RP:A Coronation Celebration

Summary: Queen Lunalesca hosts an elegant coronation ceremony as she’s stepping down from the throne and has chosen her successor. Of course, every big bash has to have a best dressed contest and the winners are Loravelle and Lanlan! They are awarded a unique twenty-four hour experience where they will be treated like royals, and a dinner with the newly crowned leaders is the perfect addition to their prize. Queen Lanara Lowell and Royal Consort Tiberius Lowell are honored to serve Enchantment and hope to rule for a very long time.

Part of the Waxing Crescent, Wayward Course Arc

Tiber :: Multiple guards in freshly polished black armor greet guests from all over Lithrydel for the ceremony, and before guests enter, the guards make sure to do a strict weapon check for the occasion. Especially after Queen Lunalesca had just returned back to the castle. A large protective shield has been cast over the kingdom in order to block any outside magic, as well. The guards then open the large wooden doors to reveal the elegant throne room. The space is massive and upon arrival, the royal room has a golden glow as candles light the room in huge golden chandeliers. Enchantment flags line the walls–a black flag with a golden, shimmery, explosive faery star. Straight forward in the open room are recently waxed, shiny steps. Up these stairs rest two thrones that have black, lyon silk fabric cushions. The arm rests of these two royal chairs twist into a gold, polished, vine-like design. Between the two thrones, up above is a large window with a stained-glass faery star. Violins and cellos fill the air in sweet melody which is perfect to escort a date, friend, or acquaintance to the ballroom dance floor which is surrounded by diverse guests watching groups of other guests gliding and dancing in proper unison to the music. A long, thick table is set off towards the right side of the room lined with the finest catering in the lands. In the middle of this table sits a hefty, ice-carved ice sculpture of Enchantment’s symbol of a faery star. Surrounding that frozen sculpture is a thick slab of tender meat with carving knives, blocks of various cheese resting around the meat, fruits of all sorts scatter the table, endless sides also settle in pretty golden platters and bowls. Fresh clean recipes. Hot and cooked on the spot. The food is endless, and even dainty little desserts line the table. Not to mention, there is a whole separate serving station just for drinks, be it coffee or liquor, and in the center of that table, as well, is another ice statue of a beautiful engraved rose to symbolize Enchantment’s strong connection with nature, and what it pours? A waterfall of vodka in an unlimited supply. Dining tables are set for attendees to sit and eat the delicious, gourmet food, and in the middle of those tables, rest centerpieces for each. Mirrors with gold trim rest flat on the tables and a bundle of golden flowers lay on top of each table. The event is lively, as others are complimenting each other and the glamorous gowns and suits guests wear. Some people are automatically making their decisions early for best-dressed and slipping their votes in the ballot box, which is near the bottom of the stairs towards the thrones. One must not forget to vote during this extravagant occasion, although there is such a lovely, glamorous atmosphere this evening.

Queen Lunalesca :: A few guards make their way into the room and stand before the stage as the band announces the arrival of the woman of the hour and commands everyone's attention. Accompanied by Benedict, her most trusted and skilled guard, Queen Lunalesca appears onstage and scans the crowd for any familiar faces. Those she knows are greeted with a wave and all others that catch her piercing blue eyes are offered a cheerful smile. It’s an important night for the fairy and an important night for the couple that she’s chosen to take her place. She spent a small fortune making sure that this will be an event to remember and every minute detail reflects on the love she has for Enchantment. The fairy is clad in a cerulean ball gown with silver stars etched into the hem and bodice, and silver slippers adorn her feet. Lunalesca’s long black hair flows freely to her lower back and a platinum crown rests upon her head and sparkles with every one of her movements. Shimmering blue wings flicker in excitement but they come to a complete stop as the music dies down and she steps onto an enchanted plate on the floor that will magnify the sound of her voice. “Welcome! I am thrilled that you all made it and that you all look positively radiant in your attire. As you all know, I’ve reigned for nearly a decade and although my love for Enchantment will never grow old… -I- will continue to age. I took this position after Queen Thea absconded the throne because the kingdom needed guidance, but it was only meant to be temporary, as I also lead the Magical Oversight Committee. It’s time that I start to slow down on my duties and enjoy all that life has to offer, as a great deal of my life has been spent in servitude. And so, I will miss it dearly, but I will still be involved in Enchantment! Merely from the sidelines, while I help the newly chosen Queen and Royal Consort adjust to their roles. I know in my heart that this is the best decision for me and for the future of this magical kingdom and I hope that you will show my successor the same respect that you’ve shown to me over the years. Now! I command you all to eat, drink, dance, and have a wonderful time!”

Tiber waltzes in the room with his beautiful, Kelvarian wife on his arm. Amber eyes reflect against the golden glow of the room around them. Music fills his ears, and he has to find the balance. He feels out of sorts at all the people for the occasion, but he is trying to press the vertigo back and remain cool and collected. The life they were choosing–this new chapter. His other hand moves over to her hand wrapped around his arm, and he gently squeezes Lanara’s in a very soothing manner. He keeps silent as they walk forward, his gaze is a little blurry past the guests in the large room. The man looks dapper, as he wears a ceremonial-looking suit, but the color is strictly black and formal. Black coat, black slacks. Very clean and cut. The clothing fits his lean form and the suit has gold buttons that line up to his chest. The rest of the suit coat moves up to his neck where a high-collar sits. Down his sleeves rest golden, engraved cufflinks. The look of the suit almost looks honorable, and of importance, but perhaps it was just for the occasion, as they were in a castle, and Lanara was very close with the Queen. A golden sparkling sash crosses his torso to symbolize the Enchantment flag that cascades on different walls of the room. This is very different from the suits he normally wears. More respectful, and mature. Clearly, someone might have dressed him purposefully. His hair is brushed on the sides of his head, leaving those waves to rest on top in a classy hairdo for the very formal occasion. “You look beautiful,” he leans down in a minor whisper to ease his forever date’s nerves. Tiber stands with his wife and watches Lunalesca announce her speech, and he applauds in unison before eyeing Lanara out of curiosity, as he is sure the girl is very nervous about this evening.

Lanara holds tightly onto Tiber’s arm as they enter the throne room and find a place to stand so that they can hear Queen Lunalesca’s welcome speech. Lana is nervous and trying not to let it show, but those close to the witch will recognize the telltale signs of trying to avoid a panic attack. She keeps kneading the fabric of Tiber’s suit, taking deep breaths, and shifting her weight from one black high heel to the other as she cannot seem to stand still. She’s kept so much a secret from her sister and friends about the past two months that she won’t know where to begin when it’s time to fill them all in! Tonight’s announcement only adds to her stress and mixes with anticipation and excitement. Despite her worried demeanor on this magical evening, the woman is a vision in a strapless black and gold ball gown. The fabric of the gown is tulle and the sweetheart-style reveals Lana’s bare shoulders and the swell of her bosom. Black beaded sequins and black lace grace the fitted torso portion before the golden tulle flows outwards at the waist and finishes in a court train. The back of the dress is a criss-cross pattern of lace that mimics a corset and offers a tantalizing peek of silken, sunkissed flesh. A matching jewelry set of a gold necklace with a chocolate diamond heart pendant, golden bangles on each arm, and dangling gold earrings add to the richness of her ensemble. Lana’s makeup is flawless and in neutral tones to accentuate her goddess-given beauty and her long hair has been pulled into an elegant chignon with a few wispy strands left loose to frame her fair face. The Queen finishes her speech and Lana applauds with the rest of the crowd as the chocolate diamond on her ring finger sparkles as the light bounces off of it. “She looks beautiful, as always!” She’s referring to the fairy that stands before the twin thrones, but then her eyes narrow as she looks up at her handsome husband, “You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Lowell.” A smile is on her face as she takes his arm again and her gaze drops to her newly healed arm. The healers in Enchantment are so skilled that there’s no indication her arm had ever been burned! She murmurs, “Shall we?” before the couple prepares to circle the room so they can mingle.

Cresente takes a look around the grandiose ballroom, feeling ever out of place. The avian man is a giant compared to the pixies that have enchanted themselves to take a larger form for today's ceremony. Black wings remain pressed to his back, momentarily obscuring his form as he makes his way to a quiet corner to observe. He is dressed appropriately for the event, in a simple deep tawny-brown suit that matches the deep hazel of his eyes. Embellishments have never suited Cresente, so the only color upon his form is a lone red carnation for a boutonniere. He's a hardened looking man, easily approaching the middle age of an avian's lifespan judging from the creases on his sunned skin. Ebon black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, allowing an old but prominent scar to be shown along the left side of his face. As Cresente settles near the bar, he gives a low order to the barman, "Brandy. Neat.", and scans the crowd in search of someone worth talking to.

