Rattle the Walls

The Hawk and Dove Tavern and Inn A relatively new establishment, the atmosphere of the Hawk and Dove is one of joviality and quaint ambience that is often crowded, smoke-filled and noisy with the banter of voices circulating within the room. It is here that locals come to drink, converse, game and generally relax and amusement themselves without the worries of their often hard and dreary life. Like any good tavern, one can find refreshment or ease at the long expanse of the finely polished bar or perhaps at one of the many tables that await a friendly visitor. Looming large within the far wall rests a fireplace where the average man could stand clear within. The furniture is clean, comfortable that has been made of highly polished wood with the chairs having upholstered seats.

All of the furniture looks brand new, or nearly new, though some already show signs of a few nics and scraps from fights or clumsy customers. The wooden floorboards are regularly swept clean and are polished to perfection. At the far end of the room is a long bar with a large menu hanging upon the wall over head. Off to the left side of the bar is a door leading to the tavern kitchen where succulent aromas waft through the doors into the main room. A pattern of roses intricately carved upon the rails of a wooden staircase leads guests up to the rooms on the second floor where exhausted travelers can rest and relax. The walls have been white washed which adds contrast to the darkly stained timber crossbeams over head.

Vwoom. The reverberation is as persistant as it is inexplicable, felt within the fine timber of the polished floor, or suggested by the faint tremors that shudder through the tables and chairs. Vwoom. Like distant thunder, drowned by the conversations and clinking of glasses within the tavern atmosphere. Vwoom. Barely perceptable, save for the ripples that seem to ebb and flow within the liquid of the purchased drinks. Vwoom.

The spectacle having proven itself to be nothing but mere play-fighting, Tyder turns toward the bar this time as if ready to order a drink. She pauses, however, a one of those coincidental lulls in the din allow her to hear, or rather feel, the steady thumping. Her gaze drifts toward the door briefly, but she shakes her head dismissively and turns back to lean over and order a drink, raising her voice loud enough to hopefully catch the attention of the bartender. "An oakknot ale, please!"

"Yeah, I'm done here." Syton closes his eyes, shakes his head, and follows Vhramis back towards the door.

The Seamel's eyes narrow tightly as he sees the sword being swung towards the two unarmed women, wood or no. Unarmed himself, he quickly looks about for something to hurl at the feckless Duke but the loud sound outside gives him pause. "QUIET!" he calls out at the top of his voice to be heard over the clamouring tavern. He glances back towards the door before quickly moving across the room to the site of the sword- swinging altercation.

"/Hey/," Dianna complains, rubbing at her shoulder. "That hurt!" She rubs at her shoulder a little with a pout, but shakes her head. The dark mood surrounding her seems to have broken. "Arturo, STOP!" she shouts at her brother. "I will have no more weapons drawn in my tavern!" The shaking takes more importance over everything else now, and she looks around, concern appearing. "What the... I have never felt anything like this before..." Her lips press together, and she strides of towards the door, paying no heed to whether her orders were paid attention to.

With a look behind him to check if Syton is with him, Vhramis pauses by the door, opening it to step half out, leaving room for the other man in the door way as well. "I felt that one," he states to his companion, staring out into the market.

Farrel Lomasa finishes his wine, Norran's amazing display of sword waving in a busy tavern eliciting little more than a placidly grim expression, an exasperated sigh, and a quiet setting aside of the glass. Oh, but Arturo's shouting has him staying his own hand in joining in - apparently coming to a decision that involves dropping a handful of imperials on the bar... and heading for the door himself.

Celeste glances up at the Vwoom noise cuts through the fog of instinct. She scrambles to her feet, and hurries towards the doorway. Her steps come to a stumbling stop at the approaching Lomasa with a drawn at, the Mikin's hand drops to her waist...clutching. "Shades," she growls.

"Aye." Syton nods to Vhramis, stepping up beside the ranger. He frowns thoughtfully and runs a hand through his hair, peering into the night. After some time, he adds, "Felt like Daggerford... or Crown's Refuge."

Although she was ignored, as Tyder watches her mark depart the bar, she frowns and glances around quickly. No ale yet, no one clamoring for her attention (thankfully), and several people drifting toward the door - all add up to influence the smith to do the same. But this time she calls out "Baron Lomasa!" despite the stark yell behind her ordering quiet.

