(1311-09-28) Great Exhibition: Tiberian Banquet
Summary: House Baphinol hosts a Tiberian banquet in the classic style.
RL Date: Sat Sep 28, 1311
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
aedhwyn paris hugo symon jehan-pascal louna 

Baphinol Residence

Through the portal, one enters a spacious parlor, dark teak wood furniture contrasting to white walls, cushions of red and yellow adding to the comfort of seating. Chairs showing off the crest of House Baphinol carved into the comparatively low back have been arranged about a long table that easily offers space enough for eight people. A pair of more comfortable long-backed chairs can be found in front of the hearth of white marble, with a warm fire burning there especially in the colder months. The wall facing the hearth is covered by a large tapestry, depicting a heroic Baphinol ancestor engaged with fighting off a dark and evil foe.%r%rAt times the furniture may be re-arranged in such a manner as to provide more space, for the occasional fête and dancing. Heavy red curtains at the windows are usually pulled to the side and secured with thick cords of yellow color during the day, to admit the light from outside, whereas lighting becomes much more intimate in character during evenings and night, from the warm flicker of oil lamps at the walls and candles burning upon the twining chandelier that hangs from the ceiling by a gilded chain.%r%rA stairway leads up to the gallery, from which several doors lead to the private chambers of the residents.


The main hall of the Baphinol estate is certainly not looking itself today; a peristyle of columns has been set with draperies of yellow and blue silks, bright and gleaming, to surround the creation of a Tiberian formal dining-room, with its three couches of leather underpinnings slung from a wooden lion-clawed frame in dark mahogany, firm-packed mattresses on top and no arms to speak of but a slight curling rise of the frame to each side prohibiting anyone from tumbling off. The three couches line three sides of the dining room, on the fourth side there is a large mixing-bowl of silver with a kottabos spire set in the middle, and two smaller mixing-bowls sit to either side. In the middle there is a table, out of reach from any of the couches, and empty, to boot, displaying a table-top of small mosaic tiles set in the image of an infant wrestling with two serpents.

Tiberian-style garb is the order of the evening, with men in long tunics and women in stolate gowns with elaborate brooches at the shoulders to hold up the garment, and belts knotted in the Tiberian style. Jehan-Pascal is here with one of the Tiberian expatriots he had discovered and brought back with him from that land, with the aid of his favorite Baroness, just recently: he goes by Lucius, or Luci, and he and Jehan-Pasal are both wearing tunics of the thinnest, softest wool: Jehan-Pascal's dyed a dark, vivid yellow with two purple stripes down each side of the chest, and Luci in a bright sky blue. Luci is taking up the top of the third couch, and Jehan-Pascal is reclining diagonally beside him, such that they can each look out to the rest of the diners, lying on their left elbows. There is room for three on each couch, and Jehan-Pascal is already beckoning his Baroness to come lie on his other side on the third couch, as hosts of the event. Hired hands in simple red tunics and sandals are bringing bowls and flagons of water to pour over peoples' hands in preparation for dinner, and even, if they like, their feet, hanging, as they will, off of the back of the couch.

Louna is draped in silks of green and gold trim, dark hair done in styles oft found in those more southern climes that the dinner is here to showcase. Itâ??s certainly a style more friendly to her figure and as she looks to see how others are faring, the sharp featured Baphinol is parting ways from a guest, adjusting the voluminous folds of her wrap and waddling toward JP's chosen accomodations.
"Once I am down, fair warning, I am down. It will take every strong man present to get me back upâ" Lucius is grinned to, wriggling fingers in greeting.

Word of the festivities have reached the foreign emissaries at the Palace and the Prince of Brabant isn't one to say no to the offer of free booze. But he has no idea where the place is, who the people are … or what Tiberian dress entails. So he's recruited his mate Hugo to help him out. The two young men appear together, each draped in swatches of white cloth that might have been bedsheets at some point, looking eagerly around as they step into the main room.

