Masquerade

The Hawk and Dove Performance Hall 


 * The thick cinnamon-hued biinwood pillars that provide support to this spacious performance hall are carved with intricate bas relief images - some depict hawks swooping down on unsuspecting field mice among windswept stalks of wheat, while others show doves fluttering their wings as they take flight.


 * Dozens of square tables are arrayed around a central dance floor, with seating for more than one hundred patrons who may gather to see musical performances and bardic antics here in the great Hawk and Dove Performance Hall.


 * The musical stage is elevated along the northern wall, while a storyteller's stage stands in the southeast corner. An archway leads out into the main room of the tavern.


 * The rafters have been draped with long folds of rich royal blue velvet, looping and dipping down in elegant weaves. At the far end of the Hall are several long tables stretched out, filled with food. Flowers are spread throughout the hall, some tacked up onto the wall, other pots spread around, flanking the tables.

Things are still quiet, with half an hour left until the beginning of the Masque. Servers are already bustling back and forth with trays full of drinks, wine and ale, offering them to those guests that are already present. Musicians are already warming up with their instruments, soft strains of music floating over the murmurs of people.

The whisper of velvets skirts and the form of a woman dressed mostly in a pale white, nearly white in it's hues, slips into the quiet hall. Her steps steady to reach one of the more darkened walls, and help to hold it up. The wolfen mask already firmly in place to obscure the woman's identity from sight.

Arm-in-arm, a couple enters the hall; One is dressed like a chitter, and the other has chosen a more artistic theme. In a mask-muffled voice the woman speaks to the taller figure. "Looks like we're a bit early.. Should we claim some food and drink before things heat up?"

In a pleasantly light voice, the taller of the pair offers, "Of course? I am, my dear fluffy one, entirely at your whim, this evening. Mind, wine is always welcome." A lace-covered hand rests on the chitter's arm for a moment, "Glossy Star, or something a bit more red?"

Dianna stands at the center of all of this, unmasked and uncostumed. She is busily directing people this way and that way, before moving away to where the musicians are warming up, passing a few words off to them.

"You have outdone yourself, Dianna," remarks Golden. A fur-clad hand tugs nervously at the furry belt, stepping away from the security of the wall to address the proprietress. "Master Taran mentioned that he will be performing tonight, will Mistress Meian be joining him?"

The chitter nods to her companion. "Glossy star, I think." She responds in muffled tones, then strides across the floor towards Dianna, clapping a gloved 'paw' on the woman's shoulder and reaching up to open the wire-structured 'jaw' on her mask. With a voice more clearly her own, the woman comments in her usual sharpish contralto, "Looks great, Di.. Should be good for the 'Dove too. "

The muse sweeps grandly over to the servers and their wine, acquiring two goblets of glossy star, sipping from one as he turns, cloak swirling, locating its companion and crossing her way - taking its time and enjoying, it seems, the decor.

Dianna turns and smiles to both women, "Celeste, Sahna, good that you could both come," she says warmly. "I do hope that you will indulge in a great deal of wine, and have a good time. Rooms will be available at the end of the evening to ensure you do not go staggering straight into the arms of a bandit along the road." She chuckles a bit, brushing back a curl of hair. "Where is your handsome escort, Sah?"

Holding the maniacally grinning mask of a satyr before his face, and not making a very consistent or concerned effort to keep himself "hidden," the young baron Kahar steps inside the Performance Hall. He walks with considerable effort, taking very slow steps across the wooden floor, whilst his white velvet cloak flows behind him.

"..and here with me without my guards to protect me from such a fate," jests Golden softly. The hand falling away from its fidgeting of the furry belt. Her attention looking towards this escort as well, "Sahna, I see that you have found a rather enigmatic sort as a date."

The chitter lifts a paw in a 'shh' motion, eyes alight behind her mask. "I'll have you both know that tonight I'm the velvet chitter." She responds, then beckons over to Tragedy as he approaches. She takes up his arm and the goblet of wine he brought, sipping at it before pushing the 'jaw' of her mask closed, voice once again muffled. "My date, good wolf, good proprietress."

Waving a lace-covered hand, Tragedy sweeps a broad bow - merrily offering, "Enigmatic? Far from it. Inspirational! Drawn to events requiring my touch, I daresay."

The rustling sound of another entry is rather hurried, a woman in red and black holding her liltrum cautiously as she makes her way in. Upon crossing the threshhold her steps slow enough to be dignified, but there's still a quickness to them as she heads directly for Dianna, murmuring, "Sorry I'm late, my lady- I had to find somewhere to borrow a dress that would fit me."

Dianna laughs warmly, "As you say, dear chitter," she says with a smile. "In the absence of your guards, I will have to keep you out of harm. What kind of hostess would I be without taking care fo those without me?" She looks towards the masqued man, smiling. "My thanks for the help on flowers. It /makes/ the room, I think." She seems ready to say more, but pauses as the red woman appears. "Of course, do not worry, my dear. Go ahead and join the others on the stage. They're just warming up for now. You look lovely, so your searches have been successful, I think."

Golden turns to take in the new arrival, a hidden smile to her lips at hearing the familiar voice. "It is good to see you again, Mistress. You are a vision, even if I cannot see your face," notes the Wolf lightly...looking back to the couple. "Dear chitter, I am sorry that I was not able to see you leave from my home. Perhaps we can share a meal without the means of masks soon."

With the same casual, not entirely guarded protection toward his identity, 'The Satyr' walks - or hobbles, to be more appropriate - toward Dianna in a slow fashion. He nods and greets several of the milling groups of nobles, suggesting that he knows them as friends or relatives, in passing across the floor. A hand is reached out at a passing servant, and deftly snatches a goblet of white wine.

"Lady Lomasa," intones a baritone voice, somewhat raspy and weaker than usual, "I see to it that you have made fine preparations for my Masque. Very well."

"Very kind of you, Dianna." The chitter responds in a muffled voice, her eyes glittering behind the masque for a moment as she regards Tragedy. "Not to worry, good wolf.. You haven't seen the last of me, I assure you." She glances over at the satyur as he approaches, adding in a muffled contralto, "So, you're the fellow throwing the party, hum?"

"Ah, indeed. A glorious fete', sir. I cannot wait to see what transpires tonight." Tragedy seems in quite good humor, really, a Chitter on his arm - "though you seem to be moving a bit stiffly for dancing; You are alright, I hope?"

Dianna flickers her eyes over towards the Satyr, nodding slowly. "My Lord, until I see the proper coin in my hand for all of my work, and space, then as far as I am concerned, this is /my/ Masque," she notes sweetly. "But please, feel free to enjoy some wine and entertainment."

Red Raven curtseys to Dianna in acknowledgement before turning to the Golden Wolf, her high voice sweetly amused as she replies, "And you wear a face I'm fond of, on top of the beauty of the entire costume." Lifting that liltrum to cradle it easily in both hands, the woman turns with a swirl of red and black skirts toward the northern stage, ascending its steps and going to join the musicians already arrayed.

"I think that I can keep our satyr friend a bit of company. I've never been taught such graceful arts, and if he does not mind the shedding." Golden steps beside the Satyr, offering her lace clad arm for support. Everyone seems to be standing about Dianna, speaking conversationally. "Would you mind the company, my lord?"

"Some trouble in East Leg," the noble replies gravely to Tragedy, not offering anymore on the topic. He turns his masked visage toward the Chitter, a hidden smile unseen underneath the facade, and evenly answers: "Indeed, I do have that privilege." The nobleman, rightly offended, turns to face Dianna directly. "I should hope that is the last loathsome outburst, lady Lomasa, and you keep your coin-counting attitude to the marketplace. I am not some trivial merchant," he scolds her in hushed tones. "My /credit/ is not a matter I would hope your ladyship will bring up in polite society once more," he adds, ruefully. In a louder, more audible tone, he turns to the Golden Wolf. "Ah, yes, I shall be /quite/ happy for the honour, lady!"

Taran steps into the performance hall, looking ...rather recently preened, actually, though lacking any form of costuming. He makes his way discreetly - insofar as one *can* - over to Dianna.

Unfortunately, the chitter is still standing beside Dianna. Behind the chitter's mask, her green eyes go hard and cold-- Abandoning the goblet to Tragedy, she moves towards the satyr with her tail swinging behind her, eyes thawing with a blaze of rage. "Perhaps my costume is getting in the way of hearing things properly." The woman responds with a voice of silky frozen mercury. "For, I thought I heard you treat my good friend like some two-bit vassal. In fact, I'm fairly certain you used the term 'loathsome'.. You, a small, unheard-of man without even his own facilities for a dance, speak of polite society?"

The party has already begun, the frock and color of the masqued nobility moving out after wine, food, and already eagerly awaiting music. The merry hum and chatter of conversation already begins to swirl throughout the room, laughter and the occasional barb giving the room a sense of anticipation.

Tragedy, arm in arm with its Chitter companion, stands near Dianna, the Wolf, and the Satyr, the lot talking, while the Red Raven moves up to join the muscians on stage.

"Now now, both of you - I'm firmly intent on a dance before I strike... ignorance is a horrible thing, true, but curable with gentle guidance - " It inclines its head toward the Satyr - "And perhaps there's not yet enough wine to lend polish to angry tongues."

Taran - seeing the nobles quite busy - just smiles, shakes his head, and moves toward the stage, taking up the string position.

