Ramona - A Guard in Ashford House Colours, Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing, 2 Ashford Archer, 1 Ashford Scout arrive, following Lisebet.

The Shrine of Vellichor has been arranged with 'story telling' in mind, with plenty of open space between where speakers will present and where the audience will sit. Libations - and non-alcoholic beverages - and cookies (so many cookies) are available in abundance. These cookies come in various shapes reminiscent of magical things. Some are stamped with the sigil of Vellichor, some of the Crown. (Please take a cookie.) The seats are packed with refugees and many curious denizens. Squeezing in might be a challenge!

Lisebet slips in, discovers the place is packed and finds a spot where she can quietly listen. The petite duchess arrives without fanfare and simply settles to watch, not even moving to get any refreshments as yet.

Eirene is here because she hates Azazel. Has for years. The more she can learn how to piss him off, the better. She looks conflicted about something else though, like she's not all here.

Louis, a Malespero Armsman, Mar, the Magpie arrive, following Pasquale.

Pasquale arrives, following Jan.

Apollo and Lianne arrive together, as is wont to happen. The pleasant weather is a relief after some of the more brutally hot days, lately, and despite the looming terrors, they both at the very least seem comfortable in each others' company. What dread can steal -all- joy? Apollo finishes murmuring something quiet to her - something about /scents mingling/ - and then glances about. Finds a place for them to sit, perhaps a little less crowded, though he's happy to share a few words with any of the refugees who've come.

Ian has a half empty bottle of whiskey in hand when he comes into the shrine. Vellichor's okay with that, right? Against all odds, despite presumably having drunk all of that, he shows no sign of actually being drunk. At least he doesn't come barging in. He sticks to the back, unobtrusive, and finds a wall or something to lean against.

Cato, a stealthy non-descript man arrives, delivering a message to Ian before departing.

Lianne does not find a place to sit. She has other business first. Like smiling to the hosts and to Eirene, even if her smile to the latter skews somewhat bemused for that evident distraction. And, well, there are cookies. She snacks a few, each a different shape, as well as a glass of whiskey with a generous pour, intended for sharing, the burden of holding the glass--so challenging!--relegated to neither her or her husband alone. /Then/ she joins him with every intention of sharing. Let their pleasure in such things stand in defiance of the jerk of an Archfiend who would see it all spoiled.

Duarte hops up and begins the presentation by giving a little speech. His tone is clear and crisp - if heavily weighted by his Setarcan lower-born accent, "Friends, we are here today in the spirit of Revelation to present to the populace and before Vellichor knowledge that has been kept hidden for so very long - Magical Knowledge."

"The enemy that threatens to storm our gates and overrides our lands now is not a new foe. He has lived a thousand years. His name is Azazel."

"Originally summoned to keep secret that which would protect the world from another Reckoning, his rules got twisted so that he was free to suppress any, but /any/, magical knowledge and hold these as secrets to himself. And now he leads the Seckonding."

"His power was in these secrets and in the conceit of others knowing that only he kept them. But now, we break that conceit by exposing the light of truth on what we've come to know - and display its reality to those who were made ignorant of it by this fiend."

"Magic is a secret no more and today we will deal a final blow to skepticism and forgetfulness as regards its existence by showing it to you - revealing it to you before the eyes of Vellichor."

"Who among you would be the first to say 'fuck Azazel', and speak on your knowledge and demonstrate your skill?"

Medeia, who is co-host of this not-so-small gathering is fussing with the cookie trays, making sure they are just-so, before turning her attention to Duarte when he begins to speak. Her lips press thin when the mention of the Despite twisting is made, but her expression is a mostly pleasant one. Her gaze sweeps the assembled crowd - pausing with a brighter smike for Lianne and Apollo - when Duarte asks for volunteers: She's not jumping to be first, and she encourages someone else to step forward.

Shortly after Ian's arrival, someone slips a note into his hand. He looks at it for a long moment in silence, not reading, just... looking. It's not even clear that he heard Duarte's opening words.

Eirene's hand shoots up IMMEDIATELY.

Jan tilts her head and studies Eirene with the pure and utter eagerness her hand goes up. A gaze flicks towards Pasquale and then back to Duarte.

Eirene has joined the line.

Lisebet's lips quirk in a little smile, but she doesn't volunteer right away. Instead she stays quiet, offering her support by being here. And wait, are those cookies? She glances over at Ian, also at the back and she arches a brow his way, nodding her head in greeting. Then her attention goes back to the discussion at hand.

Lianne murmurs, when she sees Eirene's hand go up so swiftly, "As if you haven't already. Repeatedly." Softer, "As if we all haven't." But she knows the intention. They're asking for volunteers. She can be patient.

Apollo does, indeed, take a cookie - takes it and splits it in half, offers the second half to the young man, explaining in what sounds like Eurusi that they are indeed freely offered. /Gifts/, welcome. Not everything is always immediately so clear. His eyes turn up toward Medeia - and then the prompt action of Eirene - with a twist of amusement. He does not seem to feel any great compulsion to be first in line. Maybe he'll teach something; maybe he'll learn something.