In fairness, at least they are clean bedsheets, despite Hugo's best efforts all the way here to shove his friend into puddles and generally tit about. But then they're arrived and all of a sudden he's on his best behaviour. But really how much dignity can any young man muster when he's wearing a pitifully inadequate sheet with a single pin to hold it over his shoulder. He gives a polite little bow on entry, but he's immediately looking for the free wine Andre tempted him here with.

Symon does not know what Tiberian people wear. He has probably never (consciously) met a Tiberian. In the end, paintings were consulted as a reference and therefore Symon turns up in something that may bear little relation to what people wear now, but is perhaps familiar to the d'Angeline with a taste for classic art. He's also wearing sandals to which he is quite unaccustomed and so it is that between the unusual garment and footwear, he trips a little coming in. But he quickly recovers with a grin and straightens up and detours so as not to run into the bowing Hugo. "Oh, hello," he says cheerfully.

Jehan-Pascal can't help but smile a little bit at the manner in which the youth of Marsilikos come decked in their best impression of the Toga-Clad Race, but he finishes beckoning the Baronesse of Monteaux in against him. "Leave the getting up to us, only lay beside me, now. We'll dine together, and deservedly; you've done so much work for me, my Lady Baroness." Luci, meanwhile, is the one to grin a beaming welcome for the entering visitors, "Good health, friends. You look very grave in cloth, indeed— but you'll find it hard to dine well in a toga. We shed ours before we dine, traditionally, and do so in our tunics, instead," he indicates the garment which he is wearing, simple as it is, knee-length and elbow-, but wrought of fine stuff, soft and beautifully dyed. "We thought it well to offer a selection for those who might not have come properly attired, if you would like to step behind the draperies there and choose one. A gift from House Baphinol, for you to wear home and to keep. Then choose a couch and recline, as you see your Lord and Lady Baphinol and I are reclining, by a friend, or by someone you would make friends with. We dine reclining upon our left elbows," he offer gentle guidance. "At our banquets, at the very least, in our most traditional style. Come, change and recline, and we will cast dice for the wine."

Andre offers a bow to Jehan-Pascal after being told he's the host. "Thank you for the kind invitation, Mylord. What a lovely idea.", the prince tells him, "And I had been told tunics were more the garment of the commoners in Tiberium, so we didn't want to arrive underdressed." He elbows Hugo. "Come let's find some nice tunics before the best ones are gone. And apparently we need to win at dice to get some booze."

"Sounds like I'm having a sober night, then," Hugo murmurs, tone nonetheless full of good humour as he steps aside to allow Symon and Andre to go tunic shopping first. "I'm famously awful at gambling. I got the looks, not the luck."

"Oh," Symon says. At first he looks a little concerned to be told that he has shown up in quite the wrong thing, but the thoughtfulness of their host turns that to delight. Proper attire that he won't trip over, and gets to keep, to boot! He looks enchanted. "I hardly know who to ask to get introduced to first," he comments, perhaps to Hugo or perhaps just generally. He goes round behind the curtain and selects a blue-green tunic with a coppery stripe, no hesitation in changing into it. "I only w…wish Etienne could've come," he says, continuing to patter on as he gets dressed. "He's got a knack for kottabos."

"No one will be left lacking for wine, have no fear," Lucius continues to assure their guests with his easy manner. "We will stir plenty in the krater— it only comes to us to decide how potent a mixture it will be." He rests his right hand idly on Jehan-Pascal's shoulder while he explains the sport. "At banquets we make our drinking wine from a mixture of a pure wine syrup, unsuitable for drink except by those with an exceptionally hearty constitution, and water. The mixture will be in ten parts— but how many parts of the pure wine and how many parts of water will be up to the one we call the arbiter bibendi— the master of drinking— who is determined by dice at the beginning of the meal." One of the hired hands comes, on cue, with a tray and two dice, which Lucius lifts his hand from JP's shoulder in order to take and to roll onto the tray, as an example, rolling the numbers 1 and 3.

