Coronation Masque: Later Arrivals

Beside the entrance to the Great Hall, Robin swipes a disgusted hand at her skirt. Screwed up again. Ah well, nothing for it now. She's only a little late as it is, and if she tried to 'fix' things further, who knows how much later she'd be or what would happen. Stupid castle. Taking a deep breath, fixing her expression and her posture, Robin steps through the doorway. And quickly to one side to scan the room.

But for that brief moment framed by the open doors was a tall and distinctly feminine form all in glowing silver/white. Silver sandals laced up over curved athletic calves. A white diaphanous skirt wafting against strong thighs. The woven silver girdle cinching an hourglass waist and supporting a gleaming sickle knife with an 8' blade. Breasts blossoming beneath a frost white chiton fastened at the one shoulder with a crescent moon of burnished silver. The curved ash longbow was unstrung and the white doeskin quiver at her hip was empty, but the impression of huntress lingers. A light breeze of night air and heights blew once into the room and was quickly gone.

Once into the room and craning, it can be seen that Robin's face is painted - not masked - with a silver crescent leading from over her right brow to under her left cheek, leaving her eyes and all facial features in the black dark of the moon. Small bones and argent beads are woven into the girl's hair.

But most interestingly, Robin seems to be silvered - and slightly glowing. Her bare legs and arms, her shoulder, her hair, the crescent on her face, all are lightly dusted in a coldly phosphorescent argent. The warm golden glow of her natural color eclipsed by the sere cold of silver.

A brief disappointed moue crosses the girl's lips, then she spots her Firebird of a brother near the sideboard and begins crossing the room.

When Brennan arrived, he would have noted the tableau before him, and the conversational knots. He, too, would have liked to talk to Jovian, to introduce Cambina to him and likewise, but in the interests of not crowding [in-character and out-] he lets it wait.

Instead, he nods in Jovian's direction, and murmurs to Cambina, "Jovian. Introduce you, later?" It's not a trick of the grin of the fox's mask-- Brennan really is smiling a bit at the party. "And perhaps we can trick the handsome devil out of some of his stories, later on," he adds with a playful glint.

Her voice is also low and conspiratorial. "I've heard tell he took Random flying late last night. There are, apparently, advantages to being King..."

A note on Brennan, by the way-- like Bleys, he is armed. No fox should be without his teeth. We can also assume Brennan has told Cambina that she looks lovely before the party began.

When Robin enters, Brennan spots her, and unless Cambina has an objection, they move politely to intercept and start a second convresation. (Or unless Robin dodges, I suppose.)

As Robin senses the movement in her direction, she turns to the approaching duo. A green glance is sent to her brother if he is watching - she will join him later.

"My Lady Cousin and Huntress," he addresses her, "How has your return to the City treated you?"

"Brennan, we're supposed to pretend that we don't recognize her, " Cambina scolds mockingly. "Strange indeed this meeting of Fox and Huntress."

Robin's lips quirk in the darkness of her face paint, a flicker of teeth, a chuckle, the flash of humor in emerald eyes like, well, foxfire.

For his part, Brennan shrugs as much as a Fox can shrug. If that's the way the game is played, that's the way it's played.

[Cambina] turns to Robin. "Good evening, oh spirit of the huntress' moon." She curtsies and the high, round ruff floats above her black dress bordered with the silver stars. "I must compliment you on your choice of themes." She is smiling, genuinely this time.

Robin blinks twice, surprise growing to delight in the sparkle of her gaze. Like emerging from behind a cloud, the peal of warm delight that lifts from Robin is light itself, perhaps one of the first free laughs this Castle has had from her.

"Hail, the moon of wise women." Robin answers with a bow and a salute from her brow with the tip of her bow. "I must compliment you on your choice of company." She beams back.

He bows. If there's a hand in reach, Brennan will bow over that, teasing since he bets she won't object in the public light of the Masquerade.

