The Fidante gardens in Tor are universally within Arvum, a sight to behold. The carefully manicured lawns attended to by fleets of gardeners and shears, shrubbery, tree's, boxwoods are all maintained with a precision that probably even the palace grounds in Arx would be envious of. The rose gardens themselves are expansive, nary a blighted leaf and as the sun rises in one little corner of the garden, the only blight is...

The sprawling of commoners and nobles in disarray and in peaceful slumber that give off a stench that has one early rising gardener backing off and holding his hand as he comes across them. Shock and surprise on his face. Grabbing a hanky from his pocket and placing it over his nose the man runs off with the top of his lungs screaming for guards.

Which is roughly when everyone really starts to come to. The overpowering stench of who knows what on them like three dozen perfumes were poured on them assults the olfactory senses. Makes eyes water. But the yelling for guards is something that's bound to be concerning.

Squinting in spite of herself as she comes 'round, Sydney (known colloquially as 'The Watefall' to those that have heard her introduce herself as such) wrinkles her nose immediately and rolls onto her stomach, her arms propping her up as she coughs and gasps her way to some semblance of consciousness. The jingle of a gaudy emerald set of jewels that drape from around her neck and scrape along the ground as she takes a few crawling knees-and-forearm steps forward is what alerts her - among other things - to the fact that this isn't her usual bender.

"...What the sharding fuck," The pugilist wonders, aloud, "Is that /fucking smell/?"

Grazi doesn't /own/ rags.... Graziella doesn't wear common cloth and when Princess Graziella wakes up and looks down to see herself in sackcloth and not steel silk she screams, a truly shrill sound that cuts through the din and wakes more than a few groggy people. "Where is my dress?" Graziella grabs at the sack-cloth and then her head, letting out a groan and moving to stand up which results in her landing on her backside and letting out a pained oof, "WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!"

Graziella looks around and then leans forward to poke at her ankles, poke at the swollen purple spot on one of her legs and let out a whimper. "Help!"

The first thing that should strike Clarisse is her broken arm, but that overwhelming scent of perfumes that have been dumped on them, assaults her first, and then as she feels the pain of her arm, her free hand reaches over to hold, as she carefully begins to push herself, and look around. That orchid gown she was wearing is gone, and her clothes have been changed, which further unsettles the Northern noble lady. Clarisse is definitely out of sorts and in a great deal of pain as well, as she starts to look around and take in the sight of her friends. She tries her best not to cry but her arm hurts, and despite herself her eyes water. As she hears Graziella though she moves around to her friend carefully, trying to assess the situation, and focus on something other than her arm. "I don't know." She offers softly, "It's okay Your Grace. It's okay." She offers as much to reassure her, as herself.

If it wasn't the call of guards the cry of alarm from Graziella was more than enough to rouse Valerian from his slumber, The Kennex Lord hugging the dolphin close before he blinks and looks to the large blue statue in his arms. The young man murmuring moments later as he grimaces at the scent lingering in the air. "Oh that..this..no, this is not good." The statue carefully lowered before he tries to get up standing on uneasy feet a moment before he is moving off to offer help to the Princess. Seeing Clarisse on that same path he asks in a lower tone, "You okay Clarisse?" The question asked before muttering the same words spoken by countless others in their lives. "never..drinking..again."

Having arrived to the party in high quality leather armor, Sydney looks suitably rueful - though not quite as apoplectic as those whose wardrobe losses number in the millions of silver. Then again, she's also even /less/ dressed than some of the other who are present. Whatever the distribution of clothing was, somehow Sydney missed the memo, likely on account of the /reek/ that's coming off of her. She's down to linen small clothes and little else. The young pugilist tries to get a bead on the smell that's overpowering her, hardly noticing the heavy scratches on her arms or her sore, split knuckles until she studies herself.

"...Well. Wish I could say that was new."

Mingling is not something Sydney does well, but she's clearly drawn to the sound of distress, and she groans and hoists herself upright, half-stumbling for a moment as she makes her way toward Graziella's cries, brows subtly lifted, "...Anythin' I can do?"