"The point of kottabos, I assure you is to not remain sober. You'll be this side of tipsy when all is said and done. Unless you are very good at throwing" Louna has yet to actually recline, standing at the edge of teh couch with Lucian and jean Pascal. "The bright the better, those unaccustomed to eating when reclining might find themselves spilling a little." And thens he's levering down, though those who are of higher rank than her get an awkward bow of greeting before doing so.

Having found himself a fetching grey number and donned it, Hugo offes Symon a hand and a smile. "Hugo de Trevalion. Andre said this would be a laugh. Cultural. Broadening the boundaries of education and so forth. Also a lot of booze." He finds his way to one of the couches, gives it an experimental nudge, then shrugs and flops down comfortably onto it, lounging in the approved manner on his left elbow. Apparently he can follow instructions at least. "Is it the highest number who's the bibendi fellow?" he asks, gesturing for the dice next.

A young pair walks in next, the slender, dark skinned Glycine courtesan for once having his hair tied up in a tail that falls to the small of his back, his slender arms and long, fit legs shown off by the toga that comes down to midthigh. Holding the arm of his woad marked companion, he seems about to whisper something in her ear, as they notice the contest..and quite a few people they like. Paris waves towards Jehan-Pascal with a warm glint in his eyes.

Symon smiles at Hugo, crinkling his eyes warmly (or maybe squinting at his face), and clasping the hand. "Oh, b-but it's b…bound to be," he says enthusiastically. "All those things. I'm Symon de P…Perigeux," he adds, a little late. "Who is your friend? Is it rude to ask?" He takes a couch by himself for now and when the dice are brought, he rolls a 1. And a 4.

Aedhwyn seems to have just the outfit for the festivities a backless gown spun fabrics in white trimmed with Courcel blue that matches the woad upon her body. The gown is held in place by the pins at her shoulder, the design daring and certainly not something she would likely wear. It may well have something to do with her courtesan that serves as her escort. Her hair has been worn in a partial uptwist, a small tiara with sapphires helping keep the elegant coiffure up. Peaking out as her hair moves with her steps, is a woad design down the length of her spine from the base of her neck down to the base of her spine. Her myriads of braids have been accented with gold and saphires for the occasion. She smiles, taking in the view of the festivities, "Help me find Jehan-Pascal. I want to thank him for hosting this."

Lucius sends the dice tray on to the next couch with Hugo and Symon, "A four, for me, bad night!" he laughs, "Yes, the honor goes to the highest roller. Anyone who rolls Venus is immediately the winner… 'Venus' is what we call the roll of two sixes," he goes on, while Jehan-Pascal smiles over to Paris and Aedhwyn across the way, hugging the Baroness tenderly against him where he is nestled sandwiched between her and Lucius at his back. "How did you do, Symon?" he does call to the next couch over.

Hugo claims the dice from Symon as soon as he's done, tossing them casually into the tray for a 6 and a 5, barely even looking at the numbers as they come up. "Andre? Prince of Brabant, apparently. Flatlander. He's all right for all that," he says of his friend who… probably went for a pee or something WHO KNOWS. "Who's the girl with the blue…?" he asks Symon more quietly, giving a nod towards Aedhwyn.

"Five all together," Symon reports cheerfully. "I think. W…wasn't it five?" Just in case someone else was looking. "Are games of chance v…v…very m-much the thing in Tiberium?" he further asks this new acquaintance. Now to Hugo. "W…what, really?" he asks. I don't m…meet all /that/ many p-princes…" But then he can hardly fail to respond to Hugo's question. He's at least clever enough to lower his voice in turn. "Oh, that is the ambassador from, oh…w…what do you call it. Across the w…water. I think." Some water, somewhere.

And there's a Princess. Jehan may be hugging her gently to him but the very pregnant Baphinol Baroness is elbowing him gently and starting the arduous process of getting up. Roll, shift, roll some more till eventually she's managed to get up onto her feet. "Jehan-Pascal…" Warning him before once, yet again, awkwardly bowing to the woman and her companion. "Be made welcome."