Strange that. One hand is holding a bow, the other rests at the small of the Huntress' back. And there is a glint of mischievous in her eye. (No handies por vous. ;)

"My journey to the City... has been long, Sir Renard," Robin smiles to Brennan. "But I think I may be past the wilds." The girl's smile holds hope in the tremulous lines of her lips.

"How fortunate, then. Out of the wilds, into the City, and back among Family, where even the Fox and the Huntress can pause to rest."

[Cambina]
"'Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the huntress home from the hill. '"

The Ranger's smile turns slightly rueful, she doesn't know if this will ever be a place to rest or 'Home.' But admits that the flaw lies in herself, and seems to be willing to at least... attempt it. And she is glad that Brennan can find rest here.

[Brennan]
For a time, at least. For longer... who knows?

[GothChickCambina reminds the other characters that this is from a poem named Requiem and home=dead]
[GM Michael notes that this link shows that this poem was first published in a work subtitled "a child's garden of verses" and wonders about RL Stevenson's childhood...]

[Cambina]
"Lady Huntress, I heard that you but recently hunted in Prince Julian's mother's home shadow. The tales all frustratingly begin en media res, with much action and not very much about why. How was it that you chanced to be there?"

"Ah." Robin holds her bow behind herself, clasped in both hands, and rocks a little on her heels. Her eyes avoid her companions for a moment, very much the picture of a child who has been caught with cookie crumbs on her face.

But then, she looks back to Cambina - who took the oath this afternoon as well, and Brennan - Knight Commander of the Ruby. A chuckle ripples through her, that was fast. Ah well, time to play nicely with others. Or spend the rest of her life as Amber's loose cannon.

"The missing narrative in question, wise one, is this." Robin bows to Cambina again. "After King appeared amidst our number, I was determined to find my father immediately. Hence, I took myself to the Chamber below. Once there, I didn't quite walk the thing that lies within and from its center I called out for my Home. Instead, I found myself transported to a place of image and immanence. Much like here, only yet to be. Since this place didn't hold what I sought, I moved onward, hell-riding until weariness called me to an Inn. From there the tale you may have heard commences." Robin's lips press together guiltily. Yep, ain't no way to candy-coat that one. But there it is.

Brennan raises about three or four eyebrows during that story. Or perhaps one eyebrow, maybe twice. Rather than firing a shotgun blast of questions all at once, he settles himself on two.

"Hmm. You would be the one who dragged the wooden planks all over the place in the basement, then? We were wondering about that." Brennan looks over to Cambina and explains, "Some of the other Knights and I went poking around last week. Some of us had never walked it, and I'd never seen it."

[Cambina] nods.

[Brennan]
Then, back to Robin, "That's... interesting. I assume you had walked it before?"

Robin's eyes come back to Brennan from where she was staring off into space for a moment. "Planks? Yes, that was most likely me." She grins ruefully. "You see, I did gather a number of planks. And I did carry them to the start of the walk with the intention of laying them over the gaps. And when I was finished I was no longer carrying any planks. But... I do not remember placing them. Sooo..." the Huntress shrugs. "I can only say that it was most likely me.

"As for walking it before." She nods and bites her lip. "I'm afraid my next answer will have to be as ambiguous as my last one. I have Walked before, yes. And recently I Walked again. But while both of those Walks were the same, sir, the most recent did not match the track to which I had put my foot. Therefore, it is my belief that the Walk I carry within myself is not the Walk the lies beneath this castle." Robin shrugs, she still doesn't know what to make of that one. But it makes her darn uncomfortable, that's for sure.

The Fox takes a moment to absorb all that, then offers the following, looking for a reaction:

"The Walk, as you put it, beneath this castle is profoundly broken. And I'm referring to more than just the physical cracks. Neither Marius nor I are completely ignorant in these matters, and we could tell there was no power there. To prove it, he walked across the lines while I jogged along the planks you set down. Nothing."

Robin is kind of tickled at the thought of Marius just... strolling across the 'sacred doodle on the floor', that much is visible in the twinkle of her eyes.

