(1311-12-21) Longest Night in Marsilikos
Summary: The Night Court of Marsilikos celebrates Longest Night. Coco warning: Candid language
RL Date: Sun Dec 29, 2019
Related: None
cedric cochonnet emilie lois paris severine tancred 

Gardens of Devotion — Le Coquelicot

There is a playful air about the gardens, especially in spring, summer and autumn, when flower beds of red tulips, roses and poppy flowers add colorful dots to the well kept green that is trimmed to a look of wild romantic scenery, despite the everpresent hands of gardeners that keep trees and bushes under their care. The path winds along in generous twists, offering many secret meeting spots to share kisses and vows of love, some of them part of the natural surroundings, while others provide more shelter from the view, arbors of simple beauty with flowery vines twining about posts.

In the center of the gardens is where a second building can be found, pillars of white stone reminiscent of an old Hellene temple. Within, tiles of light rosé marble cover the floor, ten feet high walls are painted a slightly deeper shade of the same color, and interspersed with white columns sporting painted colorful floral ornaments. Curtains of white and lavender gauze flutter faintly before the windows that bathe the Shrine of Love in light during the day. On evenings and nights, the predominant source of lighting is a multitude of burning candles in various bronze candelabras and the pair of chandeliers suspended from the ceiling.

The hall is furnished with chairs and couches of light maple wood carved with flowery designs, upholstered in white and red velvet, with several smaller cushions added for comfort. It also has a medium sized S-shaped loveseat in the center, where two people can lounge, facing each other. A faint scent of roses is ever present, as is the overall romantic mood that is often enhanced with the occasional recital of a love poem over the rippling tones of a lute or harp. While Coquelicot adepts and courtesans of Heliotrope canon attend to the visitors with the pleasant lightness and easy warmth, the salon is known for.

A door at the back leads to a patron room of wildly romantic flair.

Tonight is a special night, a night that the Night Court of Marsilikos has prepared for in the past months. Even now, with last preparations finally finished, the overall mood of festive anticipation is apparent, for a feast that marks the once in a year opportunity for adepts and courtesans of the four salons to mingle and celebrate — freed of their duties to serve patrons in assignations. Only few nobles will be admitted; those that have managed to acquire a token from a courtesan or adept in the weeks prior. Even so, they will mostly remain spectators, partaking in the spectacle merely on the sidelines, as the focus certainly will be on Naamah's servants tonight. They arrive in colorful costumes, each salon having decided on a theme of their own, in paying obvious homage to the Longest Night Ball on Mont Nuit in the far away Capital of Terre d'Ange, the City of Elua. Still. In this, tonight's feast marks a novelty, as in previous years the different salons have been made obvious through the choice of color in their attire alone.

The main festivities will be held at the Le Coquelicot. It was the first salon to be founded in Marsilikos, so many decades ago, with a canon that seems a perfect fit for the overall character of the province and their patron Companion. As it is, the gardens of devotion have been equipped with fire bowls, and colorful garlands of lampions light a scenery that has long darkened after dusk fell so early today. Musicians, some hired, and others provided by the more musically talented courtesans of Lis d'Or are scattered throughout the gardens, and some have moved even into the halls of the Temple of Love in the garden's center, or into the main building, with its various other halls and corridors. Music seems to be ever present, and so is food provided on side tables, and of course, joie, the cordial served to everyone entering by novices of all salons, and these modest creatures can be seen in these early hours of the feast, carrying trays with glasses filled with the heady beverage. Later, they may be making their rounds with delicate carafes showing off the artistic glass work of La Serenissima, to provide refills when needed.

For this year's Longest Night, Le Coquelicot has picked a theme that seems to have sprung from the Gentian canon Dowayne's mind, dreams and nightmares. Whereas Balm and Heliotrope canon adepts and courtesans are taking the lighter take on this theme — some of them appearing with fine flowing garbs and fairy wings made of thin silk pulled over filigree frames made of wood or metal attached to their backs, the ambiguity of the theme is perhaps more adequately presented in some of the other Coquelicots, those of Gentian training and disposition, because who would be better suited to depict dreams and nightmares than those that are exposed to them on a regular basis?