Paris' hand rests lightly on the Alban princess' back, guiding her through the crowd and he looks interested at the dice contest, before he nods and sees Jehan-Pascal. "My lord, a pleasure to see you again, her Highness thought this was an occasion not to be missed." As always the boy is barefoot, making his step lightly. He gives Aed's attire a new look, enjoying how proud and beautiful she looks.

Aedhwyn's gown is truly more of the Hellenic style than the Tiberian but as ever there are touches of the Alban in everythign she wears. There is a smile for Jehan-Pascal as well as a nod of her head to the other two reclined with him general. She leans to speak quietly to Paris before approaching the closer and leaning to brush a kiss against Jehan-Pascal's cheek in greeting. It is obvious she does not do this terribly often given her lack of concern for the view afforded the couch. Paris is given a LOOK as he announces her as her Highness. "I could not miss an even held by you, my dear friend. I would be beside myself were I not able to show you the progress I've made." She smiles at the Baroness, "Please remain seated and be comfortable. I am certain that it can be no easy task for you in this state." Her d'Angeline is flawless but there is a slight watering down of the accent as if she learned the language second or third hand. "May I try my hand at the dice? I am not entirely certain of the rules but the idea of a contest to be won motivates."

"Lady Baroness, please," Jehan-Pascal frets after her as she makes to get back up. "Don't strain yourself…" he sighs as she gets on up all despite him. "Aden," he pronounces her name but slightly off— in the manner in which he first learned it and has never quite shaken, with a kindly smile and a kiss to her cheek to return for the one she bestows upon him. "Have you met my cousin, the Baroness of Monteaux? She has been my strong right arm in my fight for the hospitality at Bedarrides, and that's all besides how she's cooking herself up an heir as we speak… heavens, Lou, rest back down with me. Aden, Paris, you can occupy the first couch," he nods across to the one mirroring his position on the opposite side of the 'u'. "It's so good to see you both, I'm glad you could make it. Yes, the dice are coming around. How did you fare, my Lord?" he wonders of Hugo.

"Cooking. gracious. Baking is the appropriate term." But she inclines her head to Aedhwyn and to Paris before she once again roll poly's back down to the couch, craning her neck to see how others are faring.

Hugo glances back to the dice as almost an afterthought, dimples immediately showing deep in his cheeks as he sees the numbers there. "Oho! An eleven, my lord! You did say that higher numbers were good, didn't you? Look out," he nudges his new friend with an easy grin. "Master of drinking tonight is looking likely. Maybe I did get the luck instead of the looks!"

Aedhwyn laughs softly, shaking her head, "Aedhwyn mab Mor Rioghain. One of these days I will get you to say my name correctly but it has improved." There's quite a bit more of a lilt when she says her name, it sounding nearly musical. She looks to Symon, smiling at him, offering Hugo a nod as she answers the rest of the question he asked another, "Alba….across the waters and a very long way from here. May I try my luck, my lord?"

Paris bows deeply to the baroness, with a courtesan's grace, allowing himself to be introduced. "A pleasure, my Lady, I hope you do not suffer too much inconvenience.." He grins a bit impudently under the heat of Aedhwyn's glare, and winks playfully at her. "It does look like an entertaining game.. What are the stakes, if you don't mind?" he bows his head to Symon who he's met a couple of times, though he may not be familiar with Hugo.

Symon blushes just a little at having been overheard, dipping his head in Aedhwyn's direction. "I hope she doesn't try any p-pronunciation lessons with m…me," he comments, but from his lopsided smile he is surely saying so as a joke at his own expense. "I say, eleven is high!" he says in praise of Hugo's fine roll. Then he bobs his head at Paris as well.

"Eleven! It will be hard to beat, indeed, unless one of us is blessed with Venus," Jehan-Pascal grins back at Lucius, then to the hired hand holding the dice tray, "Along to the first couch, until Ade— Aedwhyn," he tries, "And Paris get settled in and can roll… then along to the Baroness and I for a chance," he grins. "It's to see who will set the rules for how the wine will be mixed, weak or strong, according to the taste of the highest roller. What will it be if eleven is the top mark, my Lord? Out of ten, how many parts wine and how many water?"

