Ian perches on a crate, his coat off and draped carelessly over a barrel behind him, leaving him in a loose fitting linen shirt. He's got a bottle of whiskey in hand, and drinks in a contemplative (but determined) fashion as he looks up at the night sky.

Gaspard drifts up the stone stairways with a slow gait, posture bearing a muted confidence. Today he is in his usual, black silks that fit tight to his frame. The giant of a man's smoky grey eyes swivel about, making his way up to the walls and looking around. He wears a faintly serious expression. In his ham-sized hand is a bottle of Cloudspine Mint Liqour.

A woman with loose golden-brown curls and a lilac half-mask reaches out to offer her empty cup to a bottle of whiskey. While the bottle and cup make introductions, she offers the Kennex lord a guileless smile. A shake of her shoulders, as though to laugh, but she keeps her composure - for now. High and mischievous spirits hide behind the mask. "It's a rare moon this evening, isn't it?"

Ian starts to nod a greeting to Gaspard, but the masked woman's words cause him to snort, and then cough out a dry laugh. "For now, anyway." He leans over to pour liquor from his bottle into the outstretched cup. "If I should know who you are, you'll have to tell me. I'm shit with voices and stuff." He's perched on a crate, his coat off and draped carelessly over a barrel behind him.

Gaspard dips a firm nod towards Ian and the masked woman, coming to a halt somewhat nearby and lowering onto a barrel comfortably. "Rare indeed. Hello." He says in his usual gruff manner, looking up to the sky with a slow blink.

One might imagine that she'd be getting ready for something more ball-like, but no. Enyo has found her way here, and in something of a normal set of clothes. No party plans seem evident for her as she makes her way up the stone stairway, whistling a jaunty tune to herself as she goes.

"What if I don't want to share who I am, my lord Ian? You'll need to rely on your - using your words - shit skills at remembrance and simply mark it as an acceptable risk considering the day and all. I am enjoying this. Hello, my lord." The woman in the lilac half-mask greets Gaspard with a bow of her head, and she then tilts a gaze and a grin toward Enyo's jaunty tune. "That's catchy, my lady." She hums a little, tunelessly, trying to pick up the whistle.

Ian rolls his shoulders in a shrug to the masked woman. "Just don't expect me to know later." He seems a little bit surprised to see Enyo, although it's understated. "Lady Enyo. There's another bottle of whiskey over there..." He makes a vague gesture with one hand at one of the walls, on which a bottle of whiskey does indeed sit. Was he planning on drinking both of them? Alone? And then falling off the wall while in a drunken stupor, to his death? The world may never know, because now he's sharing it.

Gaspard says in a gravelly baritone, "The benefits of being new to Arx is that I don't know many by default, so guessing is hopeless." He dips a silet nod towards Enyo politely in greeting, working on uncorking his bottle of mint liqour.

"Why thank you, Mysterious Lady." Enyo replies, doffing an invisible hat before sweeping a theatrical bow to the gathered group. "Lord Ian, always a pleasure." She twists around to look where indicated for the whiskey, then starts to propel herself in that direction, "Don't mind if I do, thank you. I do not suppose that anyone else wants to share? No? No...great, fabulous." She'll probably share the shared whiskey anyways. "If you don't know many, don't worry. Stick with the right people and you'll be drowning in names and faces."

"I like the opportunity to be utterly forgettable and mysterious, thank you," Lilac half-mask murmurs into her cup, offering the rest of the party a smile.

Ian looks between Gaspard and Enyo. "If it were me, drowning in names and faces wouldn't be the goal," he observes.

"That's why I'm here --" Lilac half-mask fully smiles, shrugging her shoulders, and she takes another drink. "Unless you mean something else, Lord Ian? The goal here is to drown in whiskey, isn't it?"

Gaspard grins faintly, getting up and moving to find a cup to fill before reclaiming his barrel-seat. "I'll get to the whiskey at some point in the night. Hopefully it's not all gone by then."

