An Evening Visit

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.

The tavern is quiet for the time of day, the youngest Lomasa sibling bustling around with a wide array of things, first drink orders, then a freelander couple's dinner. Dianna brushes back one curl of brown hair, chatting with a variety of those present, both noble and commoner.

Subhan Lomasa veritably sweeps into the tavern, grace held in her bearing and perhaps just a small hint of arrogance to the jut of her chin. Her hands rest on her skirt, lifted slightly to prevent it from being stepped upon, her fingers caressing the fabric gently. An empty table is sought and found, the noblewoman graciously lowering herself to sit.

Dianna shifts slightly as the new noblewoman entering, one brow lifting up. "Interesting..." she murmurs, and steps over to intercept. "Light Keep, sister mine," she says with a degree of coolness. "What brings you to my little tavern?"

Subhan Lomasa looks to Dianna, regarding her in a politely cool manner, "Light keep, sister mine." She greets in return, a light gesture given in the general direction of the exit, "I had been out for a ride, and pray I was quite in need of something cool to sate my thirst." There's a mild hint of expectance in her tone.

A small flash of annoyance appears. "And what exactly should be I getting for you, Subhan?" Dianna asks, lips pressing together. "I did not know you would lower yourself to drinking even wine. Or have you taken a change for the better and even have some ale now and again?" A mild quirk of an amused smile comes to the noblewoman's lips, Subhan folding her hands demurely upon her lap, "It is quite a horrible state of affairs, but one was simply too thirsty. Alas, I should like whatever passes as your finest. We shall see if I can stomach it, yes?

Dianna just nods, shifting to return to the bar without another word to Subhan. Once there, the Lomasa partakes in some whispering with the lead bartender, Katalya, as she looks through a variety of different bottles of wine.

Subhan Lomasa clears her throat lightly, a hand raising to cover her mouth politely. A front to hide the small, amused smile that's taken over her lips. Regaining that slight bit of lost composure, she once more lowers her hand, resting it atop the other.

Dianna returns after a few minutes, placing a bottle of aged red wine on the table with two glasses. "Let us see if this meets your approval, Subhan," she offers, pouring the dark red liquid into the glass. "One of my better stores."

"Yes, let's." Subhan agrees with a slight nod, cool gaze lifting to focus on Dianna's eyes a moment. Her hand raises languidly, the stem of the glass taken lightly between the pads of her fingers. It is raised and summarily sipped at, a slight wrinkle to her nose indicating distaste, "Certainly not what my poor delicate palet is accustomed to, but I fear it shall have to do."

Dianna's eyes narrow faintly, "Then perhaps you had best be leaving, Subhan," she replies coolly. "If my standards do not quite meet your high and mighty principles." The Lomasa remains standing, hovering over Subhan's table as she studies her steadily.

Subhan's eyes widen slightly as though she were shocked at the idea; It definately wasn't the case, "Why! And ruin a perfectly wonderous opportunity to visit my -dear- sister? How terrible of you to suggest such a thing." She sniffs lightly, playing th part of someone who was hurt by the very suggestion.

"Oh, then forgive me, sister dear," Dianna replies, smoothing out her skirt slightly. "How is dear Arturo doing?" she inquires. "I have not seen him since he last visited at the Castle of the Hours."

Meian comes strolling in from the performance hall, looking cheerful, liltrum in her hand and a hummed tune on her lips. She does pause to curtsey to the two women, not seeming to- as of yet- note the tension. "Good evening, my ladies!" she calls merrily.

"He is doing quite well, how kind of you to ask." Subhan titters to Di, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the stem of her wine glass, "I shall have to tell him his dear youngest sister had been asking after him."

Dianna lifts her gaze to look at Meian, offering a cheerfully bright look. "Ah, Meian, come meet my dear elder sister," she calls, then turns back to Subhan, taking a seat at the table. "Well, he will be sure to come visit at a near point in the future. You do remember how he would dote upon me when we were younger."

Meian crosses the tavern to come closer, offering up a second, deeper curtsey to Subhan. "Any sister of yours, m-my lady Dianna, must be someone w-well worth meeting. SO well met, my lady. I a-am Meian, a bard-in-training." Her smile is slightly shy, but still ebulliently cheerful.