"Water," Hugo insists with an amiable grin, "is a dangerous element. I play my trade on the seas, my lord, I ought to know. The water claims many more people than wine, so in an effort to reduce the potential risks of this evening I think we ought to have very little water, and very much wine. Eight to two?"

Aedhwyn ohs, blushing as she seems to remember something, "This is my escort for the evening and friend, Paris no Glycine. And I think I prefer you calling me Aden, Jehan-Pascal, I like the idea that you may call me something different than others." At times like this, her youth shows. Certainly she's of age but likely not too much older than that given the colour that rises to her cheeks and her occasional misstep. The dice are picked up once she's certain of the stakes, "I would very much like to decide the strength of the drink tonight. Shall I have it rivaling the strength of uisghe or watered so that the drinking can go the length of the night?"

"Eight to two, sailors are b-bold," Symon comments, but he sounds approving. "How do you throw b-best at kottabos: sober or drunk?" he asks his new friend and potential drink-decider Hugo.

Roll for Aedhwyn: 6, 6

Paris beams again and nods as he sees Aedhwyn roll, leaking in to blow on her hand for good luck, and chuckles. "I shall be your assistant, then, my lady.." He says, not yet sure what the prizes are, having come in late as they are but he grins wider when he sees the result.

Louna's getting comfortable again, shifting this way and that and watches as dice are rolled. The eleven gets a sympathetic look, but that twelve that gets rolled gets a laugh. "Well, we know who is choosing now." She rings out with a clap of her hand against the covered furniture.

Hugo lets out a little whoop when the double sixes come up, lifting a fist. "Oh, very nice! Well done, my lady, well done indeed!" His grin doesn't falter, even when the drinks-mixing is taken out of his hands. "I will very happily give up the title of arbiter bibendi to a gracious lady, and we shall drink as you command! Ha!"

Jehan-Pascal ends up shifting a little bit, too, between Louna and Lucius, a very comfortable place to be, indeed. "That's a heady combination, indeed, my Lord," he's congratuating the arbiter apparant before Aedhwyn is blessed with the winning roll, "Well, Venus has spoken!" Lucius declares, and Jehan-Pascal is a little gobsmacked, for sure, but happy for it. "Then our arbiter bibendi is chosen!" Jehan-Pascal declares, and, on cue, a youth runs out to place a wreath of white roses on Aedhwyn's head, trying his best not to jostle her tiara unduly in doing so. "What will be be, then, uisghe or water?" Jehan-Pascal asks their new mistress of beverage.

Aedhwyn giggles as Paris blows on her hand for luck, ducking her head a bit in embarassment. But it is obvious it worked when a pair of 6s come up. There is clap of her hands and an excited little sound that escapes her, "Ve-noose…" The word sounds absolutely foreign on her tongue, a poor mimcry of the word. She laughs softly at Hugo graciousness, "I agree that water is a dangerous thing indeed but perhaps I might have a taste of the wine undiluted before I come upon a decision? If not then I believe I shall go the road of the bold and take the advice of the man who spends his life upon the sea, 9 parts wine so that we might best enjoy the fullness of the flavour without the dangers of water.

Paris gives Huge an almost apologetic smile, before he leans down and he smiles to Louna. "Is there aught I might bring you, milady to make you more comfortable?" Just hisnatural instincts, but then he grins as he hears Aedhwyn and her pronouncement. "Be careful, my lords and ladies, or milady princess will have us all drunk and revealing our wickedest secrets.." The Glycine bats his long eyelashes.

Symon looks surprised to hear that a twelve has indeed been rolled. "Heavens!" He nods Aedhwyn's way in respect for the highest roll. "Oh, no one told me there w…was a crown at stake," he says. "I m…might've tried harder." How one tries harder at rolling dice is something only Symon knows. "Nine, goodness. Any m…more and drinking b-becomes p-punishment!" But he doesn't sound terribly cowed.