Gods, she reeks.

"Archduchess Belladonna is going to be so very cross with me.. that dress was a gift on my birthday." Graziella frowns and starts to compose herself when a familiar voice and a kind face appear in the form of Clarisse. "I'm not Mercy but I believe my leg is twisted beyond use." She frowns at it and attempts the pained smile of a leader when she looks between Clarisse and Valerian. Clarisse's arm gets an equally shrewd evaluation and then the Princess decides, "It is as if we wandered into some wicked folly-" Graziella shoots Valerian a look and abides, "I've had plenty of rum and wine in my day but I've never woken up in someone else's clothing." She shoots her feet a considering look an abides, "I have lost shoes before.."

Graziella shoots a look to Sydney as help is offered, admitting, "I'm not sure I can walk, can you help me..." She looks over her shoulder at the chaos and filth, "Away from.." Sneering as she gestures over her shoulder, "From all this." A beat and then remembers manners in her pain and confusion, adding a pointed, "Please."

The clomp of guards can be heard in the distance, armor clashing with armor as feet are swift.

Valerian checks composure at hard. Valerian fails.

Valerian blushes some hearing those words from Graziella looking down over his own as he murmurs, "Nor I..this is a first." The young man looking down upon her legs before he hears that sound of guards on their way. The Kennex Lord moving with a new anxiety and nervousness and more than a touch of fear to set down the statue moving moments later to try and help with getting the Princess up and on the move, "Yes..we should all go quickly." The young man grimacing and twisting his head away from Sydney's direction offering a quick spoken and near choked out, "Not meaning any offense but..you smell like...fuck." Words completely failing Valerian for once.

This is why the young lady hardly ever drinks anything other than tea, her head pounding, but her thought of her friends turning her focus from the pain to doing something to help her friends, "I think it is worse Your Highness. That is quite the nasty bruise possibly broken but..." She is trying to look around for something to help immobilize the leg, broken or not, it needs to be kept still. She looks to Valerian and he can see the pain in her own eyes and her free hand. "She needs to be kept still. Her leg may be worse than twisted."

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

Sydney's overlong auburn hair is tangled and /sticky/, which hardly makes for the most appealing fashion statement, but that now hardly seems to be the time to lament what may or may not be in her hair. The young pugilist reaches out with a hand and quite firmly grasps Graziella's forearm, though doesn't quite lift. She pauses at Clarisse's words, and instead just keeps her grip ready to hoist her up to her good leg.

"...If you're fit to be moved, you can lean on me. If we've got to walk a fair distance for aid, I'll see that you're looked after. I've got a strong back, if nothin' else."

She cranes her head back over toward Valerian, and flashes her teeth. "...I get that a lot. Though, you're too kind. I smell like warmed over Murder of Crows ale that's been thrice processed, left in the sun to dry, and re-served." She grunts, and looks down to Graziella, "...Hold your nose if you've need."

Clarisse checks intellect and medicine at normal. Clarisse is successful.

"I rather agree, fuck has quite an approachable bouquet at times but she's ju-whooeee-" Graziella catches up a second later in her response to Clarrise and blinks a few times as she realises, "Oh you mean, think its worse than a twist. My leg. Here I thought you were talking about how she smells like... Fuck."

Graziella is a stubborn sort and she attempts to push to her feet again despite the injury, "Twisted or broken, it doesn't matter, I'll walk my legs to the bone because I need to find my dress and I need to move about to do so-" She winces and lets out a hiss as she pulls herself to her feet with Sydney's help, glancing to Clarrise for her opinion but ultimately upright and ready for action. "Lord Valerian, bring the doliphin, we made need it yet."

Graziella checks perception at easy. Graziella is successful.

Clarisse shakes her head at the Princess, "I am sorry Your Highness, I am quite sure it is broken, but we can at least get you inside. Though I don't think there is anywhere we can go to get away from this stench." She tries to keep it lighthearted, "We will find your dress but you must stay off your leg it needs to be splinted at the very least and there is nothing here to set it with. And you may hate me after it is set." She offers respectfully. She ignores her own pain for the moment as she watches the others help Graziella. When she looks at Valerian she offers softly, "I think my arm is broken too, but I don't remember what happened. I don't know how."

