Feb. 16, 2021, 8 p.m.
Arx - Lower Boroughs - River Mouth
Comments and Log
Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel arrives, following Deva.
(OOC)The scene set/room mood is now set to: A bonfire as tall as a man is roaring in the firepit. A cord of wood has been neatly stacked to the side to keep feeding the fire. Warmth radiates from the fire and the light illuminates the immediate area, creating long shadows and an intimate atmosphere. As the wind blows, the flames flicker and the shadows dance.
The night has come and the darkness makes the perfect backdrop for a raging bonfire. Benches have been set out for folk to sit comfortably and keep warm. A few Cullers sit to the side plucking at stringed instruments to create jaunty little tunes. Nearby sits a nice bungalow filled with a variety of boozes for folk to sample!
Raja herself is here, sitting on one of the benches with one foot propped up. She is draped in fire-colored seasilk that also has tiny bells that tinkle with her movements.
Deva isn't wearing anything flame-themed, but her hair vaguely matches! It is loose and wild and could probably use a brush. She wanders in with a spring in her step, gravitating toward the fire with an excited gleam in her eyes. Humming along lightly to the music playing, she spots Raja and waves in a friendly fashion while admiring her snazzy outfit.
Martinique approaches through the darkness, her boots scuffing on sand as she nears the warm light of the bonfire ahead. Figures laughing, drinks available. A bit of a smile curves her mouth as she steps forward into visibility, scanning the assembly. Her eyes light on Raja as a central figure--one can always pick them out, and she moves forward to offer a hand in greeting. "I am Martinique Barlinnie, I got wind of this through the servants' vine. I appreciate your open hospitality."
Orland checks charm at normal. Orland marginally fails.
Samira arrives looking as though she only just roused herself from hours of artistic frenzy in her studio. She wears her plain leathers, her hair a disheveled mess, but she wears a grin as she draws toward the inviting bonfire. Plopping onto the bench next to her fellow Culler, she leans back to give her a head-to-toe glance and then whistles approval. "Don't you look stunning?" Curiosity brings her gaze to rest upon the newcomers, unfamiliar faces like Deva's and Martinique's noted and offered a casual upnod. "Nice to see people gathering together for a night of merrymaking."
Hooded against the cold and likely to keep a certain low key presence in the Lowers himself, is a one time resident that is now a Lordling. Orland looks underneath the dancing shadows underneath his hood to the Cullers playing at instruments, lingering there and finding a space, offering to play one of the spare lutes, with a murmured, "I need more practice." The Bardic pin on his collar is certainly a note of his own merits, so one would hope he could join for a casual play. It does take some convincing it seems like, some suspicion tossed at him, maybe some shade. A Culler might recognize a former Ulbran, but in the end, he's allowed to settle down with a lute in his lap, setting to tuning it quickly before he joins in.
Calluna, A Highhill Puppy arrives, following Drake.
Orland checks dexterity and performance at normal. Orland is successful.
a nondescript assistant, 1 Culler Boatswain arrive, following Acacia.
Raja leans over to someone nearby, whispering something sassy. The both of them laugh together at some shared secret. Then others are arriving and Raja beams a smile at them! "Welcome! Come on in. Help yourself to drink! Make yourself comfortable. I even have cake available." She waggles her brows. Mmmm. Cake. As Orland settles to play the lute, Raja lifts her mug of hot cider in his direction. "Hey! Good to see ya 'gain!"
"May I say I love this idea?" Alessia's brightened voice can be heard as she approaches the bonfire, with her matching gown glimmering in the light. It doesn't seem to be one for shielding against the cold but she doesn't seem to be perturbed. Possibly due to being liquored up, who knows? "A flame themed bonfire party! Gods, why haven't we done this before?"
Arion skips gracefully towards the gathering by the bonfire. The crimson haired Harrow is a vision of beauty in an outfit of seasilk with a purple flame theme to it. An ombre corset of black and purple highlights his torso and slims his waist further, a skirt purple flame like layers swirls about his smooth pale legs and his feet are clad in heeled boots of black with glittering purple fire sewn onto them. The sparkling outfit is completed by his earring, twin embers of pure amethyst that dangle from his ears and shine in the firelight as he bounces over to those gathered cheerfully. "Hello!"
Before Deva can say anything, she's handed a small note. Whatever it is seems to be good news. Flipping the paper over, she scribbles back a hasty response and sends it along for the courier to return. Far more at ease, she allows her shoulders to slump in a casual fashion while her steps take her in search of a drink. "It really is amazing!" she can't help but agree with Samira's assessment of Raja's ensemble. "I'm Deva. Nice to meet you all."
Raja throws a return wave to Deva and smiles to MArtinique, "Name's Raja! Welcome!" Samira's praise makes Raja blush. However, she is able to hide the blush with the tone of her skin and the darkness of the night. "Samira, you would say that if I was in a burlap sack." Then people are showing off their outfits! Raja blinks and ooos at them, bringing her hands together in applause.
Martinique's brows raise at the gowns on display--she is far more plainly dressed, herself, but that is what her budget allows. She'll admire nontheless, as it's a free fashion show. She moves over to acquire some form of drink--wine, probably, if there is any. Islander rum has its charms but never the refinement of the grape.
Shaking his hood back and down, out of his face, Orland fits in fairly well with the Cullers playing instruments, finding the beat of their music and adding his own little lute riffs to them, his foot tapping and someone probably brings him a drink because of it. MAYBE. If he's LUCKY. Bards play for booze!! Orland upnods to Raja, "Aye, it is, isn't it?! A nice little shindig ya got going on here." He can mimic a lower's accent fairly well, surprisingly, maybe to some. The lordling nods back in time with the other Cullers he's playing with, certainly not one to sing though.
Sir Alren, Scholar Duran, a perpetually put-upon assistant, 5 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Bianca.
"Are you the Deva I've been corresponding with via messenger?" Samira inquires of the other woman, studying her curiously. "I'm Samira Culler." Leaning in, she nudges Raja playfully with her shoulder, laughing at her reaction. "Possibly, but only because you can make anything look good. Seriously, that gown is lovely on you." It may be she enjoys making her fellow Culler blush. She adjusts her weight on the bench, gaze sweeping admiringly over the various garments on display - a wave for Arion, a tight upnod to Alessia. "It's a great theme for outfits. Some really nice-looking ones."
The heavy dark door of the Culler Den opens and a tall, leather-clad woman with rich red hair steps out and pauses on the stairs a moment to give all gathered a look over. The not-often-faces are marked by the Red Culler as she lingers there. A brow lofts at Orland's mimicking a Lower's accent and she gives him a quiet look before allowing her gaze to drift to the others arriving.
Calluna, A Highhill Puppy leaves, following Drake.
"I hope there's not more of me," Deva looks around over one shoulder and then other, playfully concerned about such a thing. "Definitely me, yes. Thank you for indulging my excitement. I hope you know that painting has brought me more joy and laughter than I've seen in a long time. It's really nice to meet you face to face." She gestures between herself and Samira with a bright, curious expression. "I hope I can come by and see your other work in a few days time?"
Kyden slips in, stepping out of the shadows to take in the glow of the fire, eyes wide and reflecting the dancing light. "What a beautiful fire," she breathes, as it draws her in closer to the flames. Finally, she tears her gaze away to look around at the company, a few familiar faces from around the Lowers, even fewer that she's properly met. Keeping to herself too much, really. But that's why she's here. "Did someone say drinks?"