"We're at the mercy of our Alban guest," Hugo insists with a grin. "How can that be punishment? Unless you're referring to our heads in the morning, but that sounds like a tomorrow problem, and I'm certainly not on watch in the morning. Maybe she'll be kind enough to let you borrow the crown if you win tonight's games, Lord Symon?"

'Oh no, please Monsiuer Paris. There's little to be done that Jehan has not already seen to. But you are so kind to offer." Louna states, a gesture for him to enjoy himself and his companion. And she chooses 9 parts wine and there's a groan from Louna. "You will come to regret this. Many a night at the university playing this game. Ohhh. Did we regret it come the morning."

Once the hand-washer has made rounds of anyone who wants his or her hand washed, he goes to the kraters at the front of the room and begins mixing the wine as ordered, ladling draught after draught of the thick, potent wine into the krater, up to the ninth, and then tempering it just slightly with one unit of water before beginning to stir. Two others, young women in longer floor-sweeping tunics, come with baskets of hard boiled eggs, quail and peahen and chicken,already peeled and sparsely salted, of which the diners may choose by hand and eat without plates, or, for that matter, tables. Jehan-Pascal, himself, chooses a little quail egg to nibble while the wine is stirred. "It will be a challenge, won't it? Will you be alright drinking such strong stuff, Baroness, in your current state?"

Aedhwyn bends her head as the crown of flowers is placed upon her head, hiding all but the tallest points of saphires peaking out from her coiffure. She gives Paris another little Look and when she believes noone is paying attention kicks his ankle. "There is no such thing as punishment in drinking, my lord. There is pleasure in savoring the flavours, in the scents, and the feel of it as it passes your lips and slides down within." Perhaps there's a little more d'Angeline to her than people believe with her description of it. There's a passion to her, even if it's normally tucked away and hidden behind those blushes that come to her cheeks when she realizes how her words might have been taken. "Though I will take mercy upon the efforts of my lady's baking, hers is to be served half again watered." She nods at Hugo, "Should Lord Symon win the games, I will gift him with my crown of roses or to any that win actually." She looks to Louna, "You have been to Tiberium, my lady? This is as far as I have been."

Paris hops on one foot a little as if the other one is in pain from the kick, but his bright smile is only showing it's all a put on and he winks at Aedhwyn, he enjoys teasing her so. And she looks even prettier with that crown of flowers on her head. He watches as everyone is served wine, then as a good companion, presents the tray of goodies to Aed first, and he nods as she speaks of the pleasure of drinking. "Mhhm, that is a very good point, with such a sensual view of the matter, you would be well suited for Jasmine, milady.." He then bows at Hugo, to whom he hasn't yet been introduced.

"I spent over a handful of years. I escaped there the moment I could. I studied medicine." Louna shifts, ever shifting in her spot, trying to find the right spot to get comfortable. "After I finished, I remained to practice till I had no choice but to come back so my father could abdicate and I could fulfill my obligation to marry. But I enjoyed the journey back to see to Jehan's pet project. It is my delight to share Bedarrides with those in need. As a chirurgeon, it is almost an obligation. A great risk but I think that it will play out well." Aedhwyn instructs hers be further watered down and she lifts a hands shaking her head. "I will be fine. One at least, will not harm me. I assure you. I will cease to play if it hits the point that there will be regrets."

"Ten p-parts of ten? You know I am thinking of the next day's consequences." He flashes teeth in a grin. "W…which I admit is terribly unlike m-me." He claps his hands at the offer of a prize, and also notes the snacks coming round. "Oh, I do love quail eggs," he says, and reaches for one.

Hugo watches as the drink is mixed, eyes keenly taking in the consistency of the syrup, the aromas, and the expression on the servant's face. Perhaps wisely, he claims one of the larger eggs, taking a good bite from the top of it rather than any sort of polite nibble, the better to begin lining his stomach ready for a night's hard drinking. "You ever been to Tiberium?" he asks Symon companionably. "I've never headed out that way yet myself. Mostly been to the north, and west to the New World of course." Because how could he resist getting that little preening boast in.