"Outburst?" Dianna inquires, lifting a brow. "As far as I know, there was no outburst, merely a side note that you should be aware of." Her eyes roll, but she rests a hand on the fearsome chitter's arm. "Now, now, my friend. I am sure that our dolt of a Kahar has just misheard what I said, and forgotten that this is my home, and therefore have the perfect right to show him the door." She smiles sweetly, and then shakes her head. "If you will all excuse me. I need to make sure the musicians have all they need. I am encouraging all of you to dance as soon as I get my musicians earning their pay. My Dark Friend, you should take this lovely furry chitter and sweep her around the floor before she does anything silly" A bright smile appears and she moves off towards the stage.

"My lord, I believe an apology is in order. One's pain can not give cause for one's insults," mumbles Golden softly to her companion. "Lest you find yourself bereft of genteel company for the night." Her own gaze shielded from the gathered crowds beneath a brow of white fur. "Lady Chitter, we can solve this matter by calmer means, and I do believe that such a costume may not be conducive to some forms of...." She coughs softly, lowering her voice even lower, "combustion."

Pausing to glance at one mural adorned wall - a white starburst of doves against a cyan sky - a small, shining woman enters the hall alone. Her hands rest gently on the wide skirt of her glimmering white gown and she appears apprehensive, but not exactly frightened. With some degree of hesitancy she makes an advance on the edge of the ballroom, begging the pardon of a few people that she passes with a soft voice. Dark pink lips are set in a smooth, serene line, and light green eyes are neutral but far from flat. She appears, in raising a hand to brush a yellow curl from her shoulder, to be attempting soft gaiety in the face of self-consciousness; although she moves gracefully, her body language betrays nervousness. The crafted hollow at the base of her throat is covered by a lacy hand, as though she is aware of the sheet of bare skin there.

"I do hope Her Ladyship enjoys the entertainment," the Satyr crisply replies to the Chitter. He does seem too keen on debating matters of etiquette: or lackthereof. Reluctantly drawn into the discussion, he simply says to the Golden Wolf: "Accounts are a matter for the marketplace, my dear lady. I will not have myself besmirched by the former wife of a Freedman," he retorts in earnest. Having been attacked by Dianna upon his entry, Aulus does not seem that he rather enjoyed making himself the centre of a growing scandal. He does, however, seem to be noticably hunched over as he talks.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran takes off his cloak, setting it aside, and quirks an eyebrow at the raven. "I'm afraid I would fail at any sort of costuming," he says to his companion. "But it suits you." Taking a seat, settling his lute, he says, "A galliard, to start?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven turns at Taran's address, chuckling self-consciously. "I ran all over the Emporium to find someone willing to lend me a dress, and I suppose I got lucky," she murmurs. "Glad to see you're here... I'm not entirely sure what a galliard is, but if you can lead it, I can figure it out and play along." She flexes her pale fingers in their dark gloves, adjusting a few of the pegs on her liltrum's neck just slightly. "...we should start soon, either way."

Dianna's words, and that of the Wolf and Tradgedy cam the chitter-- She ceases a mere inches in front of the Satyr, looking up at him with a gaze that, freed from rage, now shows only icy contempt. Serenely, she begins; "You are a little toad of a man, 'my lord'. I've known you for mere minmutes, but I can already see the ugly, shrivelled thing that passes for your personality, and I don't like it. You will offer every courtesy to the Lady Lomasa, for she is your superior not only in wit and wealth, but she is also a rarity in this world.. Someone capable of love and sacrifice." She steps even closer, eyes slits, voice caressing her next words with longing, as she raises a paw-hand. "...I desire burn the flesh from your bones until it slags and runs and drips with the sound of sizzling fat, for I suspect all you have inside is gristle and sinew and bone-matter, unworthy of even the smallest catch in a hunter's snare. Shall we find out?"

Silently appearing, noiselessly vanishing. An entity of seeming spontaneity it gives both life and death; it can be falsely manipulated yet as free in spirit as the souls that would guide it. Such is the nature of flame. It heralds the death of old eras and from it sprouts the birth of new..

Equally silent and unassuming is the flicker which lights in the entrance to the performance hall, eyes of green renewal watching with patience to study the crowd within. Before she can be ignited further or snuffed out, Lady Flame drifts calmly aside and rests within the sooty darkness of a black cloak.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), For answer, the bard strikes up a lively, infectious, and rather athletic dance tune in 6/8 time. Cheerful and just a bit challenging, the music pours out from the stage and he gives the Raven a grin. "Join in anytime," he says, pitching it low for her ears alone.

Tragedy rests an oddly restraining hand on that chitter's shoulder - "Now, now, dear Lady - you'll ruin the floors. Can you imagine the hours required to clean up the drippings? While the idea of a Satyr-candle does have its merits, perhaps we can wait until the climax of the party, at the very least? By then, Lady Dianna may have found a bit of leftover canvas to catch the inevetable mess." It inclines its head, that so-very-sad masque leaning in close. "and you see? Music. You would dance with me by your words - prove it on the floor?"

Dianna slides up to the stage, knocking lightly on the wood to catch both Taran and the Raven's attention. "Are the two of you ready?" she inquires. "Some lively music about now might help divert a rather... tense situation that could end in sparks." A faint smile appears, "I am pleased to see that you made it, Master Taran. I was beginning to worry you would not show. If you need anything throughout the night, please send someone to find me, and I will see it done." Her smile brightens, "We will speak at the end of this for payment, if you would like," she adds, and then moves off a few steps. "The rest of the musicians will be following your lead, so do what you see fit."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), "Gladly," offers the Raven in low rejoinder to Taran, listening to catch the beat and melody of the tune first. Her fingers reach up and tweak those pegs slightly further, very softly sounding the strings to ensure the liltrum will compliment the lute. At Dianna's approach, the woman simply offers her a smile- visible barely under the mask- and waits a few beats. At the opportune moment where a new cadence begins, her instrument soars into the song, winding a complex and elegant countermelody around Taran's dancing tune.

"Not here," replies Golden from beneath her own furry maw. Her own hand slipping away from the Satyr's arm. A chill slipping to the furry woman's voice. "I believe you should sit and rest, my lord. It would seem the pain has reached your mind and this is neither the place or time for such words. Please....rest, and I shall see to drinks." The wolf looks back to the chitter and tragedy, "let us listen to the beauty that is already here, and deal with such matters later...my friend. As I said, such behaviors will only cause more of a mess for the Lady Lomasa to clean up."

"Woman, you have made an enemy today with your garrullous, contemptuous, gutter-tongued behaviour," Aulus replies in between clenched-teeth: his tone seething. "I had not known there were any with your temperament outside the Shadow District, but, judging on the lady Lomasa's taste in company, I shant imagine it too difficult to conjure. I /should have known/ to trust a woman with so disreputable a name to have invited half the riftraff of Fastheld to this Masque." He formally bows, not without some degree of pain, and abruptly turns his back on the noblewoman. Swift steps, as hurriedly placed as he could manage, bring him toward the exit of the Hall.

Turning her head and assuming a real smile to replace the old, White Dove weaves through a thin grove of masqueraders and, with not much difficulty, approaches the creature in red silk pressed against the side of the room. With Lady Flame there is her line of sight, she makes a gentle curtsey. "May I speak to you, my lady?" she asks in a very soft voice, invisible eyebrows raising and her chin darting forward quizzically as she makes her request.

For a moment, the chitter seems about to back down under the soothing application of calm words and music.. That is, until the satyr speaks. She turns to him and comments, "You've stepped too far in public, little toad. You've not only insulted /two/ ladies of other houses, but you've done so in public." She removes one of her paw-gloves and tosses it derisively at the man's feet. "I demand satisfaction in the form of a duel, you cowardly wastrel. Or is it that your bravery and vulgarity only waxes eloquent when you're attacking those you percieve as helpless?"

Lady Flame begins to subtly twitch in the coy dance that all burning wicks engage in. Timid motions at first, as the first sparks fly, igniting just the tip of one toe to follow the beat of the lyrical tune being struck on stage.

Satisfied in the music selection and casting a glance of intrigue towards the food oh so far away, Lady Flame deems that it is in her best interest to progress into introductions. She examines the embodied creativities, shifting her gaze from the Satyr's mischief to the Wolf's wisdom, the Chitter's Chittering, Tragedy's grace, and of course, the party's hostess - a familiar face in a lot of strangers. Before venturing forward, however, the little light takes scrutinizing note of the Satyr whose wicked grin may perhaps be more grimace now. Always ready to light a darkened path, Lady Flame deems it fitting to head in that direction first... but her mission becomes stopped short by the coo of a Dove.

The flare of feathers turn to look upon the snowy counterpart with a dignified nod. "All words are welcome here....clearly." Both brows aloft behind scarlet tufts and she stares pointedly towards the irate hostess.

".... m'Lady - " Tragedy's voice loses that cultivated neutrality, developing an icy edge as sharp as the Chitter's, "If you'd care to avoid sullying you hands, my blade is at your disposal. As your escort this evening, the insult tendered you is mine, as well - and it /will/ have satisfaction." That last word is pointed. "I allowed insult on my own person to slide, Kahar. But you insult my companion for the evening, /and/ a Lady of my house - churlish /dog/."