Raja becomes inspired by the women showing off their own outfits. "I should try that." She says with a grin, moving to stand up. "This is your fault Samira! You compliment me too much and make my head big!" Then she swirls around in her outfit, bare feet moving in the sand. She actually doesn't do half-bad in her modeling. "Someone /DID/ say drinks!" Raja calls out to Kyden! "Lots of drinks in the bungalow! I've been collecting for a while. Please, indulge!"
Bianca stepped into the dockyards with her usual retinue. A retinue that she was quietly urging to disperse to the periphery of the gathering 'lest Sir Alren scare off bonfire goers with his perpetual case of the grumps. It was the elder Templar however that finally conceded and directed the others to fine a less obviously place to stand as sentinels, leaving the holy woman more freedom of movement without their ever hovering circle about her. It was in only a breath's time of the guards dispersing that the woman of white quickened her pace, squinting through the gathered crowd until lo, a Deva was spotted. She maneuvered thattaway! She admired the elegant attire as she went, still bearing the robes of her station but what was one to do when hurrying from work to a lovely bonfire?
The mention of Deva definitely captures Alessia's attention, the woman being the former Archduchess. "Princess Deva." She says, brows rising as she studies her. She approaches with a look of pure intrigue. "We've never met but... Lady Alessia Mazetti. It's a pleasure to meet you. I figured I never would given you'd been..." She trails off, leaving out the obvious. She smiles faintly at Samira.
Arion lifts a dainty hand, waving to Samira and steping over that way with easy grace and a bright smile. "I remember you, we both took part in the race earlier this week yes? I'm Arion Harrow." He bows his crimson haired head politely and flashes a dazzling smile. "So many pretty outfits! I thought about wearing red, but I thought that perhaps it would be difficult to find a red gown that complimented my hair..." He bites his lower lip as he admits this.
Orland may notice a few looks, but he may not. He keeps strumming along and plucking notes on the lute, sitting in alongside the Cullers, listening to the introductions over the musical notes, his eyes turning from person to person, observing until he needs to go back to focusing on what he's doing. Playing music. His eyes flick to a title or two that's given out among the crowd, eyes tracking to Deva, to Alessia, but then his eyes spot Arion and he upnods to Arion with a short, "How're you doing tonight Arion? That was an excellent race you ran the other day... or were you carried all the way through?" Foot still tapping, having fun doing it too, since the crowd isn't here to see him play, he can just, indulge in the making of party music.
Clowder of ten rowdy kittens arrives, following Zakhar.
Orland has joined the a reclaimed wood bench.
The old man with the clowder of kittens comes around the corner, more following his nose than anything else. A small nod to some, then stepping closer to the fire for a moment while looking around.
Deva wears her emotions on her sleeve, so her awkwardness is very visible in the twitching of her expression as Alessia points out her absence from the city. "Lady Alessia, nice to meet you too, officially. I-- I was gone, yes," she lightly clears her throat, sliding a look vaguely northward. There are no specifics offered to explain anything, but she does manage a broader, lopsided smile. "Truth be told, I didn't think I'd be back either. Life is strange," she muses with a shrug of scrawny shoulders. There's a gauntness to her that suggests she's been far from the luxuries of the city, and any wild airs she had before are even more exaggerated now. As Bianca arrives, she reaches to slide an arm into the Legate's and pat her hand. "I'm glad you could escape the paperwork for a time."
Zakhar takes Multicolored long tailed knitted scarf with braided knot pattern and embroidered wolf from Sling Satchel with bleached thumb bones.
Pete, a Grayhope account manager arrives, following Mayir.
Having gathered a drink, a good cup of wine, Martinique moves through the assembly. Her attention zeroes on Acacia, less fire-clad than some of the others. She approaches, obliquely, then offers a greeting. "Messere--? You seem like one of the capable ones in this number." A pause. "Martinique."
Zakhar has joined the a reclaimed wood bench.
Bianca was grateful for that knitting of her and the princess' arm, leaning slightly into the Redrain with a hint of affection along with the meandering of a subtle smile. "Did I hear something about the strangeness of life? A delightful topic." She added with the usual softened candor of her natural intones. Her attention turned more properly to speak to those surrounding Deva, a low nod offered. "Blessed be," she greeted. "Lady Alessia, what would you say is the strangest thing that has happened to you this week?" Poor Alessia, put right on the spot.
Raja begins to sway to the music being played by Orlando. "Hey! You're pretty damned good!" She says to the man, grinning broadly. Her glass of booze is lifted to her lips and she indulges. It is evident that she is already a little deep in her cups. She is watching the people present, looking them over. Slowly, she meanders towards Samira and those the younger woman is talking to. Her gaze focuses on Deva and she smiles, "Paperwork? Sounds dull! No paper.. no work tonight!" She then moves past them, shuffles a few bottles around in the bungalow and grabs one. Turning on her heel, she makes her way towards Orland and thrusts the bottle in his direction. "I appreciate the help here. Kriel can't play the lute, but he tries." The boatswain glowers at Raja's comment.
Mayir definitely didn't get the memo about wearing something fire themed, but he is here, among the firepit, looking over the crowd to see if there is anyone he knows to bother. Who to bother. Who to bother. Who to bother.
"The bungal-? Oh!" Kyden remarks, upon catching sight of the well-stocked shelf. "You were not joking! That is quite the selection." Tearing herself away from the flames, she moves to the shelf, crouching low to take a good look at all the choices offered there. "I'm Kyden, by the way. Kyden Black. Sculptor. Sculptress? Whatever you want to call it, I sculpt," she goes on, not looking away from the drinks so it's not entirely clear just to whom she is talking. All of them?
Deva's mention of the painting receives a wide grin from Samira. "I'm glad it amused you. When I read the request, I was so entertained by it that I had to start on it right away." She quiets as Alessia greets the princess, the hint of a smile sent toward the Mazetti. Arion's approach garners her attention as she offers a nod of her head. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Samira Culler. Were you able to sufficiently dirty the horrendously pink dress of yours? I didn't get a good glimpse after the race." Her gaze slides toward the Culler Den, her features warming as she recognizes Acacia and waves at her.
Bianca glanced aside briefly to Deva after Samira mentioned the request, "Oh, is this the painter of the 'best painting ever'?"
Zakhar takes A fat rolled cigar that emits a blue haze when lit from Cross belt.
"Yes," Deva gestures very broadly toward Samira. "It's my very favorite thing. Just wait until you see it."
More seem to arrive filling the space with joyful revelry. More observer than cheerful participant, Acacia, seems stayed at present. Honeybrown eyes slide to fair-haired Martinique as she addresses her. "Captain. Culler," the redhead replies with a quiet upnod, her expression remaining a quietly coolish but not unfriendly. "Well met, Martinque. I don't think I've ha the pleasure of before. Friend of Raja's, then?" she nods to the other redheaded Culler and hostess with the mostest and catching sight of Sweet Sam Culler. The cool melts just a little for the young artist and an upnod is offered as she turns politely back again to hear Martinique's reply.