"Yes, Fuck Azazel. He ate my husband Cicero's soul for Cicero's ability to make steelsilk." Eirene taps her bodice-vest. "He had Fable kill Cicero for daring to speak out. And I'm a soul-mender, body healer, and dedicated to seeing Azazel fall. I've devoted my life to studying healing, warfare, and now magic to bring it to bear on our enemies, and uplift our people."

Ian brings himself back to the present with what looks like a wrench of will. He swallows and then, very very carefully, folds the note he was holding in perfect halves, and smooths it. He gives Lisebet a distracted nod of greeting, before folding the note in half again. He's not wearing his coat, so the paper goes into his vest pocket.

Pasquale has a thoughtful look in his eyes as he enters the event and looks for a place to settle down and sit. He pulls himself out of whatever place he was lost in at the sound of Medeia's voice. His eyes flicking around the various mages-he-knows of already in presence here. He doesn't seem inclined to volunteer. Not right now anyway.

Jan's eyes widen and her mouth forms a round 'o' of surprise "Fuckin puckernuts."

Ian has joined the line.

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

Ian looks like he's about to maybe step up, then gets another note. This one makes him wince and immediately excuse himself.

Medeia continues to look around, her smile not fading when she sees Pasquale and Jan, even if smiles might seem out-of-place in the current moment. Lisebet and Ian also get acknowledgment. Then she' fixated on Eirene. Her hazel eyes are full of concern, the smile fading appropriately as she hears the words spoken. Then, she makes a gesture to the front, where the speakers are able to stand plainly. "Would you do us the favor of coming forward, sharing something you've learned in the pursuit of knowledge about magic?"

Turn in line: Eirene

Lisebet's gaze is on Eirene with a keen interest. She takes a breath though at what is said, expression softening. She is a bit distracted by Ian leaving, aware that he's received some messages that seem to have been very serious. Her breath catches though as her attention returns to Eirene and what she is sharing.

Lisebet has joined the line.

Eirene says, "Ah, sure... I call this, Mending." She pulls an Alaricite scalpel out and slices cleanly through her sleeve, a small slash. Her skin is visible underneath. Then she puts her other hand over the tear and focuses. Her eyes seem bluer than usual, with a gleam of silver. When she pulls her hand away, the slash is gone. Cleanly repaired with no sign of damage. "I can make small scars disappear too. Just little things thoigh and it needs to be a clean break or cut."

Jan flashes a quick, warm smile to Medeia along with a fingerwave. She watches Eirene's demonstration with an awed look of almost child-like wonder. Perhaps most here are seasoned persons of magical know how but this is all very new to Jan and it shows.

Apollo is attendant to the demonstration - maybe as much to Eirene's eyes, her face, as what's happening with her hand and the armor. His curiosity, though, doesn't seem entirely satisfied; he looks like it leaves him with more questions than answers. But he blinks aside, looks at Jan and her child-like wonder. And the young Eurusi man who straight up dropped his cookie. Does Lianne have any more? He might have to go get some.

Lianne pipes up, curious, "Do you imagine you might be able to heal larger scars incrementally or does the weave view that injury as a whole and simply deny the attempt?"

Lisebet nods to Medeia easily and then watches Eirene's demonstration. Oh yes, it's real. Look at that. She glances over at Lianne at that question, then back over to Eirene curiously.

Duarte turns slightly green at the sight of self-slashing. He looks away and paces a few steps. Luckily Harlen lets him know when it's over. The count breathes a sigh of relief and seems hopefuly to elicit Eirene's services, but then almost as soon sighs to dismay when the disclaimer comes that his own scars would not qualify for. "I remember Lord Cicero,". he says quietly.

Eirene answers Lianne, "It takes a lot of magic to do anything on a larger scale. I took a real-risk at Harrow Hall doing a wide-spread... um... word. Word. Like, area effect. I've been experimenting with smaller wounds to find my upper limit. But things areas they are, I haven't had time to really detail where that is." She smiles sheepishly, instead of smirking. "Guess I'll find out when the time comes."

Ian comes back in with a harder, colder countenance than he had when he left.

Pasquale tells Eirene. "I'm still happy to help you experiment Eirene."

Ian has joined the line.

Medeia moves to place a steadying hand on Duarte's back, lightly, just between to shoulder blades. She doesn't crowd in, just the hand, there, a tether. She remains silent as people speak with Eirene about what she demonstrated, but her own expression has become slightly distant.

Turn in line: Lisebet

"Wonderful," Lianne answer Eirene with a soft smile, a nod, and another nod, then, to Pasquale. "I'll be curious to know how you fare. A fine talent, to be sure."

Apollo, when he's up to fetch more cookies, is briefly pulled aside by his entirely-too-competent assistant in the doorway. Don't mind him - he'll be back momentarily.

Jan notes Ian's arrival with a brief purse of lips but then refocuses on Medeia and those gathered.