"Maybe. Though I can't put my finger on it exactly," Vhramis replies to Syton, peering outwards still. "Worth checking it out, maybe?" He glances to the other man with lifted eyebrows, the curiosity undeniably growing in his gaze.

"Hurt? Come now, that was nothing! You're gifted, Dianna, you should consider taking up a shortsword and taking a few lessons, Dianna. With the proper tutelage after a year or two, I'm certain you could perform surprisingly well in a melee at tourney - Oh, shades," The previously excited Lomasa Patriarch grows somewhat disappointed at mention and notice of Arturo. "Come now, cousin! No need for such crazed /seriousness/, would I really hurt my own kin? Dianna or not, I've no wish to hurt her. But, oh well...I'll play if you like, but," he notes, facing Arturo and holding his wooden sword defensively, ", you're sort of cheating." Despite all the drumming commotion, Norran doesn't seem to notice. His expression merely retakes his playful grin, emerald eyes watching Arturo intently as he tenses for a reaction.

Vwoom. The deep noise has become quite conspicuous, it would seem, even beneath the collective ambiance of shouting Nobles and half-drunken chatter. Voom. Like thunder on the horizon, the sound rumbles through the heavens, though with a pacing that is far from random, and quite consistant. VOOM. The tempo steadily increases, the volume of those resounding thuds following suit. DOOM. DOOM. DOOM. It's a beat that manages to drown out all over noise, flowing from the heavens above. DOOM. DOOM. DOOM. DOOM. Something wicked this way comes; the shrill voice of an officer of the Imperial Watch shatters the quiet between the beats of that sinister drum. "DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGON!"

"Worth a look," Syton agrees, now that the screaming has started. He is a shade paler now, and sweating a bit, but he motions out the door smoothly. "After you, Master Wolfsbane."

Lyddmull Seamel stops as Celeste moves in the direction of the door, meeting her as she stops. "Celeste," he says, reaching for her arm. His gaze looks to the door, his brow knitting tightly, his lips pressed together when he turns back to the Mikin.

The ranger blanches a bit, then, at the shout echoing from the market. "Oh. It's that. I feel it, but I don't..feel it yet," He states, matter of factly, sounding a bit resigned all of a sudden. He glances behind him into the bar briefly, looking over those assembled, before moving outside to follow along the edges of the buildings. "What color?" he thinks to shout out, to nobody in particular, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

Farrel Lomasa pauses, there just behind that Ranger and Syton, blinking back to Tyder. "Mistress Pondwater." His expression remains placidly grim. "Pleasant eve." A glance to the door, and then back. "there are some things a man must see for himself - though I would suggest staying indoors. Perhaps we'll have time for business after the market's been burned to the ground?" That whymsical, oddly light tone is likely more defense mechanism than fact.

The shout is enough to draw Dianna towards the door at a much faster speed, brushing back her hair in an irritated fashion. "Oh, Shades," she whispers. A shudder passes through her, but does not deter the woman. She draws next to Farrel, looking anxious. "Farrel," she greets a touch breathlessl.y

"Not again," mumbles Celeste to herself, licking her lips nervously. She takes the Seamel's hand, offering a quick squeeze before dropping it again and walking determinedly after the ranger. "Vhramis, be careful," she cries out quickly, a quickening to her own pace to follow after the freelanders.

Subhan Lomasa looks up at the boom for silence, a slender brow arching over a single violet eye. That tiny smirk twitches, but the forceful request is given no more heed than that, the woman instead looking towards Arturo fondly, despite the fuss going on. However, the shrill warning cry elicits a bit of colour to drain from her face, the noblewoman standing quickly, a hand to her chest.

The scream stops Tyder in her tracks just behind the Baron, and the one hand she had raised to get his attention drops down to her side limply. She stares dumbly at the seemingly calm Lomasa, unsure of what to do or say until she is intercepted. Her lips turn down in an irritated frown at this although she remains firmly rooted to her spot less than an arm's reach from the man.

Syton glances over his shoulder to the tavern, then looks back outside again. He blocks his half of the door rather well, for a small guy. He nods in agreement with Vhramis, "I don't feel it yet. Can't be that close." Then to himself, Syton begins to chant, "Red or blue? Red or blue? Red or blue?"