For the rest of it, she just shrugs. "As I said, Sir Renard. The tracks did not match. Perhaps the particular etching currently there never had any power."

"I've heard that it is possible for those who are highly skilled to walk anyplace, although the effort is said to be of a higher order." [Cambina] looks at the huntress, considering something, and instead changes the subject.

It's not clear if Cambina just told Brennan something he didn't already know, or not. He does look like he'd rather have continued that conversation with Robin for other reasons, but considering the venue and the sensitivity of the topic, lets it slide for the moment.

[Cambina]
"This place. Did it feel like it had been...painted? Was there, by chance, a circular lagoon with a waterfall?"

"Yeeessss," Robin looks over to Cambina thoughtfully as she drawls out her answer. "Trees of Acrylic, Sun of Oil, Moon of Watercolor. And the Tir. There was also a series of caves in a very... promising spot that I did not have the wherewithal to explore. And that nag at me yet." The Ranger presses her lips together as her emerald eyes travel outward, seeing a different place.

The Fox looks at the Moon with a sidelong glance exaggerated by the mask. "The location you were telling me about?"

"Yes. There are vast caves behind the waterfall, including one very large, very flat chamber with a single entrance deep under the cliffside."

"Dung." Robin mutters to herself. "I knew there was going to be something like that going on."

"Well that just about settles it. I've avoided the place-- if it's what I think it is-- for a long time, but it keeps popping up. I have got to see this place," [Brennan] says.

Cambina arches an eyebrow. "What do you think it is?"

He shrugs. Cambina has heard at least some of this before; Robin probably hasn't. "I'm still holding out for the idea that Amber has been split into accidental and essential features, and then dislocated. The mundane geography is here; the metaphysical geography is there. I would dearly love to know if the steps to Rebma are in that location."

Robin makes a little 'hmmmmm' noise as she compares Brennan's theory to her experience, but she's skeptical.

Brennan doesn't blame her.

"Weeellll, the steps to Tir are. Though the stairway isn't." She shrugs. Brennan's theory doesn't quite fit for her, for all that it is a good theory as far as theories go. She smiles her appreciation for a nice turn of thought to the Fox.

[Cambina]
"We didn't explore to the south, but Reid came sailing up the coast, expecting Amber, so he should have passed the cairn. We should ask him."

"Well I'm not going to dance with him," the Fox says lightly. "But I have been meaning to talk to him, and that's as good a subject of any to add to the list. If my theory is even vaguely close to being correct-- or if those caves hold the metalogically consistent object, even-- it could solve a whole lot of short term problems for us."

Only Brennan can toss around phrases like 'metalogically consistent object' without sounding like a total crack-pot.

"Feel free to hunt me later this evening, Lady. It would be my honor to turn around the floor with you. But for the present, the Moon has claim on me." The Fox does not consider this a burden.

Robin chuckles. "You may want to see how heavy footed I am before you make that invitation, Sir Reynard. But... I might just chase you down later." The Huntress smiles to herself, green eyes flickering in the black. "I just might."

"In the meantime, Cambina. Again, you look awesome and your taste in men is impeccable." Robin bows to both of them once more and takes herself off to find her fiery brother.

Cambina laughs, not unkindly, at Robin's assessment.

Not long after Lucas's entrance, Merlin arrives at the top of the Grand Hall's stairs.

Merlin is dressed in brown, with white showing through in his slashed sleeves and as an accent in his accessories. His cape is layers of brown and white, creating the illusion of feathered wings, and his half-mask is a hawk's head with a curved beak. He is not (visibly, anyway) armed.

Merlin is flanked by a pair of Asian dragons, one red, one green. Both wear half masks, covered in beading and silk that coordinate perfectly with their complimentary dresses and simple Asian style slippers on their feet.

The head of the emerald dragon, curls over one woman's shoulder. It is accented with rubies and scarlet trim. Red flames, likely the masqued woman's hair, spill from the dragon's mouth. The tail of the dress wraps languidly around it's wearer's body coming to rest at it's wearer's feet. Both head and tail curves towards the other woman.

