paper masks of silvery white - wheeling in a large, unwieldy cask. With a swish of his hand, Salazar dismisses them, leaving the cask near the tables. Looking around for someone to accept the gift - a barely hidden marketing opportunity, no doubt for local Argento's Nilanzan wine - he comes to a stop, peering about for Duchess Esera or Duke Niccolo.

Blacktongue's raises his brows in mock shock at Esera. His namesake, that unsettling black tongue, clicks to playfully chide her. "Never, my Grand Duchess of Shadows." A pause as he holds up one finger, knowing his error. "Tonight at least." He extends the dark fruit towards her that he had been examining. "Have you seen the bloom this comes from? Quite lovely." His gaze darts back to Talen, though his words are for Esera once more. "What answer in inquiry is this? What wisdom is asked from a fool?"

"Mmh. I got a good introduction," Acacia returns towards Pietro, scoffing with faux indignance at his laughter and then succumbing to that more natural grin thereafter. Delivering a bow despite the silken state of her gown, she seeks to abandon both him and Cara, "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Dawn possesses a deeper smile and hers is shaded with approval, perhaps in response to that loss of tension in her partner. Something he's said wins a chuckle from her, just a low hum of amusement-- and an answering nod, as she's led into a slow turn.


     In the midst of cheerful conversation at their table, mask-less Joscelin is caught in the middle of a sentence before she sees someone she didn't expect to find here. Or. Anywhere, really. Her eyes widen at the sight to Alistair, and she whispers a quick, excuse me to her table as she stands and makes quick work reaching the Inquisitor's side and silently praises herself for not tripping.

Nadia enfolds Aislin's arm within her own companionably. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," she tells her, a glass of wine passed into the Ashford's hand as she looks up to Niccolo. "I'm tickled that she's still here in the city. Lady Aislin here is never one to linger for more than a few weeks or so in any given place." Her gaze flickers back to her cousin, warmly teasing, "Does this mean you've lost your wanderlust..? Better yet, will I see an invitation for your wedding in the foreseeable future?"

"I've met her before," Niccolo assures Nadia, and turning to Aislinn, he inclines his head to her. "My lady," he offers in greeting towards the woman. "We also meet at that Redrain party, but, it was also very briefly," he offers to Aislin. "Enjoying yourself so far?" He wonders. Seeing Salazar make his entrance, the Duke, masked as he is lifts a hand in greeting and inclines his head in the man's direction.

Whatever it is that Isabeau whispers this time, it prompts Sophie's blue eyes, warm and bright even behind the mask she wears, to scan the room. And then her gaze alights on Alistair for a pensive moment. Then, she leans in to murmur something to her sister.

Talen watches Sylphie in her pursuit of a drink, his distraction only warranted when Blacktongue speaks to the Esera. "Entertainment, apparently. It doesn't run in the family, her grace has explained to me. I am a bore and you are not. Is that true, do you think? Do I bore?" Stirring, stirring.


    Abandoned there on the dancefloor, Darren will step away and back to the edge of it, glancing around to those gathered. He spots Nadia standing there with Niccolo, and will make is way over, inclining his head to Niccolo with a grin. "Wonderful party, your Grace," he intones to Niccolo, before flashing a grin to Nadia. He just shakes his head, murmuring something to her.

Dafne returns now to the edge of the dance floor, smoothing her wide skirts with quick little motions of her hands. She looks around.

"I am enjoying myself well enough, yes. To see how people have chosen to present themselves, among other things." Aislin circles Nadia and Niccolo, examining /their/ outfits. She has indeed developed a bit of an interest in fashion this evening, it seems. "Yet more black? I suppose it is fitting, for a gala of smoke and shadows." But Nadia's outfit earns a nod. "Ah, but my cousin does have bits of rose gold, amethyst, and diamond to break up the unrelenting black. It is interesting to judge people's favored colors, as they slip into the edges of their outfit." But then Nadia has slipped her arm into Aislin's, trapping her into the conversation as she mentions marriage. The shake of Aislin's head in answer is downright vehement. "Gods, no! Honestly, Nadia, what man would put up with me? Or could /keep/ up with me, for that matter?"

Alistair is staring at the party, surveying the many high class enjoying themselves as the night goes on. Perhaps he did not expect someone to approach him so boldy? Or perhaps he just does not care. His eyes drop down to Joscelin, the darkness of the room taking a moment for him to realize who she is. He inclines his head slightly, the hood of his robes shifting as he does so. "Joscelin... a pleasure to see you doing well. I trust you enjoyed the fete the other day?" He inquires. More words then he spares for most!

"My Sword was given a challenge, and he refused it," Esera answers Blacktongue. "He needs the help of a far more clever man, I think. Will you take him into your care, this evening? In your care I'm certain he will not be a bore -- and he will not fail his challenge." The look she gives Talen is as lingering one, and then she pushes him toward Blacktongue with a press of her palm. "Good luck," she offers both men, generally.

Cara chuckles softly as Pietro kisses her hand and shakes her head slowly, "You are incorrigible, my lord. Never change." She bows her head to Acacia as the other woman departs, then moves through the crowd to the brazier, placing her task card into the flame. The way she does it is a bit awkward -- she releases the card too quickly, letting it fall into the fire and jerking her hand back as if the flames themselves might snatch at it. Once done, though, and with the green flame leaping up to consume her task card, Cara lifts her hand and unties the ribbons that hold her raven mask in place. She smoothes a finger over the feathers before tying the ribbons loosely around her wrist, keeping it out of the way now that it's no longer needed.

As a servant comes around, Calista asks for a glass of wine. She quietly offers thanks and returns to her quiet conversation.

Sophie has left the Shadowy Corner.

Sylphie tips her glass in a subtle salute towards Talen, finally lifting it to her lips. She will speak up in defense of Talen, offering, "But, your grace, how can the poor man complete his task until you are ready to leave? One wouldn't wish him to drag you away."

Acacia paused briefly towards one of the tables, withdrawing a blank card and scribbling on it until one of the messengers can place it into rotation with the others. It isn't until he's well on his way that she circulates back towards Darren, Niccolo, Nadia, and Aislin, delivering a bloom to all save the Duke. "These favors were made by Mistress Joscelin. Please affix them somewhere upon your attire to wield your completion proudly, so on and so forth, excess grace, excess decorum."

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

"I am not sure he has reached the right conclusion," Esera says to Sylphie. "Who knows what is left to be seen this evening? How many beautiful faces hide behind dark masks?"

"Lies and slander," Talen replies to Esera, "I met your challenge perfectly and await its completion." Still, he lets the push send him toward Blacktongue with a few steps as he turns aboutface, walking away from the Grand Duchess with reverse motion. Sylphie's exchange and the inevitable response cause him to laugh shortly, only barely amused. "Come, uncle. We have an impossible task. We must unmask everyone within the room that we can so I can be sure that the most beautious shadow has already been found. Will you assist? Pick our first lady to divest of mystery."


     "Please don't stab me," Joscelin begs, before she's stepping close to embrace the tall man. "Alistair, it's been -ages-," she says with a delighted laugh. And as quick as she's done it, her arms fall away and she takes a step back. "Alistair, it's good to see you too! And I did! I did not see if you if you were there." The jeweler looks different, not in her usual work clothes and everyday cottons, but garbed in velvets, her curls straightened into long, flat, gleaming silken tresses. Gold eyes crinkle with mirth at her childhood friend. She doesn't question his lack of mask; she knows better. "How are you doing these days?"


"If he has seen mine and he has seen yours, what more does he need to see?" Sylphie counters in light, teasing banter back to Esera, her smile bright. But then Talen is already on his task, and she rolls a bare shoulder upwards in a light shrug. She wishes him, "Good luck, Master Talen. Master Blacktongue."

"It was good to meet you, even if it seems that I scared you away Prince of Thrax" Jarek says with a bit of a chuckle, then looks to Calista with a smile "I am not sure if you are danced out already, but I've yet to have one tonight, would you perhaps be willing to do me the honor?"

Calista has left the The Misconduct Couch.

Blue mask, lightning sash - let us call him Messire Stormborn - catches Niccolo's wave and crosses the ballroom with the same languid pace. Not -quite- as devastating as hurricane winds in his wake, Salazar Argento comes to a stop by Niccolo's party with both Aislin and Nadia, inclining his messily-coiffed head, his mask obscuring the knowing smile that must be behind the featureless blue across his face. He could be bloody anyone, really.