Aedhwyn takes a couple of eggs, peanhen and chicken, offering the first bite of it to Paris before taking a bite herself, keep the one and giving the other to Paris though she seems to take bites of both, trading as the whim takes her. "Actually this is my first time I have been away from home, the lushness and harshness of our lands. But I am looking forward to traveling to Elua again and perhaps Bed-de-rides." She looks to Jehan as she pronounces the name of the place, checking in with him for some reason or another. Her attention shifts to Hugo, "The New World? Surely there is no other world but this one."

Paris leans in to take a bite of egg, and smiles gently to Symon too, grinning as he hears of the lord's apprehension, then his eyes go wide. "You have been to Terra Nova, my lord?" Colour him impressed. "I think my lord means the lands across the sea, which us and the Aragonians have discovered, where chocolate and tobacco come from…" he says.

"M-me?" Symon asks, as if astonished. "No. It only m…makes me think of m-my despairing tutor. Only I suppose it m-might be w…warm, that's one thing to recommend it. And the kottabos." He looks to Hugo while he eats the quail egg whole, eyes going as round as it was. "No, you haven't b-been to the New W…World? W-what was it like? I had a frog from there, you know. If you touched it, it gave you a fainting spell. Or not a fainting spell, b-but…w-what's the word? P-paralysis. W…we had to get an Aragonian b-book about it. Or look at one. Only that was b-before. The fainting, I m…mean."

The eggs make the rounds several times, allowing for people to taste at their leisure and try one, then another, without quite needing to store them up in case they get taken away. Even after the egg girls have ceased their rounds, they stand by, waiting to see whether anyone in particular is looking eager for more, or signaling to them as such, allowing the conversation to go on. "Oh, yes, the frog, I remember that episode, from its periphery," Jehan-Pascal chimes in. The cups that are brought out for the krater-minder to fill will be familiar to those who play kottabos, but now the purpose of having a cup of wine that is little more than shallow handled bowl will be more clear— it is easy to rest it on the couch cushions without it tipping over. He fills each cup and has it delivered to each of the diners to have along with dinner.

Aedhwyn ohs as she nibbles on her egg, then trades with Paris again. Poor courtesan will never get to have food all his own. She just keeps stealing it. "It is even warmer than these lands? I can not imagine such things, it is much to hot in the summers here as it is. Though I must say that I did write my family and tell them of how warm the winter was and that it did not require furs." She takes the offered cup eying it a bit suspiciously though she leans to take in the arouma, her eyes closing so she can focus just the scent a moment."

"You had a frog?" Hugo queries, both brows raising. "Oh my word, I'm envious. We mostly just sailed up and down the coast, you know." Sure. Like it's no big deal. "You'd be amazed, though. The size of the forests! And the huge, icy lakes in the north, and the junges and swamps in the south, and waves that easily doubled the height of the ship, while the wind whipped around and lifted whole trees into the air. It's a land of giants," he insists, quite certain that this is the truth. "How big was the frog??"

"Oh, b-but that sounds terrifying," Symon says earnestly to Hugo's story. "The frog w…was quite small, or ordinary frog size at least, about like this." He makes a gesture with his hands. "B-but extremely b-bright, w…with red and b-blue. W…we had to give it away in the end because of the p-p-poison." He seems a little sorry about that. "The b-book talked about the forests, though."

Paris leans back on the couch a little, grinning as his eggs are stole and swapped, but he seems comfortable with it, even holding a tiny quail egg fro Aedhwyn to nibble from the tips of his fingers. His legs cross before he realizes he's wearing a toga and thankfully his skin tone is dark enough for a blush not to show…and besides, no one was watching, right? He stares at Hugo in delight, imagining all those exotic things. As the wine is brought, he takes in the scent too, eyes wide, though he knows what will come…

"I would imagine that the frog could be studied to see if the poison in smaller does, diluted might perhaps have medicinal uses." Louna looks interested in this frog. Mournful that there is no current frog for her to look at.