Lisebet smiles and then she steps forward. "I don't know what I am, I don't know from magic. But I do know that along with magic being real, so too are past lives. And the more who know in general the better. I'm sorry I can't give you a demonstration or anything, but I do want to provide my support here." Her words carry easily, the duchess well used to speaking in crowds.

Medeia has joined the line.

Turn in line: Ian

Ian probably wasn't originally intending on saying what he says now, or maybe wasn't intending on saying it HOW he says it now, with a hard edge in his voice and suppressed anger in his eyes. "My home is gone. The waters I sailed as a child are infested with demons. My people have no home. I don't know if we're ever going to get any of it back. It's a sacrifice we've all made willingly, because the fight against Azazel is here. Not in Stormward. Not in Maelstrom. Here." As he speaks, his eyes, initially full of rage, have changed. First they have calmed, and now a shimmer of silver passes over them, like the light reflecting off of an alaricite blade. "The magic he tried to keep from us, we are going to use it to break him." He sets his bottle of whiskey down on the ground and leaves his cane leaning against the wall, and then steps away from it with an impossibly, dangerously graceful gait, totally devoid of the mechanical awkwardness that has been his hallmark for as long as he's been in Arx. He holds out both arms in a gesture that could be 'here I am', or maybe 'come and get me'. Whatever it is, it's a challenge.

Eirene is handed a note by her aide and she reads. She gives a heavy heavy sigh and nods as if accepting something. She looks up at Ian and motions to her new Alaricite blade. "You know I'm nowhere near a challenge, but if you want to demonstrate," she says gravely.

"Not in the shrine," Ian answers Eirene, despite the initial look he gave her projecting that yes, yes he very, very much wants to demonstrate right now. "This is about as dramatic as I can be, here." It's not dramatic, but at the same time, it is. The entire way he carries himself has changed to something he never could have managed, before.

Lisebet is completely not a challenge, but she certainly eyes that change, very thoughtfully. It's awe inspiring, it really is, and at the same time, it's so Ian, as she knows him, that is seems only natural. She simply nods her head.

Pasquale reaches to take Jan's hand just after Ian delivers his news. Leaning over a moment later to ask her a soft question.

Connal, a Northern Wolfhound, Honeymare, 1 Ravenseye Warrior, 3 Sanna House Guards, 2 Northern Rangers, Spirit arrive, following Rosalind.

Duarte signals to Medeia he is okay and then has a few words with Eirene when Lisebet steps up to speak. He nods to the lady from the lyceum and then says a thank you and turns his attention to Ian...curiously. Of course, it's instant harrowing news and the reality of things sweeps over his face in unmistakable 'oh shit'. Perhaps, the full reality of things hadn't hit him until now. And then he gulps at the personification of danger Ian seems to become and steps /back/. He looks around and clears his throat. He's going to say something, but closes his mouth again. "I...Thank you! Lord Ian..." he graciously bows.

Rosalind bursts in with a red face. Likely from running. "Sorry I'm late! Are we still hating Azz hat?" She plops her butt somewhere, getting comfortable.

Lianne's lips press thin as she listens to Ian, not quite a frown, but nearly. She knows Nilanza may soon suffer the same fate and reaches to... oh. Apollo's not there. She looks to where he speaks quietly with Siri in one of the alcoves, then looks to her brother, her sister-in-law. And then has a swig of her whiskey.

Turn in line: Medeia

Ian doesn't step back, take up his cane again, or go back to leaning against the wall, even with his declaration of person war complete. He stays as he is, eyes shimmering occasionally with the light of his magic, a silent reminder ongoing even as the other demonstrations proceed. He picks up the bottle of whiskey, though, bending easily at the knees to do so.

Jan listens to Ian and for perhaps one of the more reactive people in the room she takes this news with a calm reserve that's inexplicably less grim than it deserves-perhaps it hasn't sunk in yet. Perhaps she recalls her home somewhat less fondly than Ian. It's hard to say. She glances over towards Pasquale and squeezes his hand reassuringly.

Apollo returns after just a minute or two, and drifts back toward Lianne by way of cookies. He might catch the temper of the room, though, after that demonstration; he murmurs to Lianne, handing off another cookie, "What did I miss?"

Eirene goes to write something down. No, dictate something to her aide is a better way of putting it. She's got horrible handwriting as her friends well know. "Okay, tell her..." and then she starts whispering. This is as serious as Eirene can get, which is unusual for her.

Lianne has joined the line.

Duarte has joined the line.

There is an almost immediate fracture of Medeia's affected calm expression when Ian speaks of losing Stormward. It takes her a moment to breathe deep, to put the pieces back together. She looks from Ian to Eirene, and it looks almost as if she might shake her head. She does. Gently. "Not here," she murmurs to them both. It's a request, not a command.