The red dragon's head curls at it's wearer's feet. The emerald of it's eye sparkling as her lithe legs stride with purpose into the hall. Again the body of the dragon wraps around the body with the tail coming up behind the woman's right shoulder towards the green's fiery maw. Keen observers might note the rigidness in the spine of the dragon's tail. To finish off the look, the wearer's dark hair has been slicked back into a simple ponytail.

Paige, beneath the green laughs gently to herself as she spots Conner's costume, and then turns and whispers to the red. "Lilly, it seems our motif has already been claimed by Jerod, if I don't mistake him."

Indeed, when the women stand side by side they would make a sylized Yin Yang. Paige's Yang to Lilly's Yin, fiery passion and cool prudence.

"Indeed." Lilly says cooly. "Like most men though he seems convinced he can do and be everything. Proving once more that we are indeed the more intelligent sex." Paige has spent enough time around her cousin to know that she is indeed joking despite the neutrality of her features.

"Well, the belief does hold that every creature is composed of both light and darkness," the Yang says.

Some time after Merlin, Lilly, and Paige enter, Gerard arrives. His wheelchair is covered in papier-mache to disguise it as a chariot, with two mock horses attached to the front of it. He is wearing a toga and a helmet with a horsehair crest. He is not masked, but there's no hiding who he is in the wheelchair.

Benedict is the next personage of note to enter, also distinguishable by his injuries. He is in a long brown robe, and carries no blade, but only a tall staff wreathed in flowers. No one doubts that a one-handed Benedict with a staff is as deadly as a Benedict with a blade.

Corwin and Flora arrive together. It's hard to tell which of them snagged the other for arm candy, but gosh, they look pretty together.

Corwin is a black and silver harlequin, with a rose-clasped cloak. Apart from the way the colors are laid out, they're not very outre, but that seems to be standard for the older men. He is wearing Grayswandir.

Flora is in a somewhat old-fashioned dress of pale green and yellow. Like Cambina, she has selected a standing ruff, but hers is gold-chased and highlights her blonde hair. Her green skirt is chased with golden beams.

Scanning the room, [Paige] spots her eldest uncle and takes Merlin's arm in a reassuring gesture. "Lilly, perhaps we should greet you father before making the rounds?"

"Merlin, will you join us?" the emerald dragon asks.

Merlin's eyes widen and he turns his head to meet the emerald dragon's gaze. "Are you sure that is wise?" he asks, hesitantly.

Paige slips her arm through his, her smile encouraging Lilly to do the same as she starts toward the staff wielding Elder. "Yes, Master Hawk. With age comes wisdom, so I'd venture Uncle Benedict is the wisest among us."

Lilly was missing something. She had to be. The answer Paige had given did not seem to match the question Merlin had asked, not in her head anyway. Rather then mention any of this however, she simply let loose a small "hmmm" and gave into Paige's wishes. Hopefully by following along she would learn all she wanted to know. Or at least she would be able to discern what she needed to ask.

Merlin, trapped, surrenders, but it's impossible for him to hide his trepidation from Paige. To Lilly, who knows him less well, he appears to accept Paige's insistence with good grace.

In a moment, the trio reaches Lilly's father, who looks up as they join him. Benedict waits for his niece or his daughter to speak first.

Paige smiles, "Uncle, a wonderful costume. You're one of my favorite subjects, a Trump, no?"

Benedict looks blankly at Paige. "Not quite. Or only insofar as I am one. I am supposed to be a hermit."

"Yes, exactly. The Hermit," Paige agrees. She smiles to Lilly to do introductions and to see how Merlin's taking things.

Benedict smiles, and bows, slightly. "Your efforts are quite remarkable. And...Merlin. Quite amusing."

"Paige has remarkable people in her employ. One evening she was struck with inspiration and several days later the costumes were a reality." Lilly smiles pleasantly and offers Paige a slight nod before moving onto the next subject.