"I had thought your family taught you better - perhaps you were asleep at your lessons. Do allow me to school you in what you've so obviously missed."

"Find a nobleman to defend your honour, /lady/," the Satyr calls across the floor, standing near the doorway. "I do not duel women; it is unseemly." With that retort shot across the room, he turns in a swirl of velvet and - while not gracefully, due to his injury - his proceeds to vacate the Performance Hall.

Reaching up to remove her maqsque, Sahna Nillu lowers the chitter-face away from hers, staring after the man with something dark across her features. To those remaining in the hall she declares in a strident voice, "Let all here be witnesses that I have been refused satisfaction and a chance to defend my honor.. If any man or woman would challenge my right to defend myself and my reputation, let them speak up now and be heard; For I intend to seek my satisfaction, and would have none deny my rights as a peer of the realm."

It seems to have taken about thirteen seconds for everything to transpire; the same amount of time it takes for Dianna to make her way back over to the crowd. "What in the Light's name just happened?" she inquires, lifting a brow. "Can I not leave you all alone for two seconds?" The Lomasa makes her way over to Sahna, placing a hand on the small Nillu's shoulder. "Take it easy, Sah... just think of how much fun you can have ruining him publicly, my friend," she notes softly.

Golden shakes her head, looking back to Chitter an Tragedy. "I shall have to speak with him before he continues to bring about our -distant- relations," sighs the woman sadly. Her eyes lighting on Flame, and once more that hidden smile returns beneath the mask. "If you could excuse me," mummers the wolf to the group. Sahna's words bringing the wolf's pace to a halt...clearly unnerved at what to answer.

"Thank you, madam," the dove says politely, nodding her head once in gratitude. "Yes, I understand you. Once it was the custom for a hostess to ensure that none of her guests go unattended; it seems as though etiquette, however, is not being observed in full here." She pauses, a soft swishing sound coming from her skirts as she improves her posture. "I am sorry. You meant to go and aid them and I have stopped you - ohhh." Her voice fades into a hush as Sahna speaks, and White Dove turns meek eyes on the strong woman.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven glances rather nervously to Taran at Sahna', her lips thinning into an uncomfortable line, but she doesn't let the playing slacken for a moment. Under her breath, she murmurs, "What should we... just keep playing as if nothing's happening down there?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran doesn't look any happier, slanting a worried look at the Raven in turn, but likewise doesn't pause. "We play," he says firmly. "Until the masque ends, our duty is to play."

"Oh, this is a new record, for certain..." the Flame mutters, exchanging a sideways glance with the Dove. "Dramatics. It is a defect born into the blood of all nobility, yet not one that any purging of Shadow or Boons of the Light can erase from a character. I would like a single memory to be reminded to myself of when ANY such event did go smoothly." That said, she clears her throat of all irritations and proclaims with a clear and melodious voice...

"Hail him back, m'lady Nillu, and let us feast our eyes on a duel of dance. Is that not appropriate for the occasion?"

Sahna reaches up and checks the mask over, pulling it, and her missing glove-paw, back on. "Hail him back? Oh, not at all.. I think it's very clear that he was busy running away from his own party because it wasn't going the way he wanted." She responds, adjusting the mask and gliding back over to Tradgedy. "Duels will wait for dancing, and dancing will have no place in my duel once I get it."

Smoothly, Tragedy offers - "My presence, it seems, was certainly prophetic. M'lady Nillu, I stand as your second, and your champion; that insult is mine, also, to bear, and I find it chafes and rankles." Still icy, that, that black cloak swirling as he turns to regard Sahna - "and I /will/ feed it to him. Regardless - " That masque sweeps the crowd.

"if he insists on staining the air with his voice, I would daresay our revelry is better without him. There is wine, there is song - and an insult tendered that will be dealt with at a less merry time. Drink. Eat, let us not let the Kahar's largesse go to waste - for he has given us the means to celebrate his absence! Let us then enjoy it, shall we?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran brings the galliard to a close, and then looks to Meian. "They wish to celebrate," he says. "Shall we try a courante?"

Dianna clears her throat, "Children," she chides, shaking her head. "Enough of this. I will deal with this idiot at a later point. But for now, with so much of the dead weight gone, we should all get back to our party," she says loudly, stepping back to address all of the people in the room. "Master Taran, a song, if you please," she calls to the stage. "My Lords and Ladies, I apologize for the unseemly turn of events, but we should all still enjoy our time here. Please help yourself to some wine or ale that is being served."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), "Sure," the Raven agrees, her voice slightly more calm, curtseying to Dianna at her request. In a lower voice, she adds, "...but I don't know what one of those is either, so I'll jump in again if you give me the lead. At the moment, they're all songs to me, and I simply play what feels right."

"A duel of dance, my lady?" chirps the Dove, a sudden smile brought to her soft features. "What an idea - and if His Lordship won, what then? Or if the Countess happened to have the better step - hum. It seems to me as though our gracious host is not such a gracious winner and likely a less gracious loser - certainly, historically. We would be in for a tantrum either way, and as long as I can call myself a gentlewoman I would /almost/ rather be entertained by music." The smile broadens slightly, and she inclines her head. "I think it was a good idea.".

The wolf continues her pace to seek out the Flame. Her skirts ruffling about her feet, and giving no more cause to the Satyr who seems to have left. "What a beautiful costume," she notes appraisingly of the fire. "It would seem that you shall, thank the Light, be the only flame that we see tonight." She pivots on her heal to look towards the stage. "Yes, song would be wonderful, Dianna...and would lighten the mood, I think."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran laughs, low in the throat, and begins - if anything - a melody at least as energetic as the one before. Bright and ferocious - a challenge to dance, at the least; the courante is a dance of little runs, and small hops and leaps - not easy to dance well.

"Shall we dance, escort of mine?" The chitter queries, offering a paw-gloved-hand to Tradgedy. "It's a bit bouncier than I'd hoped for, but hopefully I won't tear the costume trying. I used to be rather good at this sort of thing, I suppose."

"I would be honored - though I make no promises on this; I usually mask my lack of higher skill by begging away the faster rondels - " Tragedy takes that hand, sweeping a bow - "I can but try."

A low chuckle forms in Lady Flame's throat at White Dove's enthusiastic approval and then blazes into full laughter as the Golden Wolf speaks her piece. "While roast boar is a delight to be had, I'm not certain I would crave the roasted flesh of man, no." A sweep of her mane and she extends a slender hand to each of her female companions. "Let us not keep the musicians playing for naught. I see the remaining Kahar line has chosen to lighten their spirits. We should be quick before there is no more room to move over the floor. I hope you are both light on your feet..."

That said, the Flame summons a long lost burst of girlish energy and tugs forcefully at each with a forward lunge towards the music.

"Oh, yes, please!" White Dove seems to swell with energy, a full display of fine teeth flashing as the young girl plunges with little grace and much glee onto the dance floor. "I should warn you that I am a terrible dancer," she says, her voice boldening to carry over the ruffle of the masque, "but I am as light as a dove and if I step on your foot, I will not hurt you."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven again listens for a few moments, nodding her head in time with the quick beat and catching the thread of the tune, before leaping in with nimble fingers to play alongside Taran. Again she adopts the same strategy, a blisteringly fast countermelody that frolics in and out of the lute's sound. A smile begins to curve her lips, a blissfully excited thing, as she seems to get rather into the performance.

The wolf stumbles along, trying to keep her paws from catching to the delicate hem of her own skirts. Her efforts finding her a man with feet as poor of her own. After a few moments of who's hands go where, and still failing in such. Golden is anything but elegant with a gaze more to her feet than that of her partner's eyes.

Dianna moves off to the side of the stage, smiling as she takes a glass of red wine, brushing back a curl of hair. Very slowly, the Lomasa starts off on a track around the room, one of the serving girls catching up with her, the two starting in conversation about something.

The chitter starts out gracefully enough.. For mere seconds, that is, before the distracted woman is not only off-beat and pace for the brisk music, but also frequently stubbing her toes against Tradgedy's boots. After a particularly bad jab, she hops backwards with irritation, bumping into a server carrying wineglasses, which tilt precariously and then tip, dumping red wine onto a nearby dancer.

"Lovely," comments the Flame as she takes a final, fleeting glance as to where her furred brethren disappeared to. Spying the astrocities, she whistles thinly beneath her breath and looks more brightly to the Dove. "Fair enough. While I cannot promise the same, I will make a hearted effort to remain as without mass as my avatar."

A triple meter step it was...hopping very faintly at first until her feet have remembered this art of dance, Rowena moves with relative ease to the energetic trill.

Laughing - an odd sound, coming from the Tragedy masque, the black clad figure keeps good time, until the chitter...... introduces finery to the enjoyable and various colours of both a quite good Lomasa Red /and/ the bright yellow of a glossy star. The tinkling of glass makes a wonderful counterpoint to the music of the dance proper, in fact.

The figure reaches up to steady the servant - the wine hopeless, the suddenly drenched nobleman getting a merry - "Oh, how tragic - you should, sir, watch where you step. The color does suit you, mm?" Smoothly, he goes on, hooking an arm in the Chitter's and pulling her back into the dance - "... tragic, however, that beadwork. Positively tragic." ... really. He /should/ know.