"What would you prefer to drown in, Lord Ian?" Enyo wonders, taking the bottle of whiskey to a place to sit, claiming one of the barrels for herself. She glances at the woman in the mask, wiggling her brows at her for a split second before she winks. Then she offers, both to the woman and to Gaspard, "I'm not sure that I've met either of you, but I am Lady Enyo Malvici."

Ian looks up at the sky for a moment. "The goal's to get drunk enough that I don't remember, tomorrow, if the moon winks at me." He's given to a dry, deadpan delivery of everything, so while this probably is a joke, it comes out sounding pretty serious. "If we manage to plow through what's here, the Ebb's pretty close," he adds to Gaspard.

"We've never bet before today, Lady Enyo, and my life has been all the dimmer for it. However - now? Made more vibrant now that you have graced these ramparts with your presence," Lilac half-mask dramatizes, flashing a dimpled smile. "-- That, Lord Ian, is a respectable goal to have, I think. I am drinking until I have the social strength needed to take a step into the ballroom this evening." Quietly, "It's so easy for me to be overwhelmed by the otherworldly."

Gaspard sets his bottle of mint liqour on a crate nearby, lifting his glass in Enyos direction. "Lord Gaspard Blackram. Pleasure to meet you." In a gruff manner. He nods in Ians direction seriously, then taking a long sip from his cup. He pauses, pointing out to the lilac masked individual, "You didn't mention you haven't met me...is that a clue?"

"We have met in passing, Lord Gaspard, once - or, so I believe. It was an introduction and nothing more complicated than that," the Lilac half-mask admits with a shrug of narrow shoulders, tossing her curls in a deliberate - purposely haughty, in an overly showy way. She then offers Gaspard a grin, "It's a very small - and very uninteresting clue."

"A worthy goal...although I can't say as I've ever seen the moon wink." Enyo glances upwards, looking thoughtful for a moment before she opens the bottle of whiskey. Then she salutes the woman in the mask, "I quite like you...and never fear, the otherworldly is the best part of nights like tonight." She then salutes Gaspard with the bottle as well before she takes a swallow from it, "There is plenty of things to drink that can be found here...if you're fond of mead, there is that, then rum...and whiskey...And, well, if we get too drunk to go in search of it, I'm sure we can send for more."

"I've heard the masquerade gets pretty crazy," Ian muses, probably in reply to the masked woman. "But I don't think anyone's gotten hurt there in the time that I've been in Arx."

The sound of voices is bound to draw curious people, and there are the footfalls of one approaching, well before Patrizio Pravus' figure makes itself apparent from the stair. And only he, without his regular detachment of six soldiers with him. There's a soft chuckle, and the considerate glance about, before his voice rings out. "Probably better, in that event, to have it brought forth, rather than going in search of it. It might be a wee bit treacherous out there this evening to one who's not so sober." Briefly, those brows bob, before his palm finds his chest and he dips his head respectfully. "My lords, my lady." And another nod to the masked figure. And a chuckle for Ian. "I doubt it's for a lack of trying, truthfully."

Gaspard lifts his cup to take another drink, savoring it before lowering his cup. Upon Patrizios arrival, a faint smile produces as he looks over to the man, offering a firm nod of his head. "Prince Patrizio, welcome to the festivities."

Lilac half-mask offers the Pravus prince a bow of her head, offering the quickest of smiles. "Good evening, your Highness. Lady Enyo, a question for you, if you'll indulge me the asking. You need not answer. Are you, perchance, fond of the otherworldly and unusual? Would you say that you are -- an adventurer?"

Ian looks over at Patrizio and angles his head curiously. He's perched on a crate, his coat off and draped over a barrel somewhere, and a bottle of whiskey in hand. "Lack of trying by who?" He asks.

"Your Highness...I find that being not-sober is not always a drawback when it comes to avoiding danger. If your goal is to always avoid danger, though, which sounds...exhausting." Enyo replies with a laugh, then she lets her attention wander over towards the masked woman. "Would I consider myself an adventurer? Absolutely. I, myself, have had a fair share of adventures over my years...and I would say that otherworldly and unusual are a particular draw. But then again, so is completely normal and just unknown. But Lord Ian is correct, I don't recall anyone being hurt at the balls. Although I believe that once the Archduchess had twins? Or near abouts to it, I wasn't there for that little event. I've managed to never attend."