The old man gives a little wave to Acacia, then turns to Raja with a small grin looking down to the kittens for a moment then back to her. "Dey nowa distracts ye tonights." He pulls out a rolled leaf and lights it, a blue hazy smoke rolls off of his lips for a moment as he slowly puffs on the leaf. The music pulls him back to staring at the fire a little longer before turning to take a seat next to the lordling that is playing it.
Martinique gives a shake of her head to that. "No, new here. Come to Arx lately--I serve Redreef at the moment but I'm a mercenary. Trying to make more friends, as those are half the game in my trade." She gestures over the assembly. "I'm afraid I'm not the fashion hound enough to partake of the contest tonight but I can admire the results. You sail?"
"It's certainly interesting to say the least. It makes one truly think about others that have gone 'missing'." Alessia says with a wry smile before her attention shifts to Bianca. She may be put on the spot but she answers very simply. "Something I saw in the graveyard." She nods in that direction. "A couple of birds holding a basket in between them. I think there was a possum inside." She waggles her fingers at Raja, being the host.
Raja glances up to Alessia and returns the wiggle finger wave. "You should see the picture Samira painted for me!" She glances to Samira, smirking. "It's almost scandalous! Almost." She then calls out. "Ok! So! The people have modeled! Now we vote! Who is your favorite? No voting for yourself!"
"Heard you loud and clear! No paperwork tonight," Deva salutes Raja, deferring to the hostess' orders. She seems more at ease after a few beats, and there's a swift nod for Alessia. "One never knows," she says, reaching for a drink. "A possum... huh." Bewildered, she takes a long, deep sip.
An upnod is offered to Zakhar as he waves, but the curvy Culler seems be focused on Martinique. "Welcome to Arx, then," she offers back with a tick up of her head to the woman's occupation. "Redreef, I know it," she nods again with approval. "Lots of work here for mercenaries who know their trade and show a bit of backbone and brain. Are you with a company at present?" A slight grin to the comment of fashion. "Sadly, not. Not my thing. I've got business later," she grins slightly. "And I do. A few of the loveliest ladies in the harbor right now are part of Culler, including my own sweet lass. Are you a sailor or more land-based?"
"A possum? That is very strange indeed. And you mean this in the literal sense?" Bianca asked of Alessia, curiosity clearly perked. As she gave the Mazetti warrior a moment to reply her attention turned to Arion for a dip in familiar greeting, but then the weight of silvered gaze fell to Samira. "The Dream seems insistent that you and I should know one another better. Two many chance meetings and extended connections to ignore at this point. Would you be opposed to having a dinner together in the future?" And then a small hint of a smirk touched her lips as Raja called about an ALMOST scandalous painting.
There's the sense that it's the sound, the light of the fire, that's drawn the cloak-clad figure from the direction of the dockyards - not clad in fire-hues, perhaps, but nor is he moving in too close towards the fire, as if perhaps getting the lay of the land. The fire's glow illuminates the turn of a smile on his lips, even as he's gravitating in the direction of one or two of the familiar faces.
Martinique's face falls slightly at the mention of a company, but she recovers it quickly. "At present, no company. Just Redreef. Though I'm always on the scout--I'm sure you understand." She drinks a bit then. Her eyes rove out, over the dark river and the ocean beyond. "I sail. Passably at least, though at the moment on the ships of others. I can ride on land as well, if needed, but I was generally infantry. I find the sea suits me though, especially as I'm not one of those who fights in full metal."
"Well, this should do," Kyden remarks, as she grabs hold of some of the golden rum and pours herself a generous serving. "Anyone else while I'm at it?" she offers, finally turning to face the others, waggling the bottle of rum by the neck.
"It seems so. Our paths keep crossing of late; perhaps that's a signal that shouldn't be ignored. I'd be happy to meet and talk more over dinner sometime," Samira answers to Bianca with an incline of her head. Raja's mention of her painting earns a sly grin, mischief lurking in her expression, but the mention of voting has her pursing her lips in thought. Her gaze slides toward the bungalow, interest turning to the opportunity for drinks. Dark eyes fall upon the familiar face of the sculptor near the bungalow and she cups her hands around her mouth, bellowing the woman's name. If her exuberance is any indication, she may have already had a drink or two before arriving.
Orland does hear the compliment from Raja and grins toward her, in a sheepish way that has his head shake afterward. The musicial Cullers letting a former Ulbran join them takes a moment to break, drink, grab a bite. Raja gets an earnest look for the bottle brought over by Orland, "Hey it's no problem. I was in a concert the other day and nearly puked over it. My mentors want me to play more in public, without Savio around." He looks to the Cullers, "They're pretty decent themselves." He taps his hand flat on the lute, "If Kriel wants the lute back I'll hand it over." He cheers Raja though for the drink, "I needed this." He grins. He hears Zak and shakes his head, "Nawh he's busy..."
But the Cullers that Orland is playing with lean in toward him, chatting at him what songs he knows. Orland ahhh, "Well ... not many, I mean... what the Bard College has to play. There is this amusing Sea Shanty that Savi Pontelaeus wrote. I can probably.. not massacre that one too bad. It should be like the other sea shanties that you hear. I'll start us off..." WHY did he agree to this. His voice isn't nearly as wonderful as Savio's and in fact when he starts the Cullers beg for him to get louder so they can hear. The heat of the fire is surely causing his freckled cheeks to light up, not anything else.
"Oh, we're sailing hard for the southern seas
Hey, hey, pull away! Sail away hard boys, never look home
We'll bring Skal'daja to its knees
Pull away hard boys, never look home
Oh, there's war on the water, sail her faster
Hey, hey, pull away! Sail away hard boys, never look home
We'll break the fleet of the Nointy Bastards!
Pull away hard boys, never look home--"
Samira shouts from nearby, "Heeeey, Kyden Black!"
Pete, a Grayhope account manager leaves, following Mayir.
"Aye! Rummy here." The snow-white haired tall old man stands up from the bench. Calling out for the bottle of rum. A small cloud of blue smoke waifting around him.
"Well, it's what I -saw-." Alessia replies without truly answering the legate's question. "We can't always trust what we see." She turns toward Orland when the song begins. "Oh, music." She claps her hands together, whether that helps the bard or not.
Acacia smiles at that and nods again. "Sounds like you're a lass with diverse skills. That bodes well. I think if you want a company, you'll be picked up quick enough. Lots of good ones to choose from if you are snatched up for some private contract," she notes with another nod. "Are you based with the House of Redreef then or looking to expand your opportunities?"
Raja glances around. Noone is voting! She just shrugs and leans closer to Orland, "Well, when playing in a playful environment like this, I imagine it would be a little easier." She grins. As the new song begins, she can't help but to grin and dance a little, making her way closer to the fire. Anyone in her path might be taken up in random dancing. She moves past the cloaked figure. Guessing that he is just cold, hence the cloak, she grins and offers her glass his way. "Here! This'll warm ya up!"
"Excellent. The rest of this week is wrought with appointments for me, but perhaps early next week?" Bianca posed toward Samira, though Alessia's reply had her glancing the Mazetti's direction with a quirk of a brow. "Very true." And then a soft smile again took hold of her features as the woman began to participate in the music nearby, leaning to murmur something to Deva with that familial fondness she clearly had for the woman.
Martinique gives a demure smile to Acacia's words. "I could find one, perhaps, though I'm well-situatied for regular work at the moment." Another drink. "But I'm always looking to expand--as I say, contacts are half the game. One never knows which way the wind will turn, a lesson which sailing has taught me well."
