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Iyalon, faithful and stoic as always, takes the sword from the younger Hildebrand’s grasp, straps it to his back with a firm nod. He then hands her a bouquet of white roses and daisies: hers and Merel’s flowers. Varda smiles and watches her sister turn towards her with a dazzling grin. “Shall we head in, Sis?” “Of course.” Placing her free hand quietly on Merel’s lower back to lead her forward up the stone steps, she turns to Iyalon and gives him a light smile. “Shall we?” They make their way to where Lady Dali is standing at the front of the manor, a red-cloaked man standing tall beside her. The sisters come to a slow stop before them. Her hands shaking in the stems of the bouquet, Varda gulps as she speaks her greeting. “Hail, Lady Dali. Thank you for inviting us to your celebration.” She curtsies and Merel follows suit. “We hope your families become more, um, blessed through this union.” Lady Dali gives them the traditional greeting of their house, and in the silent hug that ensues, Varda finds herself wistful for her mother’s embrace, something she would do all the time during her youth, before the sickness came and stole all the life from Lady Lynae’s body. She closes her eyes briefly before smiling at Lady Dali after she steps back. "My condolences young lady and young Lady. You are welcome to house Dali at any time. I'll be in the music room shortly." “Thank you, my lady.” Varda tightens her grip around the bouquet as she shuffles forward for the other houses to be greeted. Perhaps she’ll give the flowers later, when they have more time to talk. She spies the Mythals with Lady Dali and decides to greet them later on with Merel by her side. The man standing beside Lady Dali comes forward and places his hands on Varda’s shoulders, then Merel’s shoulders. “Aye, Lord Strom Hildebrand was a great man of even greater virtue, taken from us much too soon.” “Yes,” is all Varda can say, the faint smile on her face on the verge of fading away. She doesn’t quite know how to react to such kind words and the piercing ache in her chest. “We shall all raise a glass in homage to the legacy he has left behind and perhaps going forwards together, we can give proper respect to his memory that we all hold dear. Now please, make yourself at home inside.” “Thank you,” Merel answers him with a smile, and Varda can’t help but beam at the statement. Progress, no matter how slight, is still progress indeed. They arrive at the dining hall along with the Mythals, and she stares in curiosity at the opulent surroundings. “You hear that, Merel?” Varda pokes her sister lightly on her upper forearm with a bright grin. “We are welcome here whenever we come visit.” “Yes, Sis. I know.” Now, then. Varda gestures for her sister to follow her and approaches the Mythals, hoping for Merel to make conversation and get distracted even more. Granted, she has never met any of them before beyond hurried glances at the few events she was allowed to attend, but perhaps it can be helpful. She curtsies towards the group and turns towards the dark-skinned one with the yellow eyes. “Greetings, House Mythal. I am Varda Hildebrand. I, um,” her bravado falters, and she looks over her shoulder towards her sister with a panicked glance before snapping her gaze back to the Mythals. “It’s a family tradition for the—the Hildebrand house to give flowers as a, um, formal greeting.” She thrusts a smaller bouquet from the large collection in her hand towards them. “May you have, um—” “Peace and prosperity upon you and your own,” Merel steps in to save her, bowing deeply as she says the traditional words. Varda’s shoulders lift with a sigh of relief as she smiles towards the other noble house.   @ethela penna @Aleksei

Lexicus exhaled with a slight smile. If Stello was concerned about small things like theft and the occasional murder then that was not much of a concern. "Rest assured, I hope to keep the past in the past if I can help it. Though connections are hard to let go when they are so convenient.  The way I see it is that your shop is our work space and in my record, I keep my work places as safe as I can. The blaze of my previous establishment was on the fact that I was away from my post after a very generous offer came my way and I might have celebrated a bit much." There was a shift in his tone as well as his stance.  The smith stood more upright, speaking with pride and authority, "Had I been aware of the transgression I would have immediately halted the attempt to burn down what these hands have put to work and finally put the old aggression between that insufferable man, preferably with a round between his head and a shallow grave which he deserves." There was a sigh as Lexicus had gotten worked up from the held in tension. "You shall forgive me if I hold bitterness over the act. It has been quite a downhill tumble for nearly the last few months. I almost wish I had to preform some lip service to take away some of the aggression and held in tension from the bitter blows." Once he finished his light rant, Lexicus's demeanor shift to focus back to a more relaxed state.  "As for my history between the lycan house and myself, we are very close business partners and due to a, let's call it a poor decision, the young wolf who so hastily threatened me now carries the taint of a demon. It was a miscommunication honestly. Those who bare no weight to the choice of words that come spewing from their tongue generally do not expect such words to follow with a reaction." Lexicus moved around from the counter, moving to look over the forge. There were a few things he was looking forwards to begin shaping within the next few days to come. Mostly he was hoping to work on casting some chain links to begin work on light chain protection since it seemed to be a hot commodity. "Was that all you wished to know for the time being Lavis?" His attention was not drawn away from Stello, simply split between speaking with the smith and starting to check the forge for how to begin piecing together how he would go about casting the chain links. "Because there is always things to learn and I am always willing to share what I know to those who I designate as in the 'need to know'." His voice had settled back to it's normal 'regal' sounding tone. His words spoken had become nice and soft again, something to be expected from a humble smith or noble. It was the shifting of his mood from dour and pent up to relaxed and ready to get back to work. Over the next few day, the tools required for the surgery had been finished. The small knives, the means to clamp open tissue as well as to manipulate them out of the way had been laid out for inspection to make sure they could hold up. A test of the sharpness was demonstrated when Aldorto sliced open his shoulder with the scalpels to make sure they were sharp enough for precise cutting. While the metal work was being done, Aldorto had made a trip out to secure medical supplies as well as spend time with medical wards to learn what he could over healing supplies as well as to understand how the cuts would be performed. Once the firm grasp was set in his mind, Aldorto spent the rest of the time helping out around the forge, seeing customers come in, helping to jot down the orders that were being requested and even showed off the smiths' handiwork by bearing some of their arms, not always before asking, however the bit of advertisement was to go for the greater good. On the day that was to come for the surgery, Lexicus awoke in the ass crack of dawn to get the shop ready by using his own room as the location of where the cuts would be made. A table with sheets and cushions was to be set as the location of operation while his personal belongings were shoved off to the side. There was, of course, still the task of working on the fine details of the metal work that needed to be worked as well as continuing his project of casting many chains for armor. To his surprise, Aldorto was wide awake with three cups of tea set forth as he was awaiting the others to rise as early as  he did. There was also a few pieces of dried meat set aside on a plate along with two boxes used to carry hot meals in.  The elf had left the shop last night to buy a meal for the morning. It was better then sitting about doing nothing. The meals were comprised of steamed greens along with a few fresh berries and some bread. The plate of dried meats was a side in case either of the two smiths would prefer to have meat. This was to sort of treatment Aldorto had set upon the smiths, treating them both as honored friends. The elf stocked the pantry with higher end ingredients along with restocking the place with a few more herbal teas and juices as well. For his time here both the smiths had food that was either ordered from the local dinners or from the more high end restaurants. The elf had very little else to do with his 'spending' money being that he acquired more then he spent from his legerdemain and gambling then he started with.  As the blonde smith came down from his room, the smell of the steamed greens hit his nose. "Vegetarian diet? Are you insinuating something Ardesian?" "Me? I would 'never' suggests something about your overall well being Thoren. I am an elf after-all, one that knows the importance of a green dishes." There was a very smart ass grin on his face. "Besides it's here and I bought it for you so the least you can do is be gracious and eat it. We have a long day ahead of us, this way you can start off on a strong note. There's some dried beef and exotic choice meat as well in case you need it. Help yourselves, I hunted this morning, had to get in that daily amount of red meat from somewhere." The woods outside of town were a nice place to go after the bigger game in the area, a good way to jump-start the day. Aldorto had moved to nab his cup of chamomile tea. It had steeped not more then four minutes ago. 

