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Ataraxy

The Reverie Ball (Open Hub)

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WELCOME 

TO

THE REVERIE BALL!

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On the night of December 25th the castle of Andelusia opens its doors to all citizens of Valucre, far and wide, to come mingle and dance! The floor of the castle and the courtyard outside are all available for public usage. In all rooms there is music playing, each room playing a different song. Perhaps even a different type of music. Spectacular food is served in every room, though the Dining Room is where the most magnificent food rests. From snacks to full meals, everything someone would want lays upon the table. Despite the main food on the table is from Ursa Madeum and Taen, the side food comes from throughout Valucre. 

Those who participated in the ANT conferences would recognize the castle. However, this time, every room was decked in blue and green decorations. At least one unlit cauldron had been put in each room, some surrounded by wrapped presents without labels. 

The same day an announcement was sent out to the public and to those allied with Taen Empire. It stated that starting from the 25th of December, the Taen Empire would no longer be referred to as the Taen Empire. As of now, the Empire is switching to the name Veluriyam Empire. Although not known to the public, those with connections in Veluriyam Empire might discover the Veluriyam is a Mork'Outh word for Open Sky

Within the hour of opening the castle filled. Emperor Titus stands in the Sun Room, a glass of wine in his hands as he leans against the wall while he speaks to some Renovation dignitaries. The Ballroom is where Princess Teresa finds herself, dancing with one of her guards but keeping an eye out for someone not on her father's payroll. Someone not lame. 

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Green means open; red means closed. 

  1. @Tyler
  2. @Eternity
  3. @supernal
  4. @KittyvonCupcake
  5. @notmuch_23
  6. @vielle
  7. @LikelyMissFortune
  8. @danzilla3
  9. @Sleepy Seal
  10. @Grubbistch
  11. @Alexei
  12. @Witches Brew
  13. @Praetorian
Edited by Ataraxy

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Among the horses and magnificently appointed carriages they pull, and even the few motor vehicles the Norkotians brought, one vehicle still stands out. The low rumble of a diesel engine sounds as a two-tone blue Ford F-350, a vehicle from another planet and dimension entirely, rolls up to where the Norkotians' vehicles are parked. Unlike those, this pickup has been devoid of liquid petroleum products for almost two years. The crankcase and transmission are filled with plant-based oils, the coolant system is filled with water mixed with proteins that both drop the freezing point and raise the boiling point instead of ethylene glycol, and the fuel tank is (two-thirds) full of pure biodiesel. None of this was done voluntarily, but necessity due to the lack of petroleum products in Taen and Ursa Madeum.

Out of the driver's side steps Aveline, dressed not in her casual wear, but surprisingly a fine, tailored pinstripe suit and black silk tie on a black dress shirt, all distictly male-styled. It isn't for the other nobles she dresses like this, at least not the vast majority of them, but instead for the only three political figures she has any respect for: Titus Demetrius, Rozharon Parálios, and Grant Knight.

Out of the passenger side bound two six-legged foxes, in nothing but their brown gradient fur, and a strap under the neck of one holding some sort of electronic device. Together, the three step into the castle, doing what they need to do to get inside.

3 hours ago, Ataraxy said:

The Ballroom is where Princess Teresa finds herself, dancing with one of her guards but keeping an eye out for someone not on her father's payroll. Someone not lame. 

The dining room has been blocked off for now though, and Titus is currently talking to others, so on a whim she walks over to the ballroom, only to see a couple of people dancing. from all the descriptions Aveline heard, one of them must be the Princess of Taen, Teresa Demetrius. All the things Aveline has heard about her, that Teresa is quite unladylike, likes to use weapons, loves to curse, and generally doesn't take shit from anybody had only make Aveline more fascinated, and thinking that they'd probably get along quite well.

Vivian and Nadia, left to their own deices, really can't do much other than let the jumbled mix of scents drift through their nasal cavities as their massive olfactory bulbs struggle to process all the volatile chemicals' molecules.