The cloaked figure seems to pause for a moment as the clearly male face beneath it's considering the gathering, the faint turn of the hood in Orland's direction at the playing... and then there's the drift in the direction, as if the figure's making a slow circuit towards those it recognizes. Raja's voice, though, gets the head to turn - the play of a smile on the man's face beneath it, and a respectful inclination of his head. "Appreciate it," comes the Pravusi-accented voice, and a low, warm chuckle, before he's taking the glass for a moment, lifting it in salute, and taking a sip from it before returning it. "The fire's a good idea when winter's on the approach. Bloody cold in these parts for my taste."
Kyden blinks a bit as her name is bellowed, but upon spotting Samira, offers a grin and a wave. "That's one way to say hello!" she calls back, her own voice not nearly so... exuberant. Clearly she has not yet hit the drinks! The older fellow earns an approving smile as he takes her up on her offer (to share what's not even hers, so generous!). "That's the spirit!" She glances at the bottle. "Or spirits? Anyway, here you go," she says, passing over the bottle.
After a shot or two, Deva rolls her neck from side to side, loosening up. A few more quiet words are exchanged with Bianca, and she shrugs scrawny shoulders in a 'what can you do?' fashion. Patting the Legate's hand, she releases her arm and smiles fondly and... almost steps away, but doesn't complete it. Finally, she just laughs, and looks around the crowd with merry amusement.
Bianca snickered softly and gave Deva a little nod. "If you will all please excuse us. I must steal the princess away for a little while." She seemed to speak toward the small group in their vicinity before recapturing Deva's arm before she could dart off and leave the introvert to her own devices at a party.
Raja looks to the man with a smile and the bright eyes of someone truely enjoying themselves this evening. "Indeed! And it isn't /too/ cold yet. When the snows come, I swear I am going to freeze into a solid statue. I much prefer warmer climates." She smirks. "Care to dance?" She inquires. She has no idea who this fellow is. She doesn't seem to care either.
When Orland doesn't have to focus on the crowd, it's easier to do strum the lute and pluck the strings in tune with the other instruments that the Cullers use, his head bobbing and his foot stomping to help them all keep tune with the sea chanty that continues. His eyes look up though at Raja, grinning to her, with a nod as he keeps singing. His voice is a healthy baritone without narry a crack in it, a strong sound that fits the singing of a sailing song. A flute and a viola and a racuous stomp help continue the tune, the others joining in on the chorus since it's quite clear what it is after the first verses. The crowd is encouraged to clap or stomp to the cadance of the sea shanty.
"Oh, Skal'daja lusts for a Saffron slave
Hey, hey, pull away! Sail away hard boys, never look home
We'll send them all to a watery grave
Pull away hard boys, never look home--"
"Next week would be just fine. I keep odd hours, depending on when inspiration strikes and how long I end up painting and forgetting there's a world out here that still exists. But if you send a message whenever you're free, I'll be glad to emerge from the studio," Samira promises Bianca. "Good to see you both." The last is offered politely to Bianca and Deva before the diminutive artist is weaving her way through the crowd toward those stationed near the drinks. She grins at Kyden, shrugging in answer. "Best way to be heard when there's this many people. Maybe I ought to start doing that at all those fancy events in order to be heard." Her gaze strays toward Orland as he sings and she obligingly stomps to the beat.
"Careful what you wish for. I'm sure you can find more than a few," Acacia offers a slight grin in returned to Martinique's demure smile. "Crimson Blades are a solid fare. Especially now that they are under new management. Isles Canines and Valorous Few, two others, but I don't know how active they are at present. Start with Blades and see if they appeal to you," she offers with quiet experience. "With war coming, new members will likely be more than welcome," she notes offering a glance to the newly arrived man with the Pravusi-accented voice and a slight upnod is offered his way as he makes himself known. Turning back to Martinique, she speaks again, "How long have you been a contractor?"
Bianca nodded to Samira in regards to a message and watched the woman escape into the crowd with a small smile. She then turned an expectant look to Deva.
Deva gestures broadly as she and Bianca walk away. Clearly she's regaling somethinhg absurd.
Sir Alren, Scholar Duran, a perpetually put-upon assistant, 5 Templar Knight guards leave, following Bianca.
Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel, Bianca leave, following Deva.
Zakhar has left the a reclaimed wood bench.
Clowder of ten rowdy kittens leaves, following Zakhar.
A consideration of this matter when there's the comment, and again, the fire illuminates the smile on his features, as he sketches the faintest sense of an elegant bow for a moment, which remarkably doesn't do much to give hint to who's beneath the cloak. "I could be persuaded," he says with a note of play to his tone, as he's glancing about a moment more - not perhaps for seeing who might be watching, but to just keep an eye on the lay of hte land, as he lets Raja encourage him. "But agreed about the cold. Some of us, myself included, are oft too thin-blooded at times for the weather in this city."
"Kyden Black?" Alessia squints, pretending to struggle to recall the name, before laughing. "So you're a friend of Samira's? Lovely to meet you." She smiles warmly. "I like the name too. Memorable. Kyden Black." She repeats again. "Don't you think?" She turns to the Culler.
Martinique cracks a grin at Acacia's words. "Blades, Canines, Few. Always we valorous are." A nod though to the talk of war. "I came to the Isles because there was work--and that hasn't been short." She glances over at the target of Acacia's gaze and then back to the other woman. "I've been a free leaf for...well, a month or so. My last company--" She pauses, then continues. "Were met with slaughter. One reason I'm with Redreef is to avenge them." Also, they pay her. "But I'm never averse to things on the side."
Kyden considers Samira's point and then concedes it with a nod. "Tell you what," she muses. "You start doing that at fancy events and I'll start attending more. Deal?" She's probably joking? After taking a small, testing sip of her rum, she nods in approval. "Not bad. You think?" she asks Zakhar, before tossing back a bigger swig of it, which lights enough of a fire within that she goes along with the stomping for a few moments, before turning to Alessia. "I know _I_ approve of it," she replies with a grin.
Raja smirks at the cloaked man when he said he could be persuaded. That was not a rejection! "Layers. They are key. It's also how the Redrain survive, I hear. That and they are just.. hearty!" She laughs. The music playing is catchy and she finds herself swaying to the tune. "So, I'm Raja." She introduces herself.
Patrizio checks composure at normal. Patrizio is successful.
"Vengeance is a dangerous dish, though I can appreciate the hunger for hit. Who leveled your crew?" Acacia frowns with understanding. Her shoulder finds the doorjam and she leans lightly into it, a booted foot hooking over her ankle as she settles in to hear the tale, if Martinique wishes to share it.
Orland and the Cullers accompanying him are getting into it now. One sea shanty can sound amazingly like another but with slight differences that set them apart. The music can be heard drifting in and around the conversations of the party goers but without being entirely intrusive. The baritone lad continues his lead on this, his fingers working to pluck and lift the strings of the lute while the lute player, obviously a Culler, steps forward and takes on a more confident front role that leads the sea shant against the singing.
"Oh, the sea will burn with Arvani fire
Hey, hey, pull away! Sail away hard boys, never look home
Every ship a Eurusi pyre
Pull away hard boys, never look home
Oh, leave your sweethearts, leave your wives
Hey, hey, pull away! Sail away hard boys, never look home
Sail with your souls and fight for your lives
Pull away hard boys, never look home
Pull away hard boys, never look home."