Dreams and Nightmares, a concept Lois has attempted to work into her attire and looks for tonight, and it works out, in a way. With the left part of her garment a white and silvery shimmer, with one gauzy fairy wing adorning her left shoulder, and pale makeup adding a very alabaster sort of look to her features, it will be the other side, dark and blackened, the side of the dress as well as the bat's wing on the back of her right shoulder. A spider web has been painted upon her right cheek, an absence of color there in her outfit that is contrasted very much by the red hue of her hair, that has been worked into a single thick braid. The cut of the dress keeps most of her shape covered, especially the back, as befits someone still earning their marque. And despite the dark theme of her costume, a pleasant smile curves the lips of Lois nó Coquelicot, and her eyes look dreamily about as she stands there and watches the courtesans and adepts of the other salons filtering in.

La Rose Sauvage has decided in favor of a more traditional approach with a clearer separation of canons, as is in the nature of this particular salon. Dark feathers mark the wings that the Thorns are wearing tonight, and their masks echo the bronze design of Kushiel himself. Attached to their belts are tools of torture such as whips, rolled up neatly, but ready to be used. Angels of Punishment cannot be without Angels of Servitude, and they show in the throng of red winged creatures clad in dark red gowns and garments that follows in their wake, some wearing collars with a fine lines of chain attached, others entering the place with their wrists bound behind their backs which renders them reliant on others, when it comes to enjoying their first drinks of joie. Masks, and even half-masks are optional, and some of the Red Roses have covered their features, at least in part, while others have elected to appear with their features revealed, relishing in that particular exposure. Angels of Purity are the next to arrive, and they wear white feathery wings and attire that match the color and reflect their canon best. Thin veils of gauze enhance the appearance of innocence, and some may be shed, the further the evening progresses.

The arrival of La Glycine is not a quiet one, with several Bryony flavored courtesans and adepts with some Orchis in between flaring out after taking a turn in the center of the gardens, their gowns and attire glittering golden like the wealth they so skillfully manage to gather with their quick minds and through their gambling. Light giggles and cheerful laughter ripples away, as they help themselves to glasses of joie, while the next wave of Glycines already makes their way into the gardens. Led by none other than their Dowayne, Bertrand nó Glycine, beautiful and handsome in his dusky teint and d'Angeline features, the Jasmine and additional Orchis canon courtesans and adepts follow in another flavor of a theme, that is definitely reminiscent of the exotic style of Jasmine House on Mont Nuit. Exotic are the gowns of the women, clad in Bhodistani style saris and other garments that bring about a notion of Khebbel-im-Akkad and Ephesium. Almost a mockery of the White Roses are the thin veils the female Glycines are wearing, with all the skin that shows, in deep necklines, bare skin on abdomen and back, and long skirts that are slit on one side to reveal a shapely leg here and there. While male courtesans are wearing long wide trousers and colorful vests that show off muscular definition of their torsos. They arrive with some musicians of their own, to provide the musical backing of hand drums, exotic pipes and string instruments, clearly enjoying themselves and the attention they will draw, at least for a moment.

Séverine was right in the middle of the throng of Angels of Servitude, her slender shape with those frail looking bare arms a pale contrast to the dark red silk of her gown. She is one of those angels whose wrists are bound with a thin silken rope at her back, and yet, a smile curves her lips as she lets her gaze wander. She wears no mask, showing a confidence that befits a Second of Rose Sauvage, in the glitter of her eyes and the ease of her demeanor. Nodding to an adept at her side she comes to a halt, not too far from a novice with a tray of joie. "Please…", she makes, rolling her eyes just so to one of her other Red Roses, until that adept has mercy and gathers a glass for her to hold it to her lips. Séverine drinks in slow yet no less greedy gulps, eyelids fluttering closed for a moment, as she savours the cordial, and the sudden warmth that spreads from her throat all the way to her limbs. "Joie to you!", she offers with a smile towards the novice, and then moves on, with the glass drained and deposited onto a table by her fellow angel.