"I thought I heard something distinctly about people not getting hurt at masquerades," answers the prince of Pravus with a warm chuckle, and the drawing forth of a flask from beneath his cloak, from which he takes a pull. "And hence, the lack of trying." That warm smile lingers on his expression as makes a sound in response to Gaspard's welcome, and a deeper dip of his head at the masked figure's greeting. Though Enyo's words get a wink. "If my goal were to avoid danger, I'd stay cloistered in my offices. A ship is safe in harbour, and all that."

"You do sound like someone I should have met sooner," the woman in the lilac half-mask laughs, laughing with unfettered delight. "For you, I think, a clue - a golden mountain cat, prowling against an empty field." Her eyes are bright behind her mask, "Mm. It's not the fear of bodily injury, no, but the uncertainty of a large crowd. That's all -- nothing more than that." She shrugs her shoulders and the gesture sets the wispy feathers on her shoulders to shivering.

Gaspard shifts his weight atop his barrel, lowering his hand to grab his bottle by the neck and refill his cup before setting it down once more. Taking a long sip, he grows silent, looking around with a faint smile before his gaze drifts towards the sky.

"Is it, though?" Enyo wonders, her nose wrinkling upwards a bit, "Sounds more boring than safe...what if you tripped over a rope? Or a book? Yes...a book sounds very dangerous, not very safe at all, Your Highness. You would be far safer out here with us than in your office..." She then glances at the masked woman, her head tilting just a moment before she nods, "I see, well then, perhaps we shall have a chance to talk another time. However, I agree...large crowds can be very uncertain. You never know if you'll somehow get stuck talking to the old, boring one in the crowd." She lifts a hand up, miming a yawn before she points towards Gaspard, "You have to watch out for those sorts too...the quiet ones. Same as you do with Lord Ian. They are the ones that are hiding dangerous habits behind that quiet calm. Adventures, and drink, and other shenanigans."

Ian eyes Enyo for a moment after taking a drink from the bottle of whiskey he's still holding. "Are you describing me, or my brother?"

"At the very least, it's far more interesting abroad than at home," points out Patrizio with that grin as he's making a sound and then making himself comfortable. Though, like Gaspard, the prince's jade eyes turn towards the heavens for some moments, towards that ever-present moon, and a breath passes from him, the curve of his lips settling into a more placid smile.

Lilac half-mask takes another sip of whiskey, narrowing an eye as she spies the bottom of the cup from a certain angle. "This is problematic," she says to no one in particular, holding her cup back out. Wordless, seeking. "I'm curious, so, a question posed for all here -- what does the moon make you think of?"

Gaspard chuckles some at Enyos words, "Caught me red-handed." Looking her way for a time before returning his gaze to the stars and moon. "The moon always makes me feel calmer."

"The Duke your brother, or your other brother?" Enyo questions with an amused smile, "I am going to assume the Duke. But no, not at all, because drinking tea doesn't count as drinking." She takes a sip from her whiskey before she gets to her feet, "If I were to describe the Duke...I would say, the quiet brooding eyes hides behind them a keen intellect and an adventurous spirit." The hand not holding the whiskey lifts up, resting over her heart as she makes a dreamy sigh, eyes shifting upwards towards the moon before she glances towards the woman, "The moon? The moon makes the think of night, which makes me think of things done in the dark. But that could be also just tonight..." She then drops back onto her seat, winking at Gaspard when he agrees that she caught him out.

"He used to drink as hard as any of us," Ian points out to Enyo. He frowns as the subject of the moon comes up again, though, and looks up at the sky while he shoves a hand through his hair. "Tonight, I'm doing a lot of thinking about the last blood moon. That's when the moon started showing up during the day."