When the floor is clear, she steps forward and fixes her smile back in place. She scans the whole of the crowd, making eye contact with as many of the people present as she can. "I think most people know me without having me me, but for those who don't know, I am Lady Medeia Saik. Physician, Scholar, member of the Mirrorguard, the Whisper's Whisper." That last title gives her smile a slightly crooked look of amusement, but it fades just as quickly as it came. "I... What I am about to say may sound absurd. I know. I hear it in my own head before I say it to you, and I say it knowing that my home is..." There's a glance to Duarte, "My home is different, now. That I had to make impossible decisions and ask my people to sacrifice more than anyone should have to." Her fingers flex, hand drift behind her back. There's not a single thing about her t suggest magic - no glowing or floating or anything. Just a lady. "It is vital for those wielding magic to focus their intent. Be careful not infuse rage or vengeance or grief into what you do, especially if you do not mean for it to be there. Vengenace in Azazel's bindings may well be what led to the twisting of the Despite. When we fight him? Be careful what you fight him with."

The words that Ian said do take some time sink in, perhaps for many. Certainly for Lisebet. She closes her eyes briefly, looking down at her hands, twisting her rings briefly, and then she stands up straight once more, listening. Medeia's words bring Lisebet's brows together, as she frowns for a moment, and then, thinking it through, she nods. "I feel that is very good advice," she says. "though at times it may be nigh impossible to follow."

Rosalind grins at Medeia. "Good thing I can control that now, yeah?"

Duarte considers Medeia curiously. "Why is that, my lady? That one must tamp down their natural reaction of emotions to things so foul, in the province of magic?"

Pasquale says "I think the lesson here is that if you have strong emotions on a thing - You should know it will effect your magic. If you want justice, dont do it with vengeance in your heart."

"When you work with magic," Medeia starts, looking to Duarte when he questions her, "You are reshaping some part of the Dream. Manipulating th ery essence and putting your own... Vision. Mark. Upon it. Whether that comes from within yourself or a stronger being... If those are the emotions you wish to put into the world? Then, by all mean? I prefer not to, and letting the wrong emotions taint the work is a recipe for unintended consequences."

Apollo's face draws serious - serious, and thoughtful - at what Lianne leans to murmur to him. Perhaps he doesn't understand what she says, because he just goes thoughtful a few moments, eyes turning on Ian, then glances along to Jan. It's there his eyes rest for a length of time, lips pressing only after he's turned back to listen to Medeia.

Eirene is agonizing over this letter. It's clear this is a hard one to write. (Dictate) She's barely listening to Medeia's cautionary words.

Duarte ahs, as Medeia gives him yet another reason to never touch this stuff! But he plasters a smile over that and bows, "Thank you, lady Medeia, for the caution and the insight."

Turn in line: Lianne

Jan listens attentively to the the topic, her gaze follow those who speak when they speak.

And now, Medeia is absolutely present and paying attention and being a top notch hostess and nibbling a cookie or two.

Lisebet finally moves to get refreshments for herself, sliding off into the background.

Ramona - A Guard in Ashford House Colours, Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing, 2 Ashford Archer, 1 Ashford Scout leave, following Lisebet.

2 Saik Guard, Celina, a dutiful physician's assistant, Giancarlo, a cooper and prize-fighter, Lisebet leave, following Medeia.

Duarte gives Lianne a fond smile and wordlessly motions for her to come forward.

"Intention is certainly key," Lianne agrees with Medeia. "Intention and focus thereupon." When she's invited up, she brushes a few cookie crumbs from her green dress as she rises and moves to the front of the room. She turns a pensive look over those gathered and notes, "Most of you know me. Duchess Lianne Malespero. Self-proclaimed demonologist. I've been studying the Abyss and its denizens for... at least sixteen years now. I've known since aught-five that demons are real when, in pursuit of one, it turned into mist and very literally poured itself into me through my nose, my mouth, ears and eyes. Still one of the most horrific things I've ever experienced, and I have seen plenty that most would not believe." With a loft of her brows, she adds, "Not that I need to convince any of you of this. You all know. You've witnessed your own horrors. Wonders, too, if you've been fortunate." With a curious cant of her head, she asks, "Might I have a volunteer, that I may demonstrate some small bit of my own magic?"

Ian may have volunteered to do the magic thing himself, but makes no move to step forward when Lianne calls for volunteers for her own.

Apollo looks rather like he'd volunteer, if necessary, but perhaps he thinks the demonstration will be more impactful with someone else; he remains attentive but doesn't volunteer, unless there's no-one else.

Apollo has joined the line.

Why not? Magic is mystical and curious. It's all glittery and glowy. He smiles at Lianne's willingness to share and repays it with willingness to be magically somethinged. He raises his hand and steps forward. "It would be a poor host indeed with did not indulge his attendees..."

Duarte did that ^

Louis, a Malespero Armsman have been dismissed.

Mar, the Magpie have been dismissed.

Lianne checks intellect and occult at easy. Lianne is successful.

"Kind of you," Lianne murmurs to Duarte, and it sounds sincere. And apologetic. With her hands neatly folded before her, she simply looks at him, her expression sinking as she does, turning from rueful toward mournful. Those who care to use their mage sight will see that she's surely doing /something/, though it isn't likely immediately apparent what. She might want to work on her showmanship.

Jan is overheard praising Duarte.

Jan is overheard praising Medeia.