Talyara knew when she saw the proclamations posted all around Lithrydel that she needed to go to the coronation in Enchantment. Not only were the surviving members of her homeland living there, but she had been adjacently involved in Enchantment politics when her sister, Lanara, was on trial for crimes committed across the land. But a coronation couldn’t be attended in any simple dress, so the little witch did something she had never done before–met with a seamstress to customize a dress for her. Thankfully, the woman possessed magic of her own, able to style and create Taly’s vision in record time! The younger witch, who never really dabbled in such finery, caused some heads to turn as she entered the throne room on the arm of Krice. The gown of her dress was made from charmeuse fabric dyed in an ombre of greens. The bodice was a forest green pinned silk overlay with crystal beaded appliques accentuating her bosom in the sweetheart neckline. The gown continued to lighten to a sage green as it flared out at her waist in an a-line silhouette. The back was weaved with ribbon to match the dress in a corset, and a sash wrapped around her waist and hung down, pinned together with a golden broach. Even more exquisite than the gown was the cape that Talyara wore. Like the dress, the cape was made in ombre greens in chiffon, and attached to a beaded, lace collar around the witch’s neck. The flowy fabric elegantly draped over her arms and back and clasped at her throat with a gem encrusted brooch. Simple satin pumps in matching green adorn her feet, and the little witch paired her ensemble with simple gold and copper jewelry–a bangle, chain threaded earrings, rings–and a simple braided updo to tame her wild curls. Lastly, her makeup was, as always, kept simple with some dark liner accentuating the shape of her eyes as well as mascara to elongate her lashes. The only boldness was the deep red the witch had painted on her lips.

Krice was a man of simple tastes; as long as his attire and his surroundings were practical and comfortable, they didn’t need to be expensive or flashy. Generally, he wore black button-downs, loose-legged slacks, and grippy boots, perfect for combat. Coming to a coronation held in such fancy surroundings in a city called ‘Enchantment’ meant that he needed to put in a little more effort. With Talyara’s hand hooked on his left elbow, The Silver Enigma stepped inside and allowed the guards a moment to check him for weaponry. All they would find was a metal bangle around his left wrist, under the silk cuff. Hardly a weapon. Satisfied that he wasn’t carrying, and convinced that he couldn’t hide any steel under the dark-green silks fitted to his body, they granted the warrior entry and he acknowledged it with a nod; besides, this man was well-known throughout the Kelay-Sage area, and lesser-but-still known in Enchantment. He wasn’t here to cause trouble. His ensemble was crafted by the same seamstress that dressed the ever-beautiful Talyara, with similar fabrics and hues - a sage green chiffon sash pinned over his thigh by a golden broach to link the masculine outfit to the feminine, securing a half-robe in place. A sweeping glance took in the scene, both establishment and guests, before he turned his attention in the direction it needed to be - on the apparent Queen. Her mention of Thea seemed to coincide with the slight narrowing of Krice’s eyes, but the emotion behind it was indiscernible. Perhaps he was simply concentrating.

Daesmondi slithers and tip-toes through the crowd, but also has a sense of confidence about him like he belongs there. As discreet as he tries to be, he is eyed by the guards who stop and attempt to frisk him. Daesmondi with a sleek smile says innocently with a bit of charm, “Ayye mon, Daesmondi ain’t here to cause ya trouble. Go ahead and see for ya self”. The guards are thrown off by the openness and let him proceed. Daesmondi enters through the doors wearing a long dark brown coat and tattered pants, along with carved wood and bone necklaces strewn across his body. He takes a look around for a few moments and says to himself in his old ancient way, “Seems like o’l Daesmondi be underdressed for da occasion”. He pulls a potion from his cloak, chugs it and a plume of smoke bursts around him. He emerges from the smoke wearing a purple suit jacket lined with fur and with what seem to be a mix of ribs and feathers sprouting out from the inner lining of the suit jacket, almost protruding from his chest.. In place of buttons are bones and tusks along with zig-zag designs on the suit jacket giving the coat depth. He wears black suit pants that have a similar zig-zag indent in them but in purple. He also dawns a cloak with the same fur, a dark black with blue accents, a creature’s lining that does not seem familiar to these lands. Atop his head is a tall purple top hat with a black and blue band going around the midsection. Spiked bones are sewn throughout this band along with green and blue feathers. Long black dreads are beneath his top hat and lead to his face which is also changed. His face appears to have been painted to appear like a skull and as he opens his eyes, many can see a bright purple iris that was once white. He is also holding a black cane with a purple skull and gold accents. Daesmondi looks himself up and down and seems pleased saying brazenly, “This o’l boy clean up good ya. Let's mingle den,” as he walks off to grab a drink at the bar.

Loravelle :: It may be some sort of fashion faux pas, but Loravelle didn't have the opportunity to wear this while on Leo's arm and she wanted to remedy that. The floor-length gown is made of silk and reminiscent of the sea, dyed in a multitude of blues and seafoam green. The bodice sits tighter on her figure than everyday wear, with its sheer keyhole neckline is left bare of necklace or other adornment. The fabric transitions up to a high collar band made of gold silk, closed with a gold brooch fashioned into a miniature sun at the center of her throat. That sun's light is reflected across the length of the gown with golden embroidery, dusting the fabric in a myriad of rivulets that provide a subtle shimmer in the light. Her sleeves are wide, cinched at each wrist with gold cuffs and slashed open at either shoulder to reveal pale skin. The wolf pirate gifted her jewels since the last time she wore this gown, including a pair of teardrop-shaped diamond earrings that hang from either ear. Her hair is bound and pinned into place with a pair of gold hair combs fashioned to resemble a luna moth's wings, with each wing inlaid with pieces of jade to emulate the small creature's wing coloring. Lora made an attempt at painting her face with makeup, with her lips stained a red tint, a thin line of kohl on her upper eyelids, and a hopefully subtle amount of gold shadow pressed to either lid, mostly toward the inner corner of her eyes. Since they're hidden due to the gown's length, her shoes are plain blue flats. She's grown considerably more comfortable in attending events such as this, but that didn't stop her from toting a circular, wooden-handled fan to hide behind from time to time. That and it'd serve as a means to fan stubborn pixie dust away from her husband-to-be. With Lora and the pirate's arms linked, her footsteps don't quite step ahead from Leoxander's to lead him into the throne room, but they're quicker and a little bit anxious. At least they'll be indoors for this party, which hopefully means less pixie dust... “I brought more just in case you need it,” she murmurs, patting a pocket on her dress. A few corked vials clink together within it. Having never witnessed a coronation, she's curious. Her eyes linger on Leo's tawny hair for a moment, envisioning some elaborate headwear on it to represent his claim to his island and she has to stifle a laugh. “Drinks first?”

Leoxander was there with the bardess in silks, naturally. Apparently she had enough charm in her voice to coerce the rogue into a bit of color. Rather than the usual black on black, it was half as much in dark denim free of distressed tears or travel and stitched to fit his frame. Tucked in… yes, you read that right… was a blue button-down dress shirt a few shades darker than Leo’s eyes, offset by the gray-blue vest and dark suspenders strapped over shoulders where fabric concealed all the ink. At least to that point where he had sleeves rolled back for some freedom, knuckles and wrists betraying card symbols, clan ties, and… a red-orange rabbit on the inside of his right wrist. Besides the usual silver chain that hung around his neck to conceal the medallion under the first unbuttoned slot on that collared shirt the only other jewelry to note was the crow-ring on the middle finger of his left hand and the small, black-steel hoops that numbered two on his left ear, a black-iron stud on the right. He had shaved the face fur from his features in usual tradition to survive the ‘battle’ that day, not that it really mattered since he kept that black face mask in place whenever possible - he already looked fairly miserable. Strange how that bit of color made his gaze a bit more vibrant, considering his hair was half drawn back from his face and tied in something of a knot at the high back of his skull; no fire lilies to adorn his crown that day. Shoes? Well… just don’t pay attention to that, because he definitely wasn’t conforming so far to have anything polished or shined and for a situation like this? Best he has good footwear to run away quickly in. Leo didn’t want to be there, but Loravelle’s suggestion might make things more bearable for the pirate. “...Nine hells, yes.” Not enough liquor in all of Enchantment for this.

Lanlan arrives in a carriage pulled by four horses that seem to be made of ethereal and shimmering silver. The carriage itself is a work of fantastical majesty, seeming to be made of a single enormous stargazer lily bud. The petals curled up to touch each other and form a gentle dome over the occupant. When the carriage stops, the flower blooms and one of the petals becomes a ramp for Lanlan to walk down and grace the ground with his black shoes. He wears a crown that seems to be made of an elk’s antlers, but they curl gently around his head with the hazardous points growing in length and sharpness until they entwine around a bright green peridot just above the middle of his forehead. A sheer and weightless looking cloak is fastened around his shoulders, and made to look like the wings of a peacock jewel moth. It shades most of his body in soft lavender, midnight blue, and bright yellow. But when he raises his arm to wave, the cloak is hung to one side, revealing more of his wear. A brocade jerkin of deepest black that seems to reflect light with shimmering and even mobile embroidery. It twinkles like the stars in the sky as he turns, displaying a different cluster of heaven depending on which angle you get to see.