Edited by notmuch_23
mt fay fongers typong on a phpne

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“That suit looks nice on you.”

“Eh, I don’t like it. I feel trapped. I can barely lift my arms. What if I need to reach for something above my head?”

“It’s a fancy party, stupid, nothing that you can have will be out of reach.”

“You know, when you said you wanted to talk and I agreed, I thought it’d be over coffee or a beer, or something reasonable.”

“Well, what happens when you assume?”

“This is why mom likes me more than you.”

“She certainly doesn’t, she loves us all the same. Except for me, she loves me more because I am the firstborn.”

Ashton side-eyes Ashley, catches a glimpse of her impish grin and immediately rolls his eyes. Whatever joy he might have felt upon the initial meetup has been replaced with an annoyance. The kind of annoyance that has been forged and nurtured through the decades by mischievous sibling warfare.

Sitting on the rails, beneath of the covered terrace, and with drinks in hand, the two share a moment of silence. It is these brief moments that ease away the tension and allow for warm familial smiles to return. “Did you hear that Asher is in rehab?” She finally asks, her head canting slightly to the left.

“No, I can’t say that I’ve kept up with him. I’ve been a little busy lately. If it wasn’t for your job, I’m sure I wouldn’t know much about you anymore either.”

A white gloved hand falls onto his shoulder and squeezes. Although, by all accounts, Ashton’s tone is neutral, she feels the regret woven within the words. “I don’t think anyone holds it against you. So, don’t hold it against yourself.”

 Ashton places his hand atop hers, pats it twice, and then grabs her wrist and removes her hand from his shoulder. “Why don’t” A tactful subject change to avoid dealing with his own emotional vulnerabilities. “you wear dresses?”

“Because,” She pushes herself from the railing and pivots around to face him. “A damn fine suit, suits someone as fine as me.” The words are punctuated with a thumbs up, a cheshire grin, a set of wide and sparkling eyes.

“You’re... really.... fucking... lame.” His hand moves with each word of the retort, ending with his palm nudging her forehead back.

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It was events like this that left Abigail Karradeen wondering what the world was coming to. Women in suits? Distasteful. Sure, one could argue that Abigail was being a hypocrite, considering she could most often be found wearing a Karradeen naval uniform, which was the moral equivalent of a suit in some regards. However, she knew that when it came to the social sphere, a proper lady should dress like a lady, and that meant stuffy dresses with obnoxiously long skirts. You didn't need to try looking like a man to prove you were a strong woman. Indeed, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and Abigail didn't intend to imitate a man as if that would somehow prove she was equally as capable as one. If anything, surviving the stifling Ursa Madeum evenings in a dress should be enough to prove a woman stronger than any man. 

"Eh, Jarius woulda been much more suited for a night like this than I am." the gruff voice of Squire Geb Josanne, Abigail's right-hand man, spoke-up, "Though I can't argue with the availability of drinks there."

"You are excused if you wish, Mr. Josanne. I won't require you to bore yourself with the politicians." Abigail told him.

"Ye have my thanks, your grace." Josanne offered her an enthusiastic, if completely unnecessary, bow, before heading off to sample the various available liquors.

If Abigail didn't know better, she might have thought the man was already drunk. Well, he would be pretty soon. Guess he wasn't driving the carriage home tonight.

"Ah, your ladyship, you look lovely tonight." a familiar voice drew Abigail's attention away from the departing Josanne.

"Thank you, Ambassador Kessler." she nodded graciously to the Norkotian representative as he approached, "How is the Chai-- err, how is the Grand Executor?"

"He's recovering well, all things considered. Last I heard, he hoped to attend tonight, though as far as I know, he has yet to arrive." the ambassador responded, "In any case, I shall be representing Norkotia even if he cannot make it."

He paused and glanced in the direction of the ballroom, a few ideas passing through his head.

"Perhaps her ladyship would be partial to a dance while the guests are still arriving?" he inquired.