"Oh yes, how he doted on you." Subhan confirms, a mild hint of jealousy flashing through her eyes and tone. It's banished as she turns up a gracious smile to Meian, cool gaze flitting up to the would-be bard's, "How pleasant to meet you Meian. I daresay, a bard in training. How wonderful."

Dianna smirks and nods, "Come join us, Meian," she offers. "I am quite pleased that you are still here. Were you comfortable last evening?" She lifts a brow slightly, gesturing for a seat. "You have no problem with a Mage, do you, Subhan?" she inquires.

"If my lady does, then I s-suppose the pleasure will b-be all mine, won't it?" the girl wonders in a lightly curious voice, as she pulls out a chair and seats herself with the soft creaking of leather armor. "But y-yes, I slept very well, t-thank you, and performed nicely earlier today. The crowd was very kind."

A distinctive air of distate finds it's way to Subhan's features through narrowed eyes, wrinkled nose and slightly curled lip, "How like you to consort with Shadow-Touched, Di." And in that way the question is answered.

"Sit, Meian," Dianna says firmly. "My dear sister is not quite enlightened to the new ways of thinking, nor of my tavern," she adds a bit sharply. "Within this tavern, Subhan, the Touched are welcomed as much as you are."

Meian sits quite obediently, her smile calming- but not abating, as she folds her hands in her lap. "Thank you, my lady Dianna. To m-meet a soul as kind and understanding as you, it's really quite... r-rare." The girl turns her unnaturally pale eyes to Subhan. "One c-can hardly blame you, my lady, for not being q-quite as... open-minded. T-two such jewels of wisdom in one family w-would be quite remarkable."

Subhan Lomasa continues to regard Meian with an air of distaste that might filter over into disgust, the noblewoman's cool gaze resting on the bard to be a moment before it returns to Di, "How... quaint." The three of them are sitting together at a table.

Dianna smirks, "Yes, it is, isn't it?" she says sweetly. "Forgive me, dear Meian. My sister is a bit closed-minded, so you will have to excuse her very rude behavior," she adds, giving Subhan a rather cross look.

"It's quite all right," Meian assures Dianna, her voice magnanimously forgiving. "I'm s-sure she can't help it. One c-can't hold their lack of e-enlightenment against most people... they simply l-lack the vision to move forward w-with the future, and remain mired in the p-past." The girl shrugs her thin shoulders gently, adding to Subhan, "But if your f-fields are ever parched with drought, just w-write me a letter and I'll be glad to show you the p-positive uses of the Shadow, my lady."

The tavern door opens onto a darkened night where the moons cast little light to the wearied travelers of the evening. One such person would be a woman dressed in white, flanked by two guardsmen. All three seem to be sporting the same design, tabards for the men and a black corset for the woman. A mongoose rests in the center, curled about a lit torch. "Thank you, Jonathan," the noblewoman is mummers to the two-haired guard at her side. "We can see about contacting her tomorrow about the dress," she continues. A hint of irritation about her sea-green eyes.

Subhan Lomasa again allows a slight curl to her lip, the previously forgotten wine lifted and sipped at, "Yes." She states a bit flatly, violet eyes turning to Meian once again, "I'll keep that in mind."

Dianna nods, smiling, "I hope you will be kind to my cousin's fields when he starts his crops," She offers warmly. The appearance of the blond Mikin draws a cheerful look and she lifts a hand. "Celeste," she calls. "Welcome, my friend. Come and join us for some wine."

"Ah, yes, lady Celeste!" Meian calls out happily, her smile widening again. "P-please do come and sit down." Looking to Dianna, she nods lightly. "If t-there's ever a problem, I'd never w-want anyone to starve... so I'll happily t-try to fix the w-weather anywhere it's being an issue that you know of. Why have a g-gift if you can't make use of its power?" Gaze wandering back to Subhan, the girl inquires curiously, "W-why do you think any of us are born Touched, my lady?"

Celeste turns towards the hail, raising a hand and waving amiably to Dianna. "Just the woman I was looking for," she calls out. Yes,her good humor is even reflected in her eyes and voice. The Mikin turns back to the two guards, "get a bit of rest and then we will see about finding her tomorrow." And with that, she pivots her her slippered foot and wanders towards the table. The smile faltering to her lips as she draws closer and hears tidbits of the continued conversation.