Gold and glitter seems to be the theme for Glycines today, and well, doesn't Paris just conform to it? The young man dances on bare feet into the room, wearing just a pair of loose shiny gold silk pants, his long black hair flowing down his back, glitter sparkling in it and covering his almond skinned upper body…even his eyelashes seem to have glitter in them. His smile is wide as he takes a glass of joie and drinks it deeply.

The Piglet of Glycine would not be otherwise than in attendance; if her attendant canon seems to blend into the background of their salon's number, it must be by design. What that design might entail, one can only guess and await. But some of her entourage is in Bryony colors, some other in Jasmine, and some… as the night progresses, may even be discovered flying under colors further abroad, under a White Rose's veil or a Lis d'Orian peplos, thence lying in wait to baffle the longest night with a little bit of the canon's own topsy-turvidom. Coco herself has donned the gilt tones of Bryony, though a closer inspection of her collar piece will reveal the gleam to come from a scale-like overlay of dozens of tiny goldfish crating a regular halo about her shoulders, while from a gilt-lace choker around her neck there hang two oversized D6, each from its own gold chain so that they may bounce freely and independently upon her impressive decolletage. The dice are of ebony, with gilded pips— alas, but 'one' on every face. Below her luxurious golden gown, her feet are bare and strewn with ash, collecting freely from the gardens as she goes.

As he occupies the 'none of the above' category, along with not being pretty enough to be a courtesan, Tancred has elected to watch from a couch in the corner. If there's even a corner — or a couch, given the occasion. He's fine with standing. While he's at the back, his height treats him to a good view of everything. Somewhat ironically, his working-class clothes make him stand out more blatantly among the merchant and noble classes who comprise most of the viewership, which likely doesn't do the Skaldi any favors. At least he's got alcohol on the house, and a token he can roll between the fingers to show whenever anyone questions his presence.

There may be a flicker in stormy grey eyes as they brush over the sidelines where the few guests are watching the proceedings, and Séverine smiles, arching her back just a touch further as she cranes her neck to get a view in turn. Mild amusement colors her expression for once, and perhaps a rare sort of cruelty, because tonight it will be all about celebrating courtesan way of life, among peers in service. Spotting Cochonnet, the Red Rose cannot help but incline her head towards the other Second, murmuring a few impressed words of praise to the Glycine. "How lovely, how sparkling… Are you trying your luck, my lovely? In vain?" This probably meant in regards to the six-sided dice, Cochonnet wears.

The classical beauties of the Lis d'Or are fitted to their guise of the Hellenic pantheon — a tribute to Marsilikos and its ancient heritage devised by the Queen of the Gods, the gold-crowned and peacock-feathered Hera herself, Philomène nó Lis d'Or, who is expected in the New Year to occupy the Night Court's seat on the Ducal Council. Nine exquisite Eglantine muses herald her coming: most notably the adept Sarielle, who as Terpsichore draws every eye to her divine grace as she dances to the sweet music of her companions, composed especially for this night. In lieu of costlier adornments the adepts wear their own youthful radiance as finery, each clad in a peplos or chiton in spotless white silk, and a himation dyed in the Lis d'Or's own deep purple and fastened at one shoulder by a golden lily brooch — they carry each their own emblems, the flute of Euterpe, the tragic mask of Melpomene, and all the rest. Others appear as dryads and oreads, or (well, it was hard to come up with enough Hellenic notions) the genius loci of beauty spots like Le Cascade, which were surely known and loved by Eisande's earliest inhabitants too.

Truer splendour belongs by right to the salon's marqued courtesans, who as the gods and goddesses of old Hellas parade in their queen's train upon sandaled feet. The new Camellia Second, par exemple, being of Siovalese birth wears with her chiton Athena's gleaming golden helm, and carries a spear twined with a supple gilded olive branch. Tiny owls, symbolic of wisdom, are stitched about her hem in thread-of-gold. Aphrodite, her charms veiled in seafoam green, with a golden apple in her hand and red anemones woven through her long curls; Apollo, an angel-kissed young Camellia softly strumming his lyre; one of the more sporting Dahlias bearing the bow and arrow of Artemis, with a crescent moon upon her brow… Each, knowable at once to the learned — and discoverable by those who dare approach and offer their worship to beauty and poise rare even for the Court de Nuit.