"So far things seem to have gone well enough. For that I am grateful. It had been my hope that the events surrounding the coronation would be remembered for the joy they brought to the city and little else. Once this evening is over I think I might actually take time to breath once again."

Benedict's smile has faded and he is back to his normal countenance. "Of course. But it is not enough to win a battle if what you wish to win is a war. Or a peace."

Lilly nods in agreement. "Yes. I realize conflict can be almost unending. That is why peace can be so difficult to maintain."

Merlin has not spoken, even in acknowledgement of Benedict's comment on his costume.

"You imply that the war didn't end in Chaos, Uncle?" Paige asks, taking Merlin's hand in his, hoping that she'll stir some response from him.

She looks to Merlin, "How do you think they viewed the battle, Merlin?"

Merlin shrugs. "It would be difficult for me to say. One of the characteristics of a Lord of Chaos is that he is mutable in thought and action as well as in form. I do not think my mother will forgive my father easily, though, and the ordered taint runs strong in her. She will be a fearsome opponent." He watches Benedict sidelong as he speaks.

Benedict looks at Paige. "In my experience with Chaos, limited as it may be, it is important to recall that there is only a limited value to considering any collective 'they'."

"Duly noted," the emerald dragon says with a small nod and a smile that tells Merlin that she's happy he joined the conversation.

"I'm hoping that we find our missing artifact, soon. I'm sure it would make things better for all concerned," Paige continues. "I'm sure Lilly's anxious to take a small walk and find her birthright." She watches Benedict for any reaction, expecting little.

She notes none. Pehaps he is waiting to see Lilly's response.

[Lilly]
"Anxious? No. That's not quite the right word. I feel such a walk would be beneficial. Of that there is no doubt. But I do not believe that is the only way to find my birthright. Indeed I think I have a very clear view of my birthright all ready."

Merlin is now watching Benedict for his reaction.

"I also do not believe we have the same birthright. That is something that is passed from parent to child. With our father's being so fundamentally different it would be unwise to believe that our inheritance will be fundamentally the same." Lilly's tone remains friendly and confident. Slight disagreements never truly bothered her. Indeed she rather enjoyed a healthy argument every now and again. They made her think which in turn caused her to expand her thoughts and fortify her own personal beliefs.

Benedict nods at her words. "Exactly. it is an individual experience."

Paige nods, also.

Lilly looks to her father. "Of course that is why I enjoy Paige's company. We do have very different perspectives on most things. I find spending time with someone whose experiences are very different to my own is invaluable."

Her eyes then wander to Paige as she allows a small smile to light her features. It was a look meant to reassure her that regardless of what her father might think, Lilly would remain Paige's friend through out the days ahead.

Hazle eyes twinkle from beneath the mask of the emerald dragon, matching the smile on her green lips.

Across the room the faint glow of the approaching Huntress can be seen, as well as the tip of her bow above the headpieces, masks and hair! of the court, as Robin makes her way toward her brother and his company.

Kourin turns as Robin walks purposefully towards the group, her bow sticking up like a periscope above the sea of people. She nods in greetings as the Ranger reaches the group.

Vere turns and nods a greeting to Robin as well, moving slightly to one side to widen their grouping. He murmurs something that sounds like a greeting, though it is too quiet for the words to be understood.

White teeth and green eyes flash against the darkness of Robin's face paint as she reaches the group. There's some relief in the lines of the Huntress' calves, she's happy to reach this harbor amidst the tossing waves of partygoers. "Oh, Jove, Kourin! You guys look so good in those!" She beams and punches her brother fondly on the upper arm, regardless of what he's holding in what hand.

Kourin smiles. "Thank you. This is certainly grander than anything we have at home."

Robin smiles back to the queen-rider. "Yeah, for me too." Pure amazement washes through the Ranger's voice as she looks out on the sparkle, the glitter and the colors of the crowd and room.