Arturo Lomasa pulls up in his motion, mostly at Dianna's yell, though he watches Norran with narrowed eyes for a moment, before relaxing. The axe is slid into its baldric again, and he opens his mouth to reply, before halting at the unavoidable noise from outside. And then the cry of Dragon, and his hand is going for the double-bladed Humlek's Hand instead, bringing the more ancient axe from its sheath. It's enough to draw the nine retainers into fighting stances as well, all eyes shifting towards the tavern door or the others in the room.

If the accretion to the event was drawn out, the climax is nothing short of direct, and powerfully so. The thunderous sound of thick leather wings beating in rapid succession cannonades directly overhead; a fulmination of sound that drowns out all other noise in an uproar of resonating discord. The whine of a long whip-like tail screeches in the wake of that boom as it tears through the sky fast enough to displace the air around it, a flash of crimson screaming above, only to vanish beyond the southern skyline a moment later, such is the low altitude of the flight.

The Hawk and Dove shudders and seems to shake to the very foundation as if striken by an earthquake. The turbulence of the low pass forcing winds and debris through the narrow streets below, forcing those unlucky enough to be caught in the maelstrom off their feet to unwillingly embrace the ground below. When Dragons rule the sky, pandemonium is sure to follow.

"That's the spirit, cousin!" chimes Norran, returning his sword to his shoulder and frowning at the cry of Dragon. "Oh, is that what that thumping's been? Well, not a whole lot of good I can do with this, can I? Perhaps I'll bruise him to death," sighs Norran, glancing dejectedly to his wooden sword. Returning it to his baldric, he begins to make his way toward the doorway. He pauses, then as the rumbling and quaking begin to happen. Mostly managed to keep his balance, Norran immediately seeks refuge to hop his way over to the bar, bracing himself against it for support as he glances toward the doorway. "Well, this isn't good at all," he murmers to himself.

Being outside during this, Vhramis has the chance to just glimpse a brief glimmer of crimson before he's thrown backwards from the sudden force, pressing himself to the building behind him, before he all but throws himself down to the cobble below, covering his head. Good thing there's very few people witness such heroics. "It's Val'sharax," shouts the ranger, his voice practically lost in the din.

A faint smile comes to Lyddmull Seamel's lips as the Mikin steps away from him. Without another word he turns to follow Celeste, concern still plastered across his face as he approaches the door, his jaw set tightly. His journey is stopped as the room begins to shudder. He braces himself, somehow managing to keep his feet in the chaos. He steps quickly forward to Celeste's side to help steady her as well.

With that thunder and shake, Farrel's no Norran, that's for certain. Eyes wide, and with a surprised yelp, he pitches forward, then down - narrowly missing braining himself on the bar there near the door, a tangle of cloak, sword, and bruised ego that's utterly ignored in the wake of the impossible.

Syton is swept neatly from the doorway by a gust of wind, throwing him to the tavern floor. He "oofs" elegantly, stunned for a moment, spawled on the floor. "Red," he groans, rubbing his ribcage with one hand while the other pushes him up to his feet.

The Seamel's gracefulness going to waste for the poor Mikin as Celeste catches the hem of her skirts. Pitching forward, she lands hard upon the floor, causing a thump and curse of her own. The woman winded by the action.

Even as the tremors rip through the tavern, it doesn't seem as though the shaking and wobbling of Dianna comes from being off balance, more of being terrified. She stays on her feet, but lets out a rather loud cry in fear, hands coming up to cover her face, her entire body trembling in fright.

Tyder, being of sound mind and body, is not necessarily prized for her athletics. The disruptive burst of wind and noise causes the less-than-graceful smith to tangle her feet and sway precariously before being tossed forward onto her hands and knees. She skids a bit with the momentum of her fall and tumbles into the unfortunate Farrel. The curse she emits is not stifled, and it is also highly inappropriate for a woman of any class.

"Val'sharax?" incredulously answers Norran, bellowing a deep laugh as he smiles brightly. "Well! He can't exactly tell us that we're lost or where Fastheld is, now can he?" ventures Norran, keeping an arm secured to the table as he waves his other arm toward Dianna, volunteering, "My apologies for the damage he's causing, Dianna! He's just simply oblivious, I'll pay for the repairs!"

Midst taking a step forward the rumbling and shaking of the tavern comes to fruition, Subhan pitching forward and tumbling harshly to the ground. There's no grace to that, no siree.

The Doppler effect is the change in frequency and wavelength of a wave as perceived by an observer moving relative to the source of the waves. For waves that propagate in a wave medium, such as sound waves, the velocity of the observer and of the source are reckoned relative to the medium in which the waves are transmitted. The total Doppler effect may therefore result from either motion of the source or motion of the observer.