(OOC: Instrumental music similar to https://youtu.be/GAr8KWXFLzs)
The music wraps up naturally with a good cheers all around. The Amadeo takes his own swig of booze, flushed.
"It is. Strong name. Got a sense of intrigue and mystery to it too, I think," Samira notes to Alessia. "Kyden's a sculptor. I've not yet seen her work, but I've heard things that make me look forward to when I finally do. Not sure if that kind of thing appeals to you, but you should check it out, too." The artist talks to the noblewoman with a hint of cautious reservation, but she's not being unfriendly. Kyden's remarks earn a wide grin, the Culler never one to shy away from a challenge. "Deal. And if I get myself kicked out of said events, you owe me a drink."
"A pleasure to meet you, Raja." The cloaked head inclines itself, and the smile can be seen to spread further, the faint flash of pearly whites between those lips, when he's clearly enjoying having assumed a role for the moment, his hand finding hers when she's swaying. And the arm shifts, as his other finds her waist to give her a twirl, as if he's perhaps possessed of some experience at dance, though he chuckles softly. "I've heard much the same about the Redrain and how they stand such cold. And then there are those of us who simply take sail to climes more to our liking." A beat, before he allows, "Or, perhaps, who are compelled to make sail for said climes." And again, the warm laughter from him.
Martinique takes a breath, working over a recent memory. "A shav clan, Horderacht. They're vicious even for that lot--they kill anyone who gets too near. We'd occupied an island near their holding and they responded with blood." Her expression is hard as she relates the story. "Those were my friends, and I will see them avenged. As well, the shavs now think they can attack Redreef itself--which is a rather ridiculous notion, but I invite them to try. I'll be there for whatever course that takes." Her eyes blaze briefly, and then she settles, back into her cup of wine.
"It does appeal to me." Alessia says without hesitation, the enthusiasm reflected in her eyes. "I'm no artist myself but I could be called a 'connoisseur'." She adds with little modesty. "Though this stuff is entirely subjective." A nod to Kyden. "I'd love to see your sculptures one of these days. I've yet to see your gallery, Samira. Perhaps some time soon."
Raja is swept into a twirl to the music. Raja isn't a trained dancer, but she is agile and follows along well enough. The skirts shift and swirl around her calves as she moves her feet in the dance. "I've been known to sail to a few climes in my time." She spins out, then back in towards her partner. "Tell me the most interesting place you have sailed to."
Alessia is overheard praising Orland: Would that this music could accompany us to the battlefield!
"That's right, I need to see your gallery too," Kyden remembers towards Samira, when Alessia mentions it. "As for my work, my studio is near the Judgment Green -- Judgment Statuary. Named for the Green, not because the statues judge you." She takes another swig of her drink, her words flowing easier as the rum nudges her from her shadowy little shell. As the song wraps up, she raises her glass in toast to Orland.
The cloaked figure doesn't seem to be surprised by the question. "Sangris, of late," muses he, over the sound of the music when Orland and the Culler musicians are playing. "Since Pieros isn't quite so delightful itself, and Hissah but a port-call for me. Though my heart belongs to Setarco, and always shall." Another twirl, before he counters, "And your favourite port of call, pray tell?"
A flask appears in the Red Culler's hand. "To lost friends, and making things right again," she says first pouring a little out on the ground and then offering it to Martinique for a sip despite the woman already having her own drink. "There's a lot of bold ones in the inside pass. They seem to get bolder as time goes buy till they're pushed back. I'm sure there are a fair few who would delight in getting a few back on them."
Orland shakes his head as he's asked to sing another. NOPE, one is enough. In fact he hands over the lute back to another Culler who showed up late to the party and is obviously the lead lute player here. The lordling bobs his head to him and hands it on over. There's smiles and rumblings of approval from the Culler entertainers, but Orland is just fine handing it over to Kriel's buddy. He steps away with bottle in hand, flexing his hands a bit. MINGLING time. Mingling by the fire, for a proper warm up. The Cullers no doubt continue playing their amazing jigs and shanties to provide the bonfire ample music.
Orland has left the a reclaimed wood bench.
Orland has joined the around a large firepit.
Martinique takes the flask readily, and sips, then hands it back. "We were never short of work in the Isles," she agrees, her eyes dark for a moment. She blinks that away in favor of "But we'll get them. And others. Such is the path of the Compact." That, at least, she is much in favor of. "Of yourself, Messere, though--I know you sail, but what do you sail for?"
Raja twirls about with him with some flair. Her long dreads swing around her shoulders, ornamented with fragile chains. "Setarco. Been there before. It's been a while though. "To be honest, I don't get to travel much for pleasure. It's usually business. So, I guess my favorite port is here, where my family is." She gestures back to Acacia and Samira. "Family is everythin', ya know?"
"That's why I like hearing people's thoughts on artwork - mine and others," Samira admits to Alessia. "Because it's so subjective, it's always interesting to hear what ideas and feelings it invokes in others. I've just recently opened up a shop, not far from the here. Southeast corner of the Ward of the Compact, called Urban Artistry." She glances toward Kyden, amused by the thoughts brought about by the sculptor's words. "Can you imagine if the statues did judge us? Expressions shifting into approval or scorn or anything in between." As Orland's song comes to an end, she grins and calls out in her surprisingly LOUD voice, "HEY, good job! And you didn't throw up!"
Raja is overheard praising Orland: Yay for good music and /not/ vomiting!
Orland takes a swig from the bottle that Raja gave him earlier, turning so his backside can warm up and thus spotting Samira for her loud voice directed at him, "The Night is not over yet!!!" He lift shis bottle up to cheers Samira, with a crack of a smirk as he sways a little bit in front of the fire to the next musical bit the Culler band plays.
The cloak turns slightly when Raja's indicating, and there's again that hint of a smile, before another inclination of his head. "Family is everything," he agrees, and the smile remains - one that's not forced, but warm and appreciative. "Family is what you have when all else falls away, a port in the storm when it breaks over your barricades." And a chuckle. "No, my travel's business as well, I fear, the family business as it were. But there's something to be said for enjoying what the gods put before you."
"Of course not." Alessia says in response to Kyden's words, shaking her head. "We have the Shrine of the Sentinel for that, don't we?" She adds with a sly smile, before applauding for Orland.
Acacia grins a little. "Captain," she quietly corrects as she takes the flask and brings it to her lips with a glimmer in her big brown eyes. A sip taken, the silver flask seems to disappear again upon her person. Her arms refold again as the music continues and the dancing begins. A slight smile is offered as Raja takes a few turns of around the fire with the mysterious stranger and she returns her attention to Martinique again. "For myself, for my family. Someone has to see our lasses dancing on the waves now and again. Culler runs more than a few goods up and down the coast and along the rivers. It's what we do," she explains quietly. "But when all is said and done, I sail for the love of it," her grin deepens just a little.
Kyden laughs At Alessia's words about the Shrine, raising her glass in agreement. Although Samira's comment makes her look thoughtful. "Hm. Now that's a thought. Maybe if I could get the shadows _just_ right... Use some perspective tricks..." She tucks that away to toy with the idea later. "None of my statues _currently_ will judge you," she amends to Alessia. "Oh, was he supposed to throw up?"