Subhan Lomasa turns quite the hard -stare- on Meian, eyes narrowed and cold, "You're cursed." She nearly hisses, though the noblewoman manages to retain a sort of dignified air.

Dianna rises to her feet, "Subhan!" she scolds angrily. "You will treat Mistress Meian with respect for she is three times a better person than you are. Times are changing, and you will find yourself very alone if you do not change who you try to be." She raps her fingers smartly against the table. "And if you cannot treat the Touched with kindness, then you can step outside of my property."

Meian holds up a hand to Dianna gently, murmuring, "My lady, it's all r-right, really. She's neither the f-first, nor will she be the l-last, to treat me this w-way. It takes time for p-people to change the opinions of a l-lifetime, and I find it hard to b-blame those who cannot, not yet." That said, she looks back to Subhan once more, asking point-blank, "If I am c-cursed, then I have a question for you, my lady. S-surely the Light, in its omnipotent goodness, could have p-prevented me from being born. Why is it then that I was a-allowed to exist, Touched by the Shadow?"

People arguing? Angry women verbally lashing at each other? Of course it would make sense that Vhramis would walk into a tavern during such a situation. And there he is. Wandering in through the door, looking as foolish as ever as he glances about with his blue longbow.

Celeste clears her throat softly, reaching out to tenderly place a hand to Meian's arm. Her eyes rest on Sabhan. "I do not believe we've met," she begins conversationally to the new Lomasa. "I'm Lady Celeste Mikin, a scholar of the Light... you might say." She quirks a smile to the bard, encouraging. "May I ask why there is such fighting and tossing of words like curses?"

"It is unfortunate, but there must be balance. One supposes." Subhan replies, her chin jutting up to accentuate the woman's bout of arrogant hatred. Her politeness returns as she looks to regard Celeste, cool though it may be, "Sobhan Lomasa, how...pleasant to make your aquaintance."

"I'll bet you ten Imperials that the Regent never steps down to let the young Kahar rule " one hunter mumbles to his companion. "It's an act I say."

"Celeste," Dianna says, the angry look in her eyes fading somewhat. "Please meet my sister," she says, voice strained. "She has not been introduced to the new ideas that you have been working on at Night's Edge." In short, the young Lomasa looks livid as she stares darkly in Subhan's direction. She shakes her head, "Meian, you cannot just let people step all over you because of what you were born as. /Demand/ respect, or no one will ever grant it to you."

Lingering by the doorway, Vhramis' attention falls to the collection of women by a table in the tavern, blinking at the sight. He seems about ready to approach, before something causes him to hesitate. Perhaps a bit of their conversation was heard?

"The only way I c-can -demand- respect from those who h-hate the Touched is through fear, my lady." Meian's voice is implacably calm. "And I -will not- do that. I w-will not prove to t-them they are right to h-hate us because w-we terrify them. Let me be h-hated, I don't mind the o-opinions of those who c-cannot look beyond an a-accident of my birth to s-see the stories of Touched who do good and Kissed who d-do evil. The world w-will look at how t-they treat me, and how I t-treat them, and history w-will judge who was truly evil."

Her peace said, the girl sits back calmly where she sits with Dianna and Subhan, Celeste nearby with a hand on her arm.

The door opens behind Vhramis and a small leather-clad man, Syton Temple, enters the tavern. He steps in the door, looking over one shoulder, and turns a bit without thinking. His lack of attention brings him into direct collision with Vhramis. Syton straightens and catches himself on one of the ranger's arms. "Oh, Master Wolfsbane," he mutters, smiling at himself. "Apologies."

"Well said, Mistress Meian," replies Celeste softly, a hint of pride to her voice. "One cannot control their birth. When I was a scourge, I saw a great many deeds of Shadow perpetuated in the name of the Light, my lady." She shakes her head, "prejudice does not change in the blink of an eye, but with understanding and a willingness to look beyond the light in a man's eyes or a tattoo to a woman's cheek."

