(1310-09-02) Marsilikos Tournament: Opening Feast
Summary: The opening feast of the Marsilikos Tournament
RL Date: Sun Sep 02, 2018
Related: Marsilikos Tournament
abraham aedhwyn ailene antoine armandine augustin charlene cyriel elliot elspeth isabelle isla jehan-pascal jelene lucienne marielle matthieu melville ortolette thibault 

Great Hall - Ducal Palace

High and light colored are the walls of the Great Hall, woods of golden tones used in the wainscoting that reaches till mid-level, with elaborate ornaments of fish chasing each other carved into them. A great hearth governs one end of the hall, with a large shield looming above, showing the coat of arms of House Mereliot. With six tall windows on one side framed by long dark blue curtains of heavy brocade, the wall opposite has a line of a couple of shields of Eisandine Houses, placed at regular intervals, and the pair of impressive double doors, through which courtiers usually will enter. The floor is of polished cream colored marble, enhanced with white inlay work depicting the ever repeating pattern of Mereliot fish. Lighting is provided through the lamps at the walls and three large chandeliers suspended from the arched ceiling, polished glass beads glittering where they catch and magnify the light of candles.


Today is the opening feast of the Tournament of Marsilikos, a festive and exciting two weeks held annually at the capital of Eisande. And where else would it kick off as befittingly as within the grandeur of the Great Hall at the Dome of the Lady, the palace of Marsilikos? The interior has been prepared accordingly, banners of other noble families from outside of Eisande adorn another of the walls. Especially those that have come to compete or merely to attend! And so crests of Valliers, Fhirze, Basilisque, Charlot and d'Aiglemort among others can be admired, for once within these walls, that are usually dominated by the pair of golden fish on a field of blue.

Tables have been arranged in a manner as to leave space in the center, with one table on a dais at the far end overlooking the others - the table of high ranking guests of the Duchesse. Later.

At the moment, Armandine Mereliot can be found standing somewhere at the center, greeting those that approach her. The Duchesse of Eisande is clad in a fine dress of flowing silk, blue predominant of course, with a fine line of embroidered golden fish creating one sort of festive garland across the skirts all the way up the shoulder. The dress is of the latest fashion, with a bodice to pronounce her still comely shape, long trumpet sleeves that flare out from elbow level. Blonde hair has been done in a courtly fashion, arranged in long curls that have been fastened with hair pins of gold, so that the ducal coronet with its sapphires can rest upon her head in adequate majesty. A warm smile graces Armandine's features, and she takes her time to respond to the greetings offered.

Not too far away from her stands a man in his mid-fifties, a face that shows the traces of battle, both in the faint wrinkles and the hint of a scar that adorns a cheek. There is an air of Camael about him, no doubt! After exchanging a few words with the Duchesse, he then nods to something another lady in their vicinity has said.

Dark hair frames the features of Charlène Morhban de Fhirze, and she stands there, leaning just slightly on a fashionable cane of dark cherry wood. Hers is a dress more of Kusheline cut, dark and of a fashion that is less comfortable but on the contrary, conveys a willingness to suffer in the aim to look good. Charlène holds herself with courtly grace, with a few glittering stones that have been worked into her hairnet catching the light occasionally, of candles of the chandeliers and oil lamps at the walls.

Elspeth arrives at the event wearing a silk gown of red poppies that are splashed against white background. As one looks closer, the stem, the leaves and even the petals are all on separate layers but when they are overlayed it creates that illusion of the poppy fields. The trumpet sleeves are sheer, allowing the breeze to cool her willowly arms. When she turns the full open back displays her marque. She has her thick sable locks piled on top of her head, allowing any breeze that might be out on this summer day to cool her neck. Her feet are adorned with black sandals.

Three guards adorned in the livery of House Rousse, yet bearing an insignia of a dragon upon their left shoulder, flank the the next guest to arrive. Jelene Rousse, the crimson haired Vicomtesse de Draguignan, enters the great hall. She carries herself with an air of dignity and station, and as she enters, nods to her guards, who then step back, bow, and retreat outside. She is garbed in a sheath dress of ivory silk, the dress hugging her generous curves quite snugly. It's sleeves are short and end in a point just below her shoulder. The dress is embroidered with golden thread and tiny crystal beads made of beryl. Her fiery hair is fashioned into a loose chignon. A braid has been wound the crown of her head and set at a slight angle, like a halo just slightly tilted.

Melville Charlot nó Coquelicot walks into the Great Hall. A young lady has her arm wrapped around his. His attire is not exceptionally beautiful but is absolutely presentable. He wears black silk trousers and black silk shirt. A small silver pendant, which represent a handsome and strong horse ready to gallop, is hanging on his neck. Melville left his shoulder-length blonde hair simply cascade down freely and cover the blue paint stain on his neck as well as the collar of his shirt. His fingers of one hand still dirty with different shades of colors are clenching on something of rectangular form and wrapped in a white silk. It seems to be seven inches length and twelve inches height (if asked at the door by the guards, he will reveal the object and explain that this is not dangerous). The young man gestures to the lady at his arm, offering to move toward one of the benches if she desires. The young lady smiles and nods. While they are walking off, the adept seems to be focused more on a crowd than on the lady he is with. As if he is looking for someone specific. When his eyes see the duchess, the man freeze on his way. A gentle tuck by the lady at his arm awakens him from his thoughts. The young man smiles and indulges into a whispering conversation with his lady.

Moving into the hall with precise steps that make her almost appear as though she is gliding Isla enters. The young woman known in Kusheth as the Golden Rose of Cherevin is wearing a highly fashionable gown of plum colored silk with delicate pink and white rose and vine embroidery on it. Matching roses have been pinned to one shoulder of her gown and similar roses also adorn her neatly styled and pinned golden locks. Her expression is thoughtful as she glances around carefully. Staying off to one side she catches sight of the crimson hair of an entering Vicomtesse and tilts her head, looking faintly curious.

Elliot steps into the hall looking a bit nervous. He is here unaccompanied it would seem and he wanders into the room while trying to maintain his calm and not show his excitement or nerves, he fails rather spectacularly though. The Rocaille Lord is wearing a doublet of the finest emerald green with silver buttons worn over a long sleeved shirt of a gray so pale it too looks silver, his breeches are a darker gray and a pair of matching boots complete the look. He wanders off to one side of the room, scanning the crowds for a familiar face or at least a friendly one.

Looking around as he enters, Antoine nods to the people he sees, before he offers a smile to Marielle as he leads their way into the room fully. "Always interesting, these gatherings. So many people in one place," he offers, words kept relatively quiet. From his expression, it's not clear if the number of people is a good or a bad thing.

Ortolette is not generally a fixture of grand events like these, yet, today, here she is. She cannot be said to expressly enter, having come down some hours before everything began and taken a seat near where her mother will eventually be settled, but back a ways, toward a wall, where she whiled away the hours watching the last minute preparations and doing some needlepoint before sending one of her ladies' maids off with her sewing to put it away in her room, leaving her there to watch a wide array of people enter and mingle with a buoyant smile elevating her expression. It is very likely she will remain seated where she is for the better part of the evening, but, who knows, she may decide to rise to the occasion.

<FS3> Jelene rolls Perception: Success. (2 1 6 1 1 7)

A knock of a cane into the ground announces arrival of an elegant, proud and self-confident woman. Vicomtesse de Seyches looks everybody gathered with a raised eyebrow in her wrinkled features if anybody can notice her grey and almost fading eyebrow, that is. It seems that the second she has entered the festivities, the woman started to judge every move, each smile, every shake of a hand. A woman of an older generation is wearing maybe out of fashion but still very elegant dark blue gown. To cover up her wrinkled and slim arms she also wears a short jacket of a similar color. Lucienne's gray hair seem to be braided and gathered into a bun. On top of the bun she wears a striking turquoise blue and navy silk and satin beret hat with crin swirl and large flower trim. She looks back at Arthur, who is her guard, and gestures for him to follow Vicomtesse to a comfortable bench from which she could observe. The man obediently follows a woman who keeps leaning against the black cane more firmly than usually. Once she settles down and takes a look at the duchess and some other people around her who seems to be in a fashion of Kushelines, the old woman grumps, "Kushelines…" and shakes her head. Then she looks at Arthur, "Fetch me a drink, boy. Don't stand there as if you would be on a leisure!" And he obeys.

As one expects from a white Rose Marielle is veiled with the only feature of her head visible being her eyes. The gown she wears looks perfectly modest but she is Alyssum so it is likely deceptively so nd the coloring choice is to compliment what Antoine wears but in very pale pastels. Her hand rests upon the arm of Antoine, "Many things bring a number of people to them." says Mariele. Her hand slips from Antoine's arm so she can dip into a curtsy to everyone in general, letting Antoine decide who he wishes to directly greet.

Charlène turns her head to look at those arriving, and perhaps she catches the disapproving glance of Lucienne d'Albert. She will meet it with a smile, chin lifting proudly as her hand tightens just so about the handle of the cane she is leaning upon. Her eyes flash darkly. It is a subtle moment, fading swiftly as she turns her attention elsewhere. Catching perhaps the entrance of Melville no Coquelicot and his lady.

Jelene feels eyes on her and glances around, her eyes at the moment taking on a shade of Kusheline blue, settle on Isla. She inclines her head in curious question, and offers a polite, though distant, little smile. She studies the woman for a moment, then nods to her, but does not yet go towards her. Instead, she is turning to approach the Duchesse, to give homage to her liege. However, she pauses a moment, seeing two faces she recognises. Marielle gets a rather warm smile of greeting, and her companion gets a polite, but acknowledged nod of acquaintanceship. She also does not intrude upon them yet. She continues her way towards Amandine. Another pause. This one is different. It has her stiffening and an expression, mostly veiled but still subtly recognizable, of annoyance. She turns to the elder woman whom she overheard scoffing at Kushelines and flashes her a viciously wide smile, making sure to look her right in the eye, so she would see her own eyes. She still nods to her, out of respect for her station, but then she very quite, and very deliberately, turns her head and keeps walking. Her smile eases as she reaches the Duchesse and lowers herself into a very respectful formal curtsy. "Your Grace." she greets her. "I offer you my sincere and warmest wishes and hope this tournament shall be a great success." she murmurs.