Valrae || Arriving by way of carriage, Valrae is relatively on time. The carriage is extravagant and long, drawn by six white horses and accompanied by a large number of the Cenrili Guard dressed in formal livery. This unusually large show of force was not due to the relations between Enchantment and Cenril, which were friendly, but in fact caused by the attempt on the mayor’s life only one night past. While her advisors and council had attempted to dissuade Valrae from attending the coronation, offering to send a generous gift with a representative instead as she healed, the witch had stubbornly refused. It was a small act of misery to exit the carriage, and a wound to her pride that she needed considerable help from her guardsmen and accompanying witches, but she managed to do it with relative grace. Her aunt had helped her comb and style her hair in an intricately pinned and braided knot that rested at the nape of her neck. She’d needed help to style her makeup, dress herself in a simple silk gown the color of fresh cream. Her right arm and shoulder were bandaged and wrapped in a sling, hidden behind a long cloak of deep indigo that was adorned with a mosaic of sparkling beadwork that shaped the moons and constellations across her shoulders and back. Her eyes were bright and wide, glossy like a dolls from the pain elixirs the healers had given her on the ride over. Still, she painted a delicate smile on her face and entered the throne room with her head held high. Three witches dressed in the colors of Cenril’s flag walked close beside her, holding woven baskets filled with fine foods and wines that were local to Cenril.

Lanlan is also wearing snug black pants that are scandalously cut inches above his buckled shoe, to flaunt his elegant ankles and tempt onlookers with a glimpse of his calves.

Gorehilt resists the urge to tug at his high starched collar. Formal events have never been his cup of tea. Even though he'd rather skip out, the greenskin knows that he's expected to hobnob at least occasionally. "And the less occasionally, the better," Gorehilt thinks to himself. All this pomp and fuss can't possibly be worth the effort it takes. The knight is in his dress tunic: a double-breasted eggplant tailcoat, trim at the waist and heavily starched, with pewter buttons, matching tasseled shoulder boards, and lavender piping. A simple black iron Vakmathras medal hangs over his heart, flanked by some colorful service ribbons of no particular esteem. Around his neck is a plum ascot with embroidered burgundy lace trim. His britches and gloves are plum likewise. With each step, his knee-high cordovan leather boots give a dapper "click." To complete the knight's formal attire, there's a cavalry saber at his hip, a bit of steel with a brown sharkskin grip and a guard that loops to the pommel and back. This dress sword is, of course, properly stowed in mahogany scabbard fitted with richly filigreed copper. His dreadlocks are freshly trimmed and styled, his face is clean shaven, and his tusks (one natural, one gold) are brightly polished. So the greenskin knows how to clean up, alright? Looking at him now, one can almost believe he graduated academy on his own merits. With click in his step and a cross expression, Gorehilt files in with the crowd. “Hold it,” a guard stops Gorehilt. “How’d you get that past door check?” The guard points, obviously to Gorehilt’s sword. “Step over here, sir.” Baffled, Gorehilt scowls. “Hey, easy. It’s a dress saber,” the greenskin assures the guard, “c’mon. You wear one too, right, to your annual charity ball or whatever you guards do. Hey! This guy knows. He has to.” Gorehilt steps out of line and beckons another guard over. “Dress swords. They’re a thing. No? Oh, I get it. Pull the orc out of line, right? That’s what this is about, yeah? You gotta stop the greenskin riff-raff at the door. No, I won’t calm down. Where’s your supervisor? Yeah, the captain. I don’t care if he’s a general, this is ridiculous. You’re seriously telling me…”

Queen Lunalesca steps on the enchanted plate again and makes a cutting motion with her hand to the musicians so that they know to stop playing after this song ends. Several waiters circle the room and offer the guests flutes of champagne to share in the upcoming toast. All eyes turn to gaze at the fairy and she smiles and stares into the crowd for a long moment. She has a speech rehearsed for this part of the event, but she chooses her words carefully because she’s never been one to stick to tradition. “I hope you all are having a good time! There’s a special prize that I’ve designed for the two best dressed individuals, but that winner will be announced in a little bit. For now, I’d like to welcome the newly appointed leaders to the stage, so that we can share in this joyous celebration! They’ve already sworn their oaths and it’s all been documented, so without delay…” There’s a brief drumroll from the band as a handsome couple bathed in gold and black, to mirror the kingdom’s colors, make their way to the stage. Queen Lunalesca smiles and declares, “All hail the new Queen and Royal Consort… I present Queen Lanara Lowell nee Banks of Enchantment! And, Tiberius Lowell, the Royal Consort of Enchantment! Long may they reign!” There’s a chorus of applause as the majority of attendees lift their flutes and drain the contents, some remain indifferent, and a few people have the nerve to scowl or jeer at the stage. The fairy removes her crown and rests it to the side as it will later be put in a secure display case in the castle hall. A guard walks over with a large black pillow that has two gold crowns resting atop each. Each crown is engraved with the faery star in the center and has black-diamonds encased on the sides, though the more feminine of the two has a heart-shaped diamond in the middle of the faery star. Lunalesca kisses Lanara on each cheek before the woman bends so that she can place the crown atop her head. She’s careful not to mess up Lana's hair and she whispers words of encouragement in her tapered ear, before she moves over to Tiber. His crown is brought forth and she keeps motioning for him to bend down more as he’s very tall compared to her height, which has the crowd laughing. The crown is placed on the lycan’s head and Lunalesca kisses him on the cheek, before she steps to the side so the couple can give their acceptance speech.

Lanara is shaking as she holds so tightly to Tiber’s hand that her knuckles are turning white. Even though she knows what’s being announced beforehand, it still has her lips parting in surprise and her eyes sparkling with tears at being bestowed with such an honor. She can barely move her feet as Tiber has to somewhat drag her up the stage steps so that she can accept her position. Lunalesca embraces her and Lana struggles to maintain her composure because she’s feeling as though she may faint. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taken so many shots from the vodka fountain?! The crown is placed upon her head and she brushes away any rogue tears as she looks into the crowd and locks eyes with her sister. Talyara will have so many questions, she thinks, but she knows that above all she’s receiving a look of pride from her younger sibling. Tiber receives his crown and she turns to share a nervous laugh with her husband, before she’s instructed to give her acceptance speech. Lana takes a deep breath and steps onto the voice magnifying plate, “I want to assure you all that this is a huge surprise to me, as well! Lunalesca told me a few days ago that she was choosing me to be her successor and sworn me to secrecy, and I feel as though it still hasn’t entirely set in that my life has completely changed.” She lifts her hands to pull the crown off her head and she shows it to the crowd, “Although I may be the deciding voice behind this crown, I hope that you all know that Enchantment belongs to -all- of us and that I will do my very best to keep you all safe, happy, and proud to be a member of the most magical city in the realm. Tiber and I are honored to be chosen for this role and we will do everything in our hearts, minds, and power to ensure that the future of Enchantment is one that shines as brightly as the faery star.” The witch sets the crown back onto her head and gives the crowd a disarming smile, while another round of applause follows. She winks at Tiber, as it’s his turn to say something, and stands off to the side so that he can have his moment.

Tiber turns to listen as Queen Lunalesca takes front and center to give her speech about stepping down in Enchantment. His hand holds Lanara’s tightly before the fairy announces new leadership regarding Enchantment. Queen… Queen Lanara. It was an odd feeling, as both of them were a little shaky about taking on such a pristine, elegant role–the opposite of who Tiberius Lowell really is, quite frankly, but he knew that Lanara would hold the Kingdom well with her compassion and dedication. It almost seems like the Kelvarian is not moving when the crowning takes place, and the Catalian gently guides the woman by the small of her back up the steps to be crowned. His world, like Lanara’s, is a blur at this moment. He bows to give the shorter fairy a lazy grin as she places the crown neatly on his head. His heart is a little uneven, as this moment is happening, and the Lowell’s are taking on a very heavy future. Amber eyes look towards his wife as she stares out at the crowd before them–he is nodding along with the Kelvarian’s statements that Enchantment does belong to everyone. Tiberius then waits for the applause from Lanara’s speech to give his own. What was he even going to say? Did he have any words? He puts on a face, and steps on the voice magnifying plate. He tries to balance the crown to get it in the right placement before speaking towards the crowd with a tall, poised posture. “I am truly honored to be standing by Lanara’s side as Enchantment’s Royal Consort. I am honored that Queen Lunalesca put trust and faith in both Lanara and I. I promise to my utmost greatest ability to listen, learn, and stay humble towards the people of Enchantment.” Beat. “Lanara is going to lead strong and well, but just know, we are all in it together to take pride in our flag and in our kingdom.” His face remains strong and determined, although he feels a little dizzy with their crazy life, as of late. He then nods and takes a step back towards Lanara before gripping her hand again.