A lift of Patrizio's brows as he turns his head slightly to consider the figure, pulling his attention from the moon. "Most often, an all-seeing eye," says the prince softly. "Its gaze upon us, whether judging or simply watching, I know not. But I suspect we all see in it something that reflects back the light we ourselves cast upon it." A nod briefly when he's considering Gaspard's answer, with another turn to consider the moon, the faint play of a smile at Enyo's response. Though there's a look more distinctly to Ian, and a slow nod, as if that's not been far from his own thoughts.

The woman in the lilac half-mask nods, emptying her cup of whiskey. She clips the cup to a specific place on her baldric, pauses, and considers the others. "The moon makes me think. Of -- oh, too many things to detail. A couple of things were mentioned. It seems like a mirror, doesn't it. It sees us - we see it. I wonder, what will happen to the moon this year." She rises to her feet with a lithe stretch. "I am going to attend the masque, I think. Be well, all --" she murmurs as she descends the ramparts.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Someone wearing lilac silk half-mask before departing.

"Used to. But not currently...so it can't describe him at the moment. Maybe in the past, yes...but now? No. There are a number of other things I'd say to describe him, but..." Enyo glances around, making note of the mixed company before just smiling at Ian, winking at him. Then she glances upwards at the moon, studying it thoughtfully, "Have fun, Mysterious Lady...and do be careful. Don't go drinking and wandering. That is how you end up off a pier or in a ditch...neither are pleasant."

The subject of the moon seems to have dimmed Ian's willingness to be amused on the subject of Aethan, and simultaneously refocused his interest on his drink. He gives it a disconcerted look.

"That was not ominous," pronounces the Voice of Pravus with a shake of his head, and... a soft cluck of his tongue. "Better she than I, in going to the masquerade. Though I think that, like the moon, parties reflect back to us often what we wish see in them. And some of us simply prefer more intimate gatherings." Which comes with the lift of his flask again as he's settled, the vessel helping to obscure that faint turn of a smile once again.

"I find parties to be fun, but I also find gatherings like this to be fun as well. It all depends on what flavor of fun and entertainment." Enyo offers, still studying the moon, her head tilting to the side, "I find that if the goal is to have silly fun, meet new people, do brash things. Then a party can suffice...but if your goal is to get to //know// people, to learn, to develop things...these gatherings are best. Intimate settings, those are where you can spend the time to really know yourself and others, to explore." She glances briefly in Ian's direction, but then back towards Gaspard and Patrizio, a ghost of a smile still on her face, "Should we play a game?"

Gaspard lowers his cup, wetting his lips idly as his head tilts in Enyos diection. "What sort of game?" He inquires curiously in a gravelly baritone.

Ian shakes himself out of whatever dark mood he was starting to descend into, but the question he's about to ask gets asked by Gaspard before he gets the chance.

Patrizio looks as if he's curious as to why /he/ is being looked at when Enyo broaches the idea of a game, but gestures to Gaspard as he echoes, "I think it definitely depends on what was the intent. And the sobriety or lack thereof required for it."

"Oh, no...I'd never force a drinking game. Where is the fun in that? You'd all lose like..." Enyo lifts a hand, snapping her fingers, "That. But, there's another game that might be fun, and fitting one supposes, for the night we find ourselves in. We take turns, and ask a question of one person in the group, and they have to answer the question. Unless in answering it causes danger or an Oath to be broken...but I'd hope we'd all stick to fun questions, not serious ones."

Gaspard comments, "I'm not very good at asking questions but I can try."

Ian takes a quick drink from his bottle of whiskey. "That's a very Lycene game," he remarks. Which isn't an objection, exactly.

"I think I've played this game before." Which is also not a declining by Patrizio as he's getting comfortable, that flask in his hand not going anywhere as he dips his head. "Gods know that on a night like tonight, it wasn't /too/ serious. I'm game."

"It is, isn't it?" Enyo wonders, flashing a smile at Ian, then she takes a sip from the whiskey before setting the bottle down. She then reaches inside a pocket to pull out a slim, thin wooden box, "I'll go first, if everyone wants. Otherwise whoever wants to go first can go."

Gaspard nods a couple of times, flashing a dimpled smile. "Sounds good to me."