Armandine smiles. If she caught Jelene's look shot elsewhere, the Duchesse does not show it. "Lady Jelene," she returns the greeting with a nod of her head. "Thank you for providing us with some of the wine that will be on offer tonight. And thank you. I do expect the tournament to become quite the spectacle. I am glad you can be here to attend it." Her gaze flits to the dark haired Charlene, and the other lord close by. "I am not sure whether you know His Grace, the Duc Jervais de Valliers. And this here is a good friend of mine, Charlène Morhban de Fhirze who has elected to pay me a visit this time of the year." Her hand lifts indicating the red-haired lady, "Let me introduce to you Lady Jelene Rousse, the Vicomtesse de Draguignan."

Even if it may be only a brief glance, but Armandine looks towards the table where her daughter is seated, a bit of pride flickering in her gaze. A short moment of nonverbal interaction between mother and daughter. The Duchesse inclines her head and then turns her attention back towards the proceedings.

Ortolette is gazing off in another direction when her mother looks to her. She seems happy where she is, content to watch from her little seat in the corner, eyes brimming with excitement to see the crowds filling the palace. As though through some psychic alert, she realizes mother is watching, and she straightens, locking eyes with her for a moment and smiling a demure smile of restrained joy.

Antoine smiles, nodding as he hears that. "True," he replies, as he looks around to see what other people are present, to see which ones to greet. "Any interesting people, hmmm?" There's a brief pause, before he admits, "Still getting used to these kinds of events."

Long-legged strides carry the tall figure of Thibault Charlot into Great Hall of the Dome of the Lady where tonights opening ceremony for the annual late-summer tournament. He is clad in darker colors as usual, a crimson doublet with black trim and buttons of pale gold worn over a black silk shirt and black trousers with a broad red line running down either side of the legs. His thick black hair is kept loose and slightly ruffled but looks none the more stylish and appropriate for it. The large golden ring etched with the symbol of his house is as always worn on his right hand and a thin gold necklace is just visible around his neck, disappearing under the shirt. He pauses for a moment after entering, looking around the large hall and the people starting to gather within before he moves towards the center of the room where the Duchesse is standing, greeting the visitors. She is already in conversation with some other newly arrived guests it seems, so he will approach slowly and place himself close by, politely waiting his turn for a chance to introduce himself.

Jelene rises from her formal curtsy as Armandine acknowledges her and smiles warmly to the Duchesse. Her eyes now are a lighter shade of blue. "You honor me, Your Grace, by accepting my gift of Dragon's Blood wine for the guests to be served." she says to her. "I hope you enjoy it, and that everyone present will, as well." she adds. "I am quite looking forward to the events." she says to her. "I plan to compete in one, myself." She stands a bit taller. "Horse racing." She chuckles, but then she is being introduced to the Duchesse's companions. She dips into another respectful curtsy, though one not quite as formal as the one she gave Armandine. "Your Grace." she greets the Duc. "A pleasure to meet you." She rises and smiles and also curtsies to the other woman. "My Lady, it is also pleasure to meet you."

Gracefully Marielle's head tilts towards Jelene, who is with the Duchess, "THat is a relative of mine." THen up to antoine she looks with a smile, "We can speak to whoever strikes your fancy." Her hand has once again returned to Antoine's arm.

Elspeth makes her way over to Elliot who's standing off by himself. She gives him a serene smile and leans in to share a few quiet words with the man. Her graceful movements are meant to relax those around her, her gentle tone so soothing. If the lord permits, she will gently place a hand on his arm.

Here to pay his respects and little else, Matthieu de Rocaille, recently returned from whatever troublesome and mysterious circumstances that led most of Terre D'Ange to believe the Siovalese ducal heir was dead, steps inside the great hall accompanied by no one but his boyhood companion and Cassiline, Gabriel de Montreve. Tall form clad in a dark green coat with subtle gold embroidery, black breeches and boots - all designed deliberately to make the most of his height and the breadth of his shoulders, his walking stick is clutched on one hand as he takes several deliberate steps to the midst of the gathering, white-gold hair gleaming under the room's ambient light. Piercing blue eyes and the silver storms within them sweep across the room in search of familiar faces as he moves.

The two men are a study in contrasts; Gabriel is lean, movements laden with deceptively easy grace, with dark hair and sharp features, clad in the grays of the Brotherhood. His friend and charge is fair-haired and tanned, built with the solid look of a hardy survivor - a necessity, considering his story. Both pairs of boots make quick work of the marble floors.

Shortly after Thibault, another Charlot enters the Great Hall, but this one slightly older and of slightly hawkish features. Cyriel wears the black and red colors of his House, a fashionable doublet and breeches that are tucked into fine leather boots. The Vicomte de Chavagne trails then after his younger cousin, at a leisurely pace, as if playing dark nemesis of the young Charlot relative.

After exchanging a couple of words with a lady at his arm, Melville and his companion move towards the duchess as well. There is a line to great the hostess, so the pair stands behind the man who is clad in darker colors: a crimson doublet with black trim and buttons of pale gold worn over a black silk shirt. Melville looks at the lady, "Do you think she is going to accept it?" He asks focusing on her instead of a man in front of them who happens to be Thibault Charlot. Adept's lady nods, "I am sure she will do so. She is a kind woman and would not refuse a gift," she softly explains.

Her respect and greetings given, Jelene dips once more into polite and formal curtsies for the Duchesse and her companions, before she departs so that others can also approach the Lady of Marsilikos and offer the same. She scans the hall again, looking for someone and notices a new arrival. Rather, she notices the Charlot colors. She headtilts and looks thoughtfully, but just for a moment, before she is heading towards Isla, whom had caught her eye before.

Antoine smiles, "A relative of yours?" As he hears Marielle's words, he looks over at Jelene, nodding. "I think I met her very briefly in the gardens the other day. When I met one of your sisters as well," he offers, before he looks between the others, nodding a bit as he sees the mentioned relative heading over towards another person. "MAybe we should greet your relative and the other lady there?"

Seeing that the red haired lady that had been in talks with the Duchesse make a final curtsy and move to the side, Thibault steps up to introduce himself and give his well-wishes. "Your Grace." The words are followed by a courtly bow. "I am Thibault Mercer Charlot, It's a pleasure to meet you and have the chance to attend the festivities here tonight. I am very much looking forward to the next two weeks of celebration."

Armandine reaches out and places her hand upon Jelene's arm, if she allows. "I did enjoy the glass I had prior, to gauge the quality.", the duchesse admits towards the young Rousse Vicomtesse. "And found it to be quite to my taste." A smile then, "Ah, the horse race… I admire your courage and shall look forward how far it will get you." More people are approaching, and the duchesse lets her gaze drift there for a moment, before her attention returns to Jelene. "Pray, enjoy yourself tonight," she tells her with a warm smile.

Elliot blinks as he is approched by Elspeth. Smiling warmly to her he dips his head low in respect and whatever it is she says has him looking pleased and nodding before offering a quietly spoken reply. The gentle touch to his arm is allowed and draws another gentle smile. "I don't believe we have been introduced yet, that should be remedied. Elliot Rocaille, at your service."

Kind grey-blue eyes follow Jelene as she leaves for a stroll about the hall, and Armandine turns her attention to the next courtier giving his greetings. "Ah." She looks a touch surprised, when Thibault introduces himself, and there is a glance towards Charlène. "Members of House Charlot are welcome to this court, my lord. I am glad to make your acquaintance. Will you be competing in the contests?"

Elspeth is pleased at the quiet words that are spoken and then gives him a sweet smile, "No, I don't believe we have been introduced. Elspeth no Coquelicot, Second of Balm at your service m'lord." She keeps her hand on his arm, "I don't often come to such events myself. I spend most of my time on the Mont."

Isla remains quiet and observant, her eyes watching those around her mingle with an assessing gaze. That head of crimson hair that signals the approach of Jelene is also noticed and she looks back towards the woman with a faint smile. A polite curtsey is given to the woman as she draws near. "Hello to you my Lady. I don't think we have met, though I admit you look a touch familiar. I am Isla Cherevin." Comes the softly spoken greeting along with a soft smile.

She is situated somewhere in the back, slender wrist absently swirling a glass of wine and lashes lowered over dark eyes gleaming with gold fragments. While not in any hurry to ingratiate herself with the present collective, considering the clear view she has of the comings and goings, and the present hubbub in the heart of the room, it's arguable that she presently has the best seat in the house.

Isabelle de Valais remains on her seat at a table largely devoid of company save for a fine bottle of wine and her own thoughts, but the faint smile on her lips suggests she is presently not bemoaning the fact. Her signature finery is upon her, always from her own unique designs - today it is a backless creation that bares her shoulders, but keeps its sharply elegant effect with an intricate high collar made out of interlocking gold links threaded through by deep crimson ribbons that flow into the fitted bodice and pools of silk in a like, vibrant shade draping to the floor, hiding whatever footwear she has deigned to wear today. Black hair is pulled up in broad swirls, pinned at the back.

She takes a great interest in the faces within, but those eyes tend to slip towards the lady dowager de Morbhan and her illustrious company.

Elliot smiles warmly to Elspeth and nods in understanding. "I attend them on occasion myself but I still suffer from the occasional bout of nerves when I do. Your presence is quite soothing though, and for that I am most grateful." He seems relaxed and focused on his companion, his interest obvious. "Would you tell me more of yourself? I find myself quite curious…"

Cyriel waits for Thibault to say his part, before he steps forth as well, with a courteous bow of greeting offered to the Duchesse, "Cyriel Charlot, Vicomte de Chavagne," he introduces himself. "And cousin to Lord Thibault here." His gaze brushes other Kusheth-based nobles, and Cyriel's pale blue eyes narrow. "Such a flood of Kushelines these days. It must seem like an invasion.", he jests, tone detached but not uncourteous. "I shall compete in the Duel competition." At which he steps back and then looks towards Melville, and slowly recognition and an idea about the young man's identity begins to dawn upon him.