Be that as it may, the silence that follows the passing of a red dragon seems absurd when one considers the build up to the event that preceeded the culmination of the event. The thunder has passed along with the dragon that it was borne from. All that follows in the depths of the silence that descends over the Market District is the a few screams of panic, the clatter of Imperial Watchmen marching around the streets for lack of any other form of reaction, and the occasional whistle of an arrow being loosed into the sky, at a target that - has it not already vanished from sight - would be too fast and too indifferent to hit regardless.

Farrel, of course, oofs as he's landed on - and does his best to do three things at once: disentangle himself from clothing, help tyder up, and get himself on his feet. Truthfully, he's only marginally successful at any of them, but he does try. "Mistress Pondwater, careful there - are you alright?" The nobleman's voice betrays just how shaken he is, remarkably uncertain and a bit breathless.

Arturo Lomasa stumbles, but manages to keep his feet mostly as the tremors run through the tavern, turning his face up to the ceiling at the roaring. He sways, grabbing for a nearby table, and bracing himself against it till the tremors pass. Eyes sweep towards Dianna, and once the sound of wings begins to die down somewhat he inquires wryly, "Remind me again why I let you talk me into leaving River Turn?"

Lyddmull Seamel drops speedily to a knee beside the prone Mikin, gently but quickly reaching down to help her right herself. "Are you hurt, Celeste?" he asks, his voice tight with concern, his brow furrowing over worried eyes.

Even if silence has once again come over the Market District, Dianna does not stop shaking, or cowering beneath her hands. In fact, as people address her, the tremors grow worse, almost to the point of it being hard to stand.

Laying there for a few more moments, Vhramis finally looks up, climbing to his feet cautiously. One hand rests on the wall of the nearby building to help steady himself, his eyes turning skyward again, a lost expression on his face. His mouth starts moving, as if he's speaking, though his words are lost to any listeners, apparently meant only for himself.

Arturo Lomasa blinks as Dianna continues to tremble, starting to make his way towards ehr with any wryness replaced with active concern. "Dianna? Are you alright?"

"What a scoundrel, that Val'sharax," admits Norran, shaking his head slowly as he regains his posture and makes his way over to the fallen Subhan and bending down slightly to offer a hand and a grin, "May I help you up, My Lady? I believe I recognize you...one of Arturo's sisters, yes? The ones that aren't raving lunatics?"

Celeste offers a bemused smile, hair tossed over her face to partially veil the blush quickly rising to her cheeks. "Just my pride, Lyddmull," she muses softly. "Val'sharax... he," she sighs, allowing the Seamel to help her up again. "He was the dragon we bargained with on the expedition." Yep, there's a hint of guilt to the Mikin's tone.

Syton steadies himself against the doorway as he stands, exhaling deeply as he leans outside to give a cautious look around. "Master Wolfsbane," he says, shaking off his disorientation enough to find Vhramis once more. "Which way was he headed?"

Shakily, Tyder rises onto her knees again, face flushed with shock and embarassment as she attempts to hastily draw back from Farrel. "I'm so sorry, Baron, please, I'm sorry, I'm not graceful. I fall all the time, just banged my and hands a bit, really. Are you okay?" Despite trying to back away, she still clutches an outstretched hand, because let's face it, trying to struggle up from the floor in a dress and bodice is just not that easy.

Subhan Lomasa graciously accepts the help from Norran, slender fingers curling over his as she pulls to her feet, "How kind of you." She says through a small tremor in her voice, the woman mostly managing to retain an outward appearance of calm. Tel-tale signs hint that she was more severely afright than she was allowing herself to project; a slight shaking to her hands, the pallid tone of her skin, "Yes." She replies with a small nod, "I am Subhan, one of Arturo's sisters." A flicker of violet eyes traverses to the aformentioned brother, hints of jealousy flaring in the noblewoman's eyes as Dianna is doted on.

Lyddmull Seamel smiles faintly at finding the Mikin unharmed. His head lifts upwards, gazing about at the ceiling. As calm begins to settle in the atmosphere, he releases a sigh of relief before looking back to Celeste, brushing her hair from her face if allowed to. "What would he be doing here?" he asks quietly, his eyes searching the noblewoman's.