Ian makes a permissive gesture with his bottle of whiskey.

"I would actually argue that one might well insist. Ladies first, after all." Patrizio smiles, and gets himself comfortable, as he's glancing to the others, before he tries at least to look semi-serious about it.

Enyo tugs a cigarillo out of her case, pondering the first question before she tucks it into the corner of her mouth, "Very well. Lord Gaspard, the first question I ask you...what brought you to Arx?"

Gaspard says after a moment or two, "The call of duty and responsibility. To protect the Compact in every way possible, as per my mission."

Briefly, that flask makes its way to Patrizio's lips again as he smiles, listening to the back and forth. And a breath slips from him, as he if he's weighed his own answer to the question, while looking between Enyo and Gaspard.

Ian seems content to settle back and listen, for the time being. And drink. He's still got an edge of determination to the way that he's putting alcohol away, and even another Islesman would probably be impressed by how little it seems to have had an effect on him thusfar. Although, of course, the ruddy light of the moon will pretty effectively hide any ruddy cast to his skin.

There's an upwards flick of her eyes, one corner of her mouth curling upwards before she pulls out a match to light it. The glow of the brief fire just adding to the ambiance of the moon before she nods, "Wonderful answer...now, since I asked you the question, you get to ask the next person the question. And around we go."

Gaspard hrms for a time before offering, "Prince Patrizio. What's a funny habit you do at home while no one is watching?"

Patrizio makes a soft sound while he's weighing this, and while the flask is poised for him to take a sip from it, there's not a drawing forth of such while he's contemplating Gaspard's question. "Aside I imagine from practicing how far back I can tip my chair whilst in it without falling?" This is delivered seriously enough, though the pull of a smile at the corners of his lips belies that he's probably spinning a yarn with such. And then a soft sound. "Reciting my correspondence aloud after having written it. To ensure that it sounds like me, and neither like a stuffed-shirt, nor Sir Tiberio." /That/ might be more honest. And then the turn of a smile towards Ian. "My lord, what talent have you that none of us would guess at in a century?"

Ian blinks at Patrizio. "Uh," he says after a moment. "I'm mostly... I mean. I don't have a lot of..." He thinks about it for a moment, and finally offers: "There's not a lot that's too disgusting for me to be willing to eat?" And then he looks at Patrizio like he's waiting for confirmation that he's given the Prince the correct answer.

"But do you not do that in public, Your Highness?" Enyo wonders, taking a drag from the cigarillo before she tucks the box back into her pocket. There's a laugh when he mentions reading his correspondence outloud, though. Then she glances over at Ian when Patrizio asks him the question. "That is a handy talent."

Patrizio gives a dip of his head and a smile, when Ian's looking to him. With a look that speaks to the fact that only the lord of Kennex would know if it's true or not.

Satisfied, Ian takes a drink before realizing, belatedly, when the game doesn't go on, that oh yeah, it's his turn now, isn't it? "Um." He looks over at Enyo. "Do you, uh..." He sounds like he's reaching, trying to think, on the spot, of some kind of question. "Do you write a lot of poetry?"

"Do I?" Enyo shakes her head, "Not really, no...I've written it a time or two over the years, but it's not exactly something that I'm very good at." She takes another drag, carefully blowing the smoke upwards before she grins at him, "But your brother has inspired me to write some recently." She then winks before she turns her attention to Patrizio this time, "So, Your Highness, what was the single most crazy thing you've ever done for love?"

Gaspard takes another sip of his cup, draining it empty and re-filling it, on his third cup now. He doesn't appear to be effected in any way yet. He looks between each individual in turn as they all converse, a faint smile touching his lips.

Those jade eyes look between the other three as Patrizio is seriously weighing the question that's put forward to him by Enyo, not that he's expecting help from Gaspard or Ian and... a breath slips from him. Yet no comment about whether or not this requires him to bow out for an oath, before he's lifting a hand, stroking against his face, the press of his palm over his lips for a moment and... "I don't know," he ventures, in a voice that's low, soft, and gentle, "that I've ever done something /crazy/ for love. All love is crazy, after all. It's the burning of the blood, an insanity that dwells deep within, that makes any of us feel that some feelings could be eternal, a hope for something that endures past the sweet bond of this life and beyond the turning of the Wheel. And." A breath drawn, and released. "Perhaps that I have at least once declared that, should it be necessary to be true for love, I would renounce my title as Voice, as general, as prince, to be true to who I am."