The distraction of chitter saves the abused Kahar of the stomped upon toes and mutters curses. The wolf is quick to claim her own hands, and step away from her companion. Attention firmly to tragedy and Chitter with a near feral smile of her own at the predicament.

Dianna winces as there goes a crash and there goes a tray of wine. "Oh Sweet Light, could this get any worse?" she inquires of the girl next to her, but heads off towards the scene of the accident, carefully lifting her skirts away from the puddle. "Merin, dear, will you run and fetch a mop so we can clean this mess up. My Lord Erra, I am so sorry... please go speak with Katalya at the bar, and she'll take you up to a room where you can clean yourself up." Tragedy and Chitter get an amused, yet annoyed look, before she just shakes her head.

Rather heavy for a Dove, but retaining some measure of her natural grace, the bird hops prettily and then stumbles over her fat gown, clapping her hands and laughing heartily as she prevents herself from going down. "Oh, dear, oh, dear. I'm afraid I must dance with a cane," she says to the flickering flame. "You are such a lovely dancer, my lady," she giggles, tottering as she skips again, "I am outshone."

Wincing, the chitter instead leads her chatty dance-partner from the floor, shaking her head. In a muffled contralto she comments, "I am, perhaps, out of practice. I'll make sure to hire on a tutor; Destroying nice clothing is a travesty."

There seems to have been an accident and a rather drenched lord being led off from the room. Another sheepish and unlikely pair of Chitter and Tragedy sneak away from the dance floors, while Dianna tisks and laughs. Dove and Flame continue to twirl and dance upon the dancefloor....and a lone wolf stands off to the side. Her blush thankfully hidden behind the furs of rabbits. One cursing and hobbling Kahar stumbles away from her

"For the hour, perhaps," Flame coyly remarks, basking in the compliment with a mockful flourishing of her arms. A delicately-toed twirl clearly not in line with the playing dance is performed, then she offers a hand again to White Dove. "But as the night progresses I suspect my own skills will....be extinguished." A wry smile turns up one corner of her mouth beneath the mask's edge and she steps into the male's role, leading right a step and guiding her daintily feminine partner with an equally slender arm. "But we seem to have lost a portion of our initial trio..."

"That depends on whether it flatters the fellow wearing it, mm?" Tragedy waves a breezy, lace-covered hand - "In that particular case, it was more... a piece of artistry? Truly. That beadwork. Gah." He does glance somewhat longingly back at the dance floor - "I am surprised I managed those steps, i admit. Glorious fun."

An ancient-looking sod comes in, leaning on the arm of a soldier wearing the livery of the Duke Lomasa. As they make it inside the doorway, the old man waves away his escort with an all-too-coordinated. He taps his way into the room, moving off to the side and looking around, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

The chitter shakes her head, taking a seat on one of the free benches with a relieved expression mirrored in her gaze as she relaxes. "I don't think dancing will be on my agenda for the rest of the eve.. But perhaps you can find a better dancer among the costumes? I'll be fine over here, if you wish to."

One crisis is averted. Dianna moves off once more, continuing her rounds about the room, which eventually takes her back to the stage. She hovers, and glances over towards Taran and the Raven, lifting a brow in silence.

"Where is that pack mentality that wolves are said to posess? Dance with your sisters or not at all, I would tell my canine friend - except it seems as though she had momentarily found a much more handsome partner than either of us." The Dove squeezes Lady Flame's hand affectionately as she moves around her, teetering and bouncing like a bird rather than gliding as the ladies who /can/ dance /do/. "I cannot see her now," she says, extending her long neck. While her heads are in the clouds, she turns it towards the door - the insignia of Duke Lomasa seems to catch her eye, but she tears her attention away from it and back to her partner quickly enough.

"... If you are sure?" Tragedy's quite serious, in that - "My duty, this evening, my dearest fuzzy friend, is to elicit from you a smile, but, if you'll not begrudge me this dance..."

The wolf looks towards the wine, perhaps needing a bit more courage to make such a spectacle again. She slips back towards the wall skirt around to the tables, her pace bringing her not far from the Sage-like man. "Do you need assistance, or was that only to lend credence to your costume," she notes softly of the man...pausing little more than to utter the question in pursuit of liquid courage.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran brings the courante to its end with a quick flourish of chords - almost a game of musical tag with his partner. "To let you all catch your breath," he says cheerfully to the assembly, "We shall slow the pace down for you a while." And with this brief statement of intent...he begins the rather more stately measures of a somewhat uptempo waltz.

"Pff. Go have some fun." The chitter replies, with a delighted laugh. "I don't think I want to do more to create any disasters, and I know that's exactly what I'd do on the dance floor in my present state of mind." She lifts her wine goblet, drinking from it once again. "I never liked waltzes anyhow."

Ancient Sage's bearded face turns towards the wolf as she speaks, his facial hair shifting as he smiles slightly as he hobbles a bit closer. "It is more that I found a costume to fit the condition of the moment," he replies, his voice far more youthful than his appearance.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven whispers quietly to Taran with faint excitement in her voice, "I think I -do- know what a waltz is!" She pauses to stretch her fingers, wiggling them after the quick pace of the last song, and listens intently, waiting for him to begin so that she can join in once more. While waiting, she curtseys to the dancers respectfully as they swish by.

".. then, allow me the breach in etiquette - I shan't be long." Behind that masque, Tragedy winks... and moves away, a muse of stardust in search of a partner.

Following Dove's scan with her own eyes, Flame offers a passive shrug. "A hunt was in order, perhaps..." As the music slows, her step likewise does, placing more emphasis now on the fluid movement of her arms and waist as they step-step-step in far more simple circles. "So tell me, little White Dove, how far have you flown to attend this event of peers?"

The wolf raises that fur-lined glove to call the sage closer, reaching down to retrieve another goblet of wine to present to the elder. "It is good to see you found a costume, my elder....is that truly your age and I should offer higher respect to you, my lord?" She takes note of the subtle hobble and sighs softly behind that white mask. "I would offer you to dance, but is that part of your costume, or a prior injury?"

Dianna starts on another round around the room, shaking her head a young Seamel comes up to her. He moves away, slightly dejected, and she just walks on, sipping at her wine. Long distance to Lady Flame: Golden Wolf cheers.

Less teetering and tottering and more careful steps - the Dove's motions are a trifle fast, but fluid and energetic. Once or twice she repeats her stumble, giggling each time - it is a giggle that comes more from enjoyment than embarassment, although there's a faint air of sheepishness ove rher lack of expertise about her. "My lady, so many of these patrons are in fact my superior in mind or soul. However, in rank I have some peers here - and to see them, and everybody else, I have left my comfortable nest a good distance to the north. ... Do you mean to play Twenty Questions with me, my playful new friend? You wish to uncover my identity - then let me play as well!"

"As enjoyable as it would be to accept the offer from such a partner, I fear that it would be more hazardous than anything else," a low chuckle sounds from behind the beard as the elderly man inclines his head towards the canine, moving still closer to accept the goblet with his free hand, "My most humble thanks."

Leaning back in her seat, the chitter raises the goblet she holds to her lips, sipping at it absently as she watches the whirl and spin of activity from the floor.

Tragedy is by no means subtle, breezing up to Dianna, and sketching a bow - "A waltz, and my partner has forsaken me - or I her.." It's an overdramatic tone, dripping with an aching pathos that is wholly feigned. "I have missed an opportunity, I fear."

The lift of the feral mask to present that the woman's hair does in truth match that of the mask that has been lovingly crafted. The woman intent to keep her own face bowed from that of her companion, but offering only the subtlest gleam of sea-green eyes. "Then allow me to save your feet and my own, my lord," she states softly. Taking a quick sip of the goblet, she quickly draws it away to lower the mask again. The goblet now little more than a pointer to a table. "Shall we hold up a wall then?"

"Ah, for you see, a Masque is more than a test of nimble feet! 'Tis a test of wits, in terms..." Lady Flame murmurs and continues the laborious step and turn of the masculine role. It was no wonder so few did enjoy the dancing! In order to keep things alive, she kicks a heel every now and again to flare the gown. "Sadly, I'd little time to put genuine effort into concealing my own self. But you are welcome to the game all the same."

A tall, snow-white Kahar Wildcat stalks into the performance hall, dressed in silk and standing on two feet. A noble Wildcat. Light, sky blue eyes peer out from behind his mask, shimmering in amusement at the sight before him. The Wildcat stands near the entrance for a few moments before venturing cautiously out into the hall. He looks over the guests slowly, one at a time, not engaging anyone just yet.

The old man beams slightly from beneath his hood. "That, my dear, is something I can do well," he replies with an airy laugh. He moves towards the indicated table, leaning heavily on his staff as he crosses the distance.

A flicker of disappointment moves behind the small woman's eyes, but she smiles nonetheless. "I am a noblewoman," she says gently, "who has the strength of a fine house behind her but nothing to call her own. I will give you a hint: my House's crest depicts something that is exactly opposite of what I depict tonight." White Dove gives a pretty turn followed by the catch of the toe of her slipper on the smooth floor.

Dianna jumps a bit as Tragedy appears behind her. "There are plenty of young women lurking about, cousin," she replies, "Those that are not so involved in making sure that Sahna does not ruin another noble's clothes," she adds teasingly.

"I'm safely seated.. Go ahead, Di." The chitter calls over, eyes alight with amusement. She reaches for a passing tray of small delicacies, nibbling at them contentedly.