Jelene had already moved and so didn't catch Thibault's introduction, or his house name. She is now standing in front of Isla, smiling curiously at the young girl. She nods a in greeting at the curtsy, but before she introduces herself, the other woman's comment about her looking familiar has her laughing. "Drake." she says to her, shaking her head in amusement. "It must be." She now eyes the pretty woman up and down, her lips forming a mirthful smirk. "You are just his type." she sighs and smiles. "I am his elder sister." she finally says. "Lady Jelene Rousse, Vicomtesse de Draguignan." She now quietens an seriously studies the other girl. "Cherevin…" Her eyes sparkle. "I trust he caused you no offense?"

Isla arches a brow as Jelene laughs but at the name 'Drake' her eyes widen a touch and she nods. She looks amused smirking back. "That is it yes. We have met a few times now, Drake and I." She agrees with a soft laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you Lady Rousse. And no he has not given offense. Confusion yes, as I am not quite sure how to handle him and his…actions but not offense." She smiles softly to Jelene.

Thibault's eyes follows the glance of Armandine towards Charlene who receives a small nod and a polite smile before returning his attention to the Duchesse. If he recognizes the other woman, it doesn't show in his features. "I am glad that it is so, and hope it always will be, your grace. As far as the actual tournament goes, I was thinking of entering a few of the events but sadly work and responsibilities have kept me from knowing exactly when I'll have the chance, so I have held off on officially entering, for now." A short moment as he looks over his shoulder to the people waiting for their own chance of introductions. "But I believe I am keeping you from your other guest. It was a true pleasure meeting you, I am sure the tournament is gonna be a thing to remember for years to come." He says with another bow before stepping back and allowing his cousin a chance a to speak to the Duchesse.

Jelene seems a bit relieved that her brother did not cause any offense to Isla. However, an eyebrow arches sharply in question when she is told about his actions and how the other lady is unsure how to handle them. "Did he try to seduce you?" she asks bluntly. "Or…" Suddenly a flash of some sort of knowledge, understanding, flashes in her eyes. "Are you.." she starts to ask, but then snaps her mouth shut. Instead, she looks thoughtful, and calculating. Very, very calculating. "Who are your parents, My Lady?" she asks her softly. It isn't asked rudely or aggressively. Simply curiously. "You said you are Cherevin?"

Melville and his lady both patiently wait in the line before the hostess is free. Even if he catches the gaze Cyriel scans him with, the young man does not recognize his cousin he hasn't seen for so many years. It would be more than 10 years, after all. So, once another lord moves aside, Melville and his lady do approach the duchess. The lady offers a deep curtsy, introduces herself to be of a distant cousin to Lafons and wishes the greatest festivities.

Though, Melville offers a very deep bow. He looks at the duchess and carefully takes a step forward, making sure that no guards become alert. "I am Melville nó Coquelicot, your grace." A man seems to look identical as Thibault Charlot who just paid a visit to the duchess except that his hair is blond. "I would like to gift you this humble piece of art if you accept it. For your kindness, greatness and…" He seems to end up at a loss of words, a mild blush colors his cheeks and the young adept simply looks up at the duchess asking for permission to move further and give her whatever is wrapped in the silks, "…beauty." He finishes the sentence. His lady is standing behind Melville with an encouraging smile in her features.

Elspeth looks pleased that her presence is soothing the young lord. She tells Elliot softly a few things about herself, "Well, I have lived in Marsilikos my whole life. I was born into the Salon de Rose Sauvage. When I was tested, it was found that I was better suited for Balm so I came to the Coquelicot. Unlike you, I have not seen much of this world I imagine." Her fingers move in light soothing motions, designed to keep him focused on her and not the crush around them, "I must confess, I love to cook sweets." She motions to her curved hips, "Although I am always looking for taste testers to save me from my own creations." She looks at him with gentle moch eyes, "And you? I believe Rocaille hails from outside of Eisande, yes?"

At Antoine Marielle dips her head in agreement, "Of course, my lord. THat seems like a reasonable plan." she says in regards to greeting Jelene and her companions. Against his side she leans a touch, easily enough urging him to lead the way to where he wishes to go.

The Duchesse nods her head to Cyriel, in acknowledgement of his courteous words, and there is not much time to ponder his greeting, when already the next pair steps forth to greet her. The lady in Melville's company receives a smile and a reply that is both polite and friendly, and in retaining that latter quality especially, Armandine's eyes fall upon the young adept that does not shy away from approaching her. She studies his features, and surprise shows on her face for a moment as she notes the similarity. "Well met, Melville nó Coquelicot. I had the feeling we'd met before, but that would be the lord who came to greet me mere minutes before you." Her arm lifts and she reaches for the wrapped thing, Melville offers to her. "You know that I have a weakness for the arts," she smiles, "or I would not represent our Province well. I shall accept it, whatever it is you brought. If you tell me in what way you are related to Thibault Charlot."

Antoine smiles, nodding as he hears Marielle's words, as he starts leading her over in the direction of Jelene and Isla, while glancing over at the other people present as well. He smiles as he looks back to Marielle. "Thank you for coming here with me," he offers, quietly.

Thibault returns the glance from his cousin, the faintest of nods in the direction of Cyriel in acknowledgement of his presence as he takes a few more steps to the side and waits for his cousin to make his introductions, most likely to have a word or two with the man after. Then his eyes go a little wide at the sight of the next person stepping up to the Duchesse, a young man looking eerily like Thibault himself, save for fair hair in place of the pitch black locks, holding a larger object draped in silk to cover what is beneath. His features harden and his eyes flicker to one side and then the other before his head is lowered and a hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose as he turns away at a slight angle but remains standing where he is. "I need a drink." He mumbles under his breath.

Charlène observes the proceedings with an attitude hovering between attentiveness and mild amusement. But it might become clear soon that standing for so long might cause her increasing discomfort. With a few murmured words to Armandine, she excuses herself and retreats towards the high table, sitting down not too far from where Ortolette is seated. A soft sigh escapes her, as she leans the cane of fine cherry wood against the armrest, rolling her eyes a little, as she remarks towards the blonde frail creature, in an accent that sounds slightly Kusheline, "Ah, I had forgotten how inconvenient these courtly occasions can be to a bad leg…"

Melville smiles broadly when the duchess seems not to sent he away. Her words about meeting him previously makes the young adept part his lips as if he wanted to tell her the story of those few months ago when he saw her passing by. But then again, it would be wrong to bother the lady of Marsilikos with such talks. So, he remains quiet. His joy grows even more when the duchess accepts his gift. If she will decide to push away the silk to take a glance at the painting, she will see that it's her portrait of sorts (https://image.ibb.co/eKVQMK/download.jpg). However, the young adept's joy is immediately changed by surprise. He straightens up and looks around. Then focuses back on the duchess. "Thibault Charlot? Your grace, have you spoke to my brother just recently? I have to find him! I haven't seen him for so many years." His gaze runs around the crowd again, before the young man remembers the duchess question. Then he turns back, "We are twins. May I excuse myself, your grace? I would love to catch my brother."

Armandine hands the covered picture to a servant and then does elect to uncover the painting. "Ah… this is marvelous," she smiles, brows lifting as she turns towards the Duc de Valliers. "But then again, this makes me appear very vain, to praise a portrait of myself. Monsieur Melville… I've never sat for you. How can it be that you can paint a picture of me? And such a picture as this, which seems a bit unconventional, but not lacking in artistry?" A nod of her head. "Certainly you may excuse yourself, Monsieur. Lord Thibault must be here somewhere. What an unlikely coincidence, but those are the best, are they not?"

<FS3> Lucienne rolls Perception: Success. (6 1 8)

Cyriel has withdrawn to a table at the side, finding a spot to sit and enjoy some of the red wine. He wrinkles his nose, but only faintly, after trying a first taste. Pale blue eyes follow the interaction of his Charlot kin with the Duchesse, and whatever hint of a smile there had been, it fades.

A whoosh of silk and tulle. A mass of elaborately coiffed bright red curls. Lady Ailene Trevalion comes running up to the entrance of the Great Hall. She is late! Fashionably? Unfashionably? She bites her lip unsure as she slows to a halt. There, before entering, she takes a moment to catch her breath, her guard Cyrille right behind her. He is scowling at having to act as escort as well as guard. She makes a face at him and then touches her very fancily adorned hair, to make sure it sure it is straight. Then, another breath. She smoothes down her skirts to make sure her dress is perfect, Then, she raises her stubborn, prideful Trevalion chin and walks calmly into the Great Hall. Yes, calmly, but if one were to look at her blue-gray eyes, one could see excitement and mirth just threatening to erupt at any moment. Still, she does her family proud by her entrance. She smiles and nods to all the important faces she doesn't know, who hold titles she has never heard of. She then looks around for someone she knows. Cyrille is holding her arm, looking extremely out of place and uncomfortable. He, too, is looking around for someone to take his place. There are no Trevalions in attendance yet. It looks like he is stuck with her.

<FS3> Melville rolls Perception: Good Success. (5 6 6 8 8 4 6 6 8)

Upwards at Antoine Marielle glances again and settles into him more, "There is little I can say no to you about, my lord." she tells him. Then she adds, with a touch of cheek, "Besides, my company is on your dime."

"Thank you, your grace," the young man bows one more time and then moves aside. First of all, Melville comes back to the lady he has escorted to the event. They exchange a couple of words and the lady sends the adept off with a pleasant smile. She moves toward her own relatives instead, while Melville lurks in the crowd seeking for one of his own. It's quite easy to notice Thibault when you actually know he is here. He is one of the taller people in the crowd. So, when Melville's eyes land one a figure similar to his own, he immediately thrusts through the crowd. Once he is close enough, the young man tries to extends his arm to pat the shoulder of his brother, "Thibault. I can not believe it. Is that really you?" If the twin will turn around to face his brother not seen for more than a decade, Melville will try to spring forward and offer a warm hug.