There is a small nod given to Clarisse when Valerian hears her mention of the Princess needing to be held still. "Of course Clarisse.. um, sorry." The young man offering her before he is looking to Sydney, his eyes widening at her description. "Gods, they don't actually do that do they?" The young man seeming deeply disturbed by the very thought. When Graziella mentions her own thoughts on the smell he blushes deeply and nods moments later when told to grab the statue. The young man moving to gather up the statue only to look to Clarisse with a look of concern, "Oh no, this.. no we need to find someone to help you as well. Does it hurt terribly? Is there..anything I can do to help?"

Sydney's grip on Graziella's arm tightens rather than letting go as she expresses her intent, the common pugilist rather sternly rebuking, "...We can help you with the dress, but you ain't walking on that." She agrees with Clarisse, adding, "...Pushing yourself on somethin' that's broken is a good way to regret it for the rest of your life. Ain't worth waking up with a pain for the rest of your days over a shardin' dress, Steelsilk or no."

She swivels her focus to Valerian's question, and she looks drily in his direction before allowing her brows to dance upward, "...Yes. They do."

No they don't.

Zyxthylum is nowhere to be seen. That member of the intrepid group seems to not be in the garden with them. But here comes the guards, swords out and at the ready to deal with unauthorized trespassers into the gardens. "Halt!" They call out, approaching carefully at the sight of a rag tag group of common clothing wearing, emerald adorned individuals before stopping at the recognition of at least Graziella. "Princess!" The leader of the group proclaims, and they bow to her and then to the group as a whole. 'What's... happened..." They look confused but are standing down.

"Ow, ow, ow... fine." Graziella can barely stand on it and when Clarissa talks of splinting it she gives in and nods for Sydney to lower her back to a seated position, adding, "I can't remember anything either-" Her brows draw in and sits like that, brooding and patient for a long time as the others start to discuss their options, "Except." She looks down at her lap with an expression of deep confusion as she tries to wade through the haze of last night's fog, "I do.. I remember our clothes?" Graziella snaps her big baby blues back up to the others, "I remember seeing my dress hanging in our room?" She shakes her head and add, "I can't, there's nothing else.. just a shot of my dress in the room that the Fidante household gave me for the visit."

The halt earns an expression of reflief from Grazi as the familiar sounds of law, order and steel enter the picture, "Thank the Gods-" Then after a prolonged pause Graziella flaps her arms at the guards with a birdish annoyance, squaking, "Well, what are you waiting for? Fetch me a Mercy, I've been injured."

Sydney checks willpower at normal. Sydney is successful.

Clarisse is about to answer as the guards approach and ask for Graziella to answer what happened, and only whispers for Valerian to here, "I will be alright. It just feels worse than it is." She then looks towards the guards. "Her leg will need to be splinted and allowed to heal. I would do it but there are no splints here or materials to do it with. Please get the Mercy quickly for her Highness." She offers towards the guards though doing so respectfully.

Oh! OH! This isn't good. A guest, guests even, are hurt, in the garden and just that command from Graziella has the guards immediately moving forward to start assisting the group back to the villa on the grounds that they have been allocated for their use even as a servant is fetched to send for a mercy. All this done with watering eyes and a few suppressed coughs as they try to not breathe deep.

Valerian checks willpower at normal. Valerian is successful.

Sydney relents with her steely grip when Graziella accepts her terms. Firmly applying pressure to arms of already wounded princesses is well within her comfort zone! ... but yes, she knocks it off when she eases Graziella back to the ground, looking to the guards with a degree of suspicion and distaste, despite the fact that they appear to be here to assist.

Graziella's talk of remembering, at the very least, prompts Sydney to squint and squeeze the bridge of her nose with her now-freed hand.

"...Gave someone a hell of a crack under the jaw, I think... I remember... ah..." She seems to fail to remember enough to give a succinct summary, and instead mutters, "I was in a room with a whole load of bottles and ... smaller bottles. Vials? Phials?"