When Orland's music fades and the next song begins, Raja pauses in her dance, breathing a little from her previous exertions. "I agree with that. Enjoy the beauty of things before you!" She moves to collect a new drink for herself before returning to the cloaked figure. She brings enough to refill his glass! "So! What sort of business do you do that takes you so far and wide?"
Once he warms up sufficiently, Orland meanders over toward Alessia and the company she keeps. "Enjoying your night?" His freckled cheeks looked red now because of the mix of hot and cold, regardless of the scarf around his neck. Now he's trying to catch onto what's being talked about, looking between various individuals.
The figure's once more letting his head incline faintly when Raja's bringing over the fresh drinks and, with a gentle motion, draws her indeed in the direction of the redheaded one of her indicated kin. "Oh, the family business, I fear," he says, in a weighty tone that yet doesn't take his own words too seriously. "Mostly that of keeping my family, and those who depend upon them, safe. I suppose that in some circles, I'd be seen as something of the muscle."
Martinique dips a nod of apology. "Captain," she agrees. She moves her eyes over the others dancing as well, briefly, the corner of her mouth turning up a bit at the revelry. It's what they came for after all. "Running goods--well, someone has to. Any goods, all goods?" She asks, the quirk of her brows a mite suggestive.
Raja follows along, making her way towards Acacia. She seems to appreciate the mystery the man presents, a sparkle of curiosity in the woman's eye. Her gaze shifts to Acacia and she gives a wave to the other Culler woman. "Hi! I am glad you could make it out. I figure with so much craziness in the world, a lil socialization and FIRE would do anyone well!"
Samira seems pleased as she notes the spark of inspiration in Kyden's words, a feeling with which she is well-acquainted. Watching Orland's approach, she glances sidelong to Kyden and shakes her head. "He was supposed to NOT throw up, so I'd say so far, it's been a grand success." At long last, she decides it's time for a drink, hand reaching out to snag a bottle of rum. "What's better than a bonfire, good company, and drinks on a chilly night?"
"Why would he throw up?" Alessia tilts her head, studying Orland as he joins them. "He seems sober enough to remember the notes." She comments with a smile. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord?" She asks for confirmation.
"Oh, well. Good job not throwing up then," Kyden offers to Orland, with a succinct nod. "The music was good too." She looks to the fire for a moment, a part of her brain still clearly ruminating on the idea Samira put in her head.
A grin peels back Acacia's lips and she winks to Martinique. No ruffled feathers here, but an appreciation to the woman. A soft chuckle comes as she asks what goods are shipping these days. "Varies," Acacia offers back with a light nod that hints of congeniality. "Depends on the time of the year. But armies and Arx can't run without supplies. The goods must flow, if you will," she winks and grins alittle more as Raja and her dance partner arrive.
"I'm glad, too. To be fair the party is right on our doorstep," Acacia grins slightly with a hint of a tease Raja's way. "Kind of hard to miss," she notes giving the tall mysterious dancer a look over and upnod.
"Because..." Orland notes to Alessia, "Being on stage is as bad as being on a ship tossed around in a nasty storm." Then he bobs his head as she figures there's a title there somewhere, supplying, "Orland Amadeo." He turns an eye to Samira, "I'm not much of a stage performer... though I know how to hold my composure even when my stomach is tossing like it's own raging squall." He notes, "Savio Pontelaeus wrote the song, he performs far better than I. He has the natural flare for it." His own baritone was quite level and flat at the moment, not at all the jaunty note it took while he was singing, a chamelon it seems. He takes another swig of whatever liquor he had in his hand, whiskey by the strength of taste. "Nothing better," he agrees to Samira, "other than someone warm to snuggle into in front of a fire." A slight look into the distance, before he peers back at the crowd he's joined, nodding to Kyden, "Thank you. I would have been sick if I messed it up. Also."
A chuckle from the cloaked figure, and a smile to Raja as well, before there's a knowing nod to Acacia and a less-so one to her companion. "I think that all of us need a little socialization, indeed," says he, before there's a dip of his hand into the leather backpack he has, and the proffering of a bottle of rum from within as his offering for the moment. "And here, I thought I was very hard to miss for a good portion of things, Captain."
The mention of Savio has Alessia's brow arching, though she's silent for a moment. "Really? You've heard him perform?" She asks with a growing smile. "I'm somewhat familiar with him, though I hadn't had the pleasure of listening to his skill at work."
Martinique gives a chuckle to that. Varies indeed. "An army runs on its stomach, I know that well enough. It's almost enough to just send troops to feast on an enemy's land." Her eyes shift to the dancers and she grins a bit again, raising her wine cup to the revelry. "It's a good fire." She states. "And as well--if you'd ever need an extra sword, or sailor, I'd welcome the call."
Raja laughs! "What better place? I get drunk and I am already home. No worries about passing out in an alley or falling off a pier." Raja says this while gesturing with the glass in her hand. She glances to Mr. Mystery and smirks, "I would introduce you, but he has yet to tell me his name. I am beginning to think I need to think up a name."
Samira allows Orland to explain the issue of throwing up as related to stage fright. She takes a swig of her bottle's contents, then wipes her sleeve across her lips before offering her input. "Maybe it's much like anything else - the more you practice, the easier it becomes? That, or it's a lifelong affliction and you'll want to puke every time you perform for a crowd. I don't know how these things work." So reassuring. Her gaze slides toward the fire, a hint of a wistful regard in response to his suggestion of snuggling by the fire. "Well, yeah, you've got a good point. That might be one way to improve upon it." Her gaze slides toward her fellow Cullers and their companions, a faint grin curving her lips before she returns attention to the conversation around her.
"It makes me grateful that my art is more one where I can simply step back and allow it to exist. What other people make of it is... after the fact," Kyden observes. "Although I _do_ know what it's like to be on a stormy sea," she allows, looking thoughtful. "That would definitely make it hard to sculpt. A ship at rest, perhaps."
Orland dips his head a little at Alessia, somewhat awkward, before he clears his throat, "I'm presently in a relationship with him, I hear him everyday, every morning, noon, and night, humming, thrumming, annoying me to accompany his songs. Yes. I'm quite fond of him." He notes, "We performed together at the Bard's Concert just the other day. It went over well. I'm sorry you missed it. There will be other performances, the Queen enjoyed seeing new talent." His eyes left to wonder, before he asks Alessia, "Sorry I didn't catch your name." Attention pivots to Samira, "Neither do I. I never thought I'd have time to pursue something like this, a skill that's simply... fun." It's odd upon his lips, he's aware. He is doing a bit of a sway though and keeping his fingers tapping against the background music. His gaze moves to Kyden, "It's the absolute worst. The heaving and the rolling ... and the pitching."
"Noted," Acacia nods to Martinique her smile a ghost upon her lips. "Always good to have fresh blood who knows her way about a ship as well as a blade. Perhaps we can do business," she tips her head again then turns to address the dark cloaked dancer. "You'll pardon my saying, but I get the sense you are indeed noticable. Especially with your dance," she glances to Raja with amusement and back again to see if the man might offer a name to go with the mystery.
Martinique raises her glass to Acacia, then steps back as the dancer moves in. "Captan, good to meet you." She states simply. To the rest--well, that is beyond her; it is not of her knowledge.