Isla hesitates at that blunt question, her cheeks turning a soft pink. Instead of answering the first question she draws herself up to her full if lacking height and focuses on the topic of her parents. "My father is the Marquis of Cherevin, I am his second child." She explains calmly and with composure. A curious and equally calculating look enters her eyes. "Why do you ask my Lady?"

Antoine is unable to hold back a chuckle as he hears Marielle's words. "As always, money well spent, my dear," he replies to her, as he continues leading them over towards Jelene and Isla. "Ah, lady… Jelene, wasn't it? A pleasure to meet you again," he offers, before there's a smile and a nod offered to Isla as well. "A pleasure to meet you too, my lady."

Elspeth spends time with Elliot, quietly chatting with him until the arrival of the lord whom she has an assignation with tonight. She spies the man wearing an apologetic look on his face, "Oh no…I suppose I spoke too soon. My escort has just arrived." She points out the lord to Elliot, "So I am afraid I shall have to let you go. However, I promise you if you come to the salon, I shall make you a treat since you were so kind as to keep me company." Then after that gentle goodbye, the Second of Balm fades into the crowd to attend to her patron.

Rattle. Clatter. Jingling. Clinking. Chiming. All those joyful sounds come to the entrance of the Great Hall, greeting everybody more than a couple of steps away. It's followed by a widest smile one has ever seen. To add more strength to the expression of happiness, a wave of the hand is offered here and there, greeting all those strangers around who wish to enter festivities. "Good evening! Good evening!" Abraham's soft voice echoes on his way toward the door to the Great Hall. He holds a coin on the top of his thumb and makes it spring up. Then he catches it into his palam, and repeats the action idly as if he would be doing such a thing every day and night.

Tsingani's curious expression lurks around every corner of the place he has never seen before. He looks over the guards judging them mildly but offering that same smile. He is wearing baggy a bit short leather trousers of dark brown shade. His leather boots are also short and very simple with some remnants of mud after yesterday's rain. Abraham's brightly red shirt decorated by yellow, orange, brightly pink abstract ornaments are left loose and unbuttoned to reveal his firm but a bit hairy chest. However, the most impressive are those amulets, beads, pendants, anklets, rings and earrings he is wearing. They seem to come from variety of cultures, including the Tsingani one. Some are of a simple metal, some are of more precious. Green, yellow, red, blue, black, grey amulets adorn some of the jewelry. Some are plain or carved with weirdest symbols. His short curly black hair are tangled by the wind. The man also has a bit darker skin as if it would be tanned by the sun but obviously is not. That adds to the confirmation that he is a foreigner. The Tsingani tries to step through the door inside the Great Hall as if he is one of those many nobles with a free access to the place.

Upon hearing Isla's family connections, Jelene seems to relax a bit. Why, she even looks…positively pleased. She is smiling. A genuine, honest to Elua, happy smile. There is a huge relief also present in her gaze. "I meant no offense, My Lady." she says to Isla. "I only wanted to make sure of some things." She nods, tapping her foot a couple of times in glee. "You see…" She lowers her voice. "A woman of low birth had recently tried to approach Drake and seduce him, but he rebuffed her." she tells her. "I have been on my guard since." She then nods. "Why don't you come to dinner one night at the Rousse townhouse?" she asks her. It is then that Antoine and Marielle approach her. She smiles at both, still oddly chipper. "Ah, Mari." she says to the girl, affection in her tone. "How nice to see you again." She then looks to her companion. "Ah, Lord…Antoine, was it?" she asks him.

"You there! Stop."

Abraham will find his progress barred by two guards crossing their halberds, right in front of him. "You have no business here, Tsingano. The feast for the common folk is at the marketplace.", one of the grim looking Mereliot guards is quick to inform him.

Isla blinks at Jelene looking confused, but slowly understanding begins to blossom in her eyes and she nods. "I see. No offense was given, I was merely curious. And I assure you Lady Rousse my intentions regarding your brother are entirely honorable." She smiles softly the dinner invitation catching her by surprise as its offered. "If you wish it, then yes I would be delighted to." Turning to Marielle and Antoine as they approach she curtsies politely. "Hello, a pleasure to meet you both. I am Isla Cherevin."

<FS3> Marielle rolls Perception: Success. (8 2 3 4 6)

<FS3> Ailene rolls Perception: Good Success. (1 4 2 7 8 6 6)

The shout of "Tsingano" and the shouts of the guards barring one from entering has Ailene's bright red head snapping around in alarm. Eyes wide, she looks towards the enterance. Upon seeing someone she has never seen before being the the one shouted at, she seems sighs. However, she bites her lip and looks around the hall, watching how her peers react to such a spectacle. She squeezes her guard's arm and swallows nervously. She stands there, unsure of what to do, where to go, how to react. Finally, after a moment, she takes a deep breath, raises her chin higher, and pokes Cyrille with her elbow to signal to keep going. She ignores the the commotion.

"Excuse me?" Tsingani man stops confused. He looks at the guards who do not permit his entrance. "What do you mean common folk has a separate festivities? So, maybe the tournament will be also held separately? I registered to participate in the tournament, and common or noble, we will be competitors. We will fight on the same field! Yet, we common folk are casted aside during the opening of a celebration which is meant for everybody?!?" He raises his hands up showing that he is not planning to cause any violence but he is not moving aside as well. He waits for an answer. There is a glimmer of amusement in his eyes when he studies the guards.

<FS3> Cyriel rolls Perception: Failure. (5 5 2 4 6)
Cyriel spends 1 luck points on A Reroll of Perception.
<FS3> Cyriel rolls Perception: Good Success. (2 6 5 7 8)

The Alban ambassador arrives with what can be called purposeful timing, just late enough to make a grand arrival but not so late to have missed anything truly exciting. Aedhwyn's hair has been worn coiffed into an arrangement that is a partial updo prominently showing the tattoo at her temple though it also helps secure the delicate diamond and sapphire tiara worn upon her head. Dot of Courcel blue can be seen across her cheekbones along with the occasional glimpse of sapphire or gold decorations in the braids in her updo. She smiles, her chin held high as she is announced, a pause of several moments before she proceeds into the room at large. With her is an imposing looking man that could not be mistaken for anything other than an Alban warrior, woad and tattoos visible on just about every inch of exposed skin. He follows the young lady at a few paces, watching over her charge with care.

The hubbub at the Grand Hall's entrance swiftly captures the attention of a woman who misses nothing. Isabelle, still nursing her wine, inclines her head towards where the guards are attempting to get a Tsingano to leave. There's a slight incline of her head, and while her smile remains, it is somewhat inscrutable in its bent. The wine on the table is almost gone - an entire bottle consumed until nothing but a few drops are left, but the woman remains attentive and clear-eyed, as if all she has been drinking has been water the entire evening. Not even a blush of inebriation colors the faintly sunkissed cheeks.

"Hm," she murmurs before a server steps up to her and stoops towards her seated form, to murmur softly in her ear. She acknowledges the whispered message with a brief nod, and a winning smile - it razes over her expression like summer, bright and liable to blind the unwary. "And if you could send over something stronger? Brandy perhaps. Much obliged."

An unreadable expression crosses Marielle's face at something she hears but the veils hide the majority of her reaction and the lowering of her lashes hides the rest. Marielle shows nothing of what it is that caught her attention as she gives a sweet smile up to Antoine, "Flattery gets you everywhere with me, my lord." A sweet smile is given to Ailene, "IT is a pleasure seeing you as well." then she gives a curtsy to Isla, "I'm Marielle no Rose Sauvage." Now the shout registers about Abraham and to the Guards Marielle calls, "I asked him to join Vicomte Antoine and I so that he might advise me on some matters." The lie falls from Marielle's lips quite easily. After all, her canon specializes in deception. Who would doubt the innocent little White Roses' word, after all?

Thibault is still standing not far from the center of the Great Hall, a goblet of wine is his hand that he has taken off a tray of one of the servants that moves slowly amongst the attending guests unobtrusively. His eyes scan the room but keeps returning to the entrance and lingering there for a short moment. Maybe he is expecting someone? Maybe he is considering calling it a very early night now that he has shown his face and greeted the Duchesse? He doesn't seem to be sure himself. Then his eyes light up and a smile forms on his lips as someone he recognizes enters, her barely hidden excitement and bright red curls making her easy to single out. He looks to Ailene and tries to catch her gaze but only a moment later he feels a hand tapping on his shoulder. He turns around and the smile faes fast from his face, his expression turning blank and his shoulders lowering slightly. It takes a moment for him to speak, and when he does the tone is flat and perhaps even a bit cold. "Hello Melvil…" His words are interrupted as his brother literally throws himself at Thibault in an embrace that seems to catch the dark haired Kusheline by surprise. "I trust you are well?" He says in a lowered voice while still being embraced by Melville. He just stands there, a look on his face like he doesn't really want to be here, in this situation.

<FS3> Ailene rolls Perception: Good Success. (3 3 8 2 8 8 6)

Maybe it was not the crossing of halberds at the doors. But that all too familiar voice of a Tsingano pulls Cyriel Charlot from his temporary respite at one of the tables. The man with the hawkish features looks up, and his pale eyes narrow instantly as he moves to stand and walks over to the doors at a determined yet unhurried pace. The fact that another makes her entrance through the second set of double doors is noted, an incline of his head given to Aedhwyn as he passes her. But Cyriel's destination is clear. As much as his intent.

"Now. What have we here?", the Kusheline asks, his voice low but nonetheless menacing. "What was your name again, Tsingano?" It sounds like a genuine question. If the trader would have introduced himself, Cyriel might have forgotten his name.