"Ah, but when the Lady of the hour has not yet taken a turn?" A lace-gloved hand gestures grandly to the dance floor, as Tragedy chuckles. "i am drawn as a moth to a candle. My curse, I fear." Such a long, utterly artificial sigh. "but! You can drive me hence, with but a turn or two, and merry laughter. My bane!"

The wolf lowers to the table, waving a furry glove to another chair. "Then sit, I fear that I may have caused irritation to a prior wound and prefer to sit and rest a momment. Perhaps I can the seek the wisdom of a sage this evening," she notes in amusement. Dianna looks around rather anxiously, shaking her head, "But... I need to... um, do stuff," she protests, pointing to the other end of the room. "See, Nera is waving for me. Perhaps some other time."

A feigned moment of deep thought is mimicked by a furrowing of Lady Flame's brows behind a tuft of red and fleck of green. "The opposite of a bird, I suppose, would be that which considers it prey. Given two choices from hence of either House Mikin or Kahar, I shall ride your note of it being a "strong, fine house," and name you as Kahar?" A pause. "Or...by opposite you mean the natural grace of the beast, which would then depict the Bull and name you as Lomasa. But nay, I shall stick firm with Kahar. Be I wrong?" Quirking a brow, she strengthens her own stance to steady the near stumbling of the Dove.

The ancient one smiles broadly. "The most wise thing I have discovered during my sojourn in this worlds-realm, is that no wisdom, no matter how venerable, is set in stone." He lowers himself to the chair, his breathing just a tad laboured from the exertion. He leans his staff across his knees and sits back, sipping carefully at the goblet so as to not spill it down his beard.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven keeps up the tune she'd slipped into along with Taran, her liltrum providing a lush harmony that strengthens the beauty of the waltz as opposed to the countermelodies she'd been producing with the earlier songs. But that slow dance begins to wind down, and the red mask looks up to catch the other bard's eye, slowly wrapping up the waltz with a long cadence that gives the dancers several moments to recognize its end.

The chitter lifts the back of a hand--paw? to her mouth to conceal a delighted grin, gaze dancing merrily as Dianna excuses herself. She samples another bite of a dainty sandwich, tasting it thoughtfully.

Tragedy tisks, "I shall haunt you, Dianna - ware..." It winks, and breezes away - "But you are safe. For /now/. I never rest, you see."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), And Taran begins a new melody - rather more lively, though not to match the energetic challenge of the earlier songs. This melody is a branle - a dance of couples in circles and lines, somewhat more challenging than a waltz, at least. From the bard's amused look, it seems he's not expecting many to be up for it.

Grinning with pleasure, White Dove affects a practised forward step and nods her head. "Yes, yes, and no," she says simply, letting her grin fade into an eager smile. "Thank you very much for the compliment, however. But I dare say that you have never heard of my, my lady, because your identity is quite beyond me. Although I feel very familiar with you now, I suspect that we have not met before ... to my great disappointment."

Dianna smiles and then bounces off in the direction of the non-existant waving servant. She snags the arm of a passing girl, and seems to pull her into conversation, even though things seem to be going quite well, and smoothly for the moment.

After taking some time to quietly observe the assembled, the Wildcat resumes his stalking. As in the wild, the first course of business is to fill one's belly. In this case, wine and a pawful of small delicacies will do. He takes a sip of his wine--not disturbing his mask too much--and begins a slow meander about the room. He does, however, keep his distance from the dance floor.

"I would say that wisdom comes in may forms, my elder," notes the wolf...still amused. "Some do not realize they have the answers but instead only choose to make more riddles to further complicate the situation than to solve. Where did you find this wisdom, elder?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven meets and matches Taran's smile, taking only a few moments this time to catch the thread of the melody and join in, strumming away at a light harmony. Her velvet slipper taps against the stage as the two fill the room with music.

Ancient Sage's eyes twinkle in his beard-shrouded face. "As strange as it may seem," he says softly, "I found it in a place where many would have thought they would have found enemies. Instead, I found fast friends."

... one will not miss /more/ dances, no - the starry figure of Tragedy sweeps past a bright starling wearing a house Seamel ring.... and trades a few words with her before sweeping the starling onto the dance floor... and doing his best with the branle, joining the line of couples that whirls and turns and makes its way near the Dove and the Fire there.

"Oh," responds the Wolf in surprise. "Where were you seeking enemies? For I assure you, a man does not need to search to find them at times." She lifts the mask partially to take another sip of the white, another glimmer of those sea-green eyes shining before hidden behind the brow of fur again.

Dianna makes her way over to the Chitter and takes a seat, smiling. "How's it going, Sah?" she inquires softly. "Don't think either of us made a friend this evening... but I am determined for him to pay me for what work I put in on his behalf. Would you perhaps be willing to assist in making sure I receive my payment?"

"How much does he owe you?" the chitter queries, swirling the liquid in her glass, eyes alight behind her mask. "What I still don't understand is just whom he thinks he is." "I never seek enemies myself," the old man replies, taking another careful sip of wine. A brief chuckle escapes as he puts the goblet down on the table, "I seem to find them in the most unlikely places. But there are those who create enmity where none exists."

The Wildcat continues his meandering. He takes a sniff of one of the small delicacies in his hand before stuffing it into his mouth, like a field mouse. Whatever it is, he seems to like it, for another one follows a moment later, washed down with a drink of wine. This is not to imply, of course, that his attention is focused only on satisfying his appetite. On the contrary, most of his attention seems to be on the Lady Flame, whom the Wildcat watches curiously from the outskirts.

Just another in the swirl of dancers, Tragedy is not amongst the best, but the figure certainly seems to be enjoying himself. At least he doesn't step on the lady he's with, even if he seems a trifle ungainly - offering some small thing that has her laughing regardless.

Dianna smiles slightly, "About 13,000 Imperials," she replies. "Including all of the money I put into food and decorations," she continues. "Thinking of just rounding it on up to 15,000, just to annoy him." She shakes her head, "I somehow see him refusing to pay anything."

Sensing the slight like that of the scent of a larger predator to the room, the wolf lowers the goblet back to the table. "I am sorry, my lord. I meant no slight...and I must admit ignorance of playful jousting of words at times. Such is the way with this old creature, to speak only the truths at which they find. Please forgive my slight."

"Send him a bill. Give him a week and if he doesn't answer, write to the tribunal for breach of contract." The chitter answers, gaze shrewd. "You could make it out that he started in on us in an attempt to get out of paying, but ran away entirely when he bit off more than he could chew." She sips at her wine, draining the remainder of the glass before adding wryly, "For all we know, he did. Was he so boorish when he contracted for this thing? Ot"

"Send him a bill. Give him a week and if he doesn't answer, write to the tribunal for breach of contract." The chitter answers, gaze shrewd. "You could make it out that he started in on us in an attempt to get out of paying, but ran away entirely when he bit off more than he could chew." She sips at her wine, draining the remainder of the glass before adding wryly, "For all we know, he did. Was he so boorish when he contracted for this thing? It's not even like you did anything to him."

The Ancient Sage leans forward, his bearded face grimacing a bit with the effort. "There has been no slight," he replies sincerely. Sitting forward seems a bit to taxing for the old fellow, however and he leans back again.

Dianna nods, "Yes, but that is hardly so much fun..." she points out with a roll of her eyes. "When he came through, he tried to abduct the girl playing liltrum over there," She motions towards Red Raven, "And drag her back to Eastwatch, because she had run away a while ago. It got rather ugly, but we managed to settle it, with Norran sticking his ugly big nose into matters, as usual."

Pausing from the exertion of the dance, Rowena tilts her head aside and beams a satisified grin. "I have your surname, at least. As for our acquaintance? That remains to be seen," Lady Flame replies and gestures a hand towards the table of refreshments. "Shall we dance our way towards a sip or two?"

Golden reaches out a furry glove to rest on that of the sage, "there are times my words are misunderstood. Too long the teacher and not long enough as the student," explains the wolf. "So will you give me hint as to where you sought these friends? Or shall I try and guess...are you alright?"

The Ancient One nods after a moment. "Age sometimes likes to assert itself when I least wish it to," he replies with something of a smile. His breathing is shallow for a few moments before he nods as the pain passes, "You may certainly try and guess, my lady."

The Wildcat tips his head back, drinking deeply of his wine without disturbing his mask. Once it is empty, he returns the goblet to the nearest server. In its place, he picks up two goblets, and stalks over towards the refreshment table. All throughout, his attention returns regularly to the Lady Flame.

Steepling her 'paws', the chitter chuckles throatily, gaze distant for a few long moments now. "Kidnapping, even.. What a horrid little man. Surely he must be dealt with, for the good of the nobility."

"Ah, so you are as old and wise as your years," jests the wolf. "Here I was beginning to think that we may have met before....especially being of the Lomasa House."

Dianna nods, "I would be quite pleased to take him down, if you'd be interested in helping," she says with a smiles. "It would be a fun side activity, outside of running the tavern."

A trodden foot and a passel of light apologies later, Tragedy exits the dance floor, leaving the Seamel starling to snapdragon of a bit less clumsiness. Given that the Wildcat stands by the refreshments, the starry fellow ends up nearby, offering a bit of a bow as he selects a glass of red wine.