“We’ll keep your social engagements to a minimum for the time being; I’ll not have this be the first the public sees of you." The cut of Rou's leveled gaze, managed with some difficulty for his mild nudging of her chin, made it apparent that she wasn't in a mood to favor Rafael's manhandling.  She projected a nasal grunt from her nostrils, breathy and quick, in the way a steer carefully considered how best to trample the pesky, fluttering red cape.  With no patience for her petulance (as opportunely quiet as she was), he pushed again with scrutinizing consideration, breaking her gaze only because she hadn't the desire to break her own neck in the sake of pettiness.  When he'd preferred the comfort of the back of his seat, Rou's gaze remained on the dawning landscape, the gentle bump of the carriage on the road rocking her involuntarily back and forth. "You didn't have to strike Brovnik," Rou answered gruffly, feeling that late was better than never.  It hadn't sounded like the threshold to open an argument, but rather just the voicing of her disapproval.  What was done had already been done.  Brovnik, the graying smith that owned From the Ashes, had made the mistake of trying to bar Rafael's entry through the door, for Rou hadn't been able to explain clearly enough why she had to leave.  Without her saying as much, Brovnik knew that before Rafael's hand had even raised in turn that he was the one that blemished his fellow smith's skin with unsightly bruises, and contributed to her pensiveness.  Rou had only been quick enough to keep the Umbral Emperor from striking him a second time, and in doing so earned the rather painful badge of his ire she now brandished on her cheek.  She raised a hand to it, just hovering over her blue-and-black mottled cheekbone, but declined to touch it for it's soreness.  "He was only trying to help." “That manor was an invaluable piece of this region’s history, but I’m sure you knew that. You didn’t care – because what could ever be more important than you, and what you want, right? Rou hadn't looked affectionately upon the new structure being built in the wake of the late Calera Manor, nor had she looked apologetic for her actions, but her lips inevitably wrinkled in a sour grimace for Rafael's presumptions.  True, Rou gained some satisfaction from the destructively cathartic burning of her house, having brandished hazy green bottles of Orisian wine like murder weapons against the walls before setting it aflame to burn in the night, but it wasn't the only reason she'd done it.  By also burning down half of Umbra's Hall of Records, Rou had secured quite a pretty penny in alleged contract for the property.  She hadn't seen any of that fortune, for she knew law wouldn't support her in claim to her own prosperity, but that hadn't prevented it from going to her stewards as namesake. "Oh, please," Rou scoffed, with quite a bit more sarcasm than necessary or appropriate, "Cole and Thaladred were just as happy to spend those crowns I raked in; of course they're wounded to see it go."  As Military Commander and Treasurer of Umbra, respectively, their favor was inevitably bought by the fortunes that sponsored their expenses-- the General Augustus Cole pleased to re-outfit the City Watch in all-too-much grandeur, and Bianca Thaladred, with that permanent pinched scowl of hers, was personally partial to the new summer house she was allotted to purchase with the surge of finances.  "Mircea didn't like me much to begin with, but even he admitted that Eros Calera was a blight upon humanity," she said, pausing over the word for it's awkwardness, and scowled anyway.  "You think I was going to leave Beatrice and Darius to fend off those wolves while the council repossessed their only home?  Eros may have been a terrible vampire, but his cousins--" Rou had no better word to describe their familial bond with their unfortunate late heir, for she truly hadn't even asked or understood how these vampyres were related, and continued, "--aren't.  And they deserve better than that rotting sarcophagus."  The former An'She hadn't heard the elusive Zenahriel's opinion on the matter, for she had never met them at all upon her term, but she knew the other three well enough to have pantomimed their exact reactions in her head; they all had their own interests, least of all was the actual history of the disgraced family of Calera.  She remembered the awful, narcissistic paintings that adorned every wall of Calera Manor all too well, and the stench of death and old that just couldn't be cleaned out.  Even if she hadn't burned the place down, Rou never would've returned to that place... and even the Umbral Palace, as uncomfortable as she feared returning might be, seemed divine by comparison.  "That place can rot in the ground with him," she ended on the matter, sounding more selfish and out of personal interest; she had a reputation to uphold.  Rou, privately, hoped that with her interference Darius and Beatrice Calera fared well enough. Regardless of favors done, however, she felt that Rafael was right on one point, much to Rou's melancholy-- she didn't have any more allies.  A turn of her head showed a briefly poignant look to the intimidating Emperor across from her, considering the terms of their re-evaluated companionship.  