"Why you haven't send me a message? The duchess herself told me that she spoke to you. She was literally confused about us!" Melville laughs. "I have been thinking of you. Wondering how have you been doing. Here you are! In front of me! So…" He looks the man over, making sure that his brother bares no additional scares which would speak of the Thibault's past. "… so perfect, and healthy!" He simply finishes. "I am here with a lady," he explains. "I have to entertain her, but, please, do tell me at least a few words. Are you planning to stay here for long?"

Antoine nods at Jelene's words, offering her a smile. "That is right," he replies, before he adds, "I hope you are well?" Isla is offered another smile and a nod. "Antoine Valais," he greets her. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he offers, before he pauses at Marielle speaks towards Abraham and the guards, offering them all a smile and a nod.

"Common folk are not allowed," the Mereliot guard repeats towards Abraham. "This fete is for nobility and those of standing." He does not seem to be inclined to launch into a discussion about rules and regulations. The arrival of the Vicomte makes his expression tighten. "The situation is under control, my lord. There is no need to interfere.", he informs him.

Not everyone can be on time, whether on purpose or not. Perhaps the Vicomte de Rouen got caught in work, or simply wanted to make an entrance. Either way he arrives, raising an eyebrow at some hullaballoo near the entryway. Augustin is dressed for the occasion in a shirt of fine white linen beneath a blue velvet doublet with gold stars embroidered on it; similarly colored trousers tuck in to polished black boots. Over it all he wears the collar of a Knight of the White Swan, and a fashionable white half cape over one shoulder with the symbol of the order embroidered on it. He pauses to look around and orient himself as he considers the room.

Ailene still has this look of worry clouding her face now, from the commotion at the entrance. Yet she keeps that smile in place as she walks, though her body is a bit stiffer than usual. Suddenly, her eyes light up as she sees a familiar face. The Tsingano at the entrance flies away from her mind. However…Something is off. "Wait a moment…" she murmurs and halts a good ways away. She is staring at Melville. Whom has the same face as Thibault, yet blonde hair. She watches as the light haired one goes to approach the dark haired one and suddenly, she laughs aloud! "Why, they are the same as me and Ari!" she giggles, elbowing Cyrille again. The poor guard is still looking desperate for someone to come relieve him of his escort duties. "Fascinating…" he replies in a bored, nervous voice. Ailene does Cyrille a favor and stops holding his arm. "I shall be over there." she murmurs to him, indicating where the handsome set of twins are, now…embracing awkwardly. With that, she heads in that direction, delight evident on her face.

And like magic, Isabelle gets what she asks for; a bottle of potent, deep amber brandy - not the stuff that hails from Somerville lands, but an unforgiving spirit that burns and soothes all the way down. A snifter placed before her, the designer lets the serving boy pour it for her before picking it up. There's a quiet word of gratitude given, before reaching out from behind the fair-haired lad's ear, 'plucking' a coin from seemingly empty air and setting it on his platter. The slave ring on her left hand gleams in the light - gold links that start from a bracelet and end in a ring set with a single polished cat's eye garnet, set upon her left hand's middle finger.

The Tsingano's plight catches the attention of others; for a moment, Cyriel's tall form blocks Isabelle's view and a streak of red moves past - Ailene's red hair is ever eye-catching, watching her move and follow the wake of the Charlot twins. And then, Augustin, whose sudden presence - late but not never - causes her to lift her brows faintly in surprise. As she plucks her brandy off the table and takes a sip, whenever she manages to catch his eye, she affords him an easy smile and a lift of her snifter in a silent toast.

"Oh oh oh! Just look at that! Common folk is not permitted to the festivities and yet we do all the hard work, and yet we die for you in battles, and yet we do-…" His rant fades immediately upon the image of Cyriel. Tsingani takes a step backwards. "Abraham, m'lord!" Tsingani answers to the lord who comes forward before taking a few more steps backwards. "Did you like my gift which I have sent to you? Are you planning on using it during the tournament?" Two more steps are taken backwards away from Cyriel. Though, Abraham keeps his attentive look on the man. But he doesn't stop. He moves backwards. Away from the great hall. "Simply unfair!" He adds to the guards even if his eyes are on Cyriel. His hands are still up, showing that he is here with peace of sorts! He is backing up. Backing up. But with a wide wide grin.

Marielle does not seem at all concerned that she randomly decided to use Antoine as a means to do what she wants. She just decides to go back to settling against his side when the matter of Abraham seems well sorted out now.

Aedhwyn blinks as she turns towards the bit of commotion at the other set of doors. The room is quickly scanned from her vantage point, a few smiles and nods of her head as she catches the eye of people she recognizes - Armandine, Ailene, Marielle, Thibault, and not-Thibault. Her head gives a bit of a quirk, a single eyebrow raised as she watches the mirror image twins interact. A small sound is made and her companion, that is to say her guard, peels off to join the other guards, presumably unneeded within the palace grounds. She moves into the room, her first stop, the hostess.

Jelene turns to Isla. "Mari is a cousin of mine." she tells her, reaching out to touch Mari's arm in affection. "She is also the most perfect Alyssum of her canon that I have ever known." She says this proudly, and wears a smile that says so. To Antoine, she nods. "I have been, yes, though busy." She sighs. "In fact, I shall have to soon take my leave." She looks disappointed, but shrugs. "I still have some urgent business matters to attend to." To Isla, her voice is warm. "I am under the impression that his intentions towards you are honorable as well, My Lady." she says to her. "Which is why I am so utterly delighted to meet you." She chuckles. "Yes, please, come for dinner soon." she says to her. "We can surprise him." That makes her look extremely amused. It is then that one of her guards appears and makes his way to her, whispering in her ear. She sighs and nods. "I fear tis the time for my farewells." she says. "Lord Antoine, this is the second time such a thing has occurred." She dips her head in sincere apology. "Please accept my apology and I hope we may meet again in the future, when business is not pulling me away." To Mari, she offers a kiss on her cheek, above the veil. To Isla, she nods in farewell and takes her hands, giving them a squeeze. "I shall expect you soon." she says to her, then lets go. "By the way, please don't forget to try the red wine being served." she tells them. "Tis our Dragon's Blood."

It takes a moment after his brother has released him from his embrace, but the expression on Thibault's face soften slightly. He looks to the entrance again at the commotion and his cousin moving to 'handle the situation' but doesn't otherwise react to the scene taking place there. Then he looks back to his brother. "I…it's good to see you too, brother, although I had hoped our reunion would have been in a less public venue." A small sigh. "I am not sure how long my stay here in Marsilikos will be, I only came to take care of some family business and to get a chance to see the city and introduce myself to the Duchesse." A beat. "How have you been? You look like you are doing as well as I had expected." The tone is still very formal for a greeting of brothers who has not seen each other in over a decade. He glances shortly up towards the exit again and notices Ailene approaching, giving her an inviting smile to come join them. Now that the cat is out of the bag, no need to not be polite and make introductions. Besides, not being one-on-one with his brother might make things a little easier.

Cyriel is unarmed. Of course, to wear a blade within the palace is only permitted to the guards and certain members of the Duchesse's retinue. And as if to emphasize that, the Kusheline lifts his hands, in what outwardly could be perceived as a jovial gesture. "Abraham." He repeats the name. "Your gift. Yes. I received that blade. You are asking whether I will be using it in the tourney?" He focuses his pale blue gaze on the man, approaching slowly while the other appears to back away from him. "Right now I can imagine other uses for it, to be honest." The menace that goes with these quietly spoken words may be fully intentional. "Take my advice, Tsingano. You don't want to go in there and cause a fuss. You don't want to challenge these guards. And least of all, you don't want to rouse my anger. Begone. Go to the market. There will be enough celebration during the tourney, I'd wager."

Abraham raises his hand in a gesture of 'See you' after hearing Cyriel's threats. It does not steal his smile away, but the man turns on his heel to fuck off from a closed noble-bores party. However, he still shouts out one more time, "NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR!" And one more wave of his hand is given, even if his back is simply turned toward the Cyriel and the guards now since he is moving out of the Palace, and disappears.

Augustin doesn't fail to notice the presence of his sister giving him an alcoholic salute. Lacking a drink in return he offers a simpler salute, touching two fingers to his temple as he scans the room. He walks into the room in search of something himself, and grins when he sees Isabelle being poured a snifter of what looks very much like what he wants to imbibe. "You have prescintly good taste, my lady," Augustin offers before inveigling the serving boy to pour him one as well.

Armandine looks towards the double doors and a soft sigh escapes her. She does not look alarmed, and really, there is not much time to focus her attention there, when already others are filtering in. She notices the Ambassador of Alba, and turns towards Aedhwyn to greet her. "How pleasant it is to see you," she says. "Lady Aedhwyn. I take it, you will attend the competitions. I hope we will be able to watch some fine contests."

Isla blinks at Jelene, looking both amused and surprised when the woman mentions her brothers intentions. "Is that so? We shall see then." She offers a curtsey as Jelene prepares to go, smiling softly as her hand is squeezed. "Take care Lady Rousse, I shall await your invitation for dinner." She smiles gently and nods. "I have heard good things about the Dragon's Blood, I shall be certain to try some."

Antoine is unable to hold back a chuckle as Jelene prepares to depart. "Now you're almost making me think you're afraid of me, my lady," he offers, a bit lightly. Smiling at the mention of the wine, he nods, "I'll make sure to try the wine, I promise," he offers, before he looks to Marielle and Isla, offering them both a smile. A moment as he looks around the room, gaze stopping on Isabelle for a few moments, offering her a smile and a nod.