Loïs looks towards the Glycines as they enter, and her blue eyes alight, as she watches them, impressed with their golden glitter. "Hello," she breathes towards Paris, passing him in the moment she snatches two glasses from a tray, to offer one of them to the young adept while keeping the other to herself. "Joie to you," Lois smiles, touching her glass to his, if he allows.

Paris notices the way Cochonnet walks ina nd he bows his head to her , grinning wide, clearly she outdoes him in outrageousness.. and then he sees Lois approach him, the boy beaming, flashing his pearly white teeth. "And a good longest Night to you too, milady.."

"My dear Madame Second," returns Coco to Severine with a deep curtsey and a sly grin. "I would kiss your hand but I would have to restrain myself from biting that tender bit just below where it rests," she brims merrily with the festivity of the evening. "And my luck may look short, but you may be assured — if you only keep rolling, you will eventually come upon a tally of the twelve you desire," she laughs along with her own complete perversion of the rules of dice. "And meanwhile nobody will fall ill of watching them tumble, I should think," this, while lifting a finger and thumb to flick one of her ebony D6 and set it bouncing in place.

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

"I may not be as defenseless as I appear to you," Séverine counters with a fine smile. "As for your teeth, I suspect they find their mark more often than not, and many a patron considers himself lucky to have experienced the feel of them buried into their flesh." Her arms move a little at her back, straining and relaxing, before she pulls one wrist free, and then brings forth the other, with red silk wrapped loosely about as if it were a bracelet of sorts. "Joie to you, sweet Cochonnet. Shall we enjoy a sip of joie together? What do you think?" Another glass? She doesn't seem reluctant to down yet another one, as the Angel of Servitude waves a novice over to provide them with drinks.

"Milady…?" Lois giggles a little at that, perhaps it is the joie already kicking in. "Then I should call you my lord. Paris, isn't it?" Her eyes drop to his lips, to that infectuous smile. "A good Longest Night…", she adds, returning his courtesy, as her blue gaze meets his darker one. And in a rush of a rare wave of courage, she leans in, to press her lips to the corner of his mouth, half-dream, half-nightmare, but a kind soul deep down within.

The kiss makes the boy smile brighter as he nods. "Who knows, this is the Longest night, after all.." He smiles, and takes Lois' hand, leaning down to kiss the tips of her fingers before twirling her in a playful dance. "And one must enjoy.." He leans in to whisper..though it's loud enough for others to whisper. "Just be careful if Miss Cochonnet offers a game of chance."

Free flowing alcohol keeps Tancred's appetites whetted, with the Skaldi having retreated to one couch to merely observe for some time. He doesn't recognize any of these people — at least until he sees Severine's bare and unmasked face once the mingling of courtesans has started. He gets his arse up, grunts as he adjusts his simple hat, and begins to approach the two Seconds.

Cochonnet takes the first hand so magically offered up, bestowing upon it the rather genteel kiss promised but moments earlier, a brushing of lips against knuckles while her sky-blue eyes linger on Severine's eyes. "You're a slipper-ty marvel, Severine," she laughs, "You must keep your misters busy at their knotwork. Yes, let's drink the Longest Night together," she agrees, "And our friendship to one another, meanwhile." She takes up the liquid joie on offer, and lifts it to Paris, across the way, as well— well-timed, as though she knew he were warning of her faux-Bryony bent.

Loïs offers her hand freely when it is claimed, and she giggles, allowing herself to be spinned by Paris as he twirls her about playfully. "I intend to enjoy," she confides towards the Glycine adept, in a low murmur, even of his mention of La Cochonnet earns that Second a faintly timid look. "She has dice," the Coquelicot adept observes. "But does she play to lose?"