It was exactly what she'd wanted, even if not in the way she'd wanted.  Her amber-yellow eyes flickered down, as if able to see the bruised blue of her cheek, though the gentle throb of pain reminded her often of it's presence.  The things one endured to be Empress. "Then again... Perhaps my days of being a patient man should come to an end?” He interrupted her ruminations with the theft of her foot from the floor, guarded only by a brief shield of nylon, which did little and less to prevent the ascent of his tapered fingernails that threatened to pill her stockings.  "Says the man who supposedly decided to marry his cousin upon only an eve," she retorted, her arched eyebrow perched high with terrible scrutiny, waspish as she tried to pull her foot away from his capture.  Holding fast, she didn't receive it upon the first try.  Rou knew that eventually she would pay for that quip; she just hoped it was later, rather than sooner.  She couldn't think of anything that could've made this carriage journey more uncomfortable, judging by the sour look that tainted her face. "You were never a patient man," Rou refused, glowering back at him, even though it meant leaving the sight of him dimpling her skirt unattended, "Just playing at one."  Pushing back with her leg to loosen his grip first, she tried again, thankfully to some success.  She paid him a grin, though it was indiscernible whether it was for the relief of gaining back her limb, or thinking herself clever.  Her smile was short-lived, as she already anticipated his response, that she had received endless bounty of his so-called patience, and the smirk faded just as quickly as if he had said them.  She hoped that was enough to spare her from earning a bruise on the other cheek. Knowing full well what Rafael's restlessness often had in store, Rou sighed deeply, a serene, feminine hum that eradicated what remained of her biting pettiness.  Reaching for the window as the dawn began to brighten the carriage, Rou's calloused fingers drew at the cords of curtains, dutifully releasing the fabric to shield them from the sun's light.  While Rafael, in his ascendancy, was no longer a vampyre and so vulnerable to the light, she knew he often preferred the dark, if only out of habit.  With a long scooting of her rear against her seat of the sizable carriage to reach the other side, she evened the lay of curtains on the other side, before exhaling at the discomfort of rising from her seat, a careful hand on the roof to prevent the bumping of her head, and reclaimed a seat beside Rafael. "If I'm not to be in the business of showing off my newest color to the Umbral public," Rou said, slightly droll in her tone as she motioned briefly to the bruise on her cheek, "Then perhaps my spleen can wait to reshape to the structure of a corset until we're home."  She had been wearing a dreadfully tight thing since the ship in Hyperion, where they'd made the voyage by sea from Terrenus to Genesaris, landing at the nearest port within the Arcane East.  It was still a far trek inland to the holy city of Umbra, and Rou had misjudged just how sorely her body had become unaccustomed to high fashion in just the span of a few months, and she'd even given up on shoes much more quickly.  Sitting on the edge of the seat beside Rafael, with a pull of her hand she swept the length of her sable ponytail out of the way.  It revealed the tight-bound cording of the red corset, following the path of her spine all the way to the ruffled of her skirts, but did not spare him the silhouette of her favorably round rear-- much, as she figured, to his benefit.  With a significant time left until they would arrive, Rou couldn't bear the thought of wearing the cage around her ribs and bust any longer, and would settle for the gently pleated linen blouse beneath.  With a keen lidded survey of Rafael over her bare shoulder, a token of the dress' deep, less-than-modest neckline, thick wings of eyeliner lowered her gaze with some bit of sultry invitation.  "Would you?" she asked, her lips parted briefly in that way she knew he liked.  They hadn't been on the best of terms, nowhere at all near the endearment they used to show for each other, but that hadn't prevented Rou from secreting him a private view of her caramel skin: the way her shoulder blades, with a newfound strength gained from her time at Tiandi Wushu, arched delicately in perfect mirror of each other; how her smooth hair met with the nape of her slender neck, for once unencumbered by a choker in a rare display of inaccessory; or how the skin of her shoulders freckled, nearly invisible without such close inspection, from the past kiss of the sun.  However, even sweet moments with Rou were not quick to last, as her head returned to the front, her nose snootily in the air.  "And I don't want another repeat of last time.  I swear to Gaia's seven hells, Rafael-- if you rip another corset, I will be very cross with you."  Rafael knew he had no reason to be intimidated by her half-veiled threats, particularly evident through the lightheartedly narcissistic tone in her voice, and would hopefully share her humor in it.  Though, if you had asked Rou, fashion was no laughing matter.