Snapped back out of his thoughts by being called, Vhramis' attention fixes on Syton, the ranger staring. "The direction?" he repeats, before glancing skyward again, frowning a bit. "...I don't know. I barely saw him. Just a moment or two, before I was knocked down."

Farrel raises a finger - arranges himself and gets back to his feet, then, with a careful hand, assists Tyder in the same. One thing at a time works far better. "Do not fret, Mistress Pondwater - no need for apologies. I daresay you weren't trying to assassinate me in a moment of weakness; you'e nothing to worry over." He smiles, reassuringly - "Are /you/ alright?"

Dianna looks up towards Arturo through her fingers, then towards the door. "Is it gone?" she gets out, her voice barely above a whisper. She manages a weak smile, hands coming down to instead rub up and down her arms. "At least I have found something that frightens me more than the memory of Gell Mikin," she offers. "I have never /seen/... it was..." She cuts away, shaking her head.

Celeste shakes her head, the blush deepening at the presence of Lyddmull's hand. "I've no idea, my lord. When we met him in the Verdigris, well... he wanted something," she explains. Her voice still remains soft to include only the Seamel at her side and trying not to draw attention to the couple. "Could you help..." She offers, struggling back to her feet.

The Nine, Arturo's retainers, are already starting to put weapons away and pick themselves up off the floor, for those that fell. Belatedly, Arturo remembers to slide the ancient familial axe back into its baldric before reaching to touch Dianna's shoulder blade, rubbing it lightly in offer of reassurance, "Yes, it's gone. It's alright, Diadem." He glances back, then, looking towards the other sister, "Are you alright, Subhan?"

"Shades," Syton replies, frowning briefly towards, though not necessarily at, Vhramis. He straightens up, back inside the tavern, and turns to look around the room for a moment. The freelander takes a step the side and leans against the wall, frowning with forced contemplation.

"I'm--fine," Tyder replies with a huff as she struggles with her skirts while rising to her feet. "I just bruised up my knees a bit," she continues, drawing in a hissing breath as she reaches down to pat the obviously extremely tender joints. "Gonna be a bit of a pain walking for a few days, but I'll be good to go. Take more than a little ol' tumble to bring me down-down, you know?" Once she has straightened, reasonably speaking, she carefully extracts her hand from Farrel's grasp and manages a brief shadow of a pained smile.

"No reason to fear all that. He's harmless, really, unless you specifically offend him," assures Norran of Subhan with a quick grin, steadying her with his hands before brushing her off and patting her on the back. "Pleased to meet you, Subhan. I'm Norran, Norran Lomasa. Patriarch of House Lomasa, Knight of the Imperial Crown and all that. Are you doing alright? You seem so. Little reason to worry, really. Sit, please, and have a drink at very reasonable prices!"

Lyddmull Seamel nods quickly, doing his best to help tug Celeste upright without manhandling her. "Whatever it is he wanted, my lady," he says quietly, "It was apparently not here in the market." He offers a faint smile to the woman, though worry still lines his face.

"I know a positively fantastic herb-wife." Farrel's tone is concerned, as he straightens his cloak. "Perhaps we should see to those knees." He glances up to Arturo, Dianna, Subhan, and Norran - the group getting a cursory once-over - before his attention focuses more fully on the smith. "And myself, I've a thought that fresh air might be worthwhile."

Celeste lifts easily to her feet again, she darts a glance towards the doorway... eyes searching the darkness. "No," she begins hesitantly, "did you see where Master Wolfsbane went, Lyddmull?" The Mikin looks back to catch the Seamel's gaze, concern straining about her green eyes. "If you could you excuse me a moment, my lord? I just wish to know that the dragon caused only confusion and no true damage."

Dianna swallows hard, then nods, "I am alright, Arturo," she says softly. "Go see to Subhan," she encourages, pushing her brother towards the other sibling. "I had best see to the bar... make sure everything is alright." She intakes another trembling breath before wobbling a few steps towards the waiting countertop and the pale-faced servers.

Lingering outside for several moments, Vhramis glances back to the door of the tavern, staring, before turning to wander off into the market.

Meian peeks her head out from under a table where her little form has been hiding, unobtrusively, for some time. "...is it over?" she whispers to nobody in particularly.

"O-oh, is that so?" Subhan queries, the tremor holding firm in her voice, faint though it was. She offers a faint smile to Norran, accompanied by another small nod, "How wonderful to meet you, if perhaps I could wish for better circumstances." There's no hesitation to sitting, the noblewoman actually looking quite prepared to faint. A seat is taken.