The old man's head turns slightly in surprise before a slight chuckle bursts from his beard-beleaguered lips. "The Lomasa house, is it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling mischeviously.

The chitter lowers her voice and declares to Dianna, "I intend not to be denied satisfaction, as if my honor were a plaything just because I am a woman. I will get the coward to the field of honor one way or another, and I will kill him much like one would put down a rabid dog. Anything else in the meantime is just window-dressing; I will not let this pass, because it is saying that it's fine for him to treat his betters any way he wishes... Showing weakness when things like this happen is exactly what encourages them to happen again." There is no humor in her gaze now.. Simply dead seriousness as she issues her words.. Her oath.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran winds the dance down to a closing - for those few that participated - and, shaking his head with a little smile, gives the Raven a sort of 'dare you' look. He strikes up a melody unknown - no dance tune this, but a pure instrumental, likely invented note by note as the bard conceives it, yet cohesive and pleasant to the ear. He tilts his head at the Raven as he plays, as to challenge her to play along.

"Ahh, so you deny your presence of that of the Lomasa clan," amends the wolf quickly. "Could it be that you are," she leans forward and lowers the tone to near-conspiratorial whispers. "Are you a freelander who's come to enjoy the festivities?" She cants her head up, and allowing the man a sea-green and gold gaze of her eyes.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), A slow smile curves the Raven's lips, and she pauses a moment, listening for a bare handful of beats, before upping the ante with a slightly faster snatch of melody complimenting Taran's lute. It rings out up in the higher registers of the liltrum, plucked out with ease. All along, her foot taps.

The old man wrinkles his nose a bit, pulling at the moustache. "Hardly," he replies with a chuckle. He tilts his head to one side, "Has your keen hunter's sense dulled, perhaps? Or do you no longer roam the wood in search of wayward trespassers?"

Upon his arrival at the refreshment table, the Wildcat stops, waiting in ambush. He keeps a goblet of wine in each paw, not drinking from either, casually watching Lady Flame and her companion.

Tragedy offers, wryly - as he drinks lightly from that glass - "two? Ambitious this early in the eve - honestly, you've no worry.. there is plenty enough for all." Breezily, he waves a lace-covered hand, and, with a low laugh - "One would almost call you a Lomasa, if it weren't so obviously otherwise."

Those sea-green eyes twinkle behind the veil of white fur, the wolf's paw already reaching and bestowing a quick and affectionate squeeze to the sage's hands. "There are few men that I would allow to ride my stead, and was not a hunt that led her that day through the woods. Was simply the need to feel the wind through one's hai...fur," she amends in amusement.

Dianna chuckles to the Chitter, nodding. "Yes, well he should be no match for you, my friend. Neither politically, or when it comes to strength, power and honor. I know I could very easily destroy him on my own, even with my poor reputation, but why hog all of the fun to myself?" She shakes her head and smiles, "He let his head get to him, and now he's going to suffer for it. Normally I would not mind an insult, but he pushed it a little too far."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran seems to enjoy the musical challenge, and changes the key of his own music; the melody is laughing and quick, a running child at play, perhaps. For those that care to listen it's a rather carefree sort of musical romp.

"Positively, madam, and you may seek me out whenever you happen to please," White Dove replies with a quirk of her lips. "I am danced out, I believe, until I have been watered appropriately; that ale looks delicious and I am thirsty anyway." She curtseys to her partner politely and then moves to flutter off of the dance floor, smiling. "I have my suspicions as to your family, my lady. Am I correct in assuming that you are a proud and noble mongoose as well as a flickering flame?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), White fingers in black lace shift position on the strings to switch into the minor version of Taran's major key as a transition point, an eerie undercurrent that adds a hint of darkness to the romp- for a few phrases, anyway. Without warning, a second shift slides the Raven's fingers into that same major key, and now she plucks and strums a melody that undulates around the other bard's, occasionally merging, occasionally producing playful harmonies.

The chitter steeples her fingers, staring out at the dance floor as if lost in thought for some moments. Then, turning to Dianna, she shakes her head. "We'll see how it goes."

The old man smiles broadly, squeezing the wolf's paw in return. "Such a man would be quite fortunate to receive such an honor. And such a sight would certainly steal one's breath away, if not, indeed, one's heart."

Tragedy, chuckling softly, listens to the music for a moment.... and then glances across at the conspiritorial chitter and The Dianna. For the moment, however? A glass of wine, and simply enjoying music? The order of the evening.

Dianna smiles, gesturing a serving girl over, "Wine, Sah?" she inquires, taing a glass of red for herself. "How are things in Sweetwater? Keeping yourself busy?" she asks lazily, resting her head against the wall. "Seems like I haven't had a chance to see you in quite some time. Any new romantic interests to keep you occupied?"

A sly smile befitting the creature of her namesake curls Lady Flame's lips with bemusement and she follows after the Dove with ease, dodging dancers this way and that. Slow, easy grace. "Now it is my turn to congratulate you, young Dove, for your astute observations. A lithe and proud mongoose I am, and fond of this appropriate "watering" you so eloquently suggested." Lifting her chin from the sideways glance, the Flame flickers her eyes to the destination ahead - catching the stare sent by the wildcat. It is likewise held for a moment or two before she lets her gaze wander casually elsewhere and fall on another dancing couple. THAT was one experience she was determined to enforce....one day.

"Hmmph, no, and good riddance. Ever since Norran decided to not bother with closure, I've decided to despense with the idea." The chitter replies to Dianna dryly, happily accepting a new goblet of wine. "Not bad in Sweetwater, though. I've been travelling, for a slice of fun."

White Dove watches her companion with avid interest, helping herself to a brimming glass of ale that is immediately lifting to her lips. "All the better for there being only fine spirits here," she says pleasantly. "I'm afraid that I've got a fondness for mead - and more afraid that it makes me lose my inhibitions. I am unaccompanied tonight and would not like to embarass myself." She smiles and lifts her head to deepen her next sip. "Do not all the best mongeese serve beneath your very light, Lady Flame? I am just pleased that such an Order was relieved of another title such as Silver Whathaveyou."

"You should watch yourself, my wizened friend. Some sights are little more than lights and mirrors, my lord," provides the wolf. Soft laughter from her lips as she offers another gentle squeeze of the man's hand. "Will you find yourself lost to my ancestral woods again soon? I fear that it may prove more difficult to find you now with the return of our forests."

The moment of eye contact is all that the Wildcat needs. He stirs, finally, stepping away from the table to meet the Flame and the Dove as they exit the dance floor. "Good eve, my Ladies," the Wildcat greets, speaking a low baritone that suits his likeness. He dips his head to the Dove before turning to the Flame, to whom he likewise bows and offers a glass of wine.

The Ancient Sage chuckles slightly as he gazes at the wolf. "I do not believe I will do so," he replies, a sly spark in his eye.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran shifts the melody to a complex round, a single melody turning in upon itself and harmonising with itself, yet open to a harmonic line beyond it.

"A pity," replies the wolf. "Here I was hoping that you would be returning to enjoy another meal by our sweet Raven," she casts a quick glance to the performing couple.

Ancient Sage's eyes slide over towards the performers before he turns back towards the Wolf. "Then perhaps I could find my own way then, and not trust to simple fate?" he asks with a smile.

Lady Flame casts White Dove a "well, would you look at that" expression before accepting the wine and offering the wildcat a bow of her own. "Not all the best, White Dove. Simply those who remain." This is a more somber note spoken and she lifts the wine to rest barely 'gainst her lips so that she may continue to watch the snowy cat. "But I can sympathize with your weakness, little Dove. This very drink of the vine has seen me trip a foot or two in dance."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), This new change causes the Raven's black brows to furrow, definitely presenting a challenge- but she rises to it, after a second's hesitation intertwining her melody into Taran's as part of the harmony- but an expansive one, filled with unusual notes that add a curious but not unpleasant flair. It's simple enough, the notes her fingers sound- the greatest difficulty likely in choosing them.

"You are always welcome," replies the wolf with a dip of her head to the sage. "How is your shoulder faring this night?" Lady Flame picks up White Wine

Tragedy drifts away from that knot of Dove, Flame, and Wildcat - offering only a wry and silken - "Dear lady, you move far to lightly to trip, vine or no vine." With a swirl of his cape, he moves around the outer edge of the party, moving in the direction of the Wolf and her apparently ancient prey.

The Sage leans back further to rub his shoulder, his frame straightening to it's normal shape. "It is still difficult to keep my breath at times, but it is mending well."

Laughing lightly, White Dove tilts her head back to deepen her drink of ale and nods her head in agreement. "If it were only stumbling that mead would force me into - I do enough of that, as you have seen." The white feline is held curiously within her gaze, but aside from a mockingly reproachful gaze, she does not address him."

Dianna nods, "I heard from Celeste that you were down visiting her," she agrees. "I've been thinking of coming up to Sweetwater to spend a few days. I have business with Lucius' wife, if nothing else. She still owes me some clothing that I ordered. Should definitely get that soon." A smile appears, "I must agree with you when it comes to romance. It is all very troublesome, I think. Though... my bed's been a little empty, and that's never any fun."

"And to think, I fancied /myself/ a predator." The Wildcat rumbles in Tragedy's wake, the sound of some age in his voice. He is distracted by the man's passing for a moment before returning his attention to the Flame and the Dove. Beneath the mask, he smiles. "Forgive me for being forward with the offer, it is not my intention to see you stumble," he says, looking between the two Ladies. "But it did look as though you were working up a thirst."