Slowly turning his head, Harlon leveled the weight of his soft, creamy-blue eyes on Kalicity, and for the time it took for his hearts to beat, considered more deeply the ramifications of family. In his life, he had three. The first, his birth parents, a man and a woman he did not remember save for the vague memory of voices and the smell of home, long since lost. The second family was the one that had taken him from his first, and made him into the man he was today. Those had been the days of great war and great prestige, and a fulfillment the likes of which Harlon had never known since. Fulfillment, and shame. Prodigious was the rise of he and his brethren in those days, which made their fall from grace in that era of great war so titanic. It had been so long since that time that Harlon could not recall if he had been cast aside or had left of his own accord at the climax of that long schism, but he did remember the day the Outsider had found him, centuries after. In the barren, bloody wastes of a far-off world, the fiend, a Lord of Hell, offered him and his warband that which he had been lacking: purpose. And so he acquired a new family of familiar and foreign faces alike, and so served here, now. In the years following that new vow of loyalty, he had learned a great deal in the Outsider's shadow, not the least which being the machinations of the creatures mind.  In the end, he decided to simply indulge Kalicity, mother to the once-and-future queen of Orisia. The division of worlds and time between them could not be bridged so easily, and especially not tonight. So he smiled, his large, craggy face splitting into something close to resembling genuine humor, and he nodded, acquiescing to her comment. "Probably not," he said quietly, his voice still a startling, strange dichotomy against the sheer size and bulk of his frame and impossibly large armor. So close, she was liable to hear the hiss and drive of pistons, gears, and crystalline lattices that served as the machines method of movement and propulsion, all fueled by the potent will every plate seemed designed to protect.  A ghastly shell of armor colored blue chased by gold, it did not quite fit the pale, handsome face peeking above the gorget and seals that latched and unlatched the helmet he held by its high crown at his side. "But we're family all the same, hm? So we should at least pretend we are, mother." Again came that understated humor, that modicum of wit that hinted at more than just a brute with weapons clamped to his hips. Listening to her gripe about thirst, Harlon found himself nodding along, his blue eyes lifting and searching the crowd for a servant. He had been ordered to watch Kalicity and keep her in companionable safety, but that did not excuse him to be churlish.  He sought a drink, but instead found Victor ac Lana, who, it seemed, was announcing the Outsider and Irene. Excusing himself and his bulk as unobtrusively as possible with a quiet word to Kalicity, not wanting to distract her from the spectacle about to play out, Harlon approached one of the servants. He had no trays for refreshments, no idea what the giant of a man wanted, until Harlon reached out with his mind, invaded the man's own, and pulled from his consciousness what he knew of Kalicity, and more important still, what she took as refreshment. Repulsed by what he found, the giant reeled from the man's mind. Blood, the man had told him against his own accord. Blood for the drinkers of it, the Night Walkers. He thought of the vampyre he had slew in the opening moments of the coup with renewed distaste, and reached out with a large, gauntleted hand to grab the servant by his head. The man started screaming, but was quickly muffled by Harlon's massive fist, which squeezed until the servant's face cracked. Teeth smashed, nose broken, choking on blood, he was dragged back over to Kalicity by the sorcerer with marked aplomb, and dragged the shaking, quivering man beside her. His expression was stony. Like a predator offering homage to its owner, Harlon raised the servant and dropped him in a heap, willing the man into silence with a snap of will. Whimpering, he looked up at the giant and Kalicity both with blood-stained eyes, his right swelling from a cracked orbital lobe, giving him a lopsided appearance. Stricken with horror and the oppressive will of the sorcerer, he whimpered uncontrollably.  "Your drink," Harlon said, without amusement nor condemnation. Then his blue eyes shifted, watching Roen and Irene, watching the former speak and the latter react. It didn't take a practiced statesman or a seasoned politician to realize the woman wore a mask, but that was to be expected. It wasn't everyday someone was forcibly returned to eminence. That Roen claimed stewardship over Orisia was another obviousness, the island insecure, especially in the midst of a coup. It would be weeks, even months before an occupying force could even consider leaving, not when the rightful sovereign's position was so untenable. It wasn't over. It wasn't nearly over, and by the end of the year, Harlon expected more bodies to hit the ground before ever there was peace. Still, it was a good dream the Outsider possessed, and the sorcerer had to wonder what made Irene so important to him to be the beneficiary of. This was but one island on one planet, floating in the sea of space. Why focus here, when there were other worlds to conquer and rule? But Harlon already knew the answer, both before and now: it was love. It was sentimentality. It was something enviable, which Harlon could not quite grasp but simply understood: this was selfish conquest, and the calling of his warband here, tonight, wasn't just overkill, but a statement of absolute possession. Eden indeed with a snake at its center, Harlon couldn't help but frown.  