The stifling atmosphere in the aftermath of the shake-up is certainly enough to encourage the smith out-of-doors. She dusts her skirt a bit, carefully avoiding bringing the fabric into direct contact with her knees, and she nods quickly to Farrel. "Yes," she replies with another wince as she takes a step toward him, shaky, stumbling, but not falling. "Fresh air would be quite--quite welcome, I think."

Syton steps away from the entrance, seeming surer on his feet now. He moves swiftly to Celeste and Lyddmull. "Lady Celeste," he greets quickly, "are you okay?" He merely nods to Lyddmull, sparing him only a bit of attention.

Arturo Lomasa nods to Dianna's words, but finds Norran already there, "Our sister seems to be occupied with more important people....perhaps I'll go and check on the horses instead."

"I believe he went outside," the Seamel tells Celeste. He begins to move in the direction of the door before he pauses, "Would you prefer I not accompany you, my lady?" He glances over to Syton, giving him a quick nod of greeting as well.

Farrel Lomasa nods to Tyder.. and holds the door. "After you, Mistress." He glances up to the bar, where Dianna moves to the servants, again glancing to Norran and Subhan - but, for now, it seems, more intent on being out-of-doors.

"Of course, Arturo," Dianna murmurs, reaching the bar. "Light keep you," she says softly, and then in a louder voice, to those present. "All wine and ale on the house," she calls over the voices of everyone else. "I have a feeling most of you could use it." She rubs at her forehead, and slides behind the bar to help in serving the people that move over.

"Just a bit winded," replies Celeste quickly. She dips her head quickly to Syton and then to Lyddmull, "I shall only be a moment." She reaches out to press a hand quickly to the freelander's arm before ducking out into the darkness again.

Norran chuckles, shaking his head. "No reason to worry at all! No need to be so formal with me. Truth be told, I'm not all too formal a person. I thought what I just did may have hinted at that. Well then!" he decides, glancing toward the door. "As fun as this is, I must return upon my ride to Elkmont while there's still an Elkmont to ride to. Please to meet you, Baroness. Oh, before I go," he adds, taking the practice sword from his baldric and handing it - hilt first, of course - to Subhan. "Take this. Just give Dianna a knock on the head if she acts holier than the Empress again. The only thing epic about her is her ego," he adds with a wink, giving a wave and turning to make his way outside.

Tyder nods and gathers her skirts up a bit, lifting the hem to prevent another disastrous fall. Her steps, while not fluid and graceful, are more like the slow swagger of a confident...cowboy or knight or whoever generally swaggers through Fastheld. "Thank you, Baron, it is quite kind of you," she murmurs as she passes him anxiously and escapes out into the open air.

Arturo Lomasa nods to Dianna, "And you, sister." He turns towards the door, brushing Subhan's arm on his way past, "We should talk later, Subhan....I'm going to go check on the horses. I just bought a new one and she's probably frightened out of her mind." He blinks slightly at Norran's handing over of the sword, and grumbles. "And I swear if the two of you start beating each other with wooden swords I'm going to spank you both, no matter how old you are." He continues towards the door, signalling the Nine to follow.

"My Lady?" Syton says to Celeste, looking somewhat confused as she passes. He watches her quietly for a moment before looking back to Lyddmull. "Pardon, my Lord," he says, "but where is Lady Celeste going?"

Meian seems to be strongly debating the idea of going back -under- the table, her calm poise of earlier mostly having deserted her. She remains in that odd half-way position, pale face peeking out, eyes wide with confused fear.

Lyddmull Seamel nods to Celeste, watching her leave with a worried expression before he turns briefly back to Syton. As he does so, his eyes happen upon Meian, smiling faintly as he sees her crawling out from under a table.

Dianna leans up against the bar, towards the edge, cradling her head in her hands as she pulls a mug of ale to her and taking a rather long pull from it. She's silent, letting the others work around her.

Subhan Lomasa seems perhaps a bit perplexed at why she'd want to do something so -garish- as beat someone with a sword, though she takes the hilt of the practise weapon irregardless. It's held awkwardly, "Why.. thank you." Arturo's brush and words garner a smile from the noblewoman, a glance sent back to Dianna upon his departure. Alas, it seems time for the woman to depart and with nothing more than a slight wave, meant mostly out of courtesy and to put on proper airs, Subhan leaves.