"Not at the moment, I'm afraid, Mr. Ambassador." Abigail replied politely, but firmly, "There are some others I wish to greet at the moment. If you'll excuse me, I should perhaps see to that now."

The simple reality was that she did not like the man at all. He was too flattering, too pretentious, too... just too much. He seemed to have a good business sense, which she respected, and it was clear he had been chosen to represent Norkotia in Ursa Madeum for a reason. Unfortunately, his personality just rubbed her the wrong way, which made working with him a bit of a hassle at times. Feeling like she saw him enough during their semi-frequent business meetings, Abigail did not desire to waste the party entertaining him, not when there were many other dignitaries present that she did not often have the time or opportunity to interact with.

And as much as the idea annoys her, one of those individuals is also one of those women marching around in a man's suit. Empress Rozharon had suggested Karradeen cooperate with House Singlance on an anti-pirate operation, though that operation had not yet taken form. Nor would it start to take form tonight, as planning a trap that would likely result in many deaths, and hopefully, many more hangings, was not a subject that would be appropriate for this venue. However, it didn't mean Abigail couldn't still attempt to get her first impression of one of the Singlance siblings. Thus, she quickly moved away from Kessler and toward Aveline, intending to intercept her within the ballroom.

@notmuch_23

Edited by Tyler

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Aveline sees Abigail, and internally cringes. "Oh fuck, it's Abbie Money Grubber, and she's heading right for me..." Aveline thinks.

Aveline knows that House Singlance will very soon be House Karradeen's economic rival, producing aluminum and petroleum products locally that directly compete with Karradeen's trade for Norkotian products, probably soon producing automobiles with the aluminum and petroleum products, and Thurgood is hella excited about building a modern navy complete with a modern submarine and a modern aircraft carrier complete with modern aircraft, all powered with uranium fission reactors (except the aircraft, of course).

So Aveline is not expecting a pleasant conversation as she turns to Abigail, arms crossed and sporting an annoyed expression on her face lacking any cosmetics to cover up her freckles or other skin blemishes.

@Tyler

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tumblr_orniodVFkl1w5co06o1_640.jpgTonight, would be Evienne's night.

No, it would be the Dali's night. Evienne corrected, sprawled across her carriage, with the countenance of a cat that had caught a particularly juicy canary.

This event had demanded the sacrifices of quite a few late nights, and, had eaten up yards upon yards of silk and taffeta and velvet- enough to bury all of the Goldcourt estate in it. It had also taxed Evienne herself  personally. This would be her first event show casing her work, so she tended to every facet of production: from the making of the cloth right down to embroidering everything by her own hand. And so, Evienne Goldcourt had completed over a hundred suits, dresses, gloves and hats in a a period of two week. Her clients, being the delightful Miss Dahlia Chamelis and her staff, the commissions she had received in Hell's Gate- and, of course, her darling cousins. Namely, Merida and Vesper, demanded from her absolute perfection.

And, so, she had delivered.

Just thinking about the workload made her quake. Leizhen had been driven to tears so many times that her Father had intervened on the maid's behalf. "You've been quite prolific today, Evie." He had muttered, concern conspicuously missing from his bearded face dripped in his voice. His hand graping her shoulder, puffing on a pipe, "When was the last time you've slept, silly child?"

Upon her own admission, up until two hours ago, Evienne had been quite the mess. Her hair matted, wild and greasy- hands red and chafed from needles, dark circles purple enough to be mistaken for bruises. When Merida and Vesper arrived at the estate, the combatant had seemed quite concerned.

Perhaps concern had been due.

So far was she from her usual coiffed self.