"Black is indeed the color of House Velenosa. It reveals and it hides at the same time, a most versatile of colors, or lack thereof," Salazar murmurs. A servant passes by with a tray of light bubbly fare, and Salazar lifts one off the tray with a single blue-black gloved hand, tipping his full-face masked up just a few inches to allow sipping of his drink. And then he tips his mask down again, nursing the drink in one hand. "Lady of the ford of night-black Ash," Salazar offers in Aislin's direction, "Black really is much like gleaming white, which your hair is. No matter the mask, none can hide that glistening luster, hm?" He turns to Duke Niccolo - black as night, his ensemble is - and then Nadia, also in lavish black. "The Duke Father of Velenosa, and -- I do not remember the Duchess of Velenosa with rose-gold locks," he says, indicating Nadia's cascading curls, "... but you've certainly captured Lycene fashion at its height."

Nadia listens to Aislin's vehement cries with practiced patience, and hers is a truly humored bubbly laugh. "Come now," she clucks at her cousin admonishingly. "You've a certain air about you that few have. An amassed collective of knowledge on cultures and civilizations very few of us will ever see, well-traveled. A mane of beautiful platinum tresses, and a sharp wit and intellect to match. Who -wouldn't- want to be wed to you, my darling?" Her gaze drifts aside to Niccolo in silent recruitment for her plight, before Darren's whispered words earns a tinkling laugh, leaning in to murmur a quick response.

Valkieri's fingers shift in their curve around Dawn's hand, perhaps curling a bit closer in their clasp. He steps a bit closer as they turn in the dance, his smile curving a bit more sardonic at something she's said.

"He refused?" Blacktongue says with scorn, turning a feigned scowl to Talen. "Bad, bad Sword. Simply won't do." He concedes to Talen before he moves to join his other conversation. "You bore when you aren't allowed to be your sharpest. I'll allow that." A pointed look given that is made all the more severe by the slow smile of his, accented sharply by his Harlequin paint. With a solemn nod, Blacktongue removes an imaginary hat to sweep a bow to Esera, that invisible clothing item certainly brushing against the floor if it were real. "As you wish, my Duchess." He returns to his feet and makes a show if setting that 'hat' right, particularly at a jaunty angle. "You heard her." he calls out to Talen, voice sharp.

Isabeau looked in the direction her sister was and pursed her lips, "He seems quite busy at the moment and well, hardly the type to smile." The Valardin Princess laughed once more before taking another sip of her wine and leaning in to whisper something else.

Calista rises from her seat and tosses back that glass of wine, drinking it as quickly as she can and handing it over to another servant before slipping her hand in Jarek's. "I'd be delighted. Lucky for you, your highness, I am not danced out just yet. Let us burn the dance floor."

Jarek has left the The Misconduct Couch.

"A /blue/ mask," Aislin remarks, leading Nadia on a little circle around Salazar -- since her arm is entrapped, and all. "How remarkable, in a room of nearly unrelenting black. But I'm not surprised, in truth. The blue of the sea seems like it would be your favorite color."

Dagon steps over to where Nadia is conversing with some others and he offers Darren a pleasant nod. "Prince Darren. I'm glad to have felt some relief knowing that my singing wasn't the worst to be heard in these halls this night. Though your song was more impromptu than my own I think. That counts for quite a bit." Hearing the words about being wed to whoever, he groans. "Oh, did I walk into one of those conversations? Bad enough I have to hear it from my sister from time to time."

"There is always more to see," Esera assures Sylphie, "and to discover." She smiles to her, but leaves her side after, to sweep across the floor and take a seat, alone, at one of those ever-scandalous couches.

Esera has left the Shadowy Alcove.

Esera has joined the The Immorality Couch.

Briefly, Sophie's expression sombers just a touch at what is whispered in her ear. Then, again, she murmurs something in return to Isabeau.

Niccolo spots Darren approaching and inclines his head to him. "Your Grace," he offers respectfully to the man. "I'm glad you approved. I heard that song you performed for my daughter," he lets amusement show on his lips. "I was... impressed," he offers, sounding approving. He looks between Nadia and Darren, and then turns to Aislin. "I'm glad you are. I much prefer purple, to be honest, but this event called for black," he says and then adds to the group. "And if you'll excuse me, I shall continue my mingling." He bows to the group. When Acacia joins them, he studies her. Seeing a server walking by, he takes a glass of Lenosian red and as he steps by his protege, offers it to her. "Take a moment to refresh yourself," he says, with a smile to the woman. However, he is stopped by Salazar. He looks from him, to Nadia and amusement shows on his expression. "She's not the Grand Duchess," is all he says, putting a hand on Salazar's shoulder. "It's good to see you, my lord. Enjoy yourself."

Abandoned in the shadows of the alcove, Sylphie lingers there for a moment, watching the room with silvered grey eyes.

Dawn adjusts her posture to compensate for Valkieri's shift, forearm draped light against his shoulder. It means she must tilt her head a little further back to meet his eyes. Her brows lift in turn at something -he's- said and then she's laughing, a rich sound that carries well through the music being played.

Jarek rises with Calista, finishing his drink as well and smiling at Calista "I am absolutely positive that you could burn up a lot of things Lady Fidante, but we should probably leave the dance floor in one piece in case someone is foolish enough to try and follow us on the dancefloor after we show them how its properly done." He takes Calista's hand and leads her to the dance floor before facing her and placing one hand around her waist and keeping a close stance as they join those already dancing.

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

"You know I don't stab..." he says, the unsaid being that he prefers other methods of pain or disposing of annoyances. It seems he does not consider Joscelin an annoyance though, a status that few people can claim to have... and one he revokes at a whim. "Clearly not as good as you..." he remarks, nodding to her dress. He still wears the black of the Inquisition, though unlike many other Inquisitors he is not decked out with the spoils of his profession... jewelry and gold... ill gotten gains claimed with the power of the crown. "I trust no one from the order gave you any trouble...?"

And as Niccolo mentions his preference for purple, Aislin offers a smile, and disentangles her arm from Nadia's. "Pardon me; I'll return in just a moment." And so she moves to the brazier, burning her card and removing her black leather helm with perhaps a bit of relish -- that was hotter than it really should have been -- before she makes her way /back/ towards Nadia and Salazar.

"You're both supportive and unhelpful at once, Blacktongue," Talen tells the elder Artiglio with his gaze sweeping the crowd. The luck wished him by Sylphie gets a prompt reply, "I will need it, my lady. It is a fool's errand that I am on... oh, but I'm in the company of a professional one. I suppose that might help a little." With a hand laid to the jester's back he wanders the crowd, weaving amongst the remaining dancers and those who are still masked.

Darren will smirk to Nadia, shaking his head just a touch. He murmurs something back, before looking over to Dagon, his grin broadening. "Prince Dagon," he inclines his head, chuckling warmly. "I get better the more whiskey I consume. Or so I've heard," he shrugs his shoulders, eyes bright as he looks back to Niccolo, inclining his head at the approval in his voice. "Thank you, your Grace. Your daughter seems to bring out the best in me. It's very easy to be inspired by her," his smile turns momentarily fond, before he shakes his head and casts a glance back over to the dancefloor.

Pietro proudly pins his boutonniere to his vest, runs a hand through his hair and leaves the dark waves tousled in the wake of his fingers, and collects a couple of glasses of wine from a passing servitor on a tray. These claimed, he drifts through the crowds, sipping at one glass while he holds the other safe; he pauses by the patch of wall his brother is holding up to share a few words before he moves on, bounce springing in his step as he ricochets back out into the party again.

Acacia expelled a quiet chuckle when the glass of red is delivered to her by Niccolo, turning over her shoulder to watch his departing figure. "As you wish, your Grace," she murmurs, tone rich with humor as she indulges in a heartier drink from the top of it and then strafes further aside to tally those individuals who prove maskless once more.

"Oh, you tease." Calista coos to Jarek as they now move in a close hold upon the dance floor. "I'm very curious to see how the Velenosa men compare. Do not disappoint me." One arm slides around the Velenosan Prince's neck, pressing her chest close to his. "What is your favorite dance?"


     Joscelin laughs softly and leans close to whisper something to the Inquisitor, her expression playful under Alistair's gaze.