Séverine watches Cochonnet's lips brush over her knuckles, before she lifts her gaze to meet those incredibly blue eyes of the Glycine. "I do, occasionally," the Red Rose admits with a smug little grin. "Some do enjoy the challenge. To us. To friendship. To Longest Night!" The latter, she says in returning Cochonnet's toast. Just in the moment, her gaze sweeps over to notice a sudden movement and approach, of a tall Skaldi who is coming towards Cochonnet and herself. "Monsieur Tancred," Séverine greets, her smile deepening as she regards the man. "You are familiar with Mademoiselle Cochonnet, Second of La Glycine?"

"I am not," Tancred replies, tilting his head to look over the less familiar form of Cochonnet; face first, body a little longer, down to the feet and then back to the face. The huge Skaldi inclines his head, his cup gripped loosely in his left hand. "Madame. Good evening. It is a pleasure." Even his d'Angeline reeks with his Skaldic accent, but his grasp of the language is otherwise excellent. "This is the first time I have seen them. Last, I was in the city, but I did not have the privilege." He glances at Severine with a lilt of the head, scratching at his thick beard. Evidently, a certain someone has given him a token.

Cedric has taken the team a little more literally than some of his peers. He wears what appears to have once been a flowing black robe with much of the middle in tatters revealing plenty of midriff. His hands are gloved when he moves them cloth gloves with some silver paint giving the impression of hooves. He wears leggings that end in similar silver like-hoof shapes with metal on the bottom offering a light 'clack clack' as he moves. The mask he wears is very much equine with red for eye slots. The Gentian dancing about like a very literal night'mare' to lurk through the gardens.

Cochonnet downs her joie with great spirit, then turns to be introduced to this gentleman who makes her, in all her amazonian glory, look positively petite. It's not a frequent fellow who can manage as much, and Coco does look just about intrigued. "Monsieur?" she asks, unaccustomed as she is to the untitled being granted one of their Longest Night's tokens. Curiouser and curiouser, as it were. And he speaks— the Skaldic accent rifling Coco's own native Camaeline into rearing its head. "The pleasure is all of ours," she puts a spin on the usual contrivance. "It's the night for that sentiment. It seems as someone has given you a favor. Might I ask one of my own, a boon for the Longest Night?"

"Monsieur Tancred and I are acquainted," Séverine clarifies towards Cochonnet with an upturn of her lips, "and I admit it was I who granted him such favor, for once, as he seemed rather… curious and intrigued. So… no, it was none of yours who gave him that favor, nor was it one of mine." Lifting her glass of joie to her lips. "It will remain a rare privilege, Monsieur. As you can see, my kind is entertaining themselves, as tonight it is about celebrating what we are, and what will be, in the year to come." Even so, Cochonnet's words draw a surprised glance from the Red Rose. "A favor, my dear? From me? Or from Monsieur?"

Coquelicots of Gentian canon tend to be a little odd at times. And so, Cedric's choice of costume draws another chuckle from Lois' lips when she spots him. Pressing another brief kiss to the corner of Paris's lips, she murmurs, "I'll be back in a minute," to the young handsome Glycine, before she drifts closer to the scary horse hooves bearer of tattered black garb. "You look quite the nightmare," is her fitting comment towards the other adept, even if she may not yet have gotten his deeper meaning, in his choice of costume.

"She gave it to me of her volition," Tancred adds, as if that needed clarifying, though given the barbarian stereotype it may actually be appropriate, "I had wished to know what this festivity was like, and the madame was kind to oblige despite my station." He grunts softly and raises his cup high for a long drink, adjusting his hat as his own bright blues flick from Severine to Cochonnet and then back, uncertain. His gaze settles on the latter after a heartbeat. "I know not if that is something done for this kind of celebration, but if it's me you are asking, then yes, ask and I will do my best, madame."

Cedric glances up and over to Lois and he smiles bowing his head lightly giving a playful neigh, "Well.. it seemed apropo. I do enjoy wandering about." He offers mildly and smiles, "It looks lovely here I hope you're enjoying yourself?" He asks of her brightly as his eyes turn this way and that in slow movements considering, "Things seem… well under way."