Celeste looks back to Dianna, offering her an embarrassed smile. "I did not come here to pontificate on such matters, but I'm in dire need of your assistance. It would seem that I will be helping my cousin to host a gala soon, and know very little of such matters." She sighs heavily, "at one time I would have sought out my friend, but now..."

Jumping slightly from the collision, Vhramis turns about to regard Temple, eyes widening slightly. He relaxes upon seeing who it is, offering the man a nod. "Evening," he greets him. stepping to the side to glance about the interior, again fixing his attention on the talking women. "...careful of where you tread this eve," he mutters in quiet warning.

"Oh, are they not done feeding yet?" Syton mutters back to Vhramis, watching the gathering of women with a look of amusement. He glances back to the door, notices that he is quite in the way, and steps just past Vhramis to one side. "It has been a while, Master," he says to the ranger. "How are you?"

Subhan Lomasa chuffs quietly, the woman obviously unwilling to budge in her stance. Her chin juts just that little bit higher, subtly snubbing in it's way. Her wine is once more taken, lifted and drank of.

"/This/ is what you seek to persecute, Subhan?" Dianna asks coldly, gesturing towards Meian. "A girl that speaks with more wisdom and respect than you?" She shakes her head, and waves a hand. "You have always been stiff and reclusive, but this is outrageous. Open your eyes and look at what our world has become. Judge people for their deeds, not their birth." The Lomasa breathes out a heavy sigh, straightening out her shoulders before nodding to Celeste, "Yes, your Lyddmull Seamel already mentioned it to me. I am always at your disposal, my friend."

Lucky it is that Syton's moved - sweeping grandly in comes Farrel Lomasa, his cloak billowing /just so/ behind him, already removing gloves. He wears a wry smile, an amused expression perhaps appropriate for anticipating a night of wine... and, heading for the bar, he may reveal something of an intent for indulging in just that.

"She won't budge, I'm c-certain, my lady," Meian offers with a shrug, "and let's n-not press the issue further- it'll only result in more b-bad feeling, and I wouldn't wish to be a w-wedge between yourself and your family." Her smile is rueful, but seems sincere enough. "And you s-still wished my help as well, my lady?" She turns to Celeste, finally leaving Subhan in something like peace. "T-there will be quite a lot of food..."

"Not just yet," replies Vhramis to Temple, stepping to the side as well as a matter of caution. The pair are by the doorway leading inside. "I don't think I want to head over there just yet either. Lest someone ask me for my opinion on something." He grimaces slightly at that. "I've been well enou.." He pauses at that, watching Farrel sweep by, considering the Lomasa man for a few moments.

"... my what," exclaims the Mikin in surprise. Her sea green eyes widening at the implication, and a swift shake of her head. "His lordship and I are nothing more than friends, Dianna. He was actually the man I was speaking of introducing to you when you ..." Flabbergasted, Celeste just can't go on.

The woman stand together speaking and Vhramis and Syton just stand to the side of the entryway, discussing. Syton's short hair waves softly as Farrel sweeps past, and he follows Vhramis's gaze to the Lomasa. A moment of scrutiny, a dismissive shrug, and the small freelander is looking back to the man beside him. "Everything quiet at Night's Edge?" he asks Vhramis conversationally.

Subhan Lomasa sniffs indignantly, nothing of her attitude changing, scolding or not, "If you wish to associate with them Dianna, then so be it. I simply came to visit my dear sister, of whom I rarely see, pray forgive me if one's opinions do not match your own." Oh, so it's -that- tactic.

"Ah...yes, fairly quiet," replies Vhramis with a small nod of his head. "Of course, a statue exploding would be fairly quiet next to all that's going on in Light's Reach lately. Suppose it's all relative and such."

Striding casually inside and whistling a pleasant tune is the tall, brown cotton-garbed form of Duke Norran Lomasa. Lacking his usual silks, but wearing his usual jewelry except for his circlet, the Lomasa idly fingers the deerskin-hilted weapon sheathed in the baldric in his side as he looks around the tavern proper. Noticing Vhramis and Temple nearby, his trademark grin blooms just a little wider. Innocently enough, he begins to wander away from them toward the fireplace, carrying his same tune.