Still, now that she was bathed, perfumed and powdered- Evienne could say she satisfied with her work. Packed into a carriage, a fan fluttered in her gloved hand, foxy smile not budging an inch from her rosy lips- eyes trained on her handywork. The two Dali women, truly, looked spectacular- Merida was, in her opinion, all glowing, innocent youth wrapped in the soft blues and pinks of peonies on her bodice and in her fiery hair. Vesper, looked dangerous, sharp and absolutely ravishing in a tailored blue, velvet suit and cape- in the terrenus style she had copped from Quinton Swan.

Indeed, Evienne had basked in the astonished looks from Leizhen and her Prescot as she donned her dress- a true representation of her brand. The sapphire concoction was sheer, and form fitting- embroidery of frost and the Dali crest offered her  little modesty, but, what truly captured the eyes were the train. A faux over skirt, draped across her hips, pooling to the floor in opulent, almost liquid, designs of frost and starlight. It was, even by her father's admission, quite something. 

With her swept into a braid studded with sapphires, and her face painted, just enough to cover her bruised eyes- Evienne thought she looked... Presentable.

Who was she kidding, her work glowed.

The frost picked onto her train irradiated as though it would melt away like snow. The peonies on cousin Merida's dress shimmered with dew drops. And the golden roses embroidered onto Vesper's velvet cape and suit glimmered as though the sun itself beamed onto them.

A last minute decision that had delayed production by a day, Evienne had borrowed Merida, and together they had created something truly magical. Threads, that, when exposed to light- shone, like jewels. 

Still, she couldn't help the concern for her cousins. "Is the velvet to your liking?" She had asked Vesper.

"Is the bodice too tight?" was how she interrogated Merida.

"Can you move around in that? is the cravat, perhaps, stifling?" And, so she worried over the details of their frocks all through the drive to the Andelusian castle- fanning herself, lest her rogue melt under the heat setting sun.

Evienne's nerves were cleverly concealed by the generous curve of her lips, but, as they drew closer to the sprawling castle; it was obvious she was quite nervous. Thus, she allowed her cousins to embark first before she did, fussing with her hair, and her train as she emerged from her carriage- gripping Erin's proffered hand. The footman winced. 

Slowly, guests trickled into the ball- and their little party received more than a few looks.

But, now that they were outside- she clasped her gloved hands in an attempt to stop shaking, and looked to her cousins. The Dali party, certainly,  looked as though they were blessed by the Uncanny Gods. Why, here was Poetry and Music and Comedy, ready to sweep in and claim their dues.

Evienne couldn't help the smile, blooming generously onto her face as she lead the party into the manor- confidence lending a sway to her hips.

So, tonight, would be the Dali night.

@KittyvonCupcake  @Witches Brew

 

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Fabian Perez 1967 ~ Argentine Figurative painter

 

When it came to dressing for formal affairs, Grant preferred to go with the classics; a crisp white shirt, black everything else. Sometimes, like tonight, he would add a hat to the ensemble, but he saw no need to get overly fancy when his minimalist approach to fashion would suffice. Not to say that he couldn't admire the great lengths that some in attendance went to stand out among the crowd; it just wasn't his style. For years his job had been to blend in with his surroundings, and it was a habit that he had never truly grown out of. Besides, the woman at his side had assured him that he looked great, and he was inclined to believe her.

By this point in his life, the soon-to-be King of Hyperion was no longer really impressed by castles, but even he could admit that Castle Andelusia was a beautiful estate. As he walked in he was hit by a wave of delicious smells from the currently closed off dinning room, and hoped that it wouldn't remain shut for much longer. But he was getting ahead of himself. The first thing he should probably do was check in with Emperor Titus. Or at least that was his plan, until he had spotted Aveline Singlance disappearing into the Ballroom, and decided to make a brief detour.

He looked to his date and smiled, "Come on, I want to introduce you to a friend. After that, perhaps you'll honor me with a dance."

Making his way into the Ballroom, it didn't take him long to spot the Lady of House Singlance, nor notice that Abigail Karradeen. Not quite panicking, he quickened his step, and intercepted Abigail on her path, throwing a discreet wink to Aveline as he did.