"You're looking beautiful, Robin. And tastefully evocative of the missing - thank you for that." The gravity of that thought colors his good cheer only faintly, and there is just a hint, sub rosa, that tasteful and evocative of his brother at the same time is worthy of note. (Very sub - but Vere is the Perception God, Kourin knows Jovian intimately, and what Robin doesn't know of him is partially filled in by her close knowledge of Julian...)

Beautiful? Robin's eyebrow flickers momentarily. That's not word she's used to. But luckily it's coming from Jovian and one can expect a brother to say that, regardless of the actuality.

"Thanks, Jove." She grins. "I hope I get to meet him someday. I... think we'd have a lot in common." She looks around the Great Hall once more, brushing fitfully at her skirt. Yep, she's attended the Coronation Masquerade of the King of Amber, half-naked and painted. From all she's heard of Daeon... the Ranger shakes her head ruefully and smiles with sparkling eyes back to her brother.

A poorly suppressed gale of laughter shakes the firebird's shoulders. "Maybe a few things," he allows, the sparkle shining through even his masked eyes.

"Vere." Robin says politely as she steps into the space made for her. And suddenly realizes that she doesn't know what to do with her hands. The girl is deeply grateful that her face paint is black, else there might be some other color showing.

"We have been having a very interesting, and productive, conversation," Vere informs Robin. "Kourin and your brother have offered their assistance in that little domestic matter I need to attend to."

"Really!?" A delighted girl-squeal lifts from Robin to soar above the murmur of conversation and music. Joy ignites her body like a torch, an explosive combustion showering sparks everywhere and flowing outward in a warm glowing tide of happiness. Despite the bow, the Ranger claps her hands together gleefully.

The flood of joy at seeing Robin light up so is near impossible to hide for the wingleader, and indeed he makes no effort to do so.

"Oh, Kourin, Jove! Thank you sooo much. Thank you. Thank you! And please, thank Hoshith and Canareth too. You guys are kick-ass!" The Ranger throws herself at the dragonriders - one at a time - gathering them into a happy warm hug. "Let me know what I can to do help."

Kourin's eyes get unfocused for a moment. "They don't think we finished what we started, Robin. Will you be joining us?"

"Deep Green and Dark Shadows, I wish I could, Kourin!" There is no doubt in that. Robin's earnestness conveys how very much she wants to aid her brother, his 'boss' and her cousin on this. "But I've got another war closer to home to prosecute. On behave of the missing and the incipient." A rueful sigh from the Ranger lets the queen-rider know how important something has to be to keep Robin from their side.

Kourin looks a bit disappointed, but does not press the issue.

Jovian enfolds the girl in his 'wings' for a tight, lingering hug, at the same time mentally nudging Canareth and sharing the rush of warmth with his bond-mate. //Hear that, bronze boy? You kick ass!//

"I may take you up on that," he admits as he releases her. "How do you feel about letting Ossian sketch you for me?"

Robin indulges herself in a big squeeze (don't have to hold back with Jovian) for her brother, before her excitement draws her out of hit.

At Jovian's suggestions, the Huntress' nose wrinkles. And she sticks out her tongue at something nasty. "I've been avoiding those, Jove. They seem kinda... icky to me. Buuuuutttt, I suppose if I'm going to be part of Team Amber, I better be on the playlist." She sighs.

"We spent quite a bit of time and effort retrieving that 'icky' picture of Dad, remember?" the Firebird can't help but tease. "Check your pockets for slime."

Robin chuckles and fondly thumps her brother's upper arm.

"Okay. But I'm not going to be around for much longer. You'll have to schedule it pretty tightly." Green eyes look to her brother with concern.

"I've promised Ossian I'd make some time for him tomorrow; we can work it out with him then." He nods to Vere and Kourin. "With luck, we'll be heading out fairly soon as well."

"I don't know when Dad's planning on heading out tomorrow. So the earlier the better." There's relief in the girl's voice. Tomorrow, tomorrow, Home.