A breath, and then a serious sip from that flask. And then the prince's gaze is turned to Gaspard. "My lord," he says, with a dip of his head. "Had you gone this evening to the masquerade as I thought you would have, what was your mask to be and why?"

Gaspard admits, to Patrizio, "I searched every shop in the city on last minute protocol and could not find one. I would have settled for any."

Gaspard hrms then, saying to Ian, "How many years did it take you to perfect your swordsmanship?"

"I don't think that is crazy at all, Your Highness." Enyo offers with a ghost of a smile before she glances at Gaspard, then towards Ian when the question comes back around to him, curious as to the answer herself.

Ian shakes his head to Gaspard, a lot more certain of his answer this time: "I don't know. It's not perfect. Probably never will be." A lot more certain of his non-answer. Once again, he looks to Enyo: "What would your mask have been?" Shamelessly copying Patrizio.

The question of what her mask would have been requires far more thought than her previous answer did, "Most likely....huh." She wrinkles her nose a moment, making a bit of a face, "For a night like this? And a party like this? I'd say...maybe a dragon." She then flips the question back on Ian, "What would your mask have been if you'd have gone?"

Ian raises his eyebrows to Enyo with a quick quirk of a smile. "Does it matter? I've got a cane and I walk funny. No mask would have hid who I am."

Enyo flashes a smile at Ian, "Of course it does...but.." She shrugs her shoulders, accepting the answer anyways, and indicating it's his turn to ask someone a question.

Ian takes a drink, and once again can't resist looking up at the sky. He goes still for a moment before redirecting his attention at Gaspard. "You, uh. You talked about a mission. What did you... mean?"

Gaspard says, grimly. "Keeping back the forces of evil, as a Templar."

Patrizio chuckles softly, as he's taking a pull from his flask anew, the lift of his brows at the answer given.

Ian looks a little bit startled by Gaspard's answer, for whatever reason. It's not his best night for being stoic and inscrutable.

Enyo reaches for the whiskey, taking a sip from it before she glances at Ian, then Gaspard, then back again to see Ian's reaction.

Gaspard lifts his glass with a heavy sigh, "There's much left to do before we can truly consider ourselves safe. But enough of talk like that." He gestures to Enyo. "IF you could be any animal, what would you be?"

"Oh, well..." Enyo pauses, tilting her head to the side before she shrugs, "A cat? They seem like they've got it made...explore all these places, and otherwise lay around being petted." She then rubs her cheek for a moment before wondering, "What's your favorite color?"

A chuckle slips from Patrizio as he listens, but slowly, he eases to his feet, and lets a sigh slide free. "If you'll excuse me, my lady, my lord..." There's a worried look at the moon for a moment, and his jade eyes return to the trio. "I should return to my ward, to ensure that the Shields are overseen while the populace might be... getting antsy." The prince is clearly choosing his words and then softly, "Times like this, I swear, I wish my cousin Vito were here to do his job. But."

Gaspard hums for a moment, scratching the side of his cheek. "Probably good." He lifts a hand to Patrizio, smiling gently. "Be well, Prince!"

Gaspard inquires of Ian, "What's the funniest thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Goodnight, Your Highness." Enyo lifts a hand to give Patrizio a waggle of her fingers in a wave, then she glances at Ian when Gaspard asks his question.

There's definitely an answer to that question, from the way Ian starts to think about it, and then abruptly grins and coughs back a laugh. But he just shakes his head. "The funniest thing that happened recently doesn't bear repeating," he admits. He thinks for a moment. "This was years ago, but I once wrote to Prince Tyrval asking for advice about something. He wrote me back telling me that his price for helping him was a blood sample from every member of my family. That was pretty funny."