Alvina is here but silently off to the side, watching the festivities commence. She cheers on Lanara and Tiber, knowing how fitting the assignment is. Her heart swells with love for them and their accomplishments.

Cresente swirls the brandy in it's shimmering crystal glass as he watches the elegant decorum of the coronation's guests. His eyes follow the glassy eyes of the Cenrili mayor and her bandaged form, though her injuries did little to alleviate her radiance not unlike the summer sunlight, and the strange gait that the skeletal man in tattered clothing that transforms into an outlandish suit that looks like it came straight from an experimental fashion runway. Cresente sips the hard liquor as his eyes settle on the pirate Leoxander and his ravishing date, the pair being either famous or infamous depending on how one knew them. For Cresente, it was both. A look is spared to Gorehilt as he's frisked at the door, not unlike how he was when he first scouted the grounds for potential threats. No matter, his attention is drawn back to the shimmering stars of today's gathering. He nods his head respectfully in place of applause as the pair make their acceptance speech.

Lanara takes Tiber’s hand as the two of them descend the stage and her cheeks flush as she can feel everyone’s eyes on them. They are now royals and it will take some serious getting used to, as she’s never held a title as grand as ‘Queen’. She smiles at those that catch her eye, but the first person she seeks is her little sister. “Taly!” Her husband's hand is dropped as she pulls Taly in for a tight hug, “I have so much to fill you in on, and we have to do lunch, as soon as possible!” Lana pulls back to admire her sister's attire, “You look stunning, as always! I love this dress!” She looks at Krice and smiles at him, “You look very handsome.”

Krice grew a little more observant with every new guest who arrived. Some were clearly more important - on the political front - than others, arriving with personal security and entourages as they did, and that led his mind into watchful mode. Gorehilt drew his eye briefly but the disturbance was contained to the doorway, so he didn’t intervene. Alvina caught something deeper than his eye, an awareness of a friend drawing his focus her way; given her choice to stay out of the way, he did not approach. Instead, a flute of champagne was granted the guests and he took one after Talyara did, Sparing her a bemused look. When Lanara and Tiber were announced as new rulers of Enchantment, he arched a brow in clear surprise but didn’t think anything negative of it. Instead, he lifted his glass as others cheered, and he would move toward the celebratory couple with his emerald-eyed companion, knowing full well that she’d want to congratulate her sister more personally. Once there, he’d wait for a moment while the women met and embraced, extending a hand to shake Tiber's should he be amenable. Otherwise, Lanara's compliments were met with a casual, "Talyara makes anyone look handsome." He reached out, his right arm stretched toward Lanara to offer a half-embrace for the occasion.

Loravelle hasn't grabbed a drink for herself just yet, but keeps her gaze trained on the faerie queen to hear the announcement of who will be taking her place as monarch of the kingdom. Her mouth falls open at the names announced, and her eyes widen with surprise. That's...This is – Loravelle is speechless. Clearly happy for the Lowell's given how bright her smile is, but she's shocked. The woman composes herself enough to stop openly gawking at the witch turned Queen and lycan turned Consort, and it's then that she gently nudges Leo's side with an elbow. “Can't you believe it? This is great for them...” She didn't want to rush Lanara and Tiber with congratulations as they were likely going to be overwhelmed for quite some time that evening, but if she manages to catch a glance from either of them, she mouths, “Congratulations!!!” in an exaggerated way that's hopefully readable.

Talyara kept close to Krice on the outskirts of the crowd, people watching as the throne room flooded with guests, some familiar, some not. She tried to catch Lana’s eye several times but being across the room from one another it was hard to tell if she saw her. Valrae’s appearance, with a bandaged arm, is met with a small frown. It had been a long time since she had seen her fellow witch and she made a mental note to circle back to her at some point this evening. Her small talk was cut short when Queen Lunalesca mounted the stage and called for attention, just as she grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server. Talyara listened with rapt attention; however, mouth fell open in shock, not the most regal or appropriate reaction to her sister being appointed as the new queen of Enchantment. It wasn’t so surprising–Lana had been a close friend of Queen Lunalesca for many years and had been involved in Enchantment’s betterment for a long time–but more so that she hadn’t been told. The little witch thought her and her sibling were past the secret keeping, but she’d have to trust she had a good reason for it. And at least this secret ended in a coronation rather than a bikini-clad mud wrestling match! Cries of delight and applause are already breaking out across the crowd and Talyara gave her head a firm shake to break out of her stupor as she absentmindedly raised her glass with the others to toast the new queen. Finally, Lana’s chocolate eyes met her emerald ones as the second crown was placed on Tiber’s head, and all at once her expression shifted from one of surprise to one of pride, the witch beaming at her sister with a wide smile on her lips. Before long Krice is guiding her forward through the crowd towards Lana and Tiber who were coming to intercept them. Careful so as not to spill champagne all over Lanara’s gown, Talyara embraced her sister tightly and gave her a faux annoyed look which clearly communicated ‘yeah you better tell me everything’. Tiber is likewise given an embrace before she beamed at the pair. “Congratulations, you two. I know you will serve Enchantment well!”

Arlyeon is slightly late, but then- she's working with some serious constraints. Short legs just don't get you to where you need them to. That said, with a bit of luck (which she has in spades) and a helpful (but now dead) elk she's arrived. Sure, there's an awkward moment where she might have been briefly halted by a guard- but she can spot Lanlan not far off, motivating the trickster into dipping beneath their outstretched arms and awkwardly waddling their way to the archmage. Waddling, because she's decided to arrive in a complimentary guise to her masters, A fan of shining blue and red peacock feathers interposing itself between Lanlan and the first person to try and catch his attention- in what she hopes is a classy announcement of her presence. ...In execution, it may just come off as a bit threatening, not only due to the abruptness- but the fact that she's currently adopted the guise of a bird with a reputation for being an aggressive jerk. It's fine. She's happy at least, something she expresses with a happy trill aimed at the boss.

Alex isn't here, or... well, maybe he is. It's difficult to tell. There's definitely one less bottle of champagne from the last time anyone looked and every once in a while, there is an odd humming heard in random areas of the Throne Room, even the occasional sound of footsteps. Thankfully, these odd moments are easily shrugged off due to the size of the crowd and the commotion of the festivities. Perhaps the bard found a use for the undead cowboy's orb after all.

Valrae is happily stunned for a moment as Lanara, and Tiber, are announced as the new rulers of Enchantment. She almost cheered, the rowdy girl from the South end of Cenril having never really left her, but instead she makes the appropriate amount of motion to cheer and awe at the announcement. Pride and happiness filled her heart, possibly to an inappropriate amount thanks to the pain elixirs that helped dull the worst of her agony, and tears threatened to ruin the careful artwork of her makeup. When it was her turn to congratulate Lanara, Valrae dipped into a low bow that caused the deep wound of her thigh and shoulder to scream. When she righted herself, the tears that spilled down her cheeks were a mixture of happiness and pain. “Oh Lana!” She gushes, resisting the urge to throw her arms around her in a hug. It would have caused too much suffering and didn’t seem appropriate for the tone of the venue. “Congratulations. I know you’ll be an excellent Queen. You were born for the role.” She sends a watery smile to Tiber as well, dipping her head toward him but offering no other words. With that, the witch moves away to let the rest of her friends and family offer congratulations. The witch drifts away in search of a drink.

Tiber is whisked down the steps by his wife. Queen? He side-eyes her charmingly before they stand in front of Krice and Talyara. The sisters are hugging, and Tiber extends his hand out to give Krice’s hand a shake and a knowing nod. He then looks to Talyara who is now embracing him, as well, and he kindly accepts his sister-in-law’s affection. “Thanks, we are so happy that you two are here to support us. Especially Enchantment’s new Queen,” he nudges his lady playfully.

Daesmondi stands in a dark corner of the bar sipping his champagne with a slightly unpleasant look and turns to the bartender, "Ayye mon, ya got any rum, me be needin somethin with just a lil more kick". The bartender pours and pushes over a glass of rum and Daesmondi leans back, pleased, as he observes the room.