The wolf follows the retreat of the sage, nodding. "I would help, but I fear of," she shakes her head. Her own back stiffening as she leans back to the chair. "The duke will be happy to see you up and about, and hopefully does not believe it my mace that would cause such pains."

"Lucius will be leaving my employ to become a freelander knight, most likely, but they'll continue to rent a cottage there.. Just not the caretaker's cottage." The chitter-lady answers Dianna, shaking her head. "Yes, agreed.. But it's simply _more trouble than it's worth_. I have no intention of ever going through that business again." She looks wistfully at the dance floor, adding, "I want to dance, but I'm still too keyed up. I might make a disaster of the place again. You know, that wildcat costume over there reminds me of Eden's, when we met at a masque. Only, that fellow's much shorter."

The old Sage chuckles quietly as he resumes his former pose. "I surely doubt that his Grace would believe such a thing."

"My dear, everyone is shorter than Eden," Dianna points out with a faint chuckle, but nods. "Yes... countless relationships and nothing to show for it but a child I can never see, and a reputation for being easy. Despite it all, I still miss the warmth of a man. But there is no such thing as just an empty relationship. There would always be broken feelings at the end of it, and I have a feeling there would be someone clinging to my leg." She shakes her head, "And as amusing as that would be... I don't particularly need that." Her eyes flicker over to the Wildcat. "I remember the masque at Fastheld Keep oh so long ago. It was the first time I ever saw Tor. He was one of the only ones to not be in costume..." She looks down at herself, "Perhaps my lack of masque is in honor of that."

"You're correct in that," Lady Flame answers with a soft smile and takes the liberty of tasting a sip or three. "Care you to join our guessing game?" Stepping aside, she aligns herself as closely as she can to the table, lessening the likelihood of being bumped by any wayward dancers.

Smiling gently, the Dove follows her companion in stepping lightly out of the way of dancers, letting the white of her gown intermingle with the table covering. "Oh, yes, sir. Perhaps your identity is not so easily revealed as my lady's."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran spirals slowly out of his round, shifting gradually into an instrumental version of an aria - letting his Lute echo the voice of a soprano singer.

"You must've had experiences different than me. I don't remember anything warm at all about my former husband, and those who've followed him even less so." The chitter responds, standing and dusting herself off. "Well, we've had our gossip.. I suppose it's time to circulate a bit before the masks come off. Or is this thing still following any kind of form at all?"

"His grace was quite angry, and I don't believe I've ever seen him so...well, ill-tempered," confesses the wolf. "Shall I still be collecting you to Silkfield, or shall you feel the need to travel alone so that you do not find yourself carried off to the shadows instead."

"If you guess my name, you'd best have a Mark on your cheek," the Wildcat says, chuckling deeply in amusement. "I've not been out on the social scene since... well... a lifetime ago." He turns to Lady Flame and grins beneath the mask. "I had thought, Your Grace, but was not sure." He toasts her briefly, yet his voice still does not sound completely sure. "Congratulations are in order?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven stops her playing for the moment, stilling her strings with one quick hand, and begins by echoing Taran with her voice- the high, clear soprano soaring to match the notes of the lute in wordless accompaniment. Once it's found the thread of the melody, her fingers come back in with a rather lower harmony. The dual task seems to occupy the woman wholeheartedly, a transported smile of dreamy delight curving her lips.

Dianna takes a look around, then shakes her head, "Everyone is doing their own thing, Sah. No need to wander around and leave yourself in old thoughts. Sit and relax. People are doing what they do best. Gossip and flirt." She shakes her head and rises with the Chitter. "No need to walk alone. Best accompany you, just to make sure you don't knock down another server with wine."

Taken only for a moment by the singing Raven, White Dove quickly returns her attention to her friend. "Your Grace?" she repeats, at first mildly alarmed. After a moment, however, she laughs and covers her mouth, shaking her head. "My goodness, imagine what he who would have been my escort tonight will say when I tell him that this charming young woman that I danced with was the Duchess Mikin. I beg your pardon." Glancing at the Wildcat, she tilts her head. "I remember a bedside story once about a man who required that his prisoner guess his name to earn his freedom. Congratulations on what matter, if you please?"

The chitter reaches up to raise her mask enough to rub at her chin, eyes rueful as she glances over at Dianna. "It's just as well the rest of you were spouting tolerance at me. Truly, my control has only ever frayed so badly once before... Being the time that I torched off your ex-husband's eyelashes and eyebrows. I don't regret that, but I would've regretted today, I think. Although all I had in mind were burning his clothes off, sometimes I can't exactly predict the form my gifts take, when I'm angry."

The elderly fellow chuckles at this. "Though the risk were ten times greater," he replies with a smile, "I would take it, for I fear no shadow that you would lead me into. And as I seem to have a habit of ending up in places I do not expect, I would welcome the guidance of your keen senses."

"As amusing as burning off Adaer's hair would have been to see... I don't need to see a display of your power in my tavern... I'd be worried you'd burn down the whole place," Dianna grumbles, shaking her head. "Come, take a turn around the room with me. It's so much more fun to mock the costumes of others when I'm not talking to myself."

"Do not flatter me so much," the exposed Lady Flame notes to the Dove, "For it just might go to my head." A patient smile suggests otherwise, however, and she takes a more substantial swallow of the wine before settling it between her palms 'gainst her belly. "As much as I fear to place faith in the event finally occuring, yes....I thank you for your congratulations, my dear unnamed Kahar Acquaintance. I imagine that a lifetime ago I was not so familiar with house politics and therefore suspect you are right of my ignorance. Do enlighten me however, if you please."

"It doesn't work like that. I can't burn down a tavern, and I'm glad." The chitter-costumed woman replies to Dianna, pacing gravely alongside her friend. "It just.. Hearing that little boor speak to you like that.. I don't know. Let's go out to the main room for a bit, actually.. I could use a breather." She glances over at some of the bird costumes and adds, "Those are some nice ones. I was a gray squawker last time, and bird costumes are plenty of fun."

Lucius Nepos pokes his head into the performance hall to see if anybody is playing at the moment, a piece of bread in one hand and a cup of wine in his other. He is armoured, and looks like he just crawled out of a mud hole, his face and hands the only part of him not covered in the stuff. His expression belays a look of shock. Obviously he forgot there was a noble party.

"Would you truly seek such adventures at this poor wolf's discretions? I've been called notorious at times and dangerous at others," chides Golden with a hint of amusement. "You are welcome to return with me to the Edge, if you wish. I believe that I've a free guest chamber for at least a few more days."

Dianna nods, "Of course, Sah. We can get some actual food, if you'd like," she says with a small smile. She aims her direction off towards the door that Lucius has just ever so gracefully poked his head into. "Don't worry about what he said. He's an idiot, and I have heard worse in the past. It hardly matters."

"Turning away and ignoring such things are an open invitation for others to say similar things." The chitter responds-- Nearing Lucius, the brown-velvet creature claps a glove--paw? on his shoulder, laughing delightedly in a muffled contralto. "A gate-crasher! Come with us, Constable, we're about to take a breather."

"And I, dear lady, have been considered something of a reckless fool, at times," the Ancient One says, "The benefits of such trust have thus far outdistanced the pitfalls by many leagues. I believe I can push the boundaries of such faith a bit further."

"Breather. Right. I need a smoke. I feel since I don't know who you are, or can pretend I don't know who you are, I should ask you for smoke. Do you have smoking weed, Miss Chitter? How about you, lady Lomasa, who I can ask because I've known you for years." Lucius raises and lowers his eyebrows a few times. "Smokey smokey?"

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran decides to encourage the Raven's singing - while he holds the melodic line on his lute, for the raven to follow, the bulk of the melody shifts toward a more supportive role.

"I do enjoy a good guessing game, but the late hour favors haste..." The Wildcat smiles and reaches up to lift his mask, revealing a broad, middle-aged face. "Baron Tiris Kahar, of Aegisport," he introduces with a second, somewhat more formal bow. The mask is then returned promptly into place. "I was hoping your betrothed would be here as well, that I might offer him my well-wishes as well, Your Grace, but somehow, I suspected he would not."

Dianna rolls her eyes, "I do not smoke, Lucius, as you should have figured out by this point," she scolds lightly, ushering both the fluffy one and the freelander out into the main room. "What should it matter anyway, Sah? He is one idiot that does not know a thing. If he is trying to hurt my name, he'll have to do a lot worse than that."

Lady Flame's lips drawn into a dry line, eyes cast upwards for a moment's sigh. "A lucky escape he made this time, but swear me to it, I shall have my dance." A little chuckle lightens the air then as she gestures vaguely with the goblet. "It is a pleasure then to meet you, Baron, and to see the man behind the mask. A fortune, indeed, for I've message to pass along to a man with such a name." The wine is finished then in a single more gulp as though it were water, and she extends it outward, waiting for the passing of another serving tray.

"Smoking weed? Only the finest goldsmoke, from the plantation, but I don't indulge often." The chitter responds, motioning the two out into the main room. "Let's get out of here so I can pull this mask off, it's getting sweaty under here. Anyways, Di, hurting your name makes me angry but I can live with it. Insulting me, though, that's different." Her tone is teasing, now, as she moves out into the main room, Sahna pulling her masque off again as she goes.