Victor ac Lana, Harlon's brother in the loosest sense, tapped his dreaded staff again, signalling an end to the surprisingly short audience. It was not often the Outsider did not indulge in the sound of his own voice, which spoke volumes to Harlon the absolutely tyranny of the situation. Obsessive, yes, the Duke of Perdition was certainly that, but a thing of focus, of attention? That was a creature of a different color, and so far removed from Harlon's expectation it came as a sort-of pleasant surprise. It must have been a decade or more since the Outsider moved with such deliberate force, which made Harlon just wonder what had changed, what was different. Not for the first time, his blue eyes regarded the Orisian Queen. How could something so small and delicate inspire the Outsider so? He might never know. Turning his head and averting his gaze, he looked down at Kalicity again, and determining whether or not she had taken to having her drink at the waiter's expense, canted his head and broached another subject matter with her.  "This is only the start," he warned, though doubted highly she needed such. Sorcerer and giant that he was, Kalicity's kind was more than able to fend for themselves. He felt the weight of summerset eyes on him, of a dark, angry gaze. Harlon held his arm out to Kalicity again, remembering his place.  "They'll see you now," the giant said simply, her own, private escort. The Outsider had the daughter, yes, but it seemed now was the time to claim the mother, too. Family, Harlon thought. This whole thing began with blood. It had an irony in it that it should progress the same way. 

The white fur was able to power forwards but as for grace, it was beyond him. There came an abrupt stop once they were outside. Lenix took in a nice breath of fresh harbor air. After a few feet forwards there came another stop, it was not expected which made the white fur keep moving, falling forwards against the wooden dock. "Aahhh.." With a loud thud, the werewolf struck wooden planks. The world around him spun as he could do nothing but roll along his side. It was nice seeing someone else who was willing to aid in their 'drunken stupor'. Lenix was reserved to speak very little since words became hard to form. "Hello..nish to meet ya." He spoke while looking up from the ground. It took the elf a few moments more to get his knees under him to be able to start standing again. Wobbly, he was hard pressed to find stability less he fall over again. Lenix chuckled some as he made it to being able to stand by pushing off the ground and holding onto his knees for stability once his feet were solidly planted on the hardwood under him. "Thank ya.." The response once he felt himself being helped along again. "..woolkin ish not esay.." His face was a little warm from the fall but overall he was fine, nothing worse then what he was used to at this point. Makiel nodded, it was understandable that within time he too would pick up habits and hobbies with his age. The little squeal from Kalmuli was noted and he smiled knowing there was some tension there that he had built up. The halls were nice, but the place had an air of being...dead. A place this big usually sounded loud and noisy with people hard at work. This place sounded empty, as though the feel was tight, something he avoided like the plague. Yes silence had it's place but not in a place like this. Once they arrived, the face of the gal he had met from before appeared. From first glance it was easy enough to tell she was at work since the visit of the two seemed to disturb her as well as her face showing signs that she was surprised, pleasantly but still surprised none the less. "We meet again...Bren-na right?" There was a stall along her name while he tried to recall what her name actually was. With a very polite forward 'nod' Makiel smiled back up at the hand maiden. "Sorry to disturb you."  His apology was essentially formality at this point, more intrigued then concerned that he and Kalmuli had 'actually' disturbed Brenna. His eyes took in the bit of mess she had made working on fabrics, cutting from cloth and leather. "I see the idea must have really spurred you, that or you didn't have much going on. I appreciate the work, though I am in no real rush, miss." His fingers were still entwined with Kalmuli's and his spacing was rather close to her as well. It was absent minded really, he just subconsciously knew that he wanted to maintain contact with this wonderful elf that shared his adoration for each other.