Patrizio bows his head once more, before he's - very carefully - making his way down the stairs and out.

Gaspard chuckles some, "That is funny indeed." He takes a hefty swig of his cup then, wetting his lips after.

Enyo's brows lift upwards, "Funny...yes." She agrees, looking mildly bemused for a moment before she shakes her head, "What is the funniest thing that happened recently? You can't just mention that, dangling this little tid-bit out there, and then not giving it to us." She glances at Gaspard, "Right?"

Ian shakes his head. "Doesn't bear repeating, like I said," he repeats to Enyo. "How'd you meet Aethan?"

Gaspard shrugs helplessly Enyos way, smiling.

"Ugh...that is just..." Enyo shakes her head, acting far more upset about him not sharing what the funniest thing recently was than she actually is. Then she laughs, "Oh, well that is quite the story, actually." She finishes the cigarillo, stubbing it out on the bottom of her boot before she leans back, crossing her legs at the ankles, "As you can imagine, there has been quite the talk of your family recently, and me...well, being me, I reached out. Struck up a conversation, random things, really. But then I invited him to run away with me, which, sadly, isn't exactly possible at the moment. So since that can't happen, instead I convinced him to come run away for a few hours. It was //quite// the adventure, I assure you."

Ian is perched on a crate, his coat off and tossed on a barrel somewhere nearby, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He's made definite progress knocking down the level of liquid in that bottle, but the ruddy light of the moon hides any ruddy cast to hi face that has come with it. Actually, just now, the profound darkness that's closed over the area hides pretty much everything, and definitely hides the monumental effort it's taking him to focus on the people on the wall with him, and not the giant, bloated, bloody moon. And total lack of stars in the sky. He just about smiles as Enyo explains. Somewhere in the 'asshole little brother' ledger in his mind, a new entry is probably being written.

A diminutive figure, still masked and silk-clad from the ball she fled, dashes up the steps to the ramparts, her wild black curls cascading in her wake. The wealth of her outfit is menacing in magnitude, all star iron and dawnstones and dragonweep and spidersilk, with jade and honey diamonds at her neck and iridescite at her ears. Flushed in the face but oddly not so out of breath, she lifts an alaricite-clawed hand to doff her filigree half-mask, the chiaroscuro of which shifts and repositions based on the perspective of the onlooker. "Hi!" Ilira greets breathlessly.

Being a younger sibling herself, Enyo can't possibly be blind to the fact she's just giving Ian fuel at this point, especially when she adds, "It took forever to get the sand out...it gets in all sorts of uncomfortable places." She then pauses when a new arrival shows up, smiling brightly, "Come join the game...and as the newest arrival, you get to ask the next question of someone. It has to be light, and fun. No seriousness."

Gaspard lifts a cup in the masked womans direction, fashioning a dimpled, friendly smile. "Hello." He says before knocking the cup back, guzzling some and soon refilling it up some. Seated on a barrel comfortably, he sets his bottle of mint liqour down on a crate nearby, rolling a shoulder out idly. "Aye, perfect timing." He agrees with Enyo.

Ilira beams a smile toward all three of them and directs her question to Gaspard as she settles her petite self beside him. "Do you fancy anyone in the city?"

Ian nods a greeting towards Ilira, while at the same time motioning to a second bottle of whiskey set off to the side somewhere that hasn't been really touched.

Gaspard coughs once, lowering his cup as he looks up and over sharply. Chuckling some, he answers slowly. "I do fancy someone in the city, in fact."

Ilira's eyes twinkle with excitement. "Really!" she exclaims in delighted surprise, "Well, go on, can't you tell us a bit about them?" She sits back on her barrel near him with the languid nonchalance of the others for all her glitz and sparkle. Nodding an appreciative smile toward Ian, she reaches over to take the bottle and unpops the cork in a practiced motion.

Enyo laughs lightly at that, glancing back and forth between Gaspard and Ilira for a moment before she glances at Ian, "She asks very good questions as well."