Farrel makes the bar, already waving a hand and ordering, with a call and a laough - "A decent white, my dear? Something drinkable." Gloves are tucked through his belt as the man turns to survey the room - even going so far as to offer, should she notice, Dianna a merry smile and a small wave of the hand. Norran's entrance is noted in its turn, of course, the nobleman tracking his patriarch as he nears the fireplace with a raised eyebrow and an oddly curious expression.

Dianna nods, "Yes, I would rather associate with all of the Touched and freethinkers in this Empire than have to deal with the supposed /family/ that was all too pleased to turn their back on me in my time of crisis," she retorts angrily. "Do not push at me, Subhan. You are still nothing but a spoiled, arrogant, frozen hearted shrew. I thank the Light that our dear Mother and Father did not survive to see the horrible person that you have become." Surprisingly, she begins to clap. "Bravo, sister, bravo. You have stepped in to fill the vacant Doreen's position quite well. No wonder you do not seek a husband. No man would have you anyway!" Her attention is drawn so much on her sister that all other comments, or people entering go completely unnoticed.

"Mmmm hmmm..." Syton agrees with Vhramis, nodding vaguely. A glance suggests that he has spotted the Lomasa Duke's arrival, but he doesn't acknowledge it. Rather, his eyes continue until they land on Celeste. Watching the noblewoman, he quietly adds to Vhramis. "May I ask a favor of you, Master Wolfsbane? It may be small, or large, depending on how things work out, but it is important nonetheless."

That barrage of insults leaves Meian momentarily flummoxed, blinking over at Dianna in a straight-faced stare for a long moment. And then of all things, rather improperly, she starts to giggle. Quietly, at first, but then there's a good deal more giggling to follow, the girl's hand half-raising to her mouth in a futile attempt to stop it. Only a few deep breaths quiet her down, and then, still faintly pink from shocked amusement, Meian offers to Celeste, "...n-not that Lord Seamel would, hee, be a poor match..."

Vhramis seems to have also spotted Norran, gesturing to the Duke for Temple's benefit. "And another. Is this a family get together? I haven't seen so many Lomasas together since.." He trails off, considering something. "I feel bad for Mistress Meian, being stuck in the middle of that. Sounds as if it's getting a bit more heated?" He glances to Temple, waiting to hear what he says next.

Celeste's brow draws together, and a frown returns to her lips...though there is a tug at the edges as if trying to stifle a smile. "Lord Lyddmull is a dear friend, Mistress Meian. But marriage," she shakes her head.

"Perhaps -" Subhan starts, quite calmly at that, the noblewoman's cool eyes raising to meet her sister's, "-If you would carry yourself with more grace and charm, as one of your birth should, you would not find yourself abandoned." She huffs lightly once more, a light smirk resting on her lips, "So quaint of you to think that a woman -needs- a man. Or do you not? Pray, dear sister clairify such a misunderstanding for me, won't you?

Looking about the tavern, Norran takes note of two of his kin - Subhan and Dianna - apparently arguing. He breathes a slight sigh, shaking his head as he begins to walk to approach the scene.

"Just words for now," Syton replies to Vhramis with a slight shrug. He glances from the gathering of women back to Vhramis. Softly, but earnestly, he says, "Over the next few days, I would like you to keep a particularly close eye on Lady Celeste, if you could please. Things are going to get difficult, and she may need to be saved from herself."

Farrel's wine arrives - and his grin widens. Taking a sip, up there at the bar, he seems to be enjoying his position as a spectator, settling back comfortably and taking a great deal of interest in the family fireworks.

Vhramis rubs at his chin as he blinks at Temple. "I wouldn't underestimate her, really. What do you know? I'd much rather you just tell me."

"It is not a question of her strength, Master Wolfsbane, only her judgment." Syton stands by the door, speaking with Vhramis. He chews on his lip thoughtfully, hestitating for a moment, before shaking his head to Vhramis. "It is not my place to say. I'm sorry. I will say that she is not in physical danger, though, only political danger."