Clarisse checks willpower at normal. Clarisse is successful.

There is a moment when Valerian goes completely still as the guards arrive, the man relieved when they respond the way they do looking to Clarisse. "Well then we need to get you something for the pain..and to help mend it." The man pointing out before he is looking to Graziella telling her, "I am sure we will find your dress.. I mean how many places could a dress be lost?" The young man asking before he is moving along following with the others holding that statue up against his chest. The words from Sydney on her memories of the night bring the Kennex Lord to wince, "About all I remember is a woman talking with me in the bar last night... but not sure what was said..it's all too fuzzy."

Graziella accepts the assistance with the air of someone accustomed to being pampered and she maintains her put-upon sneer as the guards help relocate her from the gardens to a more appropriate setting for Mercy to attend to her injuries. She looks down at the emeralds they have on and casts a fleeting glance over her shoulder at the scene they were leaving behind, "I believe we may have won.." She lofts a piece of emerald jewelry to examine it in the lowlight, "Because I've never stolen anything and I certainly didn't bring enough silver for all these emeralds..." Her considerations trail off though, still interrupted by moments of acute pain as she is transported somewhere for medical care, "Be careful, that's my favorite toe!

Clarisse winces a moment as she starts to remember bits and pieces of the night before. "Ouch!" More in memory of the moment she landed on her arm. "I..remember falling off a wall somewhere. I landed on my arm. It comes back in pieces." She offers a reassuring nod to Valerian and looks puzzled at the expensive jewelry that he is wearing. That they are all wearing. "Where did that come from?" She looks down at the jewelry she is wearing as well, and tries to recall the evening, and how she became so foggy.

It's a few hours since they woke up in the garden and foudn themselves in a puzzling state. Servants tend to their needs, mercies summoned and with time, everyone finds themselves cleaned up, smelling less offensive, dressed and a breakfast is produced for the group in the salon of the villa they've been allocated for the trip. Eggs, fruit, drinks of all kinds, breads, potatoes, meats, something for everyone from the bird like appetites to the more generous ones. Tehre's comfortable couches and chairs to sit on and teas to tend to the hurts of those who hurt.

Having received far more pampering and attention than she's used to, Sydney cleans up /exceptionally/ well. Her tangled hair is luxuriously braided and adorned with an emerald hairclip to keep things neat and orderly and free of flyaways. If it weren't for the pugilist's rather mundane set of leather armor, she might almost look the part of a warrior noblewoman.

Especially now that she doesn't smell atrocious. She's seated on one of the couches, frowning pensively, "...I must have blacked out right and proper is what I'm saying," She explains over breakfast foods, "I normally hold my alcohol well enough, I'd have remembered more by now."

Graziella is currently seated upon a perch of pillows with a cup of Rose tea and a spread of sweet breakfast pastries near at hand, she is examining her new emerald ring very closely. She slides the ring off her finger to examine the inside of the band and the underside of the stone with all the presence of a professional shoppper trying to assess the worth of a potential purchase. As the others mill about she seems lost in her thoughts and the study of the stone, carefully chewing a bit of apple pastry in her distracted state. There is a borrowed cane leaning nearby and it is adorned blooming copper rose on top. After a beat she seems to hear Sydney's input and asides, "Same.. and same."

Clarisse keeps a concerned eye out for the Princess, as they are now dressed back in something more suitable and comfortable for each of them. Her hair also pulled back in a mass of her curls with a gorgeous emerald hairclip, the emerald ring that adorns her slendor fingers match the design. With her arm in the sling, it does make it more interesting for her to juggle her cup of tea and plate of food. She is content to just sit back and nibble at her food carefully perched on her lap, while she sips at her tea, offering a reassuring smile to Valerian that she is alright. "Why would I be climbing over a wall? I will never hear the end of this from Teague."

A servant stands in the room, at the ready to tend to everyone. They look a little tired. But it's a young woman whose been with them for the last few days and their go to servant. There's a small noise from her at Clarisse's words.