Esera takes a glass of wine from a passing servant -- her first glass of the evening. Seated there, upon that luxurious couch, she is silent and still, at the eye of the storm.

Nadia casts a humored smile upon Salazar, her chin tipped in warm reception of his arrival. "My lord," she laughs with a hand lifted to touch fingers to the elegantly pinned ringlets of spun rose-blonde upon her head. "I'm pleased you finally decided to grace us with your presence, and stand out so handsomely all the while in your fetching blue mask of course," she tacks on, after appraising his choice of fashion with an air of approval. Her gaze touches upon Dagon fondly, after Aislin leads her on a brief spin around, cheeks turned pink with her bubbly laughter and glasses of wine imbibed. "Your Highness, there you are! I was beginning to think you might've been spirited off by another in my absence. Are you enjoying yourself?" She looks to Niccolo now, then to Acacia when she joins their growing circle, "Mistress Acacia, you look absolutely stunning tonight. I see you've been keeping busy. Save me a dance, to keep with the trend I seem to be keeping, yes?"

Valkieri's smile curves a bit wider when Dawn laughs, looking briefly pleased with himself for inspiring it. It's perhaps more restrained in comparison to her wider grin.

"My favorite dance invoves a lot less clothing and sometimes a bed" Jarek replies without hesitation to Calista's question and with a bit of a smile as they begin moving around the dancefloor. When Calista presses her chest close to his he tightens that hand a little around her waist to keep the pair quite close as they dance. "Outside of that, I am so very unparticular. I like dancing. How could you not like dancing? Being so close to a woman and taking in the moment. I like anything that makes you feel alive, that lights up your insides. Perhaps then fast dances with a lot of energy.

Pietro scoops up another glass and then swings into the shadows of an alcove. He favors Sylphie with a wide smile and holds out the glass as though he offers it as his price of admission to her presence. "Lady Sylphie," he says. "Having fun yet?"

Blacktongue makes a show of rubbing his chin, stroking that neatly trimmed beard dyed a magnificent purple for the evening. "Well...well." He walks between each different masked ladies of the gala, dragging Talen along behind him whether the Sword is willing or not. There is a slight dance to the man's gait, as if he is hearing a song no others were aware begun. He comments aloud concerning the women to Talen, as if they weren't sentient beings but rather paintings on a wall. "You see, this one? We could unmask her, but I fear that the laughter that would ensue would be even me out of a job." They move along. The next one gets a longer perusal. "And she...well, it does her grace. Have you ever heard of a butterface?" A hand is held demurely over his heart and he defends to the woman that begins to gasp, "I love dairy, dear lady. Moo along." He shoos her and then they settle on the familiar figure of Acacia, familiar for Talen at least. "Now this, this is a woman of fire. Not shadows." He stage-whispers to Talen, " The hair...get it? Bright not dark, but -always- compliment the hair. They throw less cups and plates that way..." he coughs, clearing his throat and turns back to the masked Acacia.
     "Dear Lady, you work and toil, toil, and make us so troubled. It is a crime, the insult doubled. Remove your mask and bring us delight. Too many shadows, we need fire in our sight."

"Blue-black," Salazar corrects, with a gesture towards his lightning bolt-besashed body atop his silk shadows. "Because there is no darker, no deeper place than the maw of the sea." Niccolo's response to Nadia not being the Grand Duchess earns a glance around the room, watching him calculate the trajectory the elder statesman is headed in. It is, of course, when he espies a certain person heading for the Immortality Couch, alone. Black misery loves sea-black company, does it not? He turns to Aislin and Nadia, and holds up a task card, brandishing it like a card-shark playing legerdemain with a poker card, before pocketing it in the depths of his silk waistcoat once more. "Excuse me, I seem to have a terrible task at hand that I must stern myself for."

And with that, Salazar Argento sails for choppier waters - the act of dismounting the Duchess of Velenosa from a seat she owns. Blue-mask, featureless black features, blue-black silk apparel, Salazar crosses the room once more, intent on his way to Esera's couch. "M'Lady, you must--"

And it's just as he makes his way across that Sal walks right into the Artiglio family, fool and Sword, Tale(o)n of blackest night and Blacktongue with blackest heart, and spills his bubbly on himself. He makes a low gasp of complaint before he tips his mask up, drinks down the rest of the bubbly, and sets it on a tray of a passerby servant. Blue-black does not take on champagne so easily, and he continues on his merry way, heading for Esera. "M'Lady, you happen," he announces loudly, "to be occupying a seat I would very much like for myself."

Pietro has joined the Shadowy Alcove.

Dawn tilts her head, amusement replaced with curiousity as she studies Valkieri. But ease of partnership means an easier dance, and the next turn sees her stepping more freely, skirts whirled in a froth of lace and seasilk.

"Certainly my choice of song is much better when the singer has gotten quite drunk. I could have waited until that point, but thought better of it." Dagon replies to Darren, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "This little event was quite a nice one, I will have to give my regards to the Archduchess in that regard." He rubs at his chin with a hand and then leans over to murmur something to Nadia.

Shadows delicately cover Sylphie's reaction, though certainly she reaches to accept the glass of wine from Lord Pietro as he joins her in the alcove. Her gaze even leaves the sweep it makes of the ballroom, turning only to Pietro as she leans in to murmur something.

Talen has left the Shadowy Alcove.

"Then you must see to it," Sophie fondly smiles at her sister before finishing the last of her wine just in time to place the empty glass on the tray of a passing servant. "Come, let us see about some Southern delicacies." And then she is leading Isabeau towards the refreshments, murmuring to her as they stroll.

"I hear there's redheads that throw knives though. That's equally as dangerous, isn't it?" Acacia's return response was low towards Blacktongue, posture a bit stiffer initially at the attention granted her and a protective arm crooked almost habitually about the favors. "I was very much attempting to be covert and sly, yet your memorable quips bring me in the public eye. Silken dreams are something to be fancied, not engaged in, love; yet, you tempt everything and beyond, don't you?" There's a secondary, sharper look cut across towards Talen, before she reaches behind to untie the mask and tug it free of her features with a brassy voice flush with amusement, "Thank you for the rhymes and focus. May you find the shadowy Lady that you seek and may she not be in another ballroom, yes? You're cheating at my tasks. Both of you. Tch."

Esera looks up at Salazar, a long and bold look given him. Though she wears a mask, it is a mask that conceals little. It does not hide the dangerous flash in her eyes, and it certainly does not hide the challenging turn of her smile. "Yes?" she asks him. "For yourself?" She crosses her legs at the knee, with a shift of umbra skirts, with a turn of her ankle. "It is not the only couch here, and it is not the best," she says. "But I am bound by honor to serve my guests."

Nadia quirks her lips faintly at Salazar. "Enjoy yourself, my lord," she bids him warmly before she is left alone in the company of her cousin and princely cohorts. "You'll have to excuse me, Your Grace. My darling cousin," she posits in regretful partings, slipping away to take Dagon's arm after his whispered word. "I believe you'd have lost your gall, had you waited until later in the party, Your Highness. I don't blame you. Such a task can be nerve-wrecking."

"Oh, pardon me. Almost stepped in some shit...who let a horse in here?" Blacktongue asides to Talen as Salazar bumps into them. He makes a show of holding his hand above his eyes, standing on his toes and trying to peer over the crowds. "Damn fools. Poor form." He carries along and grins grotesquely to his nephew and Acacia, the facepaint making his jovial air eerie. He awaits Talen's reply before responding to Acacia directly.

Silas announces his departure with the sound of his chair scraping the floor as it's push away from the table he was at. Sporting a merry smile, he bows to the women he was conversing with. "Thank you, ladies, for the lovely evening. But I'm afraid I must go. I have no doubt our paths will cross again soon." He turns and scans the throngs of people in search of the task conductor. He spots Acacia and strolls by, but doesn't linger long due the woman quite obviously being in the middle of conversation.


    Darren will flash a wide grin to Dagon, straightening a little away from Nadia having finished his murmured words to her. "We'll have to visit a tavern together soon then. I bet you and I could swap many a drinking song," Darren laughs to Dagon, before he glances over to the dancefloor. "If you'll excuse me," he murmurs to those gathered, before he splits away from the group to head over to the dancefloor, towards where Valkieri and Dawn are. It will be Valkieri who he taps on the shoulder, while inclining his head to Dawn. "Will you allow me to cut in, good sir? I've never danced with the moon before, and would like a chance to do just that," he chuckles.