"Oh, brother, I am not that well. I do miss home. I do miss home so much. I missed you as well!" He leans in and speaks in a hushed voice, "But I was close to you at the same time. I always knew when you were ill or felt angry. I tried to support you, thinking of you and hoping for the best. Sending my wishes to you." He looks back at the lady with whom he has come. "I really must get back to her, but, please, don't leave the town before visiting me at the Salon. We have so many things to discuss. I could show you so many paintings of mine. I would like that you would bring one back to our father!" The young man leans forward to try and give another embrace to his twin, if allowed. Allowed or not, he would also add, "You have no idea how much joy your presence gives to me. It's as if you bring home to me!" He rubs the back of his neck a bit shyly pushing aside some of his white hair and revealing a stained neck and a collar. Blue paint. His fingers are also visibly still dirty from hardly washed paints as well. "Anyway, I have to go back to my duties, and I am pretty sure you want to enjoy the company of some others. Please, visit me!"

Aedhwyn smiles brightly at Armandine, "Your grace, it is, as always, a pleasure to see you and I do plan on joining the tournament. I had also hoped to share some of my own culture, with your permission. A few games and a night of revelry as we might have in celebration and anticipation of a good harvest to come." She laughs a bit, "There is another celebration after the harvest upon the equinox lest we forget to be thankful."

"I would hardly be able to present myself as a woman well-versed with very fine things indeed if I'm not able to imbibe like a man now and then," Isabelle tells Augustin when he joins her, nodding to the serving boy and indicates for him to pour a snifter, as well, for the Vicomte de Rouen. "I've not managed to see you lately given my mother's poor health - it's to the point where I have had to move her to the country. But I did mean to ask if you intended to compete at the tournament and if so, what events. Likely it would be obvious." Mischief lights up her eyes. "But I am asking regardless."

There's another glance at the trouble with the Tsingano before she continues. "I was just thinking of you, actually, but for something else other than the project I've asked you about. Once again, I'm shamelessly attempting to avail myself of your expertise, if you would deign to give it." Eyes lift to meet his, head inclining slightly. "Would you have time to have dinner with me at some point in between events? My queries are a little more… specific this time around."

Ailene finally approaches the Charlot twins just as the lighter haired one departs. She looks after him, a pout of disappointment playing upon her lips, but it disappears as she turns her face to Thibault. "Lord Thibault." she says to him, her cheeks turning instantly rosy. "You never mentioned you had a twin." she says to him, smiling. "Even after I mentioned of having one myself." She laughs softly. "We are the same as the both of you." she tells him. "Same face, but different hair." She gestures in the direction his brother has gone. "Arianne is blonde like he is." she says. A servant passes by and she takes a glass of white wine, nodding her thanks.

"That sounds delightful," says the Duchesse de Mereliot, inclining her head to Aedhwyn. "I am not sure I will be able to attend. I will try to catch some of the traditional tourney competitions, but you know how it is. Duties might interfere, at the most inopportune times. For tonight and the contests hosted by my court, be welcome and please, enjoy yourself."

Cyriel watches Abraham disappear, and the chill that had entered his demeanor does not leave right away. "Keep up your good work," he tells the Mereliot guards and then makes his way back into the Great Hall - and if only to blend into the background, as casual observer of the proceedings.

Aedhwyn nods her head, adding in a tone of commiseration of someone that just knows the struggle is real. "I understand completely but should you have the ability, you would be welcomed with open arms and drink." She smiles brightly, "But on that note, I believe I will move further into the room as as not to monopolize you entirely. I will have enough time to chat once we are seated." She curtsies with a slight nod of her head before taking a step back.

Augustin quirks an eyebrow at Isabelle's comment of her mother's health. "I'm sorry to hear that she has been unwell. Give her my well wishes the next time you see her," he offers as he takes a sip of his brandy. "Well," he offers wryly, "Yes, I do plan on compete, in the two more obvious events I could. Duelling and the grand melee, barring emergency or catastrophe." He chuckles. "My expertise is yours to request, and I would be happy to come see you for dinner. Although you could just ask for dinner and not need the excuse of a question," he teases wryly.

"I missed you too." Thibault replies with a nod, but the words doesn't sound like he is really sure if he means it or not. "Trust me, I know." are the next words, spoken almost inaudibly, at the mention of his brother always being with him even when they are apart, as they have been for most of their lives. "Yes, I promise I'll come visit you at the salon before departing. I have some things I would like to talk to you about, too. But please, return to your duties, I wouldn't want to stir the ire of your patron by keeping you from her side." With that, he gives his brother another light embrace as it is offered and let's Melville return to the lady he is escorting this evening. His eyes follow his brother as he leaves, but then what seems like more readily welcome company arrives in the form of the Young Trevalion lady he had met the day before and and he greets her with a warm smile. "Lady Ailene, I am glad to see that you found the time to attend the festivities this evening, I was starting to think that you might not show up." An almost apologetic smile at her surprise of him having a twin brother. "Yes, I hope you don't take offense, I really didn't intend to hide the fact. I just haven't seen my brother in quite some time and I had intended to go visit him at some time before…well, speaking of him much. It's complicated, hardly a topic for a beautiful evening as tonight." He looks genuinely surprised as she mentions her own twin also having a different shade of hair but with an identical face. He then seems to remember something and looks around for a short moment. "Where is your cousin, Narcisse? Is he not joining us this evening? I would have thought that you two would have come together after what you told me yesterday?"

When Jelene kisses her cheek as she leaves Marielle returns it then curtsies to Isla as she also leaves. To Antoine Marielle returns the smile then asks, "Anyone else of interest to you, my lord?" she wonders.

Jehan-Pascal has been around, at least for a while, long delayed in conversation in the Entrance Hall by those whose exchanges of greeting have led them out of the Grand Hall proper for a somewhat less crowded place to socialize on the fringes of the party. When he finally remembers that he ought to present himself in the hall proper, it's later in the course of events and he makes no grand entrance, only milling in as if he had milled out a while back, joining himself with the general boil of events and easing in nicely, already well-lubricated by a half bottle of wine to the depths of which he is casually libating a generous glass even as he saunters in. Alone! Alas! Dear Mari on the arm of another, both of whom get a cheerful raise of the glass from JP when he spies them. Mari's easy to spot in a crowd, after all. And he himself is looking just rather spiff, if he might say so himself. He doesn't generally care to dress in reds, but this red is a deep one just tinged with enough purple as not to glare, and it suits his coloration; a smart doublet with tails and a tall collar, a structured trouser with a fluted detail pinched down the side of each thigh and buttoned in silver above a pair of dove-grey stockings which draw out the purple in the hue of the pant. His outfit is evocative of the hunt and sprightly sport without tending toward a masquerade, and he moves so easily in it that it reads quite comfortable, to boot.

A peal of low rich laughter escapes her. "When have you ever known me to need an excuse to do something, my lord chevalier?" Isabelle wonders, grinning faintly from where she sits. After another sip of brandy, she taps her finger against the crystalline surface. "I mean to ask you about the marines, actually, but another time and place. On my part I look forward to watching you compete…it should prove to be interesting, perhaps not unlike bullfights in Aragonia." She falls into banter easily, brimming with her characteristic good humor that tempers slightly when she finally addresses his regards for her mother. "I'll let her know, though if she starts delivering specific queries about what I'm doing spending time with the Vicomte de Rouen, you'll be happy to know that I'm putting all the blame on your feet, now that I've apparently secured for myself a carte blanche for dinner invitations."

She leans across the table, dropping her voice. "But as always, I'm grateful for your generosity." Eyes catch something at the far end of the room. "And while I had hoped to catch up a little more, I'm afraid I'm being called away." She starts to rise then. "Hence I will have to ask you to hold onto whatever curiosity you may have until our shared repast." A hand pressed on the table, she dips her head and touches her mouth against his cheek in parting.

Aedhwyn turns and sees a very familiar face in the form of Jehan-Pascal. Her smile brightens, "You look stunning this evening, my lord." She moves forward brushing the lightest and chastest of kisses against his cheek. "You can not imagine how glad I am to see you here."

Augustin doesn't lose his grin at Isabelle's words, but then nods. "I'll be happy to answer any questions that you have," he answers honestly. "I like the bracelet, by the way," he offers teasingly, bantering back and then laughing. "Well, it won't be the first time someone's mother is overly curious at me. Or annoyed at me," he offers, before he raises an eyebrow but nods. "Of course, I'll look forward to it."

"I swear I took a bath today…" Antoine offers lightly as Jelene and then Isla departs, before he pauses a little as he hears Marielle's question, looking around the room a bit thoughtfully. "Well, there's one of my cousins over there…" A nod in the direction of Isabelle, before he adds, "But she seems to be busy at the moment." He turns to look around again, a bit thoughtfully.

When she spots Jehan-Pascal Marielle smiles and lifts her hand in a delicate wave towards him, naturally bidding him over. A small tug is given to Antoine's arm to guide him to Jehan-Pascal so she can give him a kiss in greeting. Up at Antoine she looks, "We can see if she is available after we have spoken to Jehan-Pascal."

Ailene waves a hand, indicating that it is of no concern that Thibault didn't mention having a twin at their introduction the day before. "I was only teasing you, My Lord." she says with a pretty little smile. "One would hardly expect to hear personal details when they are first introduced, right?" she asks, batting her lashes at him just a little bit. She isn't full on flirting with him. Not yet. She is just a tiny bit, though. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at him. His mention of Narcisse, though, has her frowning. "I have not seen hide nor hair of him since yesterday, My Lord." she tells him, sighing and then sipping her wine. "Who knows where he has skulked off to." She does glance at the entrance, though, just in case he might show, but he still hasn't so she shrugs. "His loss." she says to Thibault. "He is missing quite the quite the show." She giggles and sips some more. "I was getting my hair decorated." she murmurs, blushing. She reaches up to lightly touch her very artfully styled red hair. Pins of silken water lilies have been decorated all around an elaborate updo, a few bright crimson strands left to tickle and caress the nape of her neck. "Were you…" Now she does flirt more. "Perhaps waiting for me, My Lord?" she asks, lowering her eyes shyly while a bright pink blush starts flushing upon her cheeks and spreading down her unadorned neck and painting over the skin exposed above her bodice. She glances up at him, giving him that same shy, coquettish look she gave him the day before. It is then, out of the corner of her eye she sees something shocking. Her flirty face is immediately erased and she is staring, wide eyed, at her brother and Lady Isabelle. "Great Elua!" she exclaims. "I didn't have to do anything there, either!" She shakes her head in wonder. "They found themselves all by themselves!" She now raises her wine glass to Auggie and gives him a very, very, VERY pleased smirk.