"I didn't intend insult to your way of choosing, no, nor that of any other of our brothers and sisters in Naamah," Coco is easy to lay any fears of judgement to rest with a sweep of her hand, which gratefully finds a tray for her emptied glass. "Any friend of my dear Madame Second is a friend of mine, as well," she pins her gaze back on Tancred, one might not discount with a hint of predatory intent. "Of Monsieur, yes, a favor. They call me Coco, Piglet of Glycine, Master Kinklorist and Cocksmith Extraordinaire." Yes. All that is what they call her. "I would expect someone of your stature to be remarkably endowed below-deck, as it were. Would you give me leave to sculpt an effigy of your phallus for my collection?"

<FS3> Severine rolls Composure: Good Success. (4 5 6 3 4 2 8 8 7 2 1)

The Red Rose Second sips from her glass and then lowers it, letting her gaze roam over Tancred when Cochonnet elects to assess him likewise. The request of La Cochonnet, however, brings an amused twist of a smile to her comely features and she raises her glass as if in some sort of toast. "You have a remarkable eye for detail, my dear," she compliments the Glycine Second, her grey eyes flitting back to regard the Skaldi, for his reaction. "And I believe, in this my choice of token-bearer has already paid off."

<FS3> Tancred rolls Composure: Good Success. (2 6 7 8 8)

"I am enjoying myself, yes," Lois replies to Cedric, meeting his smile with a smile of her own. "And here I thought, I had come up with the most nightmarish costume… Do you dance? Or have you…" Her blue eyes look towards the Kottabos stand, kindly provided by House Glycine, "by chance ever tried to play Kottabos?"

Cedric laughs warmly, the sound soft as he admits, "Ah mine is just a simple tact of it. Your own takes far more creativity and intrigue." He offers warmly and then he smiles, "I dance but it's not my forte but it is a night for it…" He pauses and he glances over to Kottabos and beams, "Not much really but I would not mind learning more if you would like to play." His eyes do flicker over to the laughter and amusement for the other groups looking curious before returning to Lois and the game with a smile making his way towards it.

He isn't so controlled that someone of the Night Court cannot read him as one might a patron, but Tancred does take it with relative calm, hinting at his disturbance with a mere couple of blinks, a grunt, and a tilt of the head. The Skaldi glances down to the crotch of his work-hose and tugs a little on the wool to make a light adjustment that doesn't actually hide anything. "You do not speak untrue," he admits, just a little shifty-eyed, "If you will write me, they will allow me back here and we may do this sculpting. Though, I too wish for something in return…"

Loïs looks towards Cedric, and the faintly bewildered expression in her eyes, along with the lift of her brows seem to say it all. "I am Gentian. Just like you. I have never played Kottabos. I will fail miserably at it. Unless, someone can show us how it is done…?" The Coquelicot adept looks here and there, carefully edging closer towards the Kottabos stand, hoping that some Glycine might have mercy and introduce her to the mysteries of Kottabos playing.

"Not here — no — chez Glycine, rather," Coco corrects, preening subtly upright when the fellow grants leave for his likeness to be taken, as it were. "You've brought in a prize, yes, Severine, and I'll bite your bottom properly later for it, does Naamah strike you the craving," she nudges against her fellow-second, then flutters a glance for Monsieur. "Oh, oui, Monsieur? Will you have me make it stand up for its modeling session?" she giggles.

Cedric laughs again warmly and he shrugs to Lois, "I'm sure we could find someone here to introduce us to the game… or we could simply make up our own." He offers warmly as he glances around and smiles as he picks up ach of the different dice thoughtfully and the plastinx is studied. He smiles to Lois, "Sometimes it's fun to make up one's own game don't you think? But if I know the GLycine the most important part of the game is the betting, what shall we bet?"