     Joscelin is in the midst of stepping from Alistair, until she stops suddenly and looks to the Inquisitor. Maskless, it's easy to see surprise on her face, and the bright smile as she nods to the tall man. "Enjoy the gala, Inquisitor. And should you finish your task, the favors they dole out were made by my own hand." She winks at him, and heads back to her table.

Talen barely feels the crash into Salazar, armoured and in guided step as he is alongside Blacktongue. There's only the barest of glances from the now helmet-less Sword, flicking gray eyes to the man with champagne spilt upon his person. No apology, only a question for Blacktongue: "Did you really just make a pun in front of me?" he says, "because I'm ninety percent sure I said never do that again." If he ever did say that, it's lost to time.
"Certainly not a shadow," is said as he comes face to face with Acacia, stepping around her in a predatory circle as though he's inspecting for any clue he might be mistaken. "Throwing knives or not, she won't do. Especially not with the tasks she's given-- mine was awfully dull." This last, leant in and confided aloud.

Valkieri snorts a quiet breath at something Dawn has said, looking briefly embarrassed as his gaze shifts away from her before returning. He speaks to her haltingly, his awkwardness seeming to creep back into his aspect.

Which is when Darren approaches, and he's forced to suddenly still in the dance. He looks briefly, deeply frustrated, and then composes his expression. "That is, of course, up to the lady."

Her laughter is light but comes with surprise. Calista tilts her head back some to settle her shadowy emerald eyes on Jarek's expression. "Well, that is rather forward. I cannot say I am offended. I'm not at all, if you were curious." The young woman moves in those steps holding every inch of herself closer as they twirl.

Silas has left the Libertine Table.

The still masked duke steps away from Nadia, Darren and Aislin and towards one of the tables with drinks and appetizers both. Niccolo spots Sophie and Isabeu and inclines his head to them. "My ladies," he offers in greeting, a safe one considering the masks and all. "Are you both enjoying yourselves?" He wonders, just as he claims a glass of wine.

Ianthe walks away from the table, card in hand. It takes her a moment to orient herself in the crowd. Why did high born folk have to be so damned tall? Finally, she spots the brazier and, with a deft flick of her wrist, tosses her card into it. With her free hand, she removes her mask. She glances down at it and then at her dress, trying to figure out where she was supposed to tuck it away considering the bodice of the gown fit her almost like a second skin.

"Oh, if you want to do that, let me bring my cousin Victus along, Prince Darren. You're sure to get some entertainment then." He nods his head to the prince, then accepting Nadia's arm, heads first to Esera to bow politely and offer her kind words for the well put-together gathering, and then escorts Nadia outside.

Silas salutes Acacia and slinks off. Even he can manage to be sneaky in this environment.

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

Dagon is overheard praising Esera for: For putting together a wonderful event and being quite the hostess.

Dagon has left the The Misconduct Couch.

Dawn takes a small step backwards and turns to face Darren. The look and smile she gives Valkieri is apologetic. "I suppose it would be polite. Thank you for the dance, my lord, you're a very agreeable partner," she tells the Lycene. That last comes with a deeper smile, almost a grin, and there's something teasing in the sparkle of her eyes, before a hand extends towards Darren. "Your Grace, I see the bear can dance as well as sing!"

There was a small tick to Acacia's chin, expressed in full and quite obvious when her eyes slashed across Talen's visage before it disappeared from her peripheral sight. Forcing the smile back upon her features, she rolled her right hand as fluidly as the words left her mouth, "Forgive me for the dullness of your task, love, but I'm afraid you have a fancy with declining to participate should things prove too challenging to you and you're typically a Sword left rarely satisfied. Do you need a written task in order to spice up your experience? Perhaps you should also learn something from the memorable words of your Uncle here. Uncle, aye?" She pauses, briefly, before quipping, "Perhaps you need bells."

Joscelin is overheard praising Acacia for: Because we all know who did the REAL work on this event.

"Why not be forward? I think perhaps the most un-Velenosian thing about me is my lack of subtly. I am a firm believer that one should say what they like and attempt to accomplish it. Follow your passions, enjoy yourself, seek out new things. You don't do that by being reserved all the time." Jarek is smiling the whole time as he expouses his thoughts on life to Calista and they move around the dancefloor. "It is good news you are unoffended though, offense was very much not the intention when I said that."

Valkieri ducks his head at Dawn's compliment, but it could probably be construed as simply one of his habitual polite inclinations of his head. "Your grace," he adds in murmured farewell before making his way off the dance floor. His hands clasp at the small of his back, but his fingers twist restlessly.

Valkieri has left the Ballroom Floor.

Isabeau sighed softly, "If you do insist we eat, then we shall." As she was led towards the delicacies she deftly snatched another glass of wine to replace her empty one from a hapless server before eying the various southern foods. The arrival of Niccolo saves her from eating anything just yet, a polite and respectful nod offered to the man, not knowing his station, "We are, although it is quite different from the sorts of gatherings we are used to." A careful smile crossed her lips as she asked teasingly, "I hope we don't stick out that much." She notices the ring on the man's hand before smiling a little brighter.


Darren dips his head, offering an apologetic smile to Valkieri himself. "I do apologize for interrupting. But it's impossible for any one man to hold onto the moon for very long," he chuckles, before turning to Dawn and taking her hand, flashing her a wide grin. "Bears are very graceful creatures, you know," he laughs with her before taking her out onto the dancefloor, leading her into a slow and elegant sort of dance.

"But how else will I get you to complain? I live in the other ten percent, neigh the one percent that only vexes you further." Blacktongue quips to Talen's bemoaning of his puns. He responds in rhyme to Acacia. "It seems that the Sword is not to smile, so we must go..only for a while." He sighs wistfully, "Onwards to shadows and other dreams, to darkness and smirks, mirrored schemes. Fire will be sought when not so dour. Alas! Not our night, nor our hour." He bows to the Culler woman and turns back to Talen. "Shadows? Onwards we go, but almost all masks remain save for the ones we wish to remain masked. Let's not bother them. I rather like my dinner and would like for it to remain where I last saw it - down my gullet."

Darren has left the Decadent Couch.

Darren has joined the Decadent Couch.

Darren has left the Decadent Couch.

Darren has joined the Ballroom Floor.

As all of her conversational partners escape, Aislin offers a nod in farewell to first Niccolo, then Nadia. She starts to make her way across the room, but as Valkieri departs the ballroom floor, she offers him a brief nod in greeting. A familiar face in a thick crowd is always something worth acknowledging. "Lord Valkieri. I hope you are finding the party tolerable."

Blacktongue's eyes flash though when Acacia mentions bells. "And perhaps you could use a great deal of things I am too kind to mention here."

Dawn curls her hand into Darren's and reaches down to gather her skirts with the other, prelude to being guided back into a dance. Once assured she won't trip over all of those tiers, she lifts it to find a place on the High Lord's shoulder. "They have a bear in the Menagerie, you know, but I've only ever seen it napping. No, wait, I lied... once, it was scratching its back on a tree log. That wasn't very graceful," she might be heard remarking.

Acacia's gaze had veered off halfway through Blacktongue's words, to something beyond and her expression lost the heat it once contained. By the time he was finished with his rhyme, she rolled her shoulders back in dismissal of lingering tension and then proferred a small bow towards the two of them, "Forgive me. I forgot myself." The glass of wine which was held in her hand was clenched a bit more tightly, but she took a step back. Her dark eyes caught Blacktongue's own when she straightened, remarking in return after a secondary veering of her focus to the side, "Perhaps I will receive them, if I don't make myself forgotten once more soon. Please continue your evening."

Calista slides her hands down Jarek's arms and she pulls him towards the end of their dance. "Would you care to joining me in a drink? I think I might need something to quench my thirst after little frolic here."

Esera is overheard praising Acacia for: Sweet girl, you are beloved of the Velenosa, never fear.

The Inquisitor has shifted to a different corner, though seems intent now to not remain in the shadows and instead mingle amongst the party. Most probably assume he just has a costume to go with a mask... though he wears no mask. He moves through the center of the party, stopping at the declaration Blacktongue makes. "I trust the Shadows and Mirrors will be kept to a minimum though? Hm? Unless we invite bad fate..." He says as his intense stare falls upon the host, Acacia. He inclines his head just a tad in greeting to her.