"Ah, cripes. Had to bloody ruin it, didn't ya? Now I can't pretend anymore." Grumbles Lucius, a smirk peaking from the side of his lips anyways as he turns to exit the room again.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven takes that freedom and runs with it, subtly edging the melody towards something softer and gentler- suitable for peaceful dancing if desired, but still energetic enough to keep partygoers out this late awake. Her voice still soars, high and carrying, smoothly flowing except for when a stream of more rollicking notes is improvised- and underneath it, her liltrum provides a simple baserock harmony to voice and lute. Looking to Taran, the woman tilts her head slightly, with a quirked eyebrow- some unspoken question there..

The wolf shakes her head, offering her hand to the sage. "Would you be staying here the night, my lord? If so, then perhaps I can help to lend you to a one of these waiting gentleman who will be quick to see you to bed. Though it would rob me of your company," she sighs wistfully. The furry mask obscures the smile to her lips.

The same serving tray collects the equally empty glass of ale, and White Dove leans back onto her heels with a smile. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord," she says artlessly, giving him a grin. "And to you, Your Grace, my very best wishes. I understand you - my own betrothed was left at home with complaints of shoulder pain, backache and bad temper." She pauses a moment and then smiles. "I believe I shall go back to him. He will be missing me, I think - but, oh. I am the only one who has not revealed her identity. Here." The mask is pushed up to better reveal tired but excited eyes. "I am Milora Lomasa of East Leg - it is truly my honour, Your Grace and Lordship." She curtseys, and then quirks an eyebrow, smiling.

Ancient Sage's eyes drift through the room and he sighs deeply. "It would be difficult for me to make a journey of any distance at this point," he says, rolling his good shoulder a bit, "And it has been a long day." After a moment, he places his staff against the ground leaning on it heavily as he sways to his feet. "I fear that I do indeed have to take my leave of you for now."

"A message for me?" The Wildcat asks. Even with most of his face covered up, his surprise is obvious. A few blinks later, he has composed himself enough to look at the White Dove. Though obviously distracted, he favors her with a smile. "Lady Lomasa, it was a pleasure, albeit brief. Congratulations, as well, on your betrothal. Joyous news abounds." Growing silent, an expectant look falls back upon Lady Flame.

"Ah, so it was the Dove I spied perched in the tree alongside my ranger..." Lady Flame grins knowingly to the Dove and nods her acknowledgement of having been bested in the game. "Take with you my regards then as you go, to you and yours. Light keep your journey home."

A gentle dip of her chin is offered in a bow farewell then she focuses her attentions to Tiris. "Any details have since left my otherwise occupied head but he did wish to meet with you at your earliest convenience. Tracking him down can be a task, but I have a feeling he'll not be leaving the ... township any time soon. Much to do, there."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Taran answers the Raven's challenge by adding his own rather powerful tenor to harmonize with her soprano. Keeping the music wordless, it nevertheless is quite clearly audible, the bard guiding the melodic duet to its end.

The wolf lowers her hand back to her side, crossing and tugging at the furry belt about her waist. "Then it was a pleasure to see you again, my lord. May you find your way to our home again soon, for you are always welcome there. Perhaps even this time, I will be able to show you the woods without need of armor and hours of wandering about." She lowers herself in a partial bow to the Sage, waiting patiently for the man to stand.

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Red Raven catches the signal from Taran, winding the duet down on a harmonious close. There's a moment of quiet conferring before the two start up again, a comfortable, fairly calm melody underlain by lovely harmonies winding through the room. It's a song that recognizes the appetite of most partygoers for dancing has slackened off, and simply attempts to fill the hall with beauty.

"If it is my ear that His Highness seeks, then I shall be off at speed, Your Grace." The Wildcat nods dutifully to Lady Flame. His mask shifts slightly, and he readjusts it without thinking. Something like a smile forms on his lips, a look of energy, at least.

The Ancient Sage stands, rejecting the disguising slump for now. He returns Celeste's bow, barely retaining his balance with the aid of his staff. "I bid you farewell for now, my lady, and may our next meeting be soon," he says before turning to limp towards the door.

"If you reach him before I, do let him know what it is he missed," A wink is offered, then the Lady Flame dips into a graceful curtsey. "If you'll excuse me, m'lord, I'll be mingling about for the duration of the evening."

"Light guide and protect you, Lord Lyddmull. We shall keep an eye to our archway for you," replies the wolf. Her steps turning to seek out the processional of food at the retreat of the sage, a gentle tugging of the fur about her waist.

The Wildcat dips his head once more to the Flame. "And I dare not keep you from it. Light keep you, Your Grace." With that, he steps back and turns away. The goblet of wine still left in his hand, forgotten until now, is remembered, and he drinks deeply of it.

With the thinning of the crowds, the wolf finally brings up her fuzzy paws to tug free the silken strands that hold the mask in place. Simple sea-green and golden eyes look over at the fading crowds, some masked and others having opted to reveal themselves. The former scourge gives only a look of sadness towards the sage as he leaves, before looking back to the table of food...and definitely needing another drink.

The Wildcat looks upon the unmasked wolf and smiles. He pushes his own mask up to the top of his head and offers her a fresh glass of wine from the table behind him. "Lady Celeste," he greets warmly.

A bit too happy to take the goblet, Celeste wraps her hand about the stemware...smiling up to the newly revealed Wildcat. "My lord Tiris, fancy that I should meet you here," she replies. Her voice hesitant and unsure, reminiscent of a first date gone strangely awry. Taking a few breaths, the Mikin seems to organize the bouncing thoughts of her head and taking in the man's costume. "I would have taken you for the prince, if it were not for your eyes, my lord."

"The hour must be late, indeed, to think that I, an old man, could be mistaken for one of such youth and vitality." The Kahar speaks with a lively chuckle. He drinks from his wine before adding, "Though I do not fault you for it, my Lady. These things--" he motions to the room vaguely with his wine "--have a way of draining the life right out of you."

"It is not my life that I fear for at times, my lord," chides Celeste softly. Her hand twirling the silken cords of the mask. "And I should note that you *did* have your face covered. I fear that my manners could not shield who I am for I never learned the subtle graces of my station....but you, my lord, have many years of practice." She takes a sip of the wine, falling quiet for a moment. "Have you thought on my words, my lord? Or did my Mikin stubbornness bring too great an insult?"

"I take words as they are intended, my Lady. You meant no offense, and so I took none." Tiris grins warmly to the Mikin. "Besides, your advice was good, and it is much harder to take umbrage to good advice." He sips his wine once more, adding as an afterthought, "Honestly, I thought I would be more out of practice than I was. I have not been to once of these since I was a young man--a boy, almost."

From Hawk and Dove Tavern Musical Stage (String Musician's Position), Still the music flows on from the Red Raven and Taran, a quiet thing that makes itself a comfortable background, pitched to not intrude on the lone remaining conversation. If the bardess hears anything of what's being discussed, she gives no sign, seemingly lost entirely in the ebb and flow of melody.

"This would be my first and I fear that there is a poor Kahar man over there cursing my name," notes Celeste softly. Another sip of the wine, "do you truly find that my words were spoken in wisdom? Or have you realized the wildcat that runs in your veins?" She cants her head to the side to offer an amused smile to the Wildcat in question, "one should never try to stifle the fire in their breast, my lord."

"I still have yet to decide if there is fire enough left within my breast, dear Lady." Tiris says softly, though his tone drips with good humor. "But assuming there is, I would be a fool not to do put it to service for the Light and the Empire." He quirks an eyebrow and asks, "Who is it that curses your name, Lady Celeste?"

Celeste laughs, waving off to a man who still seems to be rubbing his feet from a dance gone awry. "I believe that would be the poor soul there," comments the woman lightly. "You truly are not old, my lord. There is a man your age that I once considered for marriage, and I would not call him old either. No, age is what we place upon ourselves when we feel it is time to limit ourselves." She turns back to the Kahar, mask and gloved hand reaching for the Wildcat's. "Will you dance with me, my lord?"

"Though it pains me to say so, I regret that I cannot," Tiris replies, raising his free hand in an apologetic gesture. Though he smiles, a hint of sadness touches his voice as he says, "I made a vow to dance with but one woman. You may think it foolish, but I still hold mys

Her hand drops back quickly to her side, as the color gives tell to her own embarrassment. "Forgive me, my lord. I meant no disrespect," replies the Mikin hurriedly. She casts another glance towards the door, sighing heavily. "Perhaps I should seek out a bed before I find myself further the fool this evening and bruise more than a man's foot and my ego. Thank you for the companionship, Lord Tiris. Light guide and protect you."

"Light guide and peace be, Lady Celeste." Tiris seems faintly amused, dipping his head to Celeste. He puts down his goblet and motions towards the door. "I shall walk you upstairs, if you do not mind. I will look much less foolish if I am not the only one left in costume."

Celeste pauses, offering her hand hesitantly to the lord. "I don't believe you could look foolish if you tried, my lord. No, you would be a Wildcat among the most noblest of men."

"You are always quick with a kind word, my Lady. Thank you for saying so." Tiris smiles and offers the crook of his arm to Celeste, an antiseptically formal gesture of escort.

''Return to Season 6 (2007)