"I see you owe me a favor," Séverine counters towards Cochonnet. "I may take you up on your offer. Later." Telling the lovely dice-bearer as much, as she lets her grey eyes sweep back towards the Skaldi guest. "I should have warned you about my friend, Monsieur Tancred. Mademoiselle Cochonnet has a way of addressing some things quite bluntly."

"Yes, but perhaps in that way we are of like mind," Tancred supposes to Severine, having gotten over the shrug and standing tall. Well, even taller than he already is. At least someone appreciates a few of his features! "When I accompany my betters of the House, I am often struck that they rarely ever speak things as they are. It is the game they play." He glances around for a second, and though he does not smile, seems amused by Coco's counter. "Aye," he says plainly, "And I wish to play a game with it, to see if it is too big to hide."

"We shall make a bet?", Lois repeats, looking a little astonished at the thought. Her gaze finds the Kottabos stand, and she says, "I think I heard it mentioned some time, that the plastinx is to be set upon the spire. And then… you drink from your cup, and spin the remaining lees within, only to toss them at the plastinx, aiming to nudge it off the spire so that it lands in the crater below…" All of this is explained with an absent slightly dreamy look in her eyes. "We should make a bet. The one who manages to hit the plastinx off the spire with one hit will win. And neither of us does, the one that manages with the least tosses." There is a pensive pause. "What shall we wager for? A wish? A boon, that will be granted by the other, regardless of what it will be?"

Cedric smiles at Lois, "We should make a bet." He nods at that and he smiles, "Drinking and gaming always a good start for an evening." He offers warmly and then nods at that and smiles agreeably, "Ah… I'm open to ideas. A boon? A dream? A secret?" He says brightly, "I suppose a boon covers all of them so we shall go with that." He beams clapping his hands (hoofs) together, "Care to go first?" He asks as he bites his lip considering the game and the cups."

"It's as though they're shy, isn't it? Well, don't be fooled by those veils," Coco advises, reaching a long, rather buff arm to snug about Sevvie's waist to jostle her pleasantly. "Oh, that game? Why, a game as old as time, and a lovely one. I'll agree— on condition I get to inspect the full length first and make certain it will… augment my collection. But you seem confident enough that it shall," she grins.

The Angel of Servitude leans into the arm that holds and jostles her, and Séverine cannot help but grin a little at Cochonnet's counter towards Tancred. "Believe me. It shall," the Red Rose Second assures her Second colleague. "Ways of the Night Court sometimes do not converge with courtly ways. Even if I am certain, that each Lis d'Or in these halls will insist on the contrary." This, she says towards the Skaldi. "In the case of you and Mademoiselle Cochonnet, I believe, the acquaintance will be of mutual benefit."

Lois carefully replaces the silver plastinx on the top of the Kottabos stand's spire.

"I can go first," Lois assures Cedric with a nod, too quick to agree to a game that usually is not what a Gentian would do. But this is Longest Night. She reaches for a cup that has been filled with wine, and, after drinking a good portion of it, begins to spin the cup by its handle, while her blue eyes seem to focus on the plastinx she has placed upon the spire.

Roll: (3 3 1 5 2 8 2 8)

Lois readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

A hit! The lees fly through the air and strike the plastinx solidly, but it only teeters on the edge of the spire rather than falling off.

"A fair deal. I accept." And so Tancred takes a drink, then gives his right hand - which is empty - to shake hands with Coco on it, whenever either arm of hers might be free. He doesn't grip excessively hard, which is all good considering that he looks like he'd pulverize most. Then he uses the same hand to briefly pat Severine's arm, turning as some of the other courtesans move on to playing games. "I have been told that Skaldi measure larger, but I cannot say if it is true. And aye, I think so. There is less room for trickery abed, I think."

Roll: (1 5 3 5 4 1 2 1)

Lois readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

Miss! It's a good toss and is close, but the wine just misses the silver plastinx.

Roll: (4 7 6 1 1 1 2 3)

Lois readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

A glancing hit! The lees stain the plastinx, but don't really manage to move it far enough, just a fraction. The plastinx stays on the spire.