Jan watches with interest, intrigued at what Lianne's about to show off. Not having mage sight she remains oblivious but if she were sitting she'd be on the edge of her seat.

Eirene is still agonizing. Agonizing over this letter. Her aide has crossed out and re-written it at least twice. She looks up curiously to see what's going on before going back to her missive. Finally, after what feels like forever for her, she nods and has Planchet go out.

Carissa, a Southport bodyguard have been dismissed.

Planchet the Lycene maggiordome have been dismissed.

Duarte is all smiles and joviality for the show of it all. The revelations, the grand display and service to Vellichor. He looks at Lianne and waits for her to /do/ something. Why is she just staring at him? Did he do something wrong? He frowns for it... what was it /this/ time? But no...then he's angry about it but it goes even deeper than that. He's -nothing- for it. An utter absence of feeling. "Aside from a very few I feel great deal of nothing for everything. It's not for a lack of /trying/. I test myself to care - will it, even. One can use it to paint a romantic notion, and I have many times. But truly my heart wouldn't ache if it all burned to rubble, so long as I had those few."

Jan's eyebrows loft and she seems mildly surprised and then oddly speculative for some reason while she loiters on the periphery and watches the magical folk show off.

Lianne, ache visible on her face, a decided absence of nothing, steps closer to Duarte, reaches to take one of Duarte's hands, if he'll allow, and give it a squeeze. Meant to be comforting, but who knows how it'll land. "I'm sorry, my friend." The way her words clip at the end, it sounds like she might have something more to say, but this is hardly the place for it. Better, in some ways, to turn to the others and note, "I've a talent for helping difficult truths come to the fore. We can't address what we ignore." Again, she stops herself from saying more and simply moves back to sit beside Apollo.

Ian's eyes widen ever so slightly when it (very gradually, very slowly) dawns on him what's happening, and the look he gives Liara is one of silent reproach. He's standing and moving with the ease that suggests he's still using magic, but looks fairly passive, for all of that. After a moment, he slips his cane into a loop on his belt intended to hold it, and... goes over to offer Duarte a drink, although without saying anything.

Apollo watches that demonstration in silence with a little handful of cookies; he's not eating them. He's not frowning; he is -watching-, watching-watching, that sort of sight that only recently feels easier. He might think that a somewhat kinder cut than does Ian, because when Duarte speaks, there's a flicker of a smile, there briefly, then gone. It's hard to look away, even if it is oh-so-subtle.

As Duarte takes a moment--and possibly a drink--to recompose himself, Lianne quietly encourages Apollo, "Your turn, perhaps?" It's not even to claim his stash of cookies. Not just now. She'd like to be out of the spotlight please.

Duarte yanks his hand from Lianne and swipes the whiskey from Ian (with thanks) and hustles to the little count's room.

Connal, a Northern Wolfhound have been dismissed.

Honeymare have been dismissed.

1 Ravenseye Warrior have been dismissed.

3 Sanna House Guards have been dismissed.

2 Northern Rangers have been dismissed.

Spirit have been dismissed.

Jan's eyebrows loft and her gaze hops over to land on Apollo in obvious curiosity.

Apollo checks dexterity and empathy at normal. Apollo is successful.

She sat right next to him, and she wants the spotlight off /her/? Apollo gives Lianne a study, thoughtful for just a second. Perhaps he was too interested in seeing what he could learn here, and only dimly imagined presenting anything himself. "Azazel has never come for me personally," he says. "But has stolen much from those I care for. Those I care for the most, and lately... everyone I care for. From those closest to distant associates." He looks around the room, briefly, eyes lighting on faces all over, and bows his head a little, thoughtful.

And then speaks again, from another corner of the room, where he also sits. No dramatic puff of smoke or anything: he's just... right next to Lianne, and also right up at the front corner. "I've felt like his closing in has forced so many of our hands. Driven so many of our decisions that how is it so different from Destiny, in fact."

Off to the opposite side, a third Apollo shakes his head. "Well, this is what he's bought. A people arming themselves in ways that he will not survive. He's coming. None of us have to make it easy for him."

Lianne may have expected Apollo to, you know, go up to the front to present like the others have. It's fine. She doesn't even make a face when it's plain that he's staying where he is. She /does/ make a face when he... what? Throws his voice? That's now. Muted surprised suffices until she angles a look that way to find another Apollo. Clearly, she's not witnessed this trick yet, attention flicking between the two--three of him. She doesn't mean to say, "Interesting," aloud, but there it is.

Jan's eyebrows loft up and her gaze bounces back and forth, clearly surprised and confused how there could be TWO Appollos.

It might be something about magic, for Ian, that so few of his reactions are visible (or maybe he's not at all reactive). He watches all of this with a passive stillness that projects, at the same time, a sense of potential movement.

Duarte returns from wherever he went, well composed and flippant as usual. He sadly missed Apollo's demonstration, but still proclaims, "Lovely! And thank you." He tosses the whiskey container in an underhanded lob toward Ian - don't worry, there's still some left!