And that… well, that's why Tiberians don't dine togate, for one. JP smiles at Paris, though, and then at the man with the cup for him, which he takes and smells deeply of, then sips, somewhat less deeply, letting the still thick wine spread virulently down his throat and toward his sinuses, more like liquor than wine, indeed. "O Arbiter, quid mihi fecisti?" he lapses into Tiberian 'cause… why not?

Aedhwyn smiles offering the first sip of her cup to Paris before taking the second. There is the initial savouring of the flavours, then the warmth that comes with the potency, and finally a smile and this little happy sound as she feels it move through her. There's even a slight little shimmy of her shoulders. "Perhaps you came upon the lands of the Fomorians."

Paris laughs as he hears the sound Aedhwyn makes, patting her arm, warmly. "It is very good wine, isn't it? Rich and dark…like silk flowing on your tongue.." he closes his eyes, allowing the aromas to flow.. And then he grins a bit at the words Aedhwyn says. "Hush..you wish to keep that for your prty, don't you?" He may be privy to the secrets of what will happen at the Alban reception…and he then leans in to whisper into the Princess' ear the translation of Jehan-Pascal's words. As a proper courtesan, classical Caerdicci is something he would have learned

Aedhwyn looks to JP, blinking and then shaking her head, slipping into Cruithne to answer. The brogue is thick upon tongue, «I've done what I wish, no more, no less. Cause tonight we drink until the morrow upon the whence we shall do it again. To drink to the memories of those who have gone and to the health of those still yet to come.»

Hugo has partially disconnected.

Jehan-Pascal hasn't a translator on hand, as Aden does, and so it takes him a bit longer to wheedle from someone the main points of Aden's toast, but, once he does, he wilts affectionately into Paris with his wine in hand, lifting it, "Oh, yes, to those yet to arrive," he chimes in splendidly, then, sitting up higher on his elbow and giving Lucius back some personal space, "And to the health of the generations here and to come, let's drink, and to Lucius, and his compatriots, who are settled at Bedarrides to run our hospitality for us and establish a tradition of public well-being in Avignon and her loyal territories. To speak of which, the Hospitality will be having an open house after the end of the Exhibition, to which I hope you all will find time to come and to take a tour with us. So much hard work has been poured into this project, it will truly be the jewel of Baphinol lands," he sighs in something like exhaustion mixed with deep-felt pride. "But first— dinner."

And dinner is had— a whole roasted boar stuffed with peahens, brought to the center table and carved into finger-food slices to be carried around as the eggs had been, earlier, along with bread, and saucers of oil and sauces for dipping and tasting. Dessert treads upon dinner's heels with a selecion of honied fruit slices, grapes and berries, and more wine, of course— but the real drinking comes after dinner, with the krater brought to the center of the room and several rounds of kottabos needful to produce a victor— the Lord Hugo, who gains his own rose crown of victory.

<FS3> Jehan-Pascal rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (8 1 2 8)

<FS3> Paris rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (7 1 8 1)

<FS3> Symon rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (4 6 4 6 7 8 4)

<FS3> Hugo rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (2 8 8)

<FS3> Aedhwyn rolls Kottabos: Success. (7 4 2)

<FS3> Paris rolls Kottabos: Failure. (4 5 6 3)

<FS3> Jehan-Pascal rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (1 7 2 7)

<FS3> Symon rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (1 4 1 8 2 3 7)

<FS3> Hugo rolls Kottabos: Good Success. (8 6 8)

It's all taken in good humour, with plenty of laughing, joking, and more than a little pleased amazement when somehow beginner's luck holds out for the Trevalion. After a moment to hold his crown aloft and pose with fist raised for victory, however, Hugo tosses it casually over towards Symon (the crown, not his fist) and settles back quite contentedly to finish off the evening with a quiet, enjoyable haziness brought on by strong wine and good company. The story of the morning fuzzy headedness remains to be told, thank goodness.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License