Lanara is rendered speechless again when Krice extends an arm because it’s the -first- time he’s done such a thing. She steps closer and they have a brief, but meaningful, half hug. This seems more monumental than being crowned and she wonders if she’s dreaming. “Thank you both, truly.” Their approval of her decision to lead means the world, and she gives them both a curt nod as she excuses herself, “I have to mingle! We will be back!” Lana tugs Tiber along as they are repeatedly stopped by friends and strangers. It seems everyone wants their attention and to offer congratulations. There’s a scuffle with an orc by the door but it’s nothing the guards can’t handle, she thinks. Lana next moves through the crowd and she stops short when she sees Valrae, because the last time she saw the fellow witch she had been in good health. Lanara extends her arm to pull Val into the gentlest of hugs, “I’m so happy you are here! Are you alright? What happened?” She will harm whoever hurt the blonde, because they have been friends for years!

Tiber looks at the glossy-eyed blonde. The Mayor of Cenril, quite the big face in that area where he used to live a time ago. He smiles and gives a respectful, knowing nod towards her congratulations before he observes the room to see who else was in the crowd this evening.

Krice’s hand found Lanara’s back, between her shoulder blades, and he held her gently for the brief duration of the embrace. When she withdrew, he dipped his head to acknowledge the celebratory couple’s gratitude. Thereafter, he would retreat from Lanara and Tiber as others came in to congratulate them, granting those guests space to do so - but primarily, drawing himself and Talyara out of the fray. With Valrae so close, he took note of her and seemed to scrutinize her a little longer than he had any other guest, but otherwise his attention would be drawn to - and by - his brunette.

Tiber glances over Valrae again as Lanara addresses the state she was in. There is a concerned look--a furrow in his brow, and he did not know the girl very well, but now, the man is curious.

Valrae stops short of leaving, turning back to offer Lanara another smile. “Oh, this?” She looks down at the sling holding her arm close to her body. “It’s nothing. Assasination attempts, what can you do?” She hopes the joke lands, not wanting anything to sour the mood of Lanara’s crowning, literally, achievements. “Nothing to worry about now. Enjoy your coronation, I know I will.” And with that, she sails away to the bar. She’d been warned not to mix drinks with the potions she’d been fed, but Valrae wasn’t in the mood to listen and her shoulder ached like a rotted tooth.

Leoxander turned his impatient eyes toward the speech givers, or the royal couple that they now were, according to the land and laws of the magic bugs. One didn’t need to see the solemn set of his mouth to recognize that the Captain was already bored and far too sober. Lora’s enthusiasm was not lost on him; he should be fortunate she had enough for both of them, but any response he may have had was bullied aside by the sneeze that was louder than he would have liked, not one to typically draw attention in his direction, when he could help it. While the crowd mostly milled around Enchantment’s new Queen, Leo was more watching the sidelines, taking note of Daesmondi with a squint of eyes, as if something tugged a thread at the back of his mind, as well as the black winged avian who he almost mistook for Brennia until the man turned with brandy in hand. Keeping his gaze in that direction momentarily, he spoke to Loravelle. “Better go say hello before they start askin’ her for favors.” The luxurious life of a city leader. He checked a look back to make sure Gorehilt wasn't getting thrown out just yet, and may have raised his jaw in a silent greeting to Krice should their gaze ever meet.

Talyara understood she couldn’t monopolize her sister and brother-in-law’s time, so she didn't put up a fight when Krice led her out of the flurry of excitement. They ended up by the refreshment table where Valrae was now lingering. Gently, the witch would reach out and touch her uninjured shoulder lightly, hoping not to startle her. “Hi stranger,” she greeted with a smile. “Are you alright?”

Lanara accepts the praise from Valrae and smiles, “We both have a great deal to celebrate. Soon, I hope?” She senses that her friend is in pain but she doesn’t want to pry, given that so many are in attendance and could be eavesdropping. As the blonde goes to get a drink, Lana’s gaze protectively trails after her and she tries not to frown as everyone is staring. She then glances at Tiber, “From Catalian Stallion to Royal Consort? All in a week.” She cannot help but jest, but as she’s about to say something else, she spots another rare occurrence. Leoxander tucked in his shirt for the occasion?! Lana, again, for the third time this evening, finds herself speechless. She leads her husband over towards Leo and Loravelle and she blows Alvina a kiss in passing. “Lora! Leo! It’s so great to see you both!”

Valrae tips the champagne back as if it were something stronger, finishing it off within seconds. It’s around then that Talyara taps her uninjured shoulder. The witch jumps slightly, turning on a yelp. “Oh!” She exclaims, embarrassment painting her cheeks rosy and pink. Possibly the drink too. It was hard to tell. “Taly!” The witch all but squeals. “Oh, I’d love to hug you right now!” She says, “It’s been so long.” Then she’s looking her up and down, admiring the greens of her dress, and smiling widely. “You look amazing,” She whispers dramatically before answering, “I’m alright, relatively speaking.”

Krice did glance toward Leoxander and Loravelle at one point, in time to notice the upward nod. Dipping his chin, he reciprocated the greeting with an inverted response, subtle but noticeable by lycan eyes across the room. With Lanara and Talyara both showing extra attention to Valrae, his gold-streaked eyes shifted once more to land on the third witch, observing her quietly through the duration of her reply. If she elaborated and gave Talyara some new information, he'd take it in. If not, he'd try to reassure his companion by taking her hand in the warmth of his own and giving a squeeze. If memory served, he hadn't seen Valrae since... all the crap in Larket years ago. Now she was weathering assassination attempts as Mayor of Cenril. What a weird world.

Lanlan makes his way over to the newly crowned royalty, led by a rambunctious and aggressive little foxkin dressed complimentary to him. They may or may not find something familiar about each of them, though it seems that all the times they met previously was under another identity, complete to the sound of their voice and even the aura. When he’s close enough to bid for her attention, he makes a somewhat obligatory, but nevertheless sincere sounding address. “Queen Lanara, King Tiber. Long live!” He makes a slight bow. “Our states have always been close allies, and I hope we can continue this tradition in the future.” As he makes his way from them, a small box seeming to be made of pure crystal appears resting on a floating cloud. “For you. An item of impossible uniqueness, said to contain within the dreams of whoever opens one, brought to life.” It’s a large egg, bedazzled with starlight and though it appears small, the insides of it are actually nearly fathomless. Until it’s opened and its treasure revealed.

Tiber frowned at the mention of assassinations. Was this part of the package of taking over an area? Of course it was, they were just dealing with their house being blown to pieces. “The Catalian Stallion, Royal Consort of Enchantment. That’s kind of a mouthful,” he smirked. The man then eyes the bar, but he knows he should keep sober still, even if they are now walking over to the pirate who is drinking. Tiber gives an easy nod to Leoxander and he smiles slightly at Loravelle. “Glad you both could make it. I hope the… air isn’t too bad for allergies.”

Loravelle tries fanning the air around Leo and herself just a little too late, judging by his sneeze. Her look is apologetic and set with a slight frown since it was in a way her fault that he's here in Enchantment again, having coaxed him to come back for the event that day. Before she can even turn at his advice to go say hello to the newly crowned queen and consort, they're already headed over. Lora served a monarch of sorts, but she isn't quite sure what is custom here with newly crowned leaders. It's reflexive, an old habit that she's shocked to even remember even if it's merely muscle memory, but she dips into a low curtsy of sorts to Lanara and Tiber too. But it's quick, hopefully quick enough to not look -too- ridiculous, potentially. “Congratulations, both of you!” She's clearly thrilled for them. “You're...” She almost voices some comment about how Lanara is a queen twice over now, being Swan Queen and all prior to this, but catches herself before divulging something potentially risky in public. Instead, she says, “Your crown is really pretty...”

Talyara grimaced apologetically when Valrae jumped from her touch and subsequently yelped. She pulled her hand away quickly and smiled apologetically at the mayor. “I’m sorry!” she said quickly before nodding in agreement about the want to embrace. “When you are feeling better, we shall hug for an extra long amount of time?” she suggested with a chuckle. Taly looked down at her own attire and a small blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you! You look lovely as ever. We really should catch up soon under less, uh, exuberant conditions.”

Leoxander looked in Lanara’s direction when he heard his name called out across the throne room, releasing any hold on Loravelle to let the women do what women do. Arms folded across the leather suspenders over his chest to indicate he would not be joining in on all the hugging and gushing, but he did drawl a response to the Swan Queen. “Yer majesty…” That didn’t go without a look to her royal consort, and even with that mask Tiberius might recognize that the rogue was wearing something of a smirk under there. “I’ll manage. Jus’ for you, handsome.” The Captain’s flirt toward Tiber was of course dripping with sarcasm. "Or is it yer highness, now?"