"Lady Abigail, a pleasure to meet you again. How are you enjoying the festivities?"

@Tyler @Sleepy Seal @notmuch_23

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It was perfect. A simple but sufficiently formal dress. It was exactly what Reyna had envisioned herself to wear. 

“I’ll take this one,” she told the clerk somewhat excitedly. It didn’t matter that the dress was too small. She would merely readjust her body proportions to fit it. 

 


 

The last time an event of this scale had been organized in the castle, it had been for the A.N.T. conference. It would’ve been a lie to say that the Duchess of House Senaria didn’t yearn to see what hid within its walls, and it was all too unfortunate that she had been busy when the conference took place. Now that she was walking through the foyer with her beloved, she couldn’t help but notice how fancy it all was. It almost made her feel a little bit underdressed. 

As they brisked through the library, she gave the countless rows of books a one-over before entering the ballroom. She would have to return there later for a quick look. 

"Come on, I want to introduce you to a friend. After that, perhaps you'll honor me with a dance." 

“But of course,” she took his hand and squeezed it as he led her through the crowd. At last, they intercepted someone who Grant apparently recognized. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” which was quite the contrary. Grant had told her everything about the Senaria-Norkotia trade. Given, she hadn’t exactly been prepared for this conversation, it was her responsibility to be on good relations with their allies. Without a moment’s hesitation, she extended her hand in greeting, “I’m Reyna.”

@danzilla3 @Tyler

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Perhaps it was for the better that the head of House Senaria intercepted Abigail before she could reach Aveline Singlance. The woman had seen Abigail's approach, turning to face her but doing so with as little possible tact and politeness as she could muster. In a matter of a few seconds, the female end of Ursa Madeum's most controversial pair of nobles had seemed to justify every scathing rumor that had ever been told about her house. One could only imagine what words might have been exchanged once Aveline had forced Abigail to drop her facade of politeness and grace, but that would have to remain imagining for now.

"It is likewise a pleasure, Lord Knight." Abigail pivoted to address Grant with flawless precision, "I have only just arrived, but I will admit, the imperial family has outdone themselves to make the venue festive."

It did not show on her face, but being addressed as "Lady" instead of "Duchess" never ceased to string, especially after all she'd done to achieve that title. But to this day, Taen still maintained that Abigail's true rank was countess, and thus the reality was that the title she inherited from her father was in name only. She wouldn't insist on forcing anyone to call her duchess, outside of her own house that is, until she finally held that title with the full recognition of the law behind it.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Reyna.”

Lord Knight's lady friend spoke-up, identifying herself as the lady of his house. 

"Well met, Lady Rayna. I'm Duchess Abigail Karradeen, my house sends its regards to you and yours." she responded politely. 

Even if she wouldn't force others to identify her as duchess, that would not stop her from identifying herself as such. 

"I trust the Venture and her crew have performed their duties as is expected of them, and have not caused trouble during their visits to Port Thea?" she then inquired of both nobles.

She was of course, referring to the ship that had been assigned to handle trade between House Senaria and the Norkotian office in Casper. It had been almost two months since the initial meeting on the trade agreement, and the permanent route was still in processing phase, but that hadn't prevented Karradeen from sending a vessel to begin taking on and delivering goods. Hopefully things had been proceeding smoothly thusfar.

@danzilla3 @Sleepy Seal

Edited by Tyler

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35c2ebbf-289c-4b3e-a161-941d2e0f97c4.jpg


The past few days have been tiring at best, working day and night on a new project excited her, especially since her dear cousin asked her participate. It was after she had asked her Cousin Evie to commission her something for the ball she was invited to attend. Her cousin arrived at the manor, in a cold sweat, and had gripped her shoulders so tightly she thought her body might burst under the pressure. It was then she was asked to do something amazing. It seemed nearly impossible, to create something so small but with so much potential in only a few days. She worked tirelessly, with her cousin nearly breathing down her neck as she tried to perfect it. 
"I need you to be my eyes." She told her. "I can't see what I'm doing otherwise." 