"Ah. Archduchess -- I did not..." Salazar glances about and realizes that, perhaps, the easy solution is not always the best solution. First time a lady sits down on the couch, and he targets her... well, it turns out she's the hostess. He pauses and then sits down at the couch beside Esera. "... Am I supposed to tell you about my task? That defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" He folds one leg over the other, and then gently sinks into the seat beside Esera. "... Hm. Perhaps I should relinquish this task to go after someone with less social implications, no? I have this--" He pauses and then lets out a little laugh. "... I shouldn't tell you my task. But -- since we're here, excellent party," he says, inclining his head in a nod of approval.

"I have a standing vow to never pass up the offer of a drink with a beautiful lady when she offers, so, absolutely I will join you for a drink." Jarek says to Calista with a grin as the dance ends and takes her arm in his to lead her off the dancefloor towards one of the servants and some nice glasses of Lyceum red.

Cara has joined the The Scandal Couch.

"Lady Aislin," Valkieri says, a bit distracted as he looks around for a drink. "Well, I haven't left." Which is certainly a -- big compliment? His gaze catches briefly on Dawn and Darren on the dance floor before he spots a nearby servant he can claim a glass of wine from.


"Undoubtedly because it is caged. Let it free from its prison and it will show you that it, too, can dance," Darren chuckles to Dawn, laying his hand respectfully at her hip as he guides her across the floor, keeping the rest of their conversation quiet.

Acacia is overheard praising Esera for: The Grand Duchess hosts like none other and that shouldn't be forgotten. Appreciation should be paid where it's due.

"You don't," Niccolo assures Isabeau, with a look around them. He turns back to her, a faint smile on his lips. "Such is the way of masked balls. But even then," he lifts his shoulder. "I think you would do quite alright," he offers to both women. From them, he looks to the table. "But please, enjoy the food and the drink," he offers to both women. "It's time I continue making my rounds." He inclines his head to both, and then walks over to Sylphie at her alcove. "My lady. My lord," Niccolo offers to Sylphie and Pietro. "Would you mind if I steal the lady for a dance?"

"I cannot find the shadow I'm after because it has already been found," Talen tells Blacktongue, "but I am to humour by taking this quest anyway. That you vex me is only a paltry thing in comparison," Talen announces as he watches Acacia's reaction to words and her eventual disengagement of company. "She burns," is confided in his uncle before he claps a hand upon the fool's shoulder and guides him toward Calista and her partner. "What do you make of this woman?" he inquires of the older Artiglio.

"That's quite the endorsement." Aislin even sounds entirely sincere as she offers this observation to Valkieri, rather than in any way sarcastic. Following his attention, her eyebrows raise slightly. "You've met our Lady Dawn, then?"

Dawn makes a low sound of disagreement as she's steered through each pivoting turn. "I suspect more likely I would have to flee from its attempts to eat me," she says of the hypothetical dancing bear, freed of its prison.

"Thank you for taking the time to greet us. You are quite kind and certainly one of the well-dressed men here. Enjoy your evening." Isabeau raised a glass in farewell before leaning over to whisper something to her sister.

Isabeau is overheard praising Niccolo for: For being super friendly and stylish.

Esera smiles to Salazar. "My Lord, you are a man of Lyceum," she says. "If the only thing you need from me is a couch, I am glad to give it." She rises in a sweep of shadowed silk, and stands tall before Salazar. She meets his gaze, her own eyes bright behind her dark mask. "This evening is not for me," she says. She leans in, leans close enough to kiss Salazar upon the cheek. "It is for you."

Ianthe decides to just hold the mask in her hand. She stops a nearby servant to get a glass of wine, thanking him profusely and with a wink. She lingers near the brazier a moment and sips her wine, taking it all in. The shadows, the few remaining masked partiers. Were it not for Joscelin, she'd never be welcome at something like this. Might as well enjoy it.

Calista steps off the ballroom dance floor with Prince Jarek and keeps her arm threaded with his. The delicate fingers of her free hand idly caress the swath of lace that is over her eyes like a mask. "That is a very good thing to know, your highness. I feel as though I am learning so much about you this evening." Crimson lips curl at the corners. "What else should I know about you?"

Pietro turns his smile from Sylphie to Niccolo, and sketches a little bow as he straightens away from his lean against the wall. "My lord," he says, "my claim on the lady's time is only that of the conversationalist. I can hardly deny her the honor of your company." He steps down and away. "Lady Sylphie," he says to her with a grave nod, and there's a little hop to his step as he moves to get out of the way.

Pietro has left the Shadowy Alcove.

"Yes, we became acquainted a few weeks ago," Valkieri says. His fingers curl tightly around his glass as he returns his attention to Aislin. "You must have known her for quite a while." He lifts his glass for a deep sip.

Sophie follows her more courtly sister's lead and also offers Niccolo a most courteous nod. In response to what Isabeau says about hoping to not stand out too much, she gently jests, "I am uncertain if we are more out of place being among those who have yet to remove their masks versus when we finally succeed in our tasks." The gentle, good-natured ribbing is then turned upon Duke. "Do you seek safety in numbers?" For he also is still wearing his mask. Regardless, she smiles kindly and notes, "I do hope that you are enjoying yourself, m'lord. Even if you've perhaps just been incorrectly addressed." After all, she has no idea who he is.
    Noticing the glass of wine Niccolo has chosen, she politely inquires, "Is that what you would recommend to someone uninitiated in the delicacies of the South?"

Acacia expels that quiet breath, a murmur imparted before she finds herself nearer to Alistair's side. She contents herself with the contents of the vintage, to an excessive time, before drowning her throat in the whole of it, remarking aside to the Inquisitor, "It's been a long time, Inquisitor, it seems. Which can be favorable at times. But I'm always glad to see you at these kind of affairs." Brandishing a small, albiet strained, smile, she lowers her voice to bestow further words.


Laughing at something Dawn murmurs to him, Darren's eyes brighten and he pulls her into a tight yet altogether fancy little twirl, before bringing her back to him to drift once more. He shakes his head, returning whatever was said in a quiet whisper.

The shadows shift as Sylphie steps forward with Niccolo's question, smoky eyes lifted to meet his with a smile. A servant gets passed off the half-full glass of wine before she offers her bare hand to the Duke with a smile to Pietro as he retreats. There's little hesitation as she brushes closer to murmur something low to the man.

Sylphie has left the Shadowy Alcove.

Dafne drifts through the crowd, looking momentarily at loose ends. She offers Sylphie a brief smile in passing, and washes up near Valkieri's elbow. "Did you enjoy your blood wine?" she inquires, all innocence.

"And you yours." Blacktongue responds to Acacia and moves along, his head tilting to Talen's words as his eyes slowly shift towards the ceiling. His hands come to clasp behind his back as one foot is placed methodically in front of the other as they walk along, walking an imaginary tightrope with finesse as they converse. "If you have found the shadow then why am I hear? Are you chasing your tail?" A slight nod. "Burns quickly it seems. Burns quick, short wick?" More rhyme from the man that rolls easily off of his blackened tongue. The Inquisitor's words catch the momentary attention of the Harlequin, bringing Blacktongue's slow and unsettling gaze on him. "This is a Gala advertised as Shadows. Do you fear your own reflection? I know you are not the most handsome of men, but for some poor soul...you may do?" An impish laugh rings out, not anywhere near a cackle but far too bright and jovial.

Dawn is not /quite/ up to fancy little twirls but the volume of her gown ensures whatever fumbling steps follow are well-hidden. Thank the gods for courtiers who plan ahead and anticipate the needs of their less than capable clients.

"What would you like to know? I am like a fire, nothing about me is a secret. If there is a question, I'll answe it , and try to do so in as interesting way as possible. Whats to know is that I think people should live with passion and seek out change, anything I can do to help that is always a good thing I think." There is a lilt of Jarek's head and he grins at Calista as they reach someone with wine and he hands her a glass before taking one of his own. "And what, should I know about you my new freind Lady Fidante?"