"Aden!" The Alban princess, likewise, hard to miss in a crowd, especially when she's coming to meet you. Jehan-Pascal opens out his arms, warmed to the back teeth by wine and festivity, and uses the fingers of his free hand to beckon her in, shoulders angled back and pelvis forward before he reverses the posture and returns the cheek-kiss in a manner most genially urbane, with a bit of a hug. "Aw, thanks," he adds, turning with a little hip action to give a casual sweep of those sporty tails he's sporting. "It's one of the Lady Isabelle de Valais' creations, she's designing me a new fall wardrobe. She told me to let her take a risk on red, and I have to say I'm glad I said yes," he proceeds casually enough. "Who did your hair?" he asks her back, "It's beautifully done. And those sapphires," he grins a big, goofy grin. Yes, he's soaked, but he carries himself as well drunk as sober, if not better. "Come, who's escorting you this evening? My arm is bare and even if we don't match— walk with me a little while," he offers his arm to her to see whether she'll deign to take it.

Aedhwyn nods her head, "I will have to meet her but I hope to be wearing one of Paris' creations later this week." She blushes quite a bit, the rose rising on her cheeks. "As for who is escorting me, I believe you are, even if we do not match. This day we are a meeting of opposites, your fiery reds and my ice blues." She giggles, seeming to enjoy Jehan's slightly inebriated antics. "I see a few people that I know but I am sure that you know quite a few more before I must take my spot at the high table and don't get to meet anyone else at all." There a little pout to her voice with a small one on her lips but she just can't keep it there before the smile quickly returns.

Antoine nods as he hears Marielle's words, "Sounds like a good idea," he replies, offering her another smile. He's happy to let himself be tugged for now.

"Excellent," Jehan-Pascal enthuses softly as Aedhwyn consents to be on his arm for the evening and save him from a night of wallflowering. He would add the gentlemanly pressure of his other hand to take the ambassador on his arm the more fully, but he's already juggling a wine glass in his off hand, so he just makes certain to hold still while she establishes herself upon his arm, "Oh, I see, introductions, is it? Well, I'll take you on a circuit of the room and do my level best for you," he laughs warmly, looking from Aedhwyn to start scanning the room for the most likely way to reach the outer bounds of the standing space for maximum schmooze potential. But, "Oh, here's Mari," he remarks, seeing her drawing Anoine over toward them, "And the Lord de Valais," he grins at the both of them on their approach, "How are you both? What a charming couple you make, to-night!"

Thibault gives Ailene a small appreciative nod as she assures him that she is not upset. "Yes, I agree, but I wanted to make it clear since you /did/ tell me about your own sister. Might I get the pleasure of meeting her tonight, or is she otherwise occupied. Two of you in one room seems….like a thing I'd want to experience." He says with a sparkle in the depth of those golden amber eyes. He frowns a bit as she answers his question about the absence of her cousin Sissy, but the smile doesn't disappear. "Well, maybe his pride got hurt more severely than at first glance, or maybe he simply had better things to do, although I can't imagine what that would be. Maybe he had enough 'show' yesterday? As you say, his loss" He answers with a hint of humor in his voice and a faint shrug a he remembers back to the events the day before. He doesn't seem to upset by the fact, even if he would have welcomed another chance to meet the young lord. He takes another sip of wine as she explains the reason for her delayed appearance tonight. He reaches out a hand to brush two fingers gently down the side of her neck, tilting his head to give the styling of hair a more thorough look. "Well worth the wait.." He says in a low voice, as much to himself as to Ailene. "You look absolutely stunning this evening. Not that I could imagine you otherwise." He adds a moment later as his eyes lower to lock with hers and a slightly embarrassed smile plays over his lips. "Was it really that obvious?" He reaches for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. Then his eyes follow hers to the place where her brother and Isabelle are conversing, a bit of confusion on his face. His features lighten again as the cause for her reaction becomes clear. A small laugh is exhaled through the nose as he looks back to her. "A 'project' of yours?" He inquires with a strong hint of mirth in his voice.

Augustin notices the very self satisfied look that his sister gives him and shakes his head, rolling his eyes slightly. He doesn't dignify her salute with one of his own, but instead takes a very long draw from his own brandy.

Aedhwyn smiles at the first of the introductions. One is a familiar face in Mari, but the other is not quite so familiar through she may have glimpsed him a time or two. She performs a small curtsey, really more of a nod of her head and just the slightest dip of her knees. "Lord Valais, it is a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance and Mari, it is always a pleasure to see you. You look as lovely as ever."

Ailene sighs and shakes her head at Thibault. "No, she is unable to attend this evening." she says sadly. "She has been staying at Eisheth's Temple to study healing." she explains. "I have missed her terribly." She looks down into her wine glass, twirling the stem of the glass a little. "I hope she returns soon." she murmurs. She perks back up, though, quickly enough. "I shall have to introduce you to her." she says to him, flashing a smile at the young lord. "Perhaps the four of us can get together sometime." She seems to like that idea very much and giggles again, this time softly, as she finishes the wine in her glass. "No doubt Sissy is embarrassed." she says to him. "He is Azzalleze, after all, and it wasn't his best moment yesterday." She says this dryly, with a little smirk. "I am planning on teasing him mercilessly when I next see him, though." she adds, a sparkle of mischief entering her eyes. Then Thibault is reaching out and touching her, brushing his fingers down the side of her neck! She goes completely still and her eyes widen. Her whole face flushes in surprised pleasure at his gentle caress. So flustered has he made her, that it takes her a moment to realize he has complimented her on her appearance. "Th— thank you, My Lord." she says, this time genuinely bashful. She bites her lip and looks down again but does not pull her hand away when he takes it and gives it a squeeze. "Were you really?" she asks him then, about waiting for her, her gaze raising again to show the humor is still in their depths. "I was teasing you again when I asked, but you sound so sincere in your answer." It makes her smile a pleased smile, then she is nodding to him about Augustin. She moves closer to him and, because he is so tall, stands upon her tiptoes to whisper into his ear.

Antoine smiles as he hears what's said. "Rather well, my lord. I hope you are well too," he offers to Jehan-Pascal, before he adds, "Although I must say it takes some time getting used to these big gatherings." There's a polite nod offered in return to Aedhwyn, along with a smile. "Likewise," he replies, before he adds, "I hope you are enjoying yourself?

"Hello, Jehan-Pascal." says Marielle once her and Antoine are with him and Aedwyn. She lifts up to give JP a kiss in greeting then one to the cheek of Aedwhyn, unless she resists, "It is always a pleasure seeing you, my lady." THen back against Antoine Marielle settles, "As I told Antoine.." a pause is given and Marielle corrects herself, "Viscomte Antoine, it is on his dime that I am with him this evening. So, of course, I dress to make him look ideal with me." There is a note of teasing in her voice towards the nobleman she is on the arm of.

Thibault nods slowly and offers a comforting smile. "I know how you feel." Is the words he manages as his eyes lower and turn distant for a moment. He looks back up quickly, though, as she mentions the two of them and their siblings getting together, the more mirthful smile returning. "I would very much like that. From what you have told me I think your sister and my brother would enjoy each others company and if your sister is even slightly like yourself, I know that I certainly will. A small chuckle as she talks about her cousin Sissy and how she is gonna tease him when next they meet. "I would love to be there for that." He adds, another chuckle escaping his lips.

His chest rises and falls in a small but deep sigh at her reaction to his touch, his eyes turning softer and a small adoring smile pulling one corner of his lips. "Well, for the sake of me not sounding completely desperate, let's just say that I….eschewed other offers in hopes that someone special might show up tonight." A small wink at this. "I normally don't attend events like this on my own.".

He lowers himself slightly from his upright posture to allow her easier access to whisper into his ear. His eyes again find where her older brother and the lady she named as Lady Isabelle were conversing before looking at her and speaking back in a hushed voice meant only for her.

"I am, as it happens, my Lord," Jehan-Pascal over-enunciates his words somewhat, overcoming the lethargic warmth of the wine with sheer force of personality, "It's going to be an exciting week, and this is a fitting opening to the festivities," he bubbles slightly. "Have you met Aedhwyn mab Mor Rioghain? She's an ambassador from Alba?" It's a rhetorical question— he wouldn't be making introductions if he had. Then he's lifting his wine glass and grinning when Mari comes up to greet him, returning the kiss to her opposite cheek but not going so far as to free his arm from Aedhwyn's. "Hey there," he chuckles. "And you do it so well. Aedhwyn and I are going to take a lap of the room and wear out our marvelously tailored elbows. But save me a dance later, maybe?"

Aedhwyn smiles and nods, "I am thus far, though I must agree about it taking time to grow accustomed to these large gatherings. It's a bit….intimidating if I must be honest." A touch of colour rises on her cheeks at the greeting from Marielle. "Actually, the Alban embassy will be sponsoring a couple of events to help introduce a bit of our culture. A few games and a night of revelry. Please tell me that you will consider join us."

Ailene 's face lights up and a grin appears as she listens to whatever Thibault whispers to her. She nods, agreeing with whatever is said, then pulls back again. "Ari is quite wonderful." she says to him. "She is very kind and…" She chuckles. "A lot more soft spoken than me." That makes her giggle. "I think you would like her." About Narcisse, she outright laughs. "I could invite you to listen to it." she teases. "If you so desire, though it would be an even bigger blow to his pride." Another laugh, as she pictures it, then he is making her blush again with his flirtatious words. "I am quite honored, my lord." she says to him. "That you waited for me." Now, her eyes are darting around the great hall, before they turn back to him. She pauses, as if to think about something, then stands upon her tiptoes again to whisper into his ear.