The hours took hard tolls on them both. Merida didn't eat, her hair went uncombed, and there were a few breakdowns as well. Crying fits where Evienne had to comfort and reassure the girl into continuing. Somehow, they managed to perfect it, well nearly perfect it. Merida was simply satisfied with the product, but her cousin was elated. The dresses were done hours later. Greta had watched from afar, she dare not interfere with Merida's work. The girl grew grouchy as she worked, her well mannered self seemed to be thrown out the window when she focused. But Greta remained, an ever watching shadow. 

When the time came to prep for the ball itself, her Governess was upset she herself would not be attending. "My Lady I do think that I should go with you, whose to say that the Moontravler woman will keep a close eye on you?" She sneered. "Greta, I assure you Aunt Vesper will not let anything happen to me, you have my word." Merida said as the woman laced up her corset, causing the young girl to gasp for air with each yank. "I'm sure that's true, but there will be men there, and you can't always count on their word." She warned, and Merida's eyes rolled in their sockets, annoyed by this conversation. 

"It won't be an issue, Aunt Vesper repels men, she's very intimidating so I've heard." Merida said, but her Governess wouldn't let up. She finally shut up hours later as her Aunt came to retrieve her, as well as her cousin Evienne. She couldn't get away from the elderly woman fast enough. Greta didn't say a word as Merida ran to the two women, a large smile spread across her face. She was so excited to go to her first ball. 

The carriage ride was full of anxious tension. Evienne's questions about the gown she wore made her nervous, and the anxiety was really setting in, over riding the excitement. "Evie, I swear to you, everything is perfect. If I am to pass out because I am out of breath, it will be of my own accord." She reassured. She clenched her hands nervously. This would be a new space, she hasn't had time to make herself familiar with it, so just in case, she brought her cane. It was an ornate thing, some nobleman sent it to her after her accident, she's never really needed it. It was wooden, intricate plant designs were carved into the wooden staff, and it curved ever so slightly to fit into her palm, and the top was cased in silver, with small gemstones embedded inside. She didn't really use it often, she knew her way around the estate well enough to make due without it. However if her Aunt were to leave her side at all tonight, she'd need it. 

As the carriage came to a stop, she stood, her Aunt leaving first, and her following shortly after, her hand gripping the short railing, her cane out in front of her to make sure no unfortunate accidents happened as she stepped down, feeling the soft, lush fabric touching her legs. She walked forwards, the cane sweeping left and right as she maneuvered herself around, and she carried herself with the poise of a true lady. Truly, this would be the night of the house of Dali. 

 

@KittyvonCupcake @LikelyMissFortune

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Well, now that Grant Knight intercepted Abigail Karadeen, Aveline Debnie Singlance may now have a chanxe to finally meet Teresa Demetrius.

It's clear to Aveline that the Princess of Taen (now the Veluriyam Empire) is looking for an out. So Aveline simply stands unthreateningly, non-creepily close to Teresa, waiting for tje Princess to finish her dance.

 

Meanwhile, Vivian and Nadia have found Titus in the lounce, but do not approach. Titus Demetrius is clearly an angel, and they got rescued from an animal boarding and training facility run by angels; their training methods were overly domineering, past the point of abuse. Despite the stories and assurances from Thurgood and Aveline that Titus is one of the good angels that will not abuse them, right now their fear and curiosity are fighting for control of the radar foxes' actions.

@Ataraxy

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On 12/20/2018 at 7:28 AM, Tyler said:

"I trust the Venture and her crew have performed their duties as is expected of them, and have not caused trouble during their visits to Port Thea?" she then inquired of both nobles.

"As well as any group of sailors in a new port can be expected to act," Grant, joked.