If there's one thing a commoner can do exceptionally well, it's make food look delicious. Sydney packs away dish after dish, looking as though she's utterly enraptured with each and every bite. She lapses into momentary silence, chewing a heaping forkful of poached eggs and well-seasoned meat, her cheek resting against her opened palm as she makes contented little sounds. But not enough so that she doesn't notice the servant react. She pauses for a moment. Chew. Chew. Swallow.

Staaaare.

Graziella doesn't hear the servant react, not fully, but she does look up after a moment and she follows the directions of Sydney's stare across the room to the servant... and then around to Clarisse. Eventually, the Princess look back to the servant and in her usual airy tone asks a rather direct question, "Were you with us? When Lady Clarisse injured her arm? Do you have memories from last night.." Graziella motions for the servant girl to move forward, muttering from the corner of her mouth, "We should have questioned some of the others in the gardens too but I couldn't think straight in that stench." And out all that steelsilk. Infact, being in her signature dress with the pronounced mirrorsilver pauldrons and sleeves full of lace seems to considerably calm the recently frazzled princess. She's quite aloof and curious now as she waits for an answer and slides her new ring back onto her right ring finger.

"Your highness." The servant stammers somewhat. She opens her mouth, then closes it again and looks a little worried before in hushed voice as if walls have ears. "Your highness. You came back smelling badly-" Because who likes to tell a Princess that she smelled terrible "Looking for the emeralds that the Lady Narcissa gifted to all of you. You said you..." She hesitates. "Owed it as a consolation to a group of thieves...." She immediately falls quiet. Winces.

Clarisse shakes her head as she hears the servant and turns her gaze to her at the question posed by the Graziella and Sydney's staring at her as well. As she takes a small tear from the bread on her plate, and then takes a bite. "Thieves? I would.. never..I barely even drink...so I am puzzled..That smell was absolutely offensive.."

Sydney is not highly regarded as a well-trained master of the fine art of etiquette. As such, she fails to stifle a small little snort of laughter at the words uttered by Graziella. She forks another mouthful of breakfast into her mouth and casually talks around it, "...Well, we all rather smelled like /fuck/, I'm told. Some of us more than others. It did make it difficult to put a thought together."

The pugilist folds her arms thoughtfully over her chest, tap-tap-tapping at her opposing arm with a gloved fingertip. Her digits look far less swollen and awful when hidden away beneath fabric. "So. We got black-out drunk, and the good princess hired some thieves? Is that the implication?"

She sweeps an arm toward Clarisse, "No doubt we've found the culprit behind your missing boots."

Graziella frowns and with a faint sigh admits, "That certainly doesn't sound like me-" There is a stoic conviction even in her normally vapid speech patterns as she abides, "I don't condone stealing, even as an embracing of ones vices... when our vices infringe upon the freedoms of others, they are no longer sins worth serving. Theft is one of my lines in the sand, I find it to be a purely evil pursuit that harms others and brings nothing but pain into the world." She sucks at the back of her teeth once with a passing cluck and muses more playfully, "And what a waste of a perfectly nice ring."

Graziella has a presence about her as if she finds this to be amusing but untrue as she reaches out for her cup of tea and carefully takes a sip from it before returning it to the saucer, "Those lies don't leave this room, do you understand girl?" Once she is finished threatening the help she rolls a hand through the air and continues with more energy than before, "In the interest of fleshing out this tale you seem implored to tell, did any of us say anything else last night? Don't hold back now.. regale me."

"It would seem, my lady, that you... you had us decant the wine that was here waiting for you. You celebrated the tour thus far and after you had all consumed some, the..." She tilts her head to Sydney. "Messiere Sydney suggested that you all... venture forth to.. have a drink elsewhere..." She bites down on her lower lip. Wine. You all started the previous night with enjoying the wine. The Cardian wine. The wine bottle that seems to be poking out from under a seat, only seen by Clarisse from her angle. "You all followed the Messiere's suggestion that perhaps you dress.. more appropriately for the occasion and you all agreed... we didn't see you again until you came back and were trying to find the jewelry. You left just before dawn."