"...one of the methods Azazel used to rid the world of those who ran afoul of his task were a group known as the Shadowspeakers," Duarte explains. "This clan had a ritual to summon invisible demons to use as assassins, and did so at his behest and in service to him." A beat, "Lord Giulio had the nuts to teach the Shadowspeakers a rite of cleansing. A rite many of us participated in to cure poison in the malleable stuff of the dream - stuff that can influence reality, upon which magic is possible."

"I'm sure someone more conversant with this can explain it far better than I. Azazel used a man named Shreve...among others...to channel corruption into this primum to prevent the very displays you've seen tonight, and the knowledge you have heard."

"Would anyone else like to speak upon this subject, or lend a demonstration?" He smiles jubilantly.

Ian casually catches the bottle, despite not really having been looking at Duarte when he tosses it. He gives Duarte a look that might be concerned, although it's hard to really be sure. Either way, it's brief.

Turn in line: Duarte

Turn in line: Apollo

Three Apollos? Two Apollos? That's probably excessive, really, particularly for such a crowded meeting. The one sitting next to Lianne clears his throat - perhaps just to draw attention back his way - and then there are two; weird, how there doesn't seem to be quite enough room between those people in the front corner for him to have sat there at all. He just sort of fit. The Apollo next to Lianne eats a cookie, mouth slowing as he turns aside to regard the Apollo off to the side, who has fixed Ian with a look that is perhaps as unimpressed as Ian has seemed all the while. Next to Lianne, he gives a little turn of his head, claps some crumbs from his hands - and then the second is gone, too. There's a faint bobble of his head to Lianne - just acknowledgement - and he listens to Duarte. That ask? He lets eyes sweep around the room, like he wonders who might speak up. Hmm.

Jan's eyebrows lift again at Duarte's commentary and then eyes the multiple Apollos somewhat warily.

Sen'azala has, at some point, arrived at the gathering. This is no demonstration of magic, presumably; she's just very, very quiet when she wants to be, and good at hanging back when no one's paying attention to her anyway. Her eyes are narrowed.

Lianne may be grateful that the last Apollo st--sitting is the one beside her, a hand slipping to his arm as Duarte speaks. Particularly as he speaks of Shreve feeding the beastie bearing down on them all. She wasn't planning on saying anything more, but... well. "I remember a village beyond the reach of the Grey River, set in the lower stretch of the Red Mountains and held by Clan Blood Oak. I may be one of three living souls who remember it existed before Azazel ate it entirely. The whole village, all its people. Clan Blood Oak. Gone. Not just dead and destroyed, but taken from existence entirely. And there are plenty of holdings out there which are, just now, simply emptied and overrun, but there are others which have vanished into his gullet, which we may have once known of that have been stolen from us, stolen from record, stolen from the Dream. And that's what he wants for all of us. Everything. Nothing remaining and no one to remember it. We cannot let that happen. We will not."

Sen'azala has joined the line.

"Indeed, we shan't," Duarte says solemnly. His look is one if quiet thanks to Lianne for sharing the story. "I implore you all - everyone - to attend the Great Archives and /write/. Make your stories known but more importantly: reveal. In whatever way that takes shape for you."

Duarte lifts his chin to Sen'azala and steps aside with a motion to the floor.

Turn in line: Sen'azala

Apollo's teeth tap together, and his lips press to follow. "Already happened," he says. "If we're to say it's our people that matter and let our holdings be overrun, then we should acknowledge that's already happened. There are settlements I used to frequent that I'd never have visited were they empty, but I can't recall the people that live there. Not one place, not two, not a dozen. So many."

Jan bows her head solemnly when Sen'azala speaks and keeps her loud mouth shut in the wake of this grim news.

Jan bows her head solemnly when Apollo speaks and keeps her loud mouth shut in the wake of this grim news.

One might expect something harsh and loud from Sen, as there's been plenty of that about the Horned God over the years, after all. When she steps forward, however - and it's only two steps, as if the center were something best avoided - she's quiet, almost mellow in tone. "There was a night, many years ago now, when the snow fell green and poisoned outside the Great Archive. When we went inside, we discovered that the door leading down into the deepest parts of the Archive had simply vanished. There was no evidence a door had even been there, but apparently there had. Seeing that, Preston and...Sina? People who weren't godsworn were ushered out quickly, though not before Rinel had some sort of episode, she starts shouting about how it was too late, 'it' was waking up'--' And then we were outside, and I don't know what happened after that. But," she considers her fingers for a moment, "the next day was...even stranger. It was like I knew everything I was going to do right before I did it. Every thought I was going to think. Everything I was going to say. Over it all there was this sense of...the sense that something horrible was going to happen, and as the day went on, it got worse, and worse, and worse. And then, right as it felt like whatever it was, was finally here--" She pauses a moment. "The clock tower outside the Hall of Heroes broke and collapsed." She's not finished, but she does take a breath, and her eyes narrow further.

Ian's mouth compresses as Sen begins to speak, and his eyes take on the distance of memory.

Even Duarte halts and becomes a bit more still. He knows this story and he even knows its punchline. He is, however, preparing for it to hit different given the present circumstances. And, the refugees and denizens filling the shrine today? They need to hear it.