Lanara turns to rest her gaze on Lanlan and Arlyeon, though of course she doesn’t recognize them outside of their disguises. She smiles at the pair and realizes there is -something- familiar about them but she cannot pinpoint how she may know them. “Thank you… That’s very kind of you.” It dawns on her that this is Archmage Lanlan, of Xalious, but the back of her mind is still needling that she knows him from somewhere else. The bird at his side is given a glance, before the crystal box is brought forth and her eyes brighten with wonder. “A gift?” Lanara didn’t expect presents but the childish wonder on her face is evident as she stares at the egg and listens to Lanlan’s explanation. “Thank you! I appreciate your kindness.” She tears her gaze from the offering and nods, “I would love to remain allies and look forward to getting to know you and your bird better.”

Lanlan has done his diligence here, and now needs to address a mildly concerning surprise that has cropped up. Only minutes after he appeared, so did Valrae. He finds her at the bar from a fair bit away, and uses his slithering magic to reach toward two long stemmed glasses of bubbling champagne, before he makes his way over to her. “You know you shouldn’t be here,” he says. “You should be resting. Or addressing the very real security concerns that were very successfully exploited. Hours ago.” After exhaustion took her to sleep late last night, he felt there was no other choice but to let her heal in the coral castle, and he made every attempt to keep her there, short of enforcing his will himself. But the healers he hired would’ve imparted it to her. He should’ve known their wills would be no match for hers. “But since you’re here,” he says offering her a glass of champagne as he sips his own. “What do you think of those two?” He takes a sip from his glass and frowns. Then he takes hers away and dumps them both out. “Don’t drink that,” he says with sudden urgency.

Leoxander also hadn't managed to get a drink in his hand, yet. A disaster in the making.

Lanlan said to Lanara, "Ah! Thanks aren't necessary, it was my pleasure to welcome you."

Tiber watches as the drow comes into view and addresses them. The voice sounds fairly familiar… The foxkin does too. How did he know this man? He is already talking of politics and neutral boundaries. Keep the peace. Tiber offers a easy gaze before he slightly bows as well. He can play royal, right? Just another character? Besides… that was what Swans did. Grace. “I couldn’t agree more.” Then… the box comes floating on a cloud? Tiber blinks as magic makes his head spin sometimes, but he married a witch, so it has grown on him over the years. An… egg? Is a laugh trying to be stifled, Tiber keeps that lazy smile on his face. “Gracious and thoughtful. I’m curious to see.” He looks over towards Lanara out of curiosity. They would have to figure that out soon as his gaze also looks childish at the little bedazzled egg. Valrae had turned to watch Lanlan congratulate Lanara and Tiber, a wistful smile springing to her glossy lips as she watched. Then she is blinking back to her conversation with Talyara. “Oh! You two are getting married,” She says abruptly while nodding, looking between her and Krice. “Congratulations.” She offers them both a sheepish smile. “Lana mentioned it. You’re a lovely pair.” And then tears were springing to her eyes again. Drinking with the potions had been a mistake. Valrae was quickly becoming very inebriated. Her next words were slightly slurred, but she said what must have been, “You’re both sooo pretty. We should catch up soon, yes. And celebrate!” Speaking of, the witch calls for another drink. This wasn’t a good idea, but one finds her hand anyway. She sips at it delicately this time, mostly because it seemed very hard to bring to her lips. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Why did her arms feel so heavy? And then Lanlan appears, stealing the drink away and chastising her for her appearance and drinking. Her bottom lip pokes out in a childish pout, her already teary eyes widening toward the drow. “Why not?” She asks. “You’re here. You’re drinking. I can too.”

Gorehilt is finally admitted, sans sword. Looking more cross than before, he silently vows not to leave until he has eaten and drank an annual salary's worth of booze and hours d'oeuvres. Admittedly, after and one plate of dainties and a tall, stiff drink, he's already feeling mollified enough to mingle and chit chat. "Oh yeah, that was me by the door. You wouldn't believe how often things like that happen. You just have to let it roll off. You know what they say, orcs are thick skinned. Hah hah. Yeah, I am half. My father, yes, but enough about me..." His champagne glass is seldom empty, and whenever he gets the chance, he'll be sure to stiffen the bubbly up with a little razzle-dazzle at the vodka fountain. "Oh, hah hah, yeah, that was me by the door..." After about the seventh or eighth time, that particular ice-breaker starts to get stale. Gorehilt looks for someone, anyone, that he actually knows. Oh thank Vak. There's Leo and Loravelle. The half orc begins meandering his way over, but just as he's about to reach them, Lanara beats him to it. "Ah nuts," he mutters under his breath. Gorehilt might look the part, but he knows better than to try and shoehorn his way into a conversation with a queen. That's his second "L" for the evening. Gorehilt soothes himself with a refreshing sip of... Champodka? Vodpaigne? Surely he can come up with a better name than that.

Daesmondi downs his drink and calmly walks over to Lanara and Tiber. He leans on his cane as he removes his hat and bows in their presence. "Congratulations to ya queeny, I be Daesmondi and I wanted to introduce meself as me a little new to da land. O'l Daesmondi ain't gonna forget me peace offerin eider." Daesmondi pulls out a bone bracelet and what appears to be chicken feet from his jacket. "Dese are for good luck, a bit outta sorts but don't doubt da voodoo."

Lanara smiles when Loravelle compliments her crown, “Thank you! This was all rather unexpected, to be completely honest. I only found out a few days ago and was sworn to secrecy.” Otherwise, she would have confided in her family and friends. “You look beautiful! I love your makeup! Is that the Vinabre cosmetic line?” Lana just so happens to be wearing their foundation and perfume! As Leo refers to her with a royal title, she shakes her head, “I figure people in Enchantment should refer to me as Queen, but those that I know well can just call me Lana?” It’s still foreign to be called anything other than her true name or one of her many nicknames. As long as Leo doesn’t start calling her ‘Cinnamon’ they should be fine. The witch glances at Tiber, “Why don’t you get us both a drink, Honey?” She can tell he’s itching for something to take the edge off, and although he’s trying to drink less these days, he’s allowed a drink every now and then.

Tiber turns back to Leoxander and his little sarcastic quip. “Oh Cap’n, my cap’n, how sweet that you’d come for Lanara’s big day.” He also is glazed in sarcasm, but he is easy and playful. “I prefer -you- don’t address me like that in any sort. Though, I assume I do have to get used to such a title from the people.” He looks a little weary about that. Would he enjoy royal life? Never in his lifetime has he ever thought a day like this would happen. Poor, troubled orphan to a Royal Consort? Wow wow.

Krice glanced toward Tiber and Leoxander at the latter’s sarcastic flirt, unexpected even in joke-form. Lanlan’s egg-shaped gift was scrutinized in a second’s glance, Lanara’s eagerness given just as much attention. If Talyara wanted to step away, he’d release her hand and let her move - but he would follow if she walked more than two meters away. Not overbearing, just watchful, within reach should the need arise. Valrae’s congratulations about him and Talyara being á lovely pair’ was met with the softening of the warrior’s expression; he obviously agreed, passing a fond look in his companion’s direction. But then the Mayor was focusing on her alcohol, and Lanlan was there to attempt to dissuade her. Whatever arose, it seemed like there was something else to keep it from getting worse. As such, the warrior kept to himself and to Talyara.

Krice also noticed something about voodoo. Ever observant, ever casually cautious.

Talyara’s eyes widened in surprise when Valrae declared that she and Krice were getting married (they weren’t) and that Lana had told her. She didn’t have the heart to correct her fellow witch though and Taly eyed the drink in her hand curiously. She wasn’t one to impede on free will but if she had to guess, Valrae was on various potions for pain and healing and alcohol would not mix well with that. Her slurred compliment all but confirmed that and Taly shot Krice a concerned sidelong glance. Thankfully, someone else who seemed close to Val appeared at her side, and the healer was a little more comforted. “We’ll get together soon,” she assured before stepping away and squeezing Krice’s hand. “Perhaps we will go say hello to Loravelle and Leo?” she suggested.

Leoxander only calls Tiber 'Cinnamon', and never to his face.

Lanlan looks confused at her rebellious response to his well-intentioned caretaking. “Of course you can drink! Just not this.” Was it poison? No, worse. It was…subpar. “Actually I’m glad you’re here,” he says, looking away coyly. Secretly, he lamented not asking her to be his company last night, but it seemed like it should be out of the question.

Cresente takes Tiber's departure to the bar as his opportunity to interject. As the tall man strides across the ballroom, he gives the man he presumes to be the representative of Trist'oth an informal pat on the shoulder. Lanlan only stands a few inches shorter than the avian, so he needn't lean down to whisper to him on his way to Leoxander.

Tiber looks at Loravelle and offers her a smile. "Thank you. You two look nice." Lanara then suggests that Tiber fetches them a drink, and he nods. "Sure," he then pivots and walks off to get two glasses of champagne before Daesmondi comes into view bowing in their presence. A sly, lanky, clean man with skull face paint. Should he feel strange? Perhaps this was just another mystical culture. He then looks at Lanara. "We thank you, Daesmondi." He then looks at the bracelet that was... chicken-feet? Surely Lanara knew something along the lines of this 'lucky charm'.