Sophie's question is certainly caught by the duke, who takes first Sylphie's hand and then as he leads her to the dance floor, stops by Sophie and Isabeau again. "I'd recommend that one," he points to a bottle of wine, and then gestures to two servers that immediately move in to pour glasses for the two women. "Enjoy yourselves," he offers with a faint smile to them, before he continues leading Sylphie to the dance floor.
    He listens to something the woman tells him quietly, and then leans in to whisper to her in return. Once they've reached the dance floor, he puts a hand on the low of her back, his other one grasping one of hers. He immediately leads her into the dance, slowly at first, but picking up the tempo along with the music.

"I trust the task I gave when last we met was attended to faithfully?" Alistair inquires of Acacia... despite knowing the answer already, as the man's favored Confessors visited almost weekly following the fights to make sure the will of the Inquisitor was kept to order. To her question the man offers a hand. "Something slow. Fast movements are not to my character." He says, perhaps a bit of commentary on his own sternness. To Blacktongue's ribbing he tilts his head, starring at the joker. His lips pull slightly into a smirk, "As long as the reflections are telling jokes..." he responds before he takes Acacia up on the dance she requests.

Sylphie has joined the Ballroom Floor.

Niccolo has joined the The Immorality Couch.

Niccolo has left the The Immorality Couch.

Niccolo has joined the Ballroom Floor.

Pietro finishes off the glass of wine he's been holding and abandons the empty to a servant with a tray. Loping along at an easy pace, the next place he pops up is at the elbows of Valkieri and Aislin. "Lady Aislin! Fought any monsters today?" he asks with a happy smile on his lips.

"For long enough," Aislin replies, offering Valkieri a nod. "Though only in passing; I suppose we've never had a chance to truly get to know each other too well, until recently. Still, I can only respect her skills, and her patience; Gods know that I'm not one with forebearance to deal with politics and administration." And then Pietro shows up, and she actually laughs despite herself. The smile is a rare one. "Not /today/, no."

Ianthe makes her way back to the table, with a lingering glance for the dance floor, before she resumes her seat with a little smile for the others.

"I'm chasing my own tail to amuse the one who pinned it on me," Talen agrees in artful reply, "so I am as much the fool as you tonight." With his uncle's comments to the inquisitor, his eyes flick between the two and there he relieves the man of his company due to the distraction. "I'll leave you now, Blacktongue. Your assistance was helpful but I have found no convincing substitute for what I believe to be the right choice this evening. Play nice amongst our guests, won't you? Especially with the inquisitor." Stepping backward, the young Lenosian starts away from the Velenosan jester.

"Well," Salazar says, accepting the kiss on his mask, and he lifts it. "In the Lyceum, we kiss on the mouth." He leans forward to kiss - and then pauses just a fingersbreadth away. "Though that is simply us backwards fools in the Islands," he says.

Sylphie's fingers twine at the back of Niccolo's neck, velvet brushing against him as she draws close even as his fingers find the bare skin that her otherwise modest gown exposes. She is a graceful dancer, the movements only outlined by the heavy fall of her skirts, and even as she does, she murmurs an answer to the duke.

Acacia doesn't join the ballroom floor with the rest of the participants. Instead, the empty glass is swept aside with deft balance upon a tray in movement and she pivots right there to the side to place her hand in Alistair's hand and her arm roped securely about his shoulders. The purpose it would seem would be to temporarily conceal her features there as she mustered breath, the rhythm of the music partially forgotten for that temporary sway which brought the claw of her fingers against his hand and quiet murmurs delivered.

"I enjoyed the very normal, although very fine, wine that bore no resemblance to blood," Valkieri replies very dryly to Dafne, because he's a ruiner like that. He glances at Pietro as he suddenly appears again, and then looks back to Aislin. "Yes, I don't envy her position. But she has proven quite -- capable." His weight shifts slightly, and he swallows another sip of wine.

"In the Lyceum, a man must earn a kiss on the mouth," Esera answers, yet close enough for her breath to warm Salazar's lips as she speaks. "And you have only just barely earned a couch." She draws away from him -- indeed, turns her back to him. For a moment, amidst so many guests and so much smoke, she looks stranded.

Isabeau slipped free of her sister for a moment and walked to the brazier in the center of the dance floor. Her invitation was placed within the brazier and burned, emitting a teal flame. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, she removed her mask and murmured to nobody in particular, "Well, that wasn't too bad."

In lieu of Acacia's state with the Inquisitor, several messengers slip out from time to time to deliver favors to those who had completed their tasks. Mistress Joscelin's name is a frequent one it would seem in the process.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

"Was that a joke? Am I that out of season?" Blacktongue raises his brows and makes the facepaint shift oddly, the severe lines of his weathered face making it seem all the more impish when he asks Talen of Alistair's verbal barb. "I was always told I was rather handsome. I didn't even have to pay them to say it." He shrugs lightly and with a flick of his wrist and some slight of hand, produces an apple from his sleeve to take a crisp bite. A mouthful stored in one chipmunk cheek, he continues, "If it is pinned you can remove it. Pinned tail? Pain in the ass." He swallows the bite and slaps his knee, laughing. "As you wish, but be mindful of your tail."

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Talen's presence by Esera isn't delayed too much longer after she departs from Salazar, a few words murmured over her left shoulder as he pauses in place, hand resting over his sword in a casual, if martial stance. "Lost?" he queries in a single, sole word. "I hope you're as lost as I am. Lady Sylphie is still the victor."

"Fair is fair and a kiss is a kiss," Salazar responds, smiling back underneath his mask. And then the full mask covers his face again as Sal pulls it back over, before he glances about for another person with a couch to conquer. Apparently, whatever his task is, it's not over yet. The blue-black masked Argento sits briefly, waiting for Esera to pull away from the mask - like king of the hill, Sal pauses only briefly on his couch - /his/ couch, having conquered it - and then stands up to find yet another couch to conquer. He turns to look at Talen as he alights by Esera's shoulder, and then produces the task card he'd been handed again, reading over it. Hrm.

"It was my task," Dafne explains to Valkieri, innocently. Possibly with Dafne's own macabre twist. She glances about the circle and asks, "Whose position are we not envying?"

Niccolo leads Sylphie through the dance, with deftness and grace both. He leans in when she whispers to him, and a faint smile touches his lips. He responds just as quietly to her, and leads her into a spin, then a twirl and pulls her back to him, all done to the temp and rhythm of the music

Esera glances back over her shoulder at Talen, and smiles to him -- a smile meant just for him, and it is a secret one. "Not lost," she answers him. "Just wandering."

"High praise." Aislin regards Valkieri with what might almost be a speculative look. Turning back to Pietro for a moment, however, she adds, "You might be interested in this: I am thinking I may found an Adventurer's Society."


Picking up the tempo along with the music, Darren will lead Dawn around the dancefloor with ease. He doesn't spin her again, perhaps acknowledging the first didn't quite go as expected, but he'll continue lead until the song they've been dancing to comes to an end and the musicians begin to play another tune. It is then that he'll release her, offering Dawn a big grin, and bowing to her ever-so-lightly. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Moon," he chuckles warmly, "I should see if I can't capture another before the evening is through."

Alistair steps away from the crowd, especially the vicious Blacktongue and his verbal jabs! He leads Acacia in a slow little dance, speaking quietly with her as he peers out at the rest of the ballroom, occasionally shifting the dance more to keep his view forward then to follow a certain flow.

A polite nod of gratitude is offered for Niccolo's suggestion, and then to the servant who hands Sophie the glass of wine. After a savoring sip, her lips curl is pleased delight. For a moment, her blue eyes gaze into those of her sisters, and then she insists, "This is absolutely lovely. Why, I dare say it is the most delicious I have ever known. Do you not agree?"

Kima puts a beautifully hand painted seashell in a soft, blue garment bag embroidered with the letters MG.

"I'm afraid the gala has been rather too busy to execute our plan of campaign, but I expect there will be another occasion," Pietro tells Aislin gravely, only to ruin the effect with the flicker of a smile. "An adventurer's society? That sounds amazing, I'll join right away. What is it?" He looks up at Valkieri, eyes widening beneath the arch of his eyebrows. "Looking at you on the dance floor, my lord, I could almost suspect you of enjoying yourself."

"Mm," is Talen's reply, non-verbal and yet speaking volumes of his acknowledgement, gray eyes cut in the archduchess' direction. A murmured remark is given in lower tone of voice, a mild indication of his hand in Acacia's direction as she speaks to the Grand Duchess.