Does he give a name to go with his figure? No, the cloaked figure does not, even as there's the firelight reflecting off the smile under that cloak. "You're just saying that since few enough seem inclined to dance," he says with a chuckle, and there's an indication of his head towards Raja. "I've met your kinswoman, and she seems quite the delightful dancer. Though it makes me think we ought've taken a spin." He's amused, clearly, when there's the consideration of the matter of fresh blood and the like. And then with a chuckle, "I'm glad I decided to wander out tonight, regardless."
"Lady A..." Alessia trails off when a messenger arrives with a note, causing her to squint. "And what is this?" She plucks it from their hand to read. "Oh, well. The work never stops." She smiles. "I have to head off, but it was lovely meeting you." She nods to Kyden and Orland. "I'll probably catch you soon." To Samira. Then she's off.
As Martinique starts to move off, the Red Culler offers a quiet glance as if marking her into her memory before she disappears into the dark. A glance to Raja and her new friend. A brow quirks and she grins with amusement as she shakes her head. "I'm not much of a dancer. Sweet Sam might, though. And we know Raja is graceful as they come. Perhaps that lass there might enjoy a spin?" she nods Kyden's way next.
Raja glances between the man and Acacia. She smirks deviously and steps back, "If you get her to dance, I owe you a fresh bottle of Barleycorn brew." She chuckles. With that, she lifts her drink to her lips to sip from it's contents.
Samira waves, watching Alessia's departure with a contemplative look before hiding her expression behind her drink as she lifts it for another sip. Focus shifting back to the two nearest her, she purses her lips and makes a pensive sound. "I hadn't considered that, to be honest. How lucky we artists are to be able to work in private, not worrying about an audience staring at us while we create. Seems like a lot of pressure."
Kyden offers a nod as Alessia takes her leave, before turning back to the others. "Wait, the ship or the singing?" she wonders, brow furrowing, as Orland describes it. "Sounds like you need to get your sea-legs, either way." She drains the last of her drink, nodding in agreement to Samira. "I will stick with sculpting. Not that I have much choice."
A dry look shot Raja's way, thought it's not heated by any means. "You might as well bet a chest of silver and steel silk on top of that, lass. Fool's game," she grins slyly back and shakes her head again.
Raja suddenly laughs aloud! It is a loud and joyous sound, full of mirth.
Another laugh from the cloak, but there's a rueful shake of his head. "To be fair, I've not tried to see how Samira dances," comes the voice from beneath the cloth, and he's making sure that the bottle being proffered is seen. "Though, grace is all the matter of the moment, to be fair. I find that it's all a question of the right moment, the right music, and the right alcohol."
Orland was hopeful for an introduction but then Alessia is wandering off, brow lifting, "Lady A... it is then." Amused, his gaze flicks back toward Samira and Kyden, "It's true. I really do... though I don't think that sea-legs happens over night... I've been on enough ships now to know this. I have to drink a lot of ginger tea before hand." He asks, "I didn't catch your name either... Though it sounds like you're an artist. A sculptor? Would I have seen any of your work?"
Raja turns to look for Samira, "Sam!" She calls to the younger woman. "Sam! C'mere! Heck, bring your friends over." She gestures them all to come on over with a beconing motion of her arm. She turs back to the man, smiling, "Alcohol helps, it really does. But, not always needed." She looks to the bottle of rum and gestures to it. "May I?" She inquires.
"The work beckons to you and there's nothing else for you, right?" Samira hazards a guess in response to Kyden's last remark, grinning faintly in answer. "This is Kyden Black. Kyden, this is Lord Orland Amadeo." See? She has enough good manners to offer introductions when necessary. The sound of Raja's laughter and then the calling of her name has her head swiveling to peek at the other Culler with a mixture of fondness and curiosity. "Coming!" she calls in a sing-songy voice before beckoning her companions to follow. "Come meet Raja and Acacia if you haven't yet."
Kyden looks to Samira, eyebrows raising just slightly. "Yeah," she agrees, nodding slowly. "Exactly." A thoughtful look on her face, she's slower in returning her attention to Orland, leaving Samira to introduce her instead. "Nice to meet you, My Lord," she murmurs, before her brain catches up so she can address the rest. "I doubt you'd have seen my work. Although I am trying to remedy that. Working to... get it out more into the world. For now, it's pretty exclusively at my shop." The invitation to meet more people has her trailing behind Samira then.
Still leaning lazily like a streetwise, sharp-eyed alley cat, Acacia offers an upnod to Samira and her friends at the introduction. "Nice to see a noble that can almost keep up with our Lowers lads n'lasses when it comes to good music," the dark clad Culler notes to Orland before turning to give Kyden a quiet study. "Black. You're Sir Merek's kin then?" she asks the woman.
"Certainly. I've more of it back home. Still a decent number of bottles," muses the figure with a chuckle. There's a note of pride to that matter of the quality of what's in the bottle. "I'd caution about being careful, but it's more for savouring than for guzzling, to be fair. As to whether it helps or hurts, I think that it's in the eye of the beholder, but I find that it certainly makes some social situations easier." That, too, gets another consideration of Acacia, even so at the comment on those joining. And Samira gets a, likewise, familiar inclination of his head. "Good to see you again, Samira."
Orland wanders along after Samira as she's convinced to come over by Raja, so he's not going to stand there looking like a loner or anything. He'll mingle and follow the crowd to mingle. "Do you make artful male torsos?" He wonders by curiosity, to Kyden, with a faint impish glee, "I'm always looking for gifts, you see." A beat later, "Where's your shop? I've been known to support the arts, seeing that we're from Bravura. The casino or the Villa could certainly use a refresh of new art." He takes a swig of his drink, before he sets it aside so he can reach for a cigarillo out of a package in his belt, listening.
Orland considers Acacia for a time, "I've played a bit when I was younger and living at the warehouse." He nods down the street, "Orland." He offers, "Former orphan of the Tragedy." There's a curious look to her, "You're a Culler. I want to say I recognize you, but I knew the Ulbrans better."
"Kyden, Lord Orland, meet the best family anyone could ever ask for. Raja and Acacia Culler. And this is..." Samira gestures to the cloaked figure and trails off without a name to provide in introduction. Head canted to the side, she tries to determine how familiar that voice might be and offers a small grin in answer, eyes alight with intrigue. "Ah, we're acquainted then? What a mystery to unravel."
"Different circles," Acacia replies quietly with a shrug to Orland before fighting the grin that Samira seems to stoke on her lips again. A fond look is offered to Samira again, the grin fainter this time, but present. Attention drawn back to the mystery man again, she waits to see what answer, if any comes.
"Not as far as I'm aware," Kyden answers vaguely to Acacia, as to her relations. "I was an orphan, Black just a name given to me." She shrugs, appearing unbothered by that. "Oh, more Cullers. Good to meet you." The man with the hood gets a squint as she tries to see within the shadows, but Orland gets her attention back then, the potential of actual paying work? "I can make anything you can imagine and probably some things you cannot. You can find me at Judgment Statuary, by the Green. My typical work is quite dark, but... I have been trying to expand my repertoire."
Raja takes the bottle of rum and looks to it. "Marquis Dio /loves/ rum." She mentions quietly. "Maybe I will share this with him." She glances to Acacia, "Unless you would prefer to share it with me." Family first and all! She then glances between Samira and the cloaked figure. Her entertainment with the man's mystery wanes as Samira is someone she is a bit protective over. She glances to Samira, "I guess this fellow knows you."