Antoine smiles, nodding as he hears that. "I think we've only met in passing," he replies. "I'm happy to finally have been properly introduced, my lady," he offers to the Ambassador, before he offers a grin at Marielle's words. "Well spent money, I assure you," he replies, before he nods a bit about the week. "It will be quite interesting indeed," he replies.

"More soft spoken than you? Noo…" Thibault replies in an overly serious tone that still manages to hold a great amount of mirth, mirth which is further accentuated by the way his eyes flare. "I am nothing but convinced that I would enjoy her company, I do hope we get a chance to all get together. I am sure that you would both enjoy the company of my brother as well. He is a soft soul who manages to somehow see the good in everyone, no matter who they are or what they have done. It's quite remarkable really, as clichà and boring as it may sound."

Her words about her cousin Narcisse and the laughter it draws from her almost have him laugh as well, but he manages to suppress it to a highly amused grin. "I would very much like that." He manages to say before suppressing an outright laughter at the thought, and perhaps, thoughts of the previous evening. "And /you/ honor /me/ by choosing to spend your time here tonight in my company with so many fine and assuredly interesting people attending." He answers, lowering his head in an appreciative, courtly nod.

He again drops his posture down a few inches and turns his head slightly to allow easy access for her whisper. A small nod at her words before straightening again and looking around, a hand coming up to comb through the thick black hair that almost instinctively fall back in exactly the same way as before. Then he leans back down and answers in a whisper of his own.

Around Jehan-Pascal Marielle's arms curl in his responding greeting, utterly unconcerned (for an Alyssum) about the display of affection she shows him. "I've always a dance for you, Jehan-Pascal." she tells him with a smile from her spot at Antoine's side. Then to Aedhwyn she smiles, "I will most assuredly attend if I am able too, my lady. I would be heartbroke to miss an event you are hosting." Up at Antoine MArielle glances, giving him the sweetest of smiles before leaning up to peck a kiss on him by way of response.

Aedhwyn smiles, "Wonderful. I will look forward to your presence at the tournament and being able to explain some of our games. You should also keep an weather eye for me at the tournaments. I hope to compete in at least a couple of events."

"Aww," Jehan-Pascal smiles sideways at Mari when she promises him a dance so sweetly. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he grins half-threateningly, "But later," he does make to excuse himself and his companion, blowing Mari a quick air-kiss, when he's surprised to hear that Aedhwyn means to compete. As he begins to guide her along, "Wh— really? Which ones?" he wonders. "I'll have to be sure to come out and see you compete. You already won one nice prize this week, haven't you?" he adds with a sly smile. Yeah, that comment earlier didn't entirely slip past him.

Antoine smiles as he listens, nodding a bit to what's being said. "I have not decided if I will be participating in anything yet," he says, before he smiles at Marielle. "Shall we step outside for some air? It's always nice to get some fresh air while attending things like this." It's offered quietly as he watches the other two starting to move around the room.

Aedhwyn blushes vividly, turing a lovely shade of crimson. "Archery and I have not decided whether I shall enter the grand melee or the duel." She walks with Jehan-Pascal to meet the next few people. "I might enter all three but I am not entirely certain if that might be a bit…well much. I am not sure what to expect from your tournaments or how they work." She lowers her voice, "As for the other matter. I am exploring d'Angeline culture and becoming more familiar with my grandmother's people."

<FS3> Jehan-Pascal rolls Politics: Success. (2 1 3 8 4 5 5 2 4)
Jehan-Pascal spends 1 luck points on Re-Roll Politics.
<FS3> Jehan-Pascal rolls Politics: Failure. (1 4 4 4 2 4 6 2 2)

Ailene laughs aloud again, a tinkling sound, full of girlish mirth. "You think I am soft spoken, my lord?" she asks Thibault, her eyes dancing in barely suppressed amusement. "Ah, but you would, of course." She blushes and lowers her voice. Not to a whisper again. Not yet. Just enough to be a bit of a murmur. "I am trying to be on my best behavior." she confides, barely able to keep from giggling again. "I am usually getting in trouble, believe me." She turns her face in her brother's direction. "If you do not, you can always ask him. I am the mischief maker of the family." A servant comes by again and she takes to glasses, handing one to him and keeping the other for herself. "Once you see me in a normal, everyday situation, you would see I am actually quite the chatterbox." She grins at him. "Your brother sounds exactly like my sister." she then says. "So I don't think it boring or cliche at all. Do you?" she then asks, lifting a brow. However, again! "Goodness, my lord!" she says, smiling from ear to ear now and blushing all the more. "If you keep flattering me so much, you risk my my face becoming red as a raspberry!" She sips at her wine, then as he whispers back to her, she listens. There is a moment of pause, of a nervous heartbeat with his face so close to her, breathing in her water lily perfume. Her lips smile, though, and though she stands there for a moment after, as though in a daze, it does not take her long to come back to her senses. "I have heard about the powers of you Kushelines!" she teases him and sets her glass down. She looks towards the exit and raises a brow, batting her lashes.

A quick kiss is given to Jehan-Pascal and to Aedhwyn before Marielle settles against Antoine again, "I'll be back later." Maybe. Marielle is a little devil, after all. At least with those she is fond of. Antoine's 'breath of air' will probably turn into ore. "Shall we then, my lord?" she asks him.

Antoine nods with a smile, starting to lead the way outside.

Jehan-Pascal takes it as his mission to lead Aedhwyn about the room and find the most important people of note to whom to introduce her as they pass each section of the room. But either his timing is off, and he doesn't quite make the people he was aiming for without them first being intercepted by others for whom an interruption with further introductions would be a boorish act, or else he gets distracted greeting friends and colleagues of his, instead, and, lulled by long swallows of wine, ends up boring poor Aedhwyn with talk of business in which she has no particular invested interest. At least she gets maybe a couple unimportant contacts under her belt by the time they make it across the room, though Jehan-Pascal is less than satisfied by his performance. He'll have another glass of wine to ease the sting of what he had set out to do coming up short.

<FS3> Aedhwyn rolls Presence + Politics: Good Success. (5 5 6 7 3 8)

Aedhwyn seems to take it all in stride making the best of the situation, joining in on topics as if she had a clue. While she might or might not, it did sound as if she knew what she was talking about and manages to leave each person as if they and their issue mattered. She smiles at Jehan, picking up a glass of wine along the way. "Thank you for introducing me around to people I might not have otherwise met."

Jehan-Pascal is grateful for Aedhwyn's taking that mess of a tour in stride, and he offers up a smile her way, a grudging budge of a corner of his mouth to show he knows that probably sucked for her and that she's just being very nice to him in turn. The wine-fueled dazzle in his eyes, sufficiently dampened by the ill turn of events, has waned, and just left him with the dregs of sluggish intoxication running in his veins. "I'm sorry," he finally laughs, half-bashfully. Fortunately, at that moment, the music dies down, dipping and then rising into the slow-swirling strains of a new song, one easy enough to sway along to even when drunk and not the best dancer— nay— ESPECIALLY when drunk and not the best dancer. "D'you want to have a dance?" he offers up to Aedhwyn, as if by way of an apology.

An amused smile tugs on the corners of his lips as Thibault listens to the words of Ailene. "Perhaps it's just due to the company I've been used to keeping back home. Soft spoken is not a trait that is overly present in Châteaugiron." He says with a small laugh of his own. "Based on yesterday's event, I am inclined to believe you." He adds shortly after with a raise of his brows and no less mirth in his voice, taking the glass offered to him and raising it in a small gesture to her before taking a sip.

His expression turns more sombre as talks return to the subject of siblings again. "I used to, I'll admit, but that was a long time ago." He says raising his gaze from her shortly, seemingly in contemplation. The smile returns fast, however. "I'm quite fond of raspberries." A sly smile and a small shrug at this. The smile widens slightly and there's a glimmer in the depth of those golden orbs. "Besides, you look quite adorable when you're blushing, so I'm rather inclined to keep it up for as long as I can, with your permission, of course." He says then, his tone teasing. A short moment passes as whispers are exchanged. "I certainly hope I live up to what you have heard, then. Hearing about it is one thing, experiencing it…quite another." Is his last words before he sets his own glas down and offers her his arm, leading her towards the exit slowly if she accepts it, whispering something into her ear as they walk.

Aedhwyn nods her head, "There is nothing to apologize for and I would love a dance." She smiles and sways with the music, graceful though she isn't necessarily a master of d'Angeline dance…yet.

Ailene laughs and nods at Thibault as he mentions the day before. "Yes, you saw me very well then, my lord." she says to him, regarding him with a bit of a teasing smirk. "Though you saw me at my most proud." she notes. When he speaks about thinking that about his brother, that it was a long time ago, her features soften and she nods. She opens her mouth to speak, but then glances around, noting the various people and servants. She shuts it. "I am curious, but I shall wait and ask you anything personal until we are…alone." she says, and blushes at that. She clears her throat. "Ahem." she says, doing her best to stay as composed as possible at this point and not melt into a puddle of shyness and innocence. That would certainly not do! "As do I!" she exclaims, not at all getting it if the raspberry comment was innuendo. "I am most fond of raspberry tarts and have them delivered twice a week from Madamoiselle Audrialla's bakery…" At that, she seems confused. Maybe there was…innuendo? Ah, no hope for it! She just smiles and blushes, shrugging. "Oh, there I go again!" she laughs, bringing her hands to her cheeks when he calls her blushing adorable. "Oh, Goodness, let us get out of here before people start to notice how flushed I am from your sweet talk!" Eyes twinkling, she takes his hand and lets him walk her out. As they walk and he he whispers, whatever he says has her eyes widening. She goes still, closes her eyes for a moment, giving his hand a squeeze. Soft, bubbly laughter escapes her lips again as she replies. "Stop, stop!" she playfully scolds. "My big brother is over there!" She does not look overly worried, though, and even a glance over to Auggie now has her bringing a hand to her mouth to stiffle giggles. As they walk out, she whispers one time to him.

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