Dianna smiles ever so sweetly to Subhan, "One of our birth? What does a name give to any of us, Subhan? We must be who we will, and carve our way into this world by our actions, not our blood. I will never deny making mistakes in the past. You say that I should act with more grace and charm? But what type of grace and charm would you walk with if you had been pursued for months by a man bent on /murder/? I had an affair, and faced death on multiple occasions for it. How would /you/ be, Subhan? How would you be to lose your only child? Or to spend months in a dungeon or forced to the Shadow District?" She intakes a sharp breath. "Experience those things and /then/ tell me that I do not act with grace and charm. There is more to our lives than charm. There is dignity. There is /honor/ and loyalty to those you care for."

Taking note of the fact no one's paying any particular attention to her, Meian sidles backwards in her chair and slowly slides to her feet, backing away from the Table of Catfighting with as much grace as she can muster. Murmuring to Celeste, she offers up, "R-really, a right fine man. S-shouldn't we, perhaps, go... I don't know, s-sit at the bar, my lady?"

"I hate that," Vhramis replies with a grunt, sounding a bit vexed. "Be careful of this upcoming danger. No, I can't tell you what it is. But be wary." He glances about and bites his bottom lip for a moment. "I seem to repeatedly hear that from people. Just /tell/ me."

Celeste sighs heavily, stepping to place an arm about Dianna's shoulders. She smiles towards Meian. "I will be there in a moment," she mummers, then turning her attention back to the fighting woman. "If I may interject, this may not be the venue to have such an argument, Dianna. Perhaps you and your sister would prefer to discuss matters upstairs. One cannot change the minds of others with raised voices," she replies soft and calm to the fighting Lomasas.

More boots at the door, several pairs of them in fact. Because Arturo so rarely travels anymore without an entourage. Just to make the tavern more crowded, ten men make their way in, six of them with armor and axes, and 3 of them with bows and lighter armor. And in the midst of them, Arturo Lomasa, just in time to watch his relatives fight. This is pretty much how his life generally goes.

The tavern door, which seems to be swinging open quite a lot to admit newcomers, allows enough room for Tyder Pondwater to squeeze in, avoiding barging into those collected near it. Her eyes widen a bit at the sight of so many faces gathered in one spot, especially the obvious guard, but rather than pick out a particular party to join, the smith sidles up to the bar instead. "Mm, good evening, Baron," she murmurs quietly to the lone Lomasa occupying a space there.

"And who is to blame for that, Dianna? None had forced an affair upon you, and yet here you stand crying your misfortunes to the heavens as though you had not brought them upon yourself." Subhan lets the smirk further curl her lips, the woman standing smoothly and looking down her nose at the younger sibling, "You dare to speak of honour when you admit to doing such a dishonourable thing. Na'er do you cease to amaze me." Syton shrugs helplessly at Vhramis, moving aside to allow Arturo's entourage through. "I hate pointless mystery as much as you, Master Wolfsbane," he replies with a sigh. "Loyalty both keeps me from speaking, and also compels me to speak. I have settled on a comfortable middle-ground in which I do neither very well."

Norran merely continues his stride through the tavern, adeptly weaving and sidestepping both patrons and tables as he makes his way through. "Dianna!" he booms as best he can manage, clearing his throat and reaches a hand to draw the weapon sheathed in his baldric in both his hands, wielding it properly. "Defend yourself!" he calls next, tone calm as the grin on his face remains quite steady. He also picks up speed, once a path is clear enough between him and Dianna's table, breaking out into a sprint to close the short distance.

One thing to note, of course, this particular insane act is being threatened with an...odd sword. It's the size and shape of a longsword, however, it's far from the same quality. Being made of wood and all. The soft whicker of a small horse is heard just outside the door by those closest to it, the jangling of tack and a quiet, short conversation. After this, the door once again as a dark-haired Seamel steps in. He comes to an abrupt halt as his eyes light first on the charging Duke, his eyes quickly flickering about the room as he desperately tries to make some kind of sense of the situation.

"Politics are tiring," states Vhramis with a sigh, blinking over to Norran as he charges with his practice sword at the table. He stares for a moment, before his attention turns back to Syton. "Why are people targetting her again? From what I saw, she mostly wants to be left alone with her chapel and to run it in peace. Of course, things never quite go as we would hope them to."