"A pleasure to meet you, Messere Black." The cloaked figure inclines his head to her, and there's one of those more familiar inclinations of his head at the presentation of Orland. And Acacia's words about different circles gets what almost seems a chuckle from the figure, before he muses to Raja, "I would want to know what the good Marquis thinks of it, actually. I'd think he'd prefer his kinsman Ciro's creations, but that might just be the matter of fidelity to family and all that." The smile's apparent beneath the cloak, a delighted arc of those lips. "You could let him know - after he's tried it, mind you, to let the opinion of it come honestly - that I hopes he enjoys my Sin's Spice."
Raja glances to the bottle and cants her head, "Well. Who are you? That way I can track you down and let you know his reaction?" A smirk twists at the corner of her lips.
Orland ahs softly to Acacia, turning his attention back to Kyden, listening to the mention of her being an orphan. "I will commission from you then," Orland promises to Kyden, "I have a particular idea that I think will be quite pleasing as a gift, if you'd indulge such a thing. I will surely inquire." He bobs his head, takes another drink, then turns his head, "If you excuse me. I'll have to be leaving. Enjoy the party."
Another nod comes to Kyden. "Good name," she nods to the woman. "Will keep an ear out for it" she nods again. A glance to Raja and she waves a hand. "My thanks but no. Got business later," Acacia replies simply to Raja, the offer to share the bottle appreciated but declined for now. "I'll catch a drink with you later."
"Take care," Samira calls to Orland as he makes his departure. Attention returns to the discussion at hand, her lips pursed in thought as she tries to solve the mystery of the cloaked figure's identity. Raja's protective nature earns a grin and a playful bump of the artist's hip against hers, as if to reassure all is well. "Sin's Spice?" She echoes the words with interest, glancing to Acacia to see if it evokes a reaction from her. "Nice name."
A playful cluck of his tongue at Acacia's declining of the bottle. "Then the usual rules apply, Captain. Whoever gets there first buys." Orland's making an excuse for the departure gets that turn of a smile, as he murmurs, "Be safe on your walk back, my lord."
And... a chuckle, as the cloak turns slightly, and there's another of those hints of a bow to Raja. "I'd argue that 'who' I am depends very much on where I am at the given time. But my parents named me Patrizio." That, of course, gets the brief turn of his head, as of to let him catch any other reactions, in the smaller, more intimate group.
Orland has left the around a large firepit.
"I'd be honoured," Kyden replies to Orland. "Send me a messenger or come by the shop, and we can work something out. It was a pleasure to meet you." Such good manners when someone is offering to pay for her work! To Acacia, she cants her head. "Which, mine or my shop?" she asks, but appears to be joking.
"Your name, since I haven't heard of your shop yet," Acacia answers honestly to Kyden. A glance is given to Orland as he heads out, but not words are given. Turning to Samira again, she nods, "Tis a fine name as well. Very fitting, I'd say," she offers with a look to the parentally named Patrizio. "I'll have a fine whiskey waiting," she smirks quietly.
Raja seems content with the name given to her. The name seems familiar to her, but the alcohol has muddled her mind and she can't pinpoint where she heard it from. However, she is quite satisfied. A smile is offered, "A fancy name." She says to him, smirking slightly. Who knows what is going on through her head?
Samira's grin widens into a full-fledged smile, the name providing evidently entirely familiar to her. "Aha, mystery solved!" she announces triumphantly, as if she did something spectacular to solve it herself. She sneaks another glance toward Acacia, grinning in answer. "I have to admit, it sounds somewhat enticing, showing up to places anonymously and simply allowing people to wonder."
A smile beneath the cloak when he's nodding to the assessment about the nature of his name, which seems to please him, clearly. And a grin to Acacia. "You and your whiskey," he says back familiarly, with a low laugh, and an appreciative murmur to boot. Though he's also keeping it quiet so as not perhaps to distract from the matter of Kyden's shop - a cast of his gaze beneath his cloak to her, as if curious - but Samira's getting a chuckle. "Or perhaps just not wanting to detract," he counters to her softly, about the nature of the mystery.
Raja laughs softly, "Whiskey is delicious. It flows like water down here." She pauses, "Some water is obviously better quality than other water.." She moves to grab a bottle of of barleycorn malt. "So, there is a woman down here in the lowers named Bonibel. This is her family recipe. Try some of this. If you like it, message her. She is looking for more people to become customers."
Raja gets Barleycorn Amber Malt, the super-secret recipe.
"Oh, Judgment Statuary. I thought you'd overheard," Kyden replies to Acacia with a shrug. "But yes, the Black name suits me fine too. It's served me well enough over the years." She looks to the bottle Raja pulls out, listening to the explanation.
A slight smile is deigned to Patrizio, the look a little smug, before turning to Raja again, the corners of her lips hinting at curling a little more at her declaration. "Bonibel," she repeats as if noting the name to memory. A nod is offered to Kyden. "Intriguing name. And no, was in a conversation and missed it. Hope your business bears fine fruit with it," she offers earnestly. "How's business with you, sweet Sam? Keeping busy I suspect," she grins a little more.
Patrizio does, for the moment, eye the bottle with appreciation as he's taking it into his hands, and there's an inclination of his head. "There's definitely a good place in this world for whiskey - it warms you far better, in the chill of winter, than a sipping rum," he says, agreeing with Raja, the smile apparent when he's turning it in his hands.
But a sigh, when he's contemplating the fire for a moment more, and then he shakes his head ruefully. "But I should retire before my family business catches up with me tomorrow. Things to plan, in the end," he muses softly. The sketch of a bow to all, and a smile to Acacia. "I should send you a message soon, so we can get back to that which /isn't/ my family business, with our wanderings. Samira, it was good to see you again." The eyes lift as he considers Raja. "Thank you for the dance, and the delightful evening, and Messere Black, I should have to check out your shop sometime."
"I can't speak for her family recipe just yet, but Bonibel's a decent sort," Samira notes aloud. Dark eyes flit back to the cloaked figure, a grin offered. "That, too. I suppose there are multiple reasons for wanting a little mystery." Her features warm into a fond look as she turns to Acacia. "I am! Lots of projects and commissions, and it's going well. I opened up a new shop recently, just outside of the Lowers. Figured it didn't make sense to ask silks to keep traipsing through the Lowers to meet with me about commissions, so now there's a suitable place for it. And now Rabble Art is left open for the community as it's meant to be."
Raja glances around to the party. Things seem to be waning. Folk have had their fill, heading home as the night air's chill grows colder. The fire is slowly dying down. "It was a pleasure to meet you." She says to the cloaked man. "Be well in your journeys." She turns to look to Samira, "I really like the woman. Though, I may have made a fool of myself the other night. Do not ask Tanith to give you something to help you forget things. I remember Bonibel being there, drinking my drink, then nothing. I was waking up in the Kennex KAy."
The departing prince of Prauvs gets an upnod, the Red Culler looking amused more than anything else by now. Turning back to the ladies remaining, she nods to Samira. "Oh? Is that so? Probably a good idea," Acacia admits at the soundness of such an idea. "What's the shop's name?" she begins to give Raja a look as if to say, "you didn't do that, did you? Oh boy."
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