Ian angles his head to Enyo, inquisitive. "What...?" Then he trails off, possibly deciding just a little too late that if he actually has a question he doesn't have to scramble for, he should probably save it.

Gaspard inhales slowly, blinking equally as slow. "Well..." He finally says, glancing around, "She's incredibly kind, and one of the hardest working individuals I know. Breathtakingly beautiful, inspiring intelligence. She's a force of nature." He fashions a small smile, then says, "Now my question for you. If animals could talk, which would be the rudest?"

Enyo narrows her eyes at Ian, expression still looking bemused before she reaches for her whiskey again to take a sip, "I'll not forget you had another question, Lord Ian. Don't you worry....but now I really think we should hear the answer to this one. Who would be the rudest animal if they could talk? I have my suspicions."

Ilira's eyes widen with a comedic glint. "You know I totally have to meet her," she says, a happy little smile tugging at her lips. Then her eyebrows lift, and she lets out a surprised laugh. "Oh! Uuuumm..." She thinks, and then, "Cats and birds, especially to each other." Her attention shifts quizzically to Enyo for her answer. "I haven't met you, by the way; I'm Ilira!" she takes the opportunity to introduce herself.

"Lady Enyo Malvici." Enyo offers Ilira with an amused smile, then she tilts her head to indicate Ian. Very subtle, this one. "Since you answered, you ask the next question, of the next person...and we'll go around and around."

"Nice to meet you!" Ilira chirps brightly to Enyo. She regards Ian for a moment with eyes tinted by the blood moon and asks, deadpan, "If you were a cookie, what kind of cookie would you be?" The hint of that grin threatens the corners of her mouth.

Ian was in the middle of drinking from his bottle of whiskey and mercifully doesn't promptly wind up snorting it, but only by a narrow margin. He coughs, and lowers the bottle. "... What?"

Gaspard smirks some at Iliras question, smoky grey eyes holding amusement as they swivel onto Enyo.

Ilira puts a hand to her lips and giggles, failing to suppress her own snort. "Answer the question!" she prompts, laughing. "There's chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, snickerdoodle, sugar..."

Enyo glances at Gaspard, then just smiles brightly at him before she shrugs her shoulders. Amusement very clear.

"I don't..." Ian trails off, and then protests: "People aren't cookies."

Ilira eyes Ian intently. "I am a raspberry thumbprint," she says with complete certainty. "Or...I would be if I were a cookie. Which is the hypothetical before us!"

Ian angles his head, that same quizzical gesture that he directed at Enyo a moment ago. "Why? How did you decide that?"

Ilira contemplates Ian's query. "This seems like deflection," she observes, a tiny smile playing at her lips. "Well, I didn't think about it for long, and I suppose if I had I might've deemed myself a cream puff or tripple chocolate chip, or something about a fruity swirl. But thumbprints are my favorite kind of cookie!"

"Because she's clearly a raspberry, very summer...very sweet, but tart." Enyo has zero idea what she's actually talking about, but she feels confident that she can fake an answer confidently. "So was that your question, Lord Ian, or did you have another one to ask?"

Ilira flashes Enyo a huge, fiery-eyed smile of approval.

Ian takes the out from having to work out how to answer the unanswerable question of, if he were a cookie (which he is not, because people aren't cookies), what kind of cookie he would be, and asks Enyo: "What makes a question good?"

Gaspard grins at Ians question, remaining silent as he looks to Enyo, idly sipping his drink.

"There are no bad questions, if you ask me. All questions are good, maybe the answer will be silly, or odd, but...anything that makes you stop and think is a good question. Which ultimately, all questions are designed to do." Enyo replies cheerfully, looking pleased with the question asked, "Now, I've got one final question before I have to probably drag myself home before I end up doing something foolish. So I'm going to ask this question..." She stares at Ian, clearly going to ask him her very serious question, "Are you going to tease your brother endlessly?"

Ian gives Enyo a brief, sharp grin. "Not endlessly. Not in this life, anyway."

"Mmm." Enyo replies, getting to her feet, "Well, thank you all for a glorious evening." She sweeps a bow at the group before heading for the stairs down.