There's a certain dull resonance that seems to sweep through the walls of the Hawk and Dove tavern from somewhere within the market district area. A vacuous and spaced "voom, voom, voom" that sounds like someone beating on a very large drum. Or perhaps several very large drums. Whatever it is, it seems to reverberate through the night air, and - thought barely audible above a whisper - is a constant theme in the background ambiance.

Meian lurks quietly in the background, trying not to intrude on... well, any of the mess going on around herself.

Farrel Lomasa takes another long sip of wine, Norran's charge widening the nobleman's grin. Actually chuckling, he shakes his head.... and then pauses, blinking, at the odd thing - more felt than heard.

Syton arches an eyebrow and sighs yet again as Norran makes his somewhat-armed incursion into hostile territory. "Well," he says sideways to Vhramis, "something about poisoning the minds of the Empire, and--" Abruptly, Syton stops and looks around, then back to the door, then back to Vhramis. He simply offers the ranger a questioning look.

"Oh, I am at fault for the affair, Subhan, but /not/ the actions that followed after," Dianna retorts. "I was a scapegoat to House Kahar so their precious idiot, Adaer Kahar, would not suffer a Lessening for his foolish actions," she notes, her voice calming. "I have spent enough time in dishonor for my past deeds, but things-" Her voice breaks off as there's suddenly a rather large person and wooden sword coming at her. Hard to react though, when someone has their arm about her shoulder, though she does make the attempt at backing up, pushing Celeste with her.

Celeste tries to pull Dianna out of the way of the charging duke. It is not the sword that seems to spur the woman's movement but moving with a fluidness of a trained soldier trying to protect their charge. Her foot nearly catches on the hem of her velvet skirts, the Mikin not dressed for such heroics for the evening.

Having been ignored, and for good reason too considering the growing spectacle, Tyder frowns and turns to place her back against the bar. She crosses her arms over her chest and settles into a night of people watching just as the wayward Lomasa storms through the tavern with his wooden sword. Such arguments and goings on are enough to keep the smith pleasantly unaware of any possible goings-on outside.

Arching an eyebrow at Syton as he cuts off, Vhramis shakes his head slightly. "Poisoning? What she teaches there seems to go hand in hand perfectly with the Order, or whatever it's called these days Wait..there is no order anymore, is there?" He seems to consider that, tapping a foot slightly and tugging at his earlobe, before his thoughts seem to turn back to Temple again. More so, why he stopped talking. A tilt of his head. "...ah," he mutters.

Subhan Lomasa lets free a small huff, amusement lacing the sound. The noblewoman retakes her seat, once more folding her hands into a demure pile on her lap and settles in to watch the spectacle.

Syton listens quietly for a moment--his attention on the door, rather than the charging Duke--before speaking to Vhramis. "Master Wolfsbane," he mutters softly, barely over the din of the tavern. "What does that sound like to you?" A dark look on his face suggests that he already has an idea of his own. Wolfsbane listens for a few more moments, trying to seperate one sound out of a score, his brows furrowing as he stares at Syton. "Hard to say," he mutters, glancing back to the melee over by the distant table, before gesturing Syton to the door, turning to wander off towards it.

Unfortunately, despite Celeste's standard tactic of throwing herself in the way, she's not quite quick enough to deflect any of Norran's overhead swing. Although he misses her head entirely for a surprising reaction on Dianna's part, Norran's eyes widening half-way through the swing, he does manage to strike her on the shoulder with the biinwood caricature of a longsword. It'll probably sting a little bit, but Norran's obviously held back. Stopping abruptly in his sprint as the blow lands, Norran raises his brows and stands at a more relaxed stance as he rests the sword against his shoulder. "Impressive, Dianna! I'd have thought your feet would be a fair bit heavier, sitting about this tavern moaning of how everyone's against you and whatnot, but I am pleasantly surprised! Not many could evade me so well, perhaps you're just lucky. So! How are you, Cousin?" cheerfully greets Norran, reacting as if he'd just said hello with a hug or a handshake.

Well, first there's yelling sisters, and now...attacking cousins. Whether Arturo exactly registers that Norran's sword is wooden or not, he certainly registers that the man is charging his sister, and his baritone booms out with an angry, "Norran, don't you DARE!" A hand goes for the bearded axe at his side, and he starts across the room, though whether he can arrive near them before matters resolve themselves is a different matter.

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.