Jan listens with interest. Arms cross and one hand lifts to begin gently chewing on the pad of her thumb as something Sen'azala says causes the gears to turn briefly before her gaze re-focuses.

Apollo is quiet for this recounting. He's heard bits of it before, but his answer to 'where were you when the clocktower fell?' is 'not in the city' - he missed it by days, the clocktower, the green snow, the tributes to Copper lost on him until years later. He doesn't seem disinterested, though, not in the slightest: a fresh perspective on something he's already distantly familiar with? Might be his favorite thing.

Lianne remembers. Not everything Sen'azala shares, but those days, what she was doing. So many years ago now, and still. She remembers. Tilting toward Apollo, she murmurs something softly to him, takes a second to look at him, all meaningfully, as she straightens again, lips almost a frown. Very nearly.

"The feeling vanished," Sen continues. She snaps her fingers - quiet as well, she's wearing gloves - as if to punctuate it. "But the whole damn city felt the clock tower break. Not physically, or, at least, not just that, but *felt* it. The snow turned to rain. It seemed like half the population went to see what had happened, and I was one of them. Some of the people though...some of them knew what was going on, not they were generally in a state to explain. *I* didn't. Leona turned up, and she wouldn't speak. Some man, who didn't know what was going on either, started yelling, demanding people tell him, and Leona was suddenly *pissed*. She went for him, Jeffeth got in the way," she makes a small sweeping gesture with one arm, "and then Jeffeth got thrown across the square, and Leona came *this* close to killing the loud, shouting asshole. ...She didn't. And then she left. Other people left with her. For some damn reason I went with, and they didn't stop me. We went somewhere quiet, private, and then I had it explained to me that Copper was dead."

Sen lets her hand drop to her side. "The clocktower wasn't just a clocktower. Copper had put it there to, in her words, 'tell time'. It was a failsafe of sorts, if anything terrible happened, something world ending, something she'd have to turn back, she could use it to," and she's clearly quoting, "tell time what time it should be'. The day that felt as though we were going through motions we already had before, it's because we were. We were reliving a day that had, somehow, gone horribly wrong. She'd turned it back, and...somehow it killed her." A beat. "Azazel killed her. That's what I know. That's what it must have been. Looking back," she gestures again, now at their surroundings. "...Some version of this. She didn't stop it, because no one has been able to stop him, only delay him, but she gave us time. She gave us years. None of us had magic then. We knew far less then. She was the mage of Second Chances and...she gave us a second chance."

The woman inhales, and now it's sharper, now her eyes seem a little *too* golden, "I never met Copper. Never knew her. I only knew some of the people that *did* know her. I only knew the people that were there, that night, and how much her being gone *hurt* *them*." The tips of her teeth show, and while she hasn't raised her voice, there's a violence to it. "He's killed so many. So, so many people. He's probably killed my second family. But that night he cut a hole in the world, and I saw it in people I admired, people I loved. Some of the best people I've ever known. It *never* healed, even when they pretended." A breath. "So." And that's that, it would seem. No actual 'fuck Azazel', though maybe the look of murder in her eyes and hovering around her shoulders is enough.

"My deepest regret," Lianne speaks, not long after that /fuck Azazel/ is left implied in Sen'azala's silence, "is not taking better advantage of that second chance. We bound him again, knowing full well it wouldn't hold. Our previous attempt hadn't. And yet plans languished. Distractions took priority. Sometimes out of necessity." She looks down, lips thin for a second, voice softer when she continues. "And when Sina died..." Her grief isn't showy, but it's there, bound with her regret. That's when /she/ gave up. When she looks up again, eyes ever so faintly glossy, she asks, "May I share a story of Copper that I maybe should have shared a long while ago?"

Jan receives a message and unobtrusively slips away to attend to it.

Duarte was there and he saw Jeffeth get flung through the air. It wasn't not funny - but it also wasn't funny. He opts to the display the 'it was not funny' side of the equation.

A lingering moment of silence and he speaks up. "She's right. Azazel has long been a threat to our existence. He is spitefully conceited. We have never done any other than put him off - delay him, or distract him. And..." his speech cuts off there, to yield to Lianne. To whom he nods for her story - before the ears of hundreds of refugees, citizens, and Vellichor.

Nothing that Sen'azala says seems to particularly surprise Apollo - his attention is a steady thing, interrupted only by a cookie. Not because he's particularly hungry, no, but because it's in his hand, all pokey crumbs and distraction and nowhere to put it down. It's well gone by the time she's gotten around to talk of a /hole/ in the world, his eyes dropping, lips pressing. Perhaps he hears the violence in it, but his eyes stay low until they blink aside at Lianne's offer to share.

Sen'azala takes a step back, and turns her attention to Lianne. She also takes the advantage to find some sort of evenness, to breathe deeply, evenly.

Lord Adriano Magnotta - Commander of the Magnotta Marines, Umi, the curious turtle, 1 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Titania.

