07.01g: The Seventh Winter (Fireside Table)

[Ruben]

"My apologies for being withdrawn, fair Lady. I was paying too much attention to the world beyond this table, and not enough to our own," Ruben answered. " I will note, however, that I am surprised the banquet has returned to such a normal flow. Not that we should drop everything to wait for our hosts's return, but just that it seems we are closer to the beginning of the evening than the end."

Turning to Renny and Osmund. "For instance, it is still far too early to predict whether tomorrow's breakfast will take place in the early morning, as an energizing start to the day, or as a late-morning restorative after an even later night."

[colomon]

Renny shrugs. "I hate to miss the sunrise over the ocean. In a pinch I can just stay up all night.

"Is there a dance after dinner?"

[Wyvern]

"I'd expect something of the sort," Alys says to Renny. "And even if it somehow wasn't planned, an offhand comment to a servant that there should be a dance, ought to be quite enough to guarantee one."

"What surprises me," she adds, turning to Ruben, "Is the... sophistication... of the people here. For a court so recently formed, I'd expect things to be a bit rougher around the edges - yet, looking about, hardly any of the guests - beyond the royalty - looks like they even know how to use the blades they're carrying. Presumably at least some of them are competent in other fields - traders or artisans or the like - but still, they give much the impression of a collection of peacocks."

[Joshua]

A young man, with a jeweled scabbard tied to his belt, storms over at Alys' words. As he draws near, he pulls out a pair of white gloves, likely silk. (They look light.) If Eretria wasn't so distracted, she'd probably want to interrupt somehow. Alys turns to watch him approach (not an assumption I'd make, I asked the player). "Excuse me...," he says, and pulls back the pair of gloves. For a moment the entire table tenses.

(Due to various warfare / other factors. Alys, you can respond first.)

[Wyvern]

As the young man starts to act, Alys stands up and catches his arm. Those who are particularly observant (which, honestly, means the entire rest of the table) will note that she's looking at Osmund, rather than the person who approached.

"May I suggest that, if you have some issue with my words, you express it in a way that doesn't make half the room want to kill you? Here," Alys' other arm goes around the man's shoulder, and she guides him towards the empty seat to her right, "have a seat."

OOC aside: this is also a demonstration of the power of Psyche; given skin-to-skin contact, one can apply mental effects - such as, in this case, "Calm down".
OOC aside 2: As with the GM's post, some of these things are not assumptions I'd make without checking with the player (GM in this case) in question. For example, if the young man had amber or higher strength, simply grabbing him might not be guaranteed to work.

[Joshua]

The young man will sit down, although it's up for debate if it's due to the psychic conflict or the fact he doesn't want to die. (Or that Alys is much stronger than he is.)

As Alys pointed it out, those who look will catch the tail end of Osmund taking his hand off of what appears to be a spellbook sized something up his left sleeve that has a full two-handed hilt (black mage robe has huge baggy sleeves). You may also notice his weight had shifted, preparing to launch off the chair at Alys' assailant.

[colomon]

"Sophistication, eh?"

[Wyvern]

Alys tilts her head to one side. "Perhaps 'effete' would have been a better choice of word? Or, 'of refined sensibilities'? Something along those lines, anyway; pick whatever word you like for it."

[colomon]

"Effete seems more apt," Renny agrees. With that she gets a slightly glazed look on her face which suggest her brain is producing rhymes, but she doesn't say anything more.

[Joshua]

"I know how to use my blade. My father stugled to find a way to inport that food you are eating. We strive hard for what you are given." The young (very minor) noble/merchant grumbles. "You were given nobility. You haven't earned it. We built this place on our sweat and blood and you simply took it."