Roll: (6 2 3 8 3 7 3 3)

Lois readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

A hit! The lees fly through the air and strike the plastinx solidly, it teeters on the edge of the spire before it falls off, hitting the crater with a soft 'PLINK'.

Loïs tries her luck at the Kottabos, but it seems, her efforts are lacking clearly the practice any Glycine would have. While her first toss hits true, causing the plastinx to teeter quite a bit, the second attempt goes amiss, the third manages barely to brush the plastinx, so that it will take a fourth to push it off the spire completely.

Cedric smiles brightly a t Lois and watches her go, "Ooh. Close. Oooh.. more." He then begins clapping as she finally hits properly. He smiles, "Four then?" He asks brightly and he bites his lip lifting his cup, "Let's see!" He says brightly and takes his own turn for a spin.

Cedric carefully replaces the silver plastinx on the top of the Kottabos stand's spire.

Roll: (1 3 7 4 1 5 3 8)

Cedric readies himself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on his finger. After a moment, he lets the lees go…

A hit! The lees fly through the air and strike the plastinx solidly, but it only teeters on the edge of the spire rather than falling off.

Roll: (5 6 2 3 7 7 8 1)

Cedric readies himself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on his finger. After a moment, he lets the lees go…

A hit! The lees fly through the air and strike the plastinx solidly, it teeters on the edge of the spire before it falls off, hitting the crater with a soft 'PLINK'.

Cochonnet offers out her off-hand, keeping her right arm about Sevvie, feeling just so cuddly right here, as it happens. She might not shake, but she can take that hand and bow over it slightly to give it a kiss, just as she'd done for Severine a while back. "Then tell me the house you serve in, and I'll send word when you should… come," she lets that last word hang just right. A last snug of Sev's waist, and she even leans aside to kiss her one on the cheek. "I have to go check on one of my boys. Do pardon me, Severine love? And come bother me in due course?"

"Of course, my dear," Séverine counters in a soft murmur, countering the kiss to her cheek with one of hers, lips brushing against the side of Cochonnet's face. "I shall see you later." The banter between the Kinklorist and her Skaldi acquaintance she had observed with amused curiosity. It is now, that she too has to excuse herself for a moment, having caught a glance from afar, of the Dowayne of her salon. "He serves at House Baphinol," Séverine murmurs towards Coco, before the latter departs on her own errands. "Tancred. I shall be with you in a minute," the added promise towards her foreign guest, before the Red Rose Second heads off towards Jacques Verreuil.

"House Baphinol," says Tancred, though the other Second has beat him to it. He inclines his head, sticking around a while longer. "Take your time," he assures Severine, "I may be taking my leave soon." In time, he does, managing to slip by for a breather outside - or perhaps to bed.

Meanwhile, there is a Kottabos competition that is decided so clearly it makes Lois lower her gaze, while a light blush creeps onto her cheeks. "Two tries. This makes you the winner, I suppose?", she says towards Cedric. Even so, she leans in and gives him a kiss to his cheek. "Congratulations."

Cedric's tongue flicks out after the first toss squinting at the game and then he smiles brightly as he strikes on the second one as well and he pumps his hand in the air. He beams at Lois and he grins, "So it seems." He smiles from ear to ear and leans into the kiss letting a hand half wrap Lois, "Thank you! I was lucky. Perhaps I should play more Glycine games more often." He says happily wetting his lips and then he glances to Lois and his eyes twinkle, "So… I wonder what should I ask for of my boon." He says playfully, "Any suggestions?" He offers with a grin.

"A kiss.", Lois counters, looking up at him with a faintly innocent smile. "But not here. Somewhere… over there…" She points vaguely in the direction of the shrine. "Maybe… I need some more joie. I feel so thirsty, all of a sudden…"

Cedric lets out a laugh and he offers his arm and he smiles, "More Joie." He agrees and tries to walk with Lois as he smiles, "A kiss? Oh? I need a boon to receive even a kiss?" He asks with a mock pout with his eyes warm and twinkling. His feet clopping along the ground as the two amble for a refill.

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