When no one stops her, when it seems those in attendance mean to listen, Lianne draws a deep breath, squares her shoulders and starts, "In the Abyss," with batting an eye. "There is a vast garden of unimaginable beauty. It stretches past the horizon in every direction, far larger than we can easily conceive. Most of the flowers which grow there are crystalline. Immaculate and fragile, turning to dust if one isn't careful. Each and every one of those flowers is an unanswered prayer, and it grows every day." She pauses, what she may have said just then set aside, a less meandering path chosen.

"Within the Garden of Unanswered Prayers, there is a grove where all the flowers are bright and beautiful copper, seeming to shine in defiance of the Abyss, such is their brilliance. Impossibly large, this garden within the garden is all for Copper. When Gold gave his life to shatter the Will of Baalphrigor, to buy time for the Archfiend of Tyranny and Slaughter to be sealed away, she tried, desperately, over and over and over again to search for a way to save both her beloved and the world. She prayed and prayed and prayed that there would be a way. But there wasn't." For that, she falls quiet for a moment, as if mourning that terrible choice, the lover lost. Not as if. Maybe doing precisely the same, tears silently spilling. "Despair keeps a place for her, for all that loss she endured endlessly, her hopes broken again and again. And it's terrible and beautiful."

About halfway through Lianne's story, Ian snarls something under his breath, and leaves.

Apollo seems as unsurprised at Lianne's story as at Sen'azala's. Attentive, still; even if he's heard this, there are always new details, aren't there? There's one - missed or forgotten - that has his mouth curling into a very gentle smile. It's unfortunately short-lived, as Ian's snarl catches his attention, his eyes tracking his departure, mouth drawn. Is he... getting up to follow him? In the middle of his wife's story? It might seem so.

Duarte frowns as Ian departs - for he took the whiskey with him. It's a momentary shift of gaze before he's back and riveted to Lianne's story of beautiful sadness. But given Ian's departure, he's a sense of how things might turn should it be left at that. He speaks up, again, to frame what was said - not that Lianne would want it that way... "Yes. And so - it is to us to perhaps answer a few of them.

"And we shall find hope for that in the Gods - " they are in a shrine, after all. "For they bid us not to wish grim thoughts, but to /live/ and to /act/. And insofar as we can bring to the light of history what was once hidden in secrecy, we may at least do so much in service to those ideals."

He takes a breath and....is ready to go home because lord it's been /heavy/.

Titania is walking into the shrine looking around, she is dressed very differently not in her leathers but she does have her Startlight silk dyed in many hues tied into the armor she wears. She catches the end of the tale and there is a frown that comes to her lips and then watches Ian snarl and leave. Her ocean blue eyes fall on those here tilting her head slightly but is quiet for the moment.

Sen'azala glances sharply after Ian, a little startled, perhaps, but she stays in place, listening, and there's a long silence from her after Lianne's finished. Her expression is hard to read. When she does speak, so is her tone. "...Copper can't be replaced. She was human, though, and that's the hell of it. Everything she was - I don't mean her magic, I mean *her* - everything, that potential, those possibilities, is inside every single person here, and every single person out there. In the eyes of everyone around her, she used to be nothing. A slave with no name and a pretty voice. Look at what she did, when Platinum snapped her chains." She lifts her chin a little, and it's clear she's not just addressing the people who've spoken, even if she doesn't look toward any of the refugees. "She was human. She made mistakes. She made poor decisions. She got angry, impatient, thoughtless, I'm sure. She wasn't a statue in the Hall of Heroes, for all she earned it. The statue is to remember. *She* was a person. She believed in people. She believed we could do this, whatever 'this' ended up being. I never knew her. But I know that."

Sen'azala says, "That's why Azazel will lose."

Oura, a white-tailed eagle, Valor, a juvenile male Oakhaven Bloodhound, 2 Greenwood Tribe Blood Warriors arrive, following Thesarin.

Titania looks to Sen'azala then those here, she turns like she is about to go back out. She whispers to the kennex guard that is with her and he nods. She gives one more look at those that are there before she steps out for a moment.

Siri, an attentive apprentice leaves, following Apollo.

Lianne takes no offense at Ian's gruff departure; it almost seems expected, or possibly unnoticed. Nor does she show much response to Apollo following. Maybe she's simply doing a fine job maintaining her composure. Not how she makes no faces at Duarte when he spins her... well... blasphemy? Near-blasphemy? Decidedly concerning story into something slightly more befitting the setting. She keeps her gaze lowered as Sen'azala speaks to Copper's humanity and nods for the conclusion, though the gesture may seem more thoughtful than certain. With that, she rises. Maybe off to see if her husband, the diplomat, has picked a fight. More likely, she's had her fill of sad stories and cookies. Everyone has a limit, right?

Lord Adriano Magnotta - Commander of the Magnotta Marines, Umi, the curious turtle, 1 Kennex corsairs leave, following Titania.

Fajra leaves, following Lianne.

"All we've spoken about this evening is available - to all," Duarte says, with a motion to some tables. "Read of it. Learn of it. Share it. And remember."