Dawn uses Darren's backward step to ensure she has room enough to curtsy to him. Her skirts bell out in a sea-worthy froth as she dips towards the floor before rising again. "The moon and the dancing bear. There's a song in there for troubadors, but I'm afraid I'd never do it justice," she tells the High Lord in turn. With unvoiced laughter bright in her eyes, she flashes the man a grin before collecting her skirts to retreat from the dancefloor. Victorious! Two dances, no stumbling, the Lady has earned a drink for that.

Blacktongue waves fondly to Alistair as he moves to leave, waggling his fingers before finding a table to sit on. The Harlequin sits crossed legged, happily chomping on his apple as his sharp eyes dance over the patrons of the Gala.

Two servants enter the ballroom carrying a large crate, decorated with black and purple. They set the crate next to the wall, and stand dutifully by it.

"Lady Dawn," Valkieri replies to Dafne distractedly. He ignores anything ~speculative~ that might be happening in Aislin's words or look at him, simply sipping at his wine, but he does roll his eyes a bit at Pietro's words. "Honestly, it's not /that/ remarkable," he claims. (Fallaciously.) A messenger comes by with his favor for the evening, which he looks down at in his hand a bit blankly.

Finding perhaps a victim not forthcoming, Salazar departs from his couch and then advances on the Libertine Table, where four women have already seated themselves. Easy pickings for a man of his worth and... girth. By the time he gets to the Libertine Table, he's already swept across, left entire ballrooms ablaze -- or not quite so much. He takes a seat there at the empty space and then lifts both brows. "Evening, ladies, goodwomen..." A light incline of his head. His seablue mask is expressionless, pausing briefly to look over his shoulder as he studies the interaction of his just-departed guest, Esera, with her... Sword?

A laugh escapes from Sylphie's lips for Niccolo's words, a soft shake of her head given even as she spins with him and then twirls back. She will catch herself closer now, though, as she offers her own retort.

Salazar has joined the Libertine Table.


"Don't encourage me, Lady Dawn. I'll start dancing again," Darren warns Dawn with a chuckle, before parting away from her. There's a curious glance to the crate as he steps over to find himself a drink. And once that is acquired? He'll start over in the direction of where he spotted Esera, though his steps are slowed while he enjoys whatever he's found in his cup.

Kima's attention is momentarily stolen by the servants carrying a large crate.

Esera murmurs a response to Talen. Her lips move, but her words are too quite for anyone else to hear, swept away in the whirl of silk and conversation. She has a way of standing, just now, that makes it look as though they are the only two people in the room -- solitary.

Isabeau takes a taste of the delicacy Sophie is eating and considers it a moment, "Why! I do believe it is." There was no way of knowing if she was telling the truth or playing along but she does finish the little pastry.

Dawn has left the Ballroom Floor.

"The Adventurer's Society would be a place where those who have explored distant places could gather to share tales and knowledge," Aislin notes to Pietro, with perhaps a bit more animation than random small talk has thus far merited. "Where people hoping to embark on an expedition could find advice -- or perhaps even an expedition to join, since every adventurer can use a plucky sidekick -- and where those who would like to help provide resources to expeditions could gather. A club united in their love of seeing new places, learning new things, or rediscovering old ones."

Darren has left the Ballroom Floor.

Acacia clears her throat a bit. The attained ease which was beginning to filter through the sway of each step returns with just that small gesture espied across the Inquisitor's shoulder. The grimace to her visage is shielded with a discreet turn of her head, lids veiling her eyes briefly when she responds in a murmur.

"She seems very nice," ventures Dafne. She glances over her shoulder as the large crate is carried in, and looks back to the others. "Would there be expeditions to graveyards and catacombs?" she asks of Aislin.

Dawn secures for herself a fresh glass of wine and drinks it like a person who is thirsty, rather than one abiding by the rules of polite society. A laughing glance goes after Darren but she doesn't pursue. Instead, the Lady opts to linger at the sidelines again, drink in one hand and the other lightly fanning the air beside her throat to encourage something like a cooler breeze. An idle moment, a rare reprieve, and as she cools herself she uses it to observe those on the dancefloor, and the others scattered around the smoky space.

"That sounds /very/ exciting," Pietro avers to Aislin, bouncing forward onto his toes. His smile is radiant, and the laughter that bubbles up from inside him as he looks back to Valkieri is borne on that buoyant tide. "Valkieri, not remarkable! Please." He claps him on the shoulder, although he waits until he is no longer drinking to do so, and then some of the life seems to shrink out of him as his brow knits with his glance at Dafne.

Blacktongue has found his way down from his perch on the table, apple finished or tossed into some poor soul's hood of their cloak. His silent steps take him a polite distant from the crate, ever curious and impish.


    Though he was headed in Esera's direction, there's something in the way she stands there with Talen that causes Darren to instead alter his course, not wanting to interrupt. And so, he instead wheels himself in the direction of Isabeau and Sophie, his head inclining to the girls as he lifts his cup to them. "I feel like I should apologize for not lingering to joke with the two of you," he says to the women, chuckling warmly. "You'll both forgive me, won't you? I had to steal a dance, while the dancefloor was warm."

"It's /not/," Valkieri insists to Pietro, his voice very briefly one of a much younger man arguing with his childhood friend. His defense is likely not helped by the way his gaze catches briefly on Dawn again where she takes a private reprieve across the room. "Please don't encourage her," he begs of Aislin after Dafne's question.

Talen had been continuing that stroke over conversation for a while, his back and forth with the archduchess of flowers uninterrupted. In what seems to be a final exchange he reaches backward and sweeps his cloak over an arm to secure it, then offers the spare to Esera with intent to make his offer of companionship clear. His eyes hold on her face, waiting, intensely patient.

Samantha rises from her table briefly to dart her way over to the brazier and drop her task note into the flames. As she watches it burn with visible delight, the ruby dust on her skin gleams red in the glow, lending to her fiery appearance. There's no mask to take off though, the coal-like black powder and red glimmer serving as a mask painted directly on her face, as well as her single bared shoulder and arm.

Standing up from his chair at the Libertine Table, Salazar loudly announces: "I'm afraid this table needs to be evacuated. Stolen, really, by myself so I can handle the terrible ills involved with women from sitting too long. Now--" and it's here where Samantha seems to rise already in time with his words "--perhaps you other ladies would be so kind as to join your companion?" He indicates Samantha's departing direction. People, perhaps perturbed, might look at Sal, but he - behind his eerie mask - simply says, in sotto voce, a loud whisper to passerbys: "Love termites. It's endemic."

Niccolo continues to dance with Sylphie and replies to her quiet words with a mumur of his own, tilting his head to the side. He slows their dance some, and then glances over at the crate that has been delivered. Slowly, he comes to a stop and bows before Sylphie. "Thank you for the dance, my lady. It was lovely. But if you'll excuse me, duty calls."

Esera slips her arm through Talen's, but spares a last smile for her guests -- a sensuous smile, laced with promise.

"Catacombs and tombs, certai..." Aislin trails off as Valkieri's request sinks in. "Ah, I mean, no. Certainly not. Only old ruins and boring wilderness." Yeah, that's very convincing.


     Joscelin looks up at Salazar. "Sally. What are you doing?"

Blacktongue has found himself beside Samantha, eyeing her painted on makeup. "They did you far more complimentary than they did me." He does have a grotesque, exaggerated smile painted in silver and blacks on his face. "What's your trick?"

Dawn smiles and raises her glass towards the little group composed of Pietro and Aislin, Dafne and Valkieri. A casual gesture, provoked by meeting a glance sent her way. Then the wine is brought to her lips again and her gaze roams on. The crate and its guards studied, she flicks a study towards Niccolo when he extricates himself from the dancefloor. Oho. Curiousity refreshed, she looks more attentively at the crate now.

Dafne rises on her toes, and then down again, with a swish of her skirts. She thrusts her chin forward, and declares, "I do not need encourangement." So there, Valkieri.

Esera has left the The Immorality Couch.

The smile lingers on Sylphie's lips as Niccolo excuses himself, which she accepts with a graceful, "Another time, your grace." And she drops into a low curtsey for the duke, before she slips away to find her shadowed alcove again. She does not, of course, miss Esera taking Talen's arm; a smile flickers even brighter at her lips, and she toasts the couple likely unseen from a glass snatched from a passing tray.