Krice dipped his head, agreeing with Talyara's next destination. " Sure," he said, moving with her by their linked hands toward the lycan and his own diminutive lady. Once close enough, he'd grant a single nod for both, his expression softening a touch for Loravelle - because she was a woman - though perhaps too subtly to notice. Talyara would be taking the lead for this conversation.

Lanara looks a little fearful of the dark-skinned stranger with a cane but her worries are put to rest once he presents her with a gift and offers his congratulations. “Welcome to the lands! I’ve lived here for about eight years and I can say that it’s different, but in the best of ways.” Lush lips curve into a silken smile as he mentions voodoo and bestows her with chicken feet and a bone bracelet. It’s not what she expected but her gratitude is genuine, “Thank you for the gifts. That’s very thoughtful.” She slips the bracelet onto her wrist in a show of acceptance and slips the chicken feet into Tiber’s pocket when he’s not paying attention.

Valrae nods with a sudden seriousness. “Okay, what am I drinking then.” Actually, she wasn’t very thirsty at all. And then he says something surprising, and her mouth parts in a small o of interest as she leans in close. Too close. “Why?” She says, blinking slowly. She didn’t seem to notice that Krice and Talyara had moved away just yet. Her attention was limited and it had all been focused on the archmage. “We can’t share secrets here,” She reminds him, her voice gently chastising, as if she assumed he might have wanted to speak of something related to their plans for Caluss or Quintessa.

Talyara didn’t want to intrude on Lora and Leo’s conversation with the new Queen and Royal Consort, so she sort of idly stood there and offered the couple a small wave. Should the bard catch her eye, she’d mouth a compliment about her attire, and offer a kind smile.

Daesmondi smiles at Lanara and Tiber and slyly mentions, "If ya ever be lookin for power from da voodoo, don't hesitate to give o'l Daesmondi a call eh?" He bows once again and turns to go back to the bar.

Lanlan is attempting to look into a mirror he just created, to scry into the stores hidden under the bar. Because that was indubitably where they were keeping the champagne fit for archmages and high priestesses. And then Cresente interrupts with the type of accostment Lanlan might expect from a guard designing on apprehending him. It causes a slight jolt in his shoulders, which only becomes more embarrassing when he actually issues him a compliment instead of admonishment. Lanlan looks sidelong and mischievously at him as he recovers, “One of the cooler gifts offered to the new royalty, I’m sure. It was nothing to lose for me, though…”

Gorehilt is on his way back to the fountain when he, in a moment of deep inward focus, catches Talyara's wave out of the corner of his eye. Was she... waving at him? It's really hard to tell in a crowd like this. She had to be waving at someone in front of him, or someone behind him. Hesitantly at first, then with courage and committed confidence, he waves back at the witch.

Leoxander had some pretty sharp ears, and when Krice and Talyara made their way over he caught the Enigma’s gold-speckled gaze with a slight raise of a brow clearly visible since some of his hair was drawn back and tied. “I hear that right? You walkin’ the plank, too?” Hopefully Loravelle limited the strength at which she might elbow him in the ribs if she heard his comment, lest he suffer a bruise at the hands of his wife-to-be’s wrath. His gaze was momentarily drawn in the distraction of gifted feet of fowl, but the pirate had seen stranger monetary in his days. Returning his attention toward the warrior and healer, he afforded the later a degree of respect in a nod to her, considering they had both saved his lover's life.

Loravelle hopes to come to Leo's rescue in time. Within the confines of that dress there is, as he or anyone who spent enough time around the couple, a flask of some drink for the pirate to drink from. She's quick to hand it over while suddenly overwhelmed as she and Leo are now crowded by people, or she hears their names on the lips of others. Her fingers tighten their grip around her fan as if it were a life line, and she trains her attention on Lanara and Tiber primarily. ...Is that an avian approaching them? Oh gods above... “Y-yes, it is -” she gently pats the side of her face at mention of Vinabre Cosmetics, since that's what she's wearing too. “I'm...not very good with makeup,” she softly admits to Lanara with a wry smile. Something to learn in another Swan lesson, someday! Tiber's comment is registered after she double takes at his and Leo's flirtatious banter, and she attempts to feign shock at their behavior, all while hiding the lower half of her face behind her fan to mask a grin and giggle. It's then that she notices Talyara, and she's quick to wave with her fan hand at the sweet witch healer that in essence saved her life. She seeks out Krice too, figuring she may as well wave at the warrior as well, and half expects his dark-haired companion...sibling? She isn't entirely sure, to appear somewhere. That thought has Lora sidling closer to Leo.

Lunalesca, again, gracefully glides up to the magical voice magnifying platform. The raven-haired fairy looks out to the crowd. “Now to announce the best dressed winner! The votes are in!” She exclaims in her chipper tone. Benedict hands her the envelope of the tallies of votes. There is anticipation as the fairy opens up the parchment to reveal the winner. “Everyone here is dressed extravagantly, but there can only be -two- winners tonight, and those winners are Lanlan and Loravelle! Congratulations! You have won yourself a glamorous stay in this very castle! Two separate suites, but also a span of twenty-four hours. A full itinerary will be given by our two royals through courier, so stay-tuned!” The fairy then grins out at the crowd. “Thank you all and enjoy the rest of the evening!” She then flutters down the stairs before continuing to mingle in the crowd.

Cresente nods approvingly at the man he will in later days find out was the Archmage of Xalious himself. When Daesmondi departs, he cuts in, holding a hand over his chest and offering a deep bow. "It is an honor to be in the presence of royalty. May you both lead long and prosperous lives, Queen Lanara, King Tiber."

Lanara blushes every time someone bows before her and feels compelled to curtsey back, but she thankfully refrains as she knows all eyes are judging her every move. Daesmondi leaves and she murmurs to Tiber, “He seems pleasant!” Chocolate eyes scan the crowd and widen slightly as they rest on Gorehilt, the orc that was held up at the entrance earlier for brandishing a weapon. He’s seemingly in a conversation with himself and she shakes her head, “We draw in all sorts, don’t we?” Lana takes a sip of her wine and links her arm through Tiber’s again as they walk through the crowd and prepare to congratulate Loravelle and Lanlan on their attire, “You both look wonderful! Congratulations!”

Krice arched a brow and, complete with the slightest tilt of his head, he looked a little bemused. " 'Walk the plank'?" He looked as though he had never heard such a phrase before, least of all attached to something positive. It sounded harsh and final. Shifting his gaze, he sought out an explanation from Talyara, or a deferral to be told later.

Lanara smiles at Cresente, “Thank you, Sir…?” He’s a new face in the lands, she assumes. Well-mannered and obviously Avian, so perhaps he lives in Schezerade. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

Krice also noted something about the competition that separated Loravelle from Leoxander, courtesy of her attire and Lanlan's. He didn't understand the pomp and circumstance surrounding such mini-games in life, but there it was.

Lanlan eventually finds something worthy of their tastes, and once he’s found it, he turns his attention back to Valrae. “Why? What do you mean why.” To him, it should be obvious. “Oh it’s no secret. Actually, very much the opposite. I want everyone to see us here together, and it would’ve been so much more if we arrived out of the same carriage.” Yes, because at events like these, there was nothing more important than showing off your status and power through clothes and company. “The Archmage of Xalious appearing alongside the Mayor and High Priestess of Cenril? What could demonstrate power more forcefully. And this is what we should drink.” He pours a new brand of bubbly champagne, poured out of a bottle that seemed to have been rescued from an emerald mine. Kasyr closed their eyes, entering a deep rest.

Leoxander shot a look in Lanlan's direction. They had -better- be separate suites, considering Loravelle's name was called out with his. He nudged the book keeper lightly and motioned toward the fairy that had passed along her crown. "Looks like I'm sleepin' with the mongrels, tonight."

Talyara’s cheeks heated with an even deeper blush as she shook her head at Leo, giving Krice a look that silently said she’d explain later. “No, no. My sister is just…um…” she wasn’t quite sure what to say, especially now that she was a Queen. “Excited. She thought Krice and I were engaged.” Awkwardly, Taly had, too, but thankfully did not verbalize that. “I wasn’t able to correct her before she started sharing the news.” As Lanlan and Loravelle are announced as winners, the witch beamed. “Congratulations! You always look so beautiful! Well deserved!” she gushed.