Just after dawn was when you all woke up in the garden. It would seem that you didn't get far. Not at all. "No your highness, I swear before Limerance to not speak of any of this."

Sydney, conspicuously, has very little commentary about the moral shortcomings of thievery. Should someone chance a glance at the redhead, she may be spied rolling her eyes as Graziella lays it on thick. Just a little. She settles her fork down rather loudly on her plate as the servant's words turn to her own actions, an she settles a steely look upon her for a moment before the corners of her lips tick upward, and she flashes her teeth.

Not a menacing thing. Quite the opposite, even if her smile threatens to all but reach her ears, "...I mean, yeah, that sounds like somethin' I'd suggest. Amazed we woke up in anythin' at all, if that's the case. Granted, I don't /think/ I'd have proposed anythin' that would end with broken bones, but... ain't known for my good ideas when I'm sloshed, so..."

Clarisse does sit her plate gently down on the table nearby, as well as her cup as she moves closer to the bottle that is sticking out from under a seat and shows it to the servant, "Is this the wine you speak of.." She pulls the bottle free and carefully uncorks it, to try to see if it has any scent of being tampered with. "More appropriately.. I have dressed for occassions before when going to the lowers to investigate things, that does sound like something I would do, but drinking so much.. Doesn't sound like me. Do you mind if I keep this bottle?"

Clarisse checks intellect and alchemy at hard. Clarisse fails.

Graziella checks intellect and occult at normal. Graziella is successful.

Graziella leans over to smell the bottle, trying to ascertain if there was anything otherwordly about the brew but she shakes her head after and admits, "Smells like very, very, expensive wine. I don't sense any poisons.." As if /that/ is what she were trying to sniff out when she leaned over to examine the bottle. "Does it say anything on the label?"

Clarisse sniffs at the bottle and can't help but hold it under her nose enjoying the scent and the memory of how great it must have tasted lingers in there. "This was the bottle, the best wine I have ever tasted before. The smell so perfect. I would love to take a case of this home to share with friends and family. If it isn't to much." She looks down at the bottle to see if there is a label, she might have overlooked while noticing it.

The bottle has little on the label, that would be alarming. Labeled with the usual details one would expect. If they could read it.... it's in a foreign language after all.

Sydney looks up and extends her hand, rather simply. "Everyone else is taking a whiff. Mind if I?" Her fingers curl a couple of times.

Sydney checks perception and investigation at normal. Sydney is successful.

Sydney takes a long whiff and sighs in spite of herself, "...Mmn. Yeah, that's the stuff. Not much for wine, but this stuff? This stuff'd hit hard enough to make whiskey look like a -- Oh! Damn, sense memory and all that. I think I remember the place. We could start there." She stretches. "If folks are up for... y'know. Walkin' around."

"We're retracing our steps?" Graziella wrinkles her nose and reaches out for the cane, waving it at the servant girl once she's on her feet and advises, "You keep saying we, do well and give your 'we' the same warning I've given you.. Princess Graziella Pravus does /not/ comport with thieves and anyone whispering otherwise will be held accountable for their lies." She nods once, satisfied in her damage control thus far as she motions for the exit, "If only to find out why you stunk so bad, the mystery of it all is killing.." Keeping it light, Graziella titters a laugh and cane-clomps her way to the exit.. it will be slow going for the princess.

Clarisse can't help but smile as Sydney takes the bottle she lets go of begrudingly as she can only tell at the moment that it is wine, of a very high caliber she has never had before last night. And that normal wine doesn't take much to effect her, a sip or two would have made Clarisse take leave of her senses. She smiles at Sydney, "So long as we don't get drunk again. I do not like after effects." She smiles at the Princess and continues to follow them, curious where this will lead them back to. "Maybe I can atleast fine a bottle of wine or two to take home with me."

"Yes your highness. Not a word your highness." The servant is swift to utter.

And so, the group stands and starts off to find this bar, and see what precisely, this wine put them up to. Because they're going to blame the wine.