"How dreadful," Kima deadpans, glancing aside to Joscelin as Salazar makes his grim pronouncement. "Love...termites." She gets to her feet, watching the exchange between Samantha and Blacktongue.

Sylphie has left the Ballroom Floor.

Sylphie has joined the Shadowy Alcove.

"It is time now to announce the winners of the raffle," Niccolo says, still wearing his mask, as he approaches the crate that was just rolled in. After he gestures, the servants open the crate and reveal what is inside. Two chests, beautifully decorated. "These were made by Sir Silas Mercier," the Velenosa nobleman shares with those gathered. "And the first one goes to Lord Valkieri Rubino." He dips his head to the man. "The second one goes to Princess Isabeau Valardin," he looks through the crowd, trying to find the princess. "Congratulations to you both. And to the rest of you, once more, thank you for joining us today. There is still drink, and food and of course you can dance." He offers a hint of a smile at this, and then steps away from the crate.

"All right, it's not remarkable." Pietro does not sound like he believes this for a moment. He draws his gaze away from Dafne as he bites a little at the inside of his cheek, looking back at Valkieri with his smile crinkling his dark eyes at the corners. He misses the glance Dawn returns in their direction because he's busy affirming Valkieri with: "But I'm glad you found something to enjoy. It makes me happy."

Niccolo drops a radiant mirrored chest with silver-gilt wood frame.

Niccolo drops a lustrous serpentine chest with mirror glass panels.

Cara rises to her feet, placing her hand on the arm of the couch for a moment, before moving over to join Aislin and the Gemecittans. When Valkieri's name is called as a winner of the raffle, she blinks once before lifting her hands to applaud.

Two servants carry the mirrored chest with the silver-gilt wood frame to the general location of Lord Valkieri, while another pair of servants carries the lustrous serpentine chest with mirror glass panels to the general location of Princess Isabeau.

With the names of those who've won prizes called, Dawn trades away the glass she'd held in favor of being able to applaud. This is not a hardship, given the way the Lady smiles.

Isabeau seemed surprised to see the Highlord of Redrain again, a glass of wine still in hand, "Think nothing of it, your grace. My sister and I have been enjoying the evening. I do hope, you enjoyed your dance. I saw it ended in a kiss." When Isabeau hears her name called for the raffle she is quite surprised. She's even more surprised when the servants bring the lovely chest in her direction and offer to carry it home, "Well, isn't that lovely!"

Isabeau picks up a lustrous serpentine chest with mirror glass panels.

Kima claps politely when the winners are announced, and then says to those in her company. "Sisters, peacock, now that the winners have been divulged, I believe I shall disappear into all the shadows the night possesses. It is true and a great shame, alas, that business does not wait upon pleasure."

Valkieri's glance actually startles away when Dawn catches him looking and lifts her glass to his group, which probably just ends up looking like he's avoiding her greeting. He turns his attention to Niccolo when the duke begins to speak, and he blinks with something of a startle when he apparently wins one of the final prizes of the evening. "Oh. I. Thank you, my lord. It's, ah -- certainly a credit to Sir Silas's talent." Look, he's got a chest now.

Valkieri picks up a radiant mirrored chest with silver-gilt wood frame.


     Joscelin nods to Kima and smiles. "I will see you later, I'm certain."

Acacia's dance and coinciding whispers ceased with Alistair in time to Niccolo's announcement, a step distancing them after she dipped her head respectfully. She applauded warmly, comfortably, towards the winners with composure once more attained. Towards the Inquisitor, afterward, she mentions, "Thank you, Inquisitor. For all of that. And for attending Until next time, aye?"

How fortuitous! The Lady Dawn is a vaguely familiar face among a sea of masked persons and those equally unknown despite their faces being fully on display. It is enough to brighten Sophie's mood. Just as she is about to move to approach the Grayson, she finds herself thwarted by courtesy, for Darren has arrived and is addressing her and her sister, both whom are still masked.
    "What a sad day it is that the High Lord of Redrain is reduced to theft." Her voice might be familiar -- or her manner of jest. Or perhaps simply the playful way she smiles. "I know not how it is in the North, Your Grace, but apologies are more likely to be forthcoming if you say something like: I have saved the best for last, and now I seek to claim it."
    Whatever more she might say is set aside as she beams for Isabeau's good fortune. "How wonderful, dear heart!" Overjoyed, she is, for her beloved sister. "A toast, then," she says, lifting her glass, "to our gracious hosts!"

Pietro cheers enthusiastically and claps for Valkieri despite the fact that he's literally standing right next to him and is as likely to get thwacked with the chest as not.

AListair and Acacia dance quietly and slowly away from the bulk of the party, though a little flare is given when Alistair suddenly spins the woman out, and then tugs her back as the whispering must continue... though soon their dance comes to an end as the raffle awards are announced. "Until next time." He states, stepping back and clasping his arms behind his back.

Samantha casts a grin at Blacktongue. "Applicatin, I expect. Given my design is more about allure and less about making babies cry." The jibe is meant more as a tease than an insult.

Sylphie is overheard praising Niccolo for: For being a thoughtful host and a graceful dance partner.

Valkieri is overheard praising Dawn for: For carrying the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders with grace and competence.


"Ah, but did you not see? All of the Princess' dances ended in kisses, tonight," Darren will reply to Isabeau with a chuckle, his words friendly, before he puts his hands together for a quick little applause. "How wonderful for you, my lady," he inclines his head, before tilting his attention over to Sophie, eyes sparking with amusement. "Ah, you are correct. Perhaps I have actually saved the best for last.." he replies, holding out his hand to the masked Sophie, smirking. "Would you indulge this dancing bear, my lady?"

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

"I don't make babies cry?!" Blacktongue jests offense, his jaw going slack with the horror of her insult, a hand pressed against his cheek. "Cruel woman." A shake of his head and then it tilts, bringing him to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He folds his arms over his chest and makes a show of walking about her. "Allure? What are we trying to be alluring for? I think you hardly need the paint to be such." For all of his capable venom, he can be just as charming and gracious in measure.

Ianthe applauds at the announcement of the winners and gives Kima a smile as she begins to take her leave. "It was a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully next time, we'll be able to meet in less... chaotic circumstances. These big parties aren't conducive to good conversation."

Aislin offers Dawn a nod when she glances over, but then her attention is drawn back to Niccolo and the announcement. She applauds for both Valkieri and Isabeau, before turning back to those near her. "My apologies; I'm afraid I have something I still need to attend to tonight. But I'm sure we'll meet again soon, perhaps at the adventurer's society."

Joscelin looks to Ianthe. "Kima likes cocks and whiskey. That's all you need to know about her. And sometimes ... muffins."

Kima has left the Libertine Table.

Niccolo watches the delivery of chests with approval and with that taken care of, the duke makes his way toward Acacia. He studies the young woman for a moment and then extends his hand to her. "You did wonderfully today, and thus, I feel compelled to ask you for a dance," he says to his protege, inclining his head and following that with a half bow that leaves him looking into her eyes. "Will you join me?"

Ianthe's eyes follow Kima as she walks out. "Sounds like my sort of friend. We should invite her out drinking some night."

"That's what I'm known for. My cruelty." Samantha's grin doesn't dim a shade. "I hear that's the thing to do at soirees such as these." If she manages to catch Kima's eye before the lady leaves, she lifts her hand in farewell, and then returns her attention to Blacktongue. "Would you like to check my teeth, while you're at it?"

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Acacia gets a boutonniere with a snow-in-summer bloom and a pewter base from an embroidered bag of favors.

Servants circulate about the room, delivering final favors to those who had attended as departing gifts.

Joscelin props her chin on her hand and gives Ianthe a wry smile. "We went out fairly often earlier in the summer. Got me into all kinds of trouble." She rolls her eyes. "You know me and whiskey."

Still cloaked in shadows, it is hard to tell exactly when the Lady Sylphie Zaffria exactly departs from the gala; certainly she remains for a while in some conversations with others she has the fortune to meet tonight. But then she's gone, disappeared.e

Sylphie has left the Shadowy Alcove.

Cara drifts over to Dafne and Valkieri and Pietro, telling them with a serene smile, "I believe it is time for me to retire -- you all look splendid. I hope to see you soon."

Acacia oversees some final servants, extending the bag of favors to be presented and then turning towards Niccolo once that's completed. Shedding a small smile towards the man, she places her hand in his extended one, answering simply, "Always, your Grace."