A smile of pure pleasure appears on Vere's face as he watches Robin's reaction. For a few seconds he lets himself be swept up in the joy of the moment, before bringing himself back under control. By the time Robin turns back to him, he is as contained as ever, and a faint upward turn at the corners of his mouth is the only remaining sign of his emotion.

"Vere." There's a universe of the unspoken words weaving through that syllable on Robin's lips when she turns back to her cousin. Glowing eyes meet the Danu's, happy fire burning therein. "Thank the Green, you won't be alone." She murmurs with heartfelt intensity. One hand unconsciously lifts toward the veiled man.

"Indeed," Vere replies. He raises his own hand to briefly touch her extended fingers, then drops it back to his side. "I am still looking forward to meeting your seagulls, as well."

A little shiver runs through the girl as their fingertips touch. And she smiles. "If I get time, I'll see if I can't ship you some more." Some girls offer flowers, some girls offer kisses. And some offer murderous ill-natured airborne vermin.

"I would welcome them," Vere replies seriously. "In addition, I have been thinking about how our two problems might, in fact, be related. But I do not think that this is the right venue for discussing this matter." He turns to Kourin, and says deferentially, "I do not wish to presume to extend your invitation. However...." and waits expectantly.

With a little tilt of the head, Jovian's reaction to this is effectively masked by the Phoenix beak. But Kourin, perhaps, can see the warm glow of amused satisfaction.

Robin smiles, finds her sandals fascinating and silently thanks her facepaint once again. But at Vere's addition, her eyes come back up in curiosity, her brows furrowed. Related? Well, if Vere's seen something, Robin would indeed be curious to see what it is. And she trusts his sense of timing, so she waits for Kourin as well.

Kourin smiles warmly. "Of course, please join us. We are meeting Lord Vere for breakfast some two hours before Noon and then going flying. If you're not tired of being adragonback, you should join us."

The Phoenix laughs aloud at this, with genuine delight. "I believe our dear Huntress will be tired of flying when the Moon tires of her path in the sky as well. The only question is whether four bells of forenoon watch is too late for her breakfast, I think."

"I will have risen several hours previous and eaten before then," Vere notes mildly. "The lateness of the hour would not seem to be an issue."

"Weeeeeelll," oh yeah she's reluctant, sure she is. "I really don't know when Dad's going to want to head out. I have to ask him, first. Especially if you want me to get doodled tomorrow too, Jove. But yeah," Robin grins happily, "I think I could do with some more flying. And it'd be nice to see Canareth and Hoshith again."

"We'll be looking forward to seeing you. Your father J'lin is justly famous in our homeland." It may not strike anyone as odd how frequently dragonriders use plural pronouns.

[This looks like the business at hand is done. Off to dancing?]

By the time Julian arrives on the scene, most of those invited to the masquerade have already arrived. He wears a plain white robe with a simple belt, from which hang a blade and a matched pair of goblets. The white robe is complemented by a large white pair of feathered wings, which arc over his shoulders like a cape.

[And of course, his domino mask completely disguises his identity.]

When he enters, he notes the positions of the Huntress and the Phoenix, and that of his golden counterpart, before moving to speak with the gentleman in the chariot.

Moments after Julian's arrival, Folly and Martin appear. Folly is laughing gaily and seems perhaps a little out-of-breath, as if she had to rush to get here on time.

She is dressed in a white sleeveless dress, velvet and close-fitting through the bodice but with a full, flowing skirt that almost seems to float around her as she moves. Closer inspection reveals that it is overlaid with white feathers, great soft plumes that stir in the breeze.

Gathered on at the nape of the neck is a gauzy, faintly irridescent material, sheer enough to reveal that the dress beneath is backless -- as if the designer perhaps expected it to be worn under very hot lights. The bottom corners of the material attach to the wrists of Folly's long white opera gloves, forming a cape that looks almost like wings.

She wears on her head a small white cap overlaid with white feathers, a red-orange point on its front and black beads on the sides forming the beak and eyes of a swan. Two long curving white feathers trail from the back of the cap, suggesting the swan's curved neck.