The crew of the Venture had been consummate professionals as they had unloaded their cargo, and loaded the first shipment of goods bound from Port Thea to Norkotia. Once the job was done, and they hit the bars, they had caused far less trouble than the local sailors did on any given Friday night. A minor brawl had started over drunken insults, but had broken up before the guards were called. The next day they had left port with only a few scrapes and bruises, and that made the trip an unqualified success as far as he was concerned.

 

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People enjoyed doing what they did best. The intricacies of politics certainly weren’t Reyna’s strong suit. Back in Port Thea, Grant handled most of the mechanical processes that came with governing a city. She sought to be more intimate in her dealings, establishing passionate relationships with reliable individuals and crushing obstacles with an equal amount of passion. In the world of fancy dresses and formal clothing, she felt a lack of that emotional depth. There just wasn’t the same kind of connection with the person that she was speaking to. It was tough work, and she admired Grant for being able to put up with it. That said, she wasn’t above small talk to appear interested in the affairs of others. 

“Have you had the chance to sample any Thraecean wine?”

@Tyler

Edited by Sleepy Seal

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Abigail smiled at Grant's effort at humor, but it was more of a superficial gesture than anything. She took the matter seriously, as any and all employees of her house were responsible for representing the business well. If they acted poorly, it reflected poorly upon Karradeen as a whole. That would not be tolerated.

"If any cause trouble, ensure that I am notified and they will be disciplined accordingly." she stated, her tone indicating there could be no doubt that it would be dealt with harshly.

Reyna spoke up just then, changing the subject from the sailors to the goods.

"I cannot say I have had the opportunity yet, Lady Reyna." Abigail responded, "However, I have ensured that we have a supply in the wine cellar for the right occasion. Unfortunately, the business demands of the last few months have left me with precious few opportunities."

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Da_PTcmVAAARzh8.jpgdahlia chamelis


Of all the things she’s missed since the teahouse’s closure during the reign of the Tyrant King, lavish celebrations have always been somewhere at the top of that list.

Dahlia saunters into the ballroom, elegant and glimmering in her dark gown, courtesy of the Goldcourt commission she’s managed to obtain, and just in time for the festivities of Reverie as well. She and her staff are all rather well-clothed due to the deal she had struck with Lady Evienne of House Dali, and she is quite content to show off her splendid designs through the teahouse championing them on their persons.

Niko is a quiet sentinel at her side, gazing around the room with an observant eye and being dashingly handsome in his suit, if she does say so herself. She had personally seen to it that Niko’s ensemble be well-tailored to his taste; the man hardly ever lets himself go enough to take something nice for his own benefit.

“How delightfully picturesque,” Marceau grins, slapping his palms together. It almost hurts to look at him with all the silvery flourishes of his jacket, but the look suits him well, as all flamboyant things do. “Why don’t you go dance, Gareth?”

The man in question simply shakes his head, dark and striking and stoic. His fire-red hair is stark against the simple lines of his garments. “Would rather watch those two make a spectacle of themselves before joining in myself,” he hums, pointing towards the pair twirling around in a flurry of fabric and laughter. Emmaline, vibrant and lovely in her own floral frocks, had immediately grabbed Kellen’s arm upon seeing the ballroom interior, tugging on his ornate cuffs to drag him to the dancefloor and into an enthusiastic quickstep.

Dahlia grins and continues her search around for her fashion benefactor, spotting her in a group just as splendidly dressed as she is. Perhaps the delegation from House Dali, she muses.

“Shall we go and greet our friend?” She smiles at the three men around her, then pivots on her heel to stride forward in the direction of the Dali group. Coming close to the nobles, she and her staff bow low in deference to the women’s societal rank before straightening up.

“Lady Evienne, a pleasure to see you tonight. You and your family simply look stunning,” Dahlia greets her, giving Lady Vesper and Lady Merida a dazzling grin before shifting her attention back to the blonde woman. “I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for the commission, while the night is yet young. Beyond expectations, just as I’ve always thought they would be.”  

 


 

@LikelyMissFortune @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew

 

Edited by vielle

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