Loravelle hears her name announced over the crowd of people and feels her mouth go slack a second time. Lanlan very obviously is not Leoxander, so she looks with wide eyes at her fiance. Who in the world is Lanlan? She tries scoping out the Archmage when Lanara and Tiber congratulate him and she's simultaneously baffled and confused. They're going to stay. In the castle together? ...He's a drow, which isn't a problem. She spoke Drow. She's just poor with strangers and clamoring for a lifeline, now. Her hand tightens around Leo's once she can get it within her grasp. “No you aren't,” an extremely rare hiss out of the side of her mouth. Lora had plans that she didn't want to be dashed just yet. Maybe their stay at the castle will take place...another time? At least to give her and Lanlan time to mentally prepare…

Valrae leans against the bar and props her uninjured arm on top of it so she can rest her chin on her fist, pouting as Lanlan’s attention shifts to the tall avian who had appeared. Her leg and shoulder had begun aching terribly and she no longer felt like standing. The witch looks around for somewhere she might sit but is distracted again as Lan and Lora are announced as winners for a contest. The witch cheers this time, too loudly, and jostles her injured arm when she attempts to clap. Fresh tears fill her eyes and slip down her cheeks, leaving long lines of kohl down them as she smiles. It looks more like a grimace. “Congratulations!” She slurs, waving toward Lora with her unslung arm. And then Lanlan is speaking again, telling her that she should have arrived with him in a showy display of unity in power. She blinks at him, quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time as her face rearranges into dramatic sadness. “And if I wasn’t a High Priestess?” She asks, her tone sullen. There was blood, it had begun to seep through the bandage around her shoulder wound and ruin the white silk of her dress. “I guess you might have just wanted me to walk here on my own then,” She assumes, taking the drink from him and tipping it back as quickly as the first. “You’re a bad friend!” She asserts, setting the glass down on the bar so angrily that the stem shatters and she’s left holding the flute as she looks down in confusion.

Tiber appears a little miffed when the chicken feet are stuffed in his pocket. "Voodoo. Like the hoodoo? Pleasure, Daesmondi." He then gives the two finger send of salute before he is on to the next. He really is not sure where he is next. Everything was a blur right now until Lunalesca announces the winners of the contest and he is turning to see the Archmage and Loravelle are called for the itinerary. That might be an interesting dynamic, and a way to get to know the two a little more. He claps before he raises his glass at the winners. "Congratulations! Cheers!"

Gorehilt starts walking toward Talyara when, much too late, he begins to realize with anguished humiliation that Talyara was definitely not waving at him but, of course, at someone else in the crowd. Just in case she is still watching him, he makes a little show of laughing it off. What a comical misunderstanding! What a light, comedic error for one to commit! So relatable! So forgettable! Please kill me. That's three "L"s, Gore. You're really taking a beating tonight. Silently vowing to never attend a formal event again, at least not stag, Gorehilt wanders back toward the hors d'oeuvres to eat his feelings. Delicately, of course. We aren't total savages.

Leoxander would be distracted from his pinpointed look upon the drow to witness the witch break the glass and he instinctively raised the hand Loravelle didn’t have a death grip on as if to smother an exhaled chuff of laughter. Conveniently, he had the excuse of a natural cough to cover it up, his eyes starting to water a bit from the irritating unseen particles of pixie dirt in the air.

Krice's expression softened this time for Talyara's need to explain their situation, or specifically how uncomfortable it seemed for her. He hadn't corrected Valrae, rather focusing on her compliment of him with Talyara as a 'lovely pair'. Still... While she beamed at Loravelle for her best-dressed victory, he observed the woman silently, his features shadowed by thoughtful frown.

Daesmondi finishes his drink and sleekly walks to the doors of the castle to go home, feeling confident in getting what he came there for.

Loravelle is still looking thoroughly dumbfounded, but that isn't an excuse to be rude. "Th-thank you," she mutters to those that congratulate her. ...Does she walk over to Lanlan and say hello, or…

Lanlan :: To the side of him, Trish’s tail puffs up as she wiggles it indignantly. “We make quite the power couple.” Lanlan seems oblivious to this comment, as a moment later he’s announced to be the best dressed. It was an empirical fact as usual, but he is only very occasionally recognized. It was nice to be acknowledged. As if by chance (though it was his own doing) a shower of faerie fire falls around him, illuminating himself, Valrae, and anyone else in their immediate proximity in a brilliant magenta hue that seems to bring them into bright focus. Of course, the acknowledgement and appreciation was interrupted by Valrae’s melodrama. “Then you’d still be mayor and of course it would be just as powerful a showing?” Seconds later, he realizes this wasn’t the actual source of her copious emotions. “No Valrae, of course it’s because I’m your friend that I want this for us! And if you weren’t either of those things then…” He trails off as he notices the blood oozing out from the bandages on her wound. And what’s worse, everyone else is likely to notice too, thanks to his magical spotlight. He looks around and sees several pairs of eyes on him and her. “Would any of you be kind enough to get a healer instead of just gawking!? She’s -hurt-!” That's right. Turn the shame and embarrassment on them.

Lanara does her best to stifle a yawn, but she’s fairly certain that her husband and at least a dozen other people saw her eyes water and jaw clench. The anxiousness of the day has caught up with her, plus her feet are killing her in these three inch heels! Lunalesca approaches and pulls her in for a hug, whispering, “Why don’t you and Tiber head up to your royal suite? I can tend to things here until the party dies down.” Lana looks at her forever date and lets him decide, but she’s pretty sure they are both eager to party in private.

Gorehilt snaps his fingers. "Chodkapainka." That's it.

Talyara looked at Krice and her smile for Loravelle’s winning faded into a frown when she saw his own. She gave him a curious look but then a tingling in her wrist told her her bangle was getting full. They didn’t have much time. “We should get going,” she whispered to the warrior before leading him towards the exit. As they passed the refreshment table, the witch stumbled over her cape and accidentally knocked into Gorehilt. “So sorry!” she called over her shoulder as the couple made their way towards the exit.

Gorehilt said to Talyara, "You too."

Gorehilt furrows his brow. You too?

Krice was a little bit delayed, so Talyara turned away just a couple steps ahead of him. When he joined her, he was halfway through reaching for her cape when she tripped on it, thereafter grasping the loose fabric to prevent her from further mishaps. His eyes passed over Gorehilt, a familiar orc attached to a crazy incident up in Frostmaw, and he'd offer a nod as long as Gorehilt's reaction to Talyara's mishap wasn't negative. Once cleared of the group, he'd offer the woman his left elbow while keeping the tail of her cape pinched in that hand, allowing her easy progress from the room.

Loravelle 's stomach turns as Lanlan performs...magic. She's going to be stuck with someone that does magic for a whole day. She hasn't learned that he is in fact the Archmage, but the moment she discovers this she just might faint. Her hand tightens around Leo's and she has half a mind to steer him out of the building for the evening, but lingers for a moment longer. Just in case he wanted to get another drink or two before heading out.

Valrae continues her dramatic, heartbroken frowning at Lanlan, the pout broken only for a moment to blink dazedly at the magenta light he’d surrounded them with. “Oh the Perdere you do!” She argues, “If I was a no one still living on the streets you wouldn’t even speak to me.” Her voice was growing inappropriately loud. She tosses the broken flute on the bar and it clatters loudly, breaking as it lands behind the bar. The witch didn’t care. Her shoulder hurt. Her leg hurt. Her feelings suddenly hurt. The witches that accompanied her hurried over, also noting the blood that now seeped from her shoulder and thigh, likely her back as well but it was concealed by her cloak. This was troubling, as the wounds were fresh but should be closer to healing. One attempted to reach out to her and gently nudge her away from the bar but Valrae slaps her hand away with unnecessary force. “Don’t touch me!” She hisses. She’d always made a poor patient. “Valrae, lets not make a scene,” She says, clearly hurt by this action. The mayor pouts, casting Lanlan one last frown before she allows them to lead her out of the throne room and back toward the carriage. It would be a long ride back to Cenril.

Gorehilt tries to think of something better, but she's already on her way out, and he's stuck holding the buffet tongs in one hand, which, somehow, is actually better than running her down and saying something even more absurd. One thing is for certain. Gorehilt will be leaving this coronation ball with renewed arsenal of awkward memories to endlessly ruminate over for the next ten or twenty years. "So sorry. You too? No yeah," he mutters himself as he stacks a little pyramid of mini-quiches on a delicate crystal party saucer, "that doesn't work. Stupid. Stupid."

Tiber stares at the glow that Lanlan had cast around him, and when the drow tells them Valrae needs a healer, his eyes kind of grow wide for a moment. Perhaps there was a castle-worker around somewhere to come attend to the situation. Tiber narrows his gaze before tapping a server and pointing to the blonde and drow before turning to Lanara and Lunalesca. "I think I've had enough emotion this week to last a lifetime. I think it'd be good to get out of the light, as I am sure there will be more of it..." He then cants his chin towards Lanara, so they can sneak away--leaving Lunalesca to tend to the rest of the party.