Her black domino mask even has a white swans on it, one on each side, extending their wings up and out off the sides of the mask.

Martin is dressed in a rich velvet doublet of indigo and black, with black hose and black boots. He wears a swan helm in black, probably made of papier-mache rather than metal, that covers the top half of his face, its stylized wings extending up and back along the sides and a head, its beak reaching down to his nose and concealing his identity rather effectively . He is recognizable to the observant by his distinctive blade with its heavy sapphire pommelstone, the same one he wore to the coronation.

Martin escorts Folly through the hall towards the champagne palace, stopping along the way for a word or two, but no more, with assorted well-wishers.

Jerod is very observant of reactions from his uncles and aunts at this point.

As Jerod looks around the Great Hall, he sees that several of his aunts and uncles have seen Martin's arrival, but there are no overt reactions that add up to more than "they're here".

Jerod does not depart from his current course, though he will be able to catch Martin's eye for a moment to nod a welcome. He remains more observant of the reactions of others towards the pair when he is not in conversation with anyone.

Folly, likewise, politely greets any well-wishers but is not yet inclined to strike up involved conversations with any but her own escort. To those who are paying attention, she seems happy almost to the point of giddiness -- a night-before-summer-holidays sort of anticipation.

As she and Martin reach the champagne fountain, Folly masks a mischievous grin behind a smile of pleasant blandness, the kind with which someone might inquire about the weather; but as she nods approvingly at the magnificent ice sculpture, she murmurs, for Martin's ears alone, "Do you think my tongue would stick to it if I licked it?"

Martin whispers something back into Folly's ear in a voice too low for those nearby to hear. From the too-polite blandness of his own smile and the sparkle in his eyes, astute onlookers might guess whatever he said was risque. He fetches Folly a glass of champagne, and one for himself.

Martin is definitely a magnet for young ladies and their parents, a number of whom keep an eye him and Folly from various corners of the Great Hall and the side rooms as they chat while waiting for the arrival of the king and the beginning of the festivities. Martin ends up as something of a one-man receiving line, accepting congratulations on the day from all and sundry, and more than one semi-introduction to an eligible nymph or doe-eyed fawn with whom he might wish to dance later.

And Jerod makes an exact note of every single one of the parents and such who are keeping that eye on Martin and company...:)

Folly occasionally becomes aware of Jerod's attention. On one such occasion, when she thinks no one else is paying attention, she smiles and winks in his general direction. He gets the sense she finds this parade of eligible meat rather amusing, although she's doing a pretty good job of maintaining decorum.

Of course, those bland pleasantries she occasionally whispers to Martin are probably neither bland nor what most people would consider pleasant, unless they enjoy a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Martin appears to be amusing himself in the same way.

"How much s--t do you think Vialle would give us if we dumped a couple hundred tabs of ecstasy in the champagne fountain?"

"Hey, there's Lady Vesper, all in brown. She could have spared the detail work, left her braid down in the back, and gone as the hangman's tree."

His eyes are bright and a bit too dilated.

That item does not go unnoticed [by Jerod].

OOC reminder: Martin is wearing a half-helm mask. Folly can tell his eyes are bright and dilated because she has been standing next to him for about a half-hour and looking at him to gauge his response to his parade of well-wishers. Given that Jerod's own field of vision is probably restricted by his own mask, there's no way he can tell the condition of Martin's eyes by looking at him from across the room.

Nobody else in the room, not even the King's brothers, seems to have drawn quite so many well-wishers as the young prince. While none would dare to broach business on this occasion, Martin's mask simply seems to protect him a little less than those of his relatives do.

Folly, for her part, is practicing a subtle form of crowd control, stepping in to divert the attention of the occasional over-eager or otherwise unpleasant well-wisher whenever she senses Martin wants rescuing. It's all done with such sparkling good humor that her victims may not even realize what she's doing.

Martin does, and appreciates it.