RP:Royal Wedding Off the Scale!

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: King Macon weds Thane Josleen of Frostmaw. Shortly after they are married and the new Queen of Larket is crowned, an earthquake devastates the city.

• Rorin entertains violent thoughts throughout the party, doesn’t act on them which spares his date Raphaline (who was played by Rorin for the event) much embarrassment.
• Hudson, Valrae, Alvina, and Lionel get caught in a love rhombus. A pentagon is you count Irenic (who was played by Valrae for the event).
• Krice and Valen bring unexpected dates (Lita and Goren respectively).
• Alan gets drunk and has a good time.
• Hildegarde entertains making peace with Skylei.
• Mythayus and Macon plan to play rugby?
• Rynvalian noble Jesen rubs elbows.
• Leoxander and Eleanor (disguised as Red Naxoel and Rona Ele, respectively) pickpocket the crowd in the ensuing chaos.

Scroll down for the big and bolded text to read the extent of the earthquake damage.

Fort Freedom Throne Room, Larket

The Royal Wedding is open to the public, however it is impossible to plan a wedding for the a guest list of ????? people. The core of the wedding takes place closest to the thrones. Tables are set for 300+ invited guests to sit and dine, be waited upon by white-gloved staff, and enjoy the finest cuisine and drink that the continent has to offer. This area is cordoned off by red velvet rope and a ring of armored guard. Beyond this semi-circle of Larketian nobility, notable merchants, real housewives of Larket, and the King and Queen’s closest friends and family, is standing room only for the rest of the public. The standing room spills into the hallway beyond the throne room/banquet hall. There are no white-gloved waiters for the masses, simply a few staff members stationed behind a long line of buffet tables offering common food and drink. Near the thrones in the VIP section is a stage on which various headlining bards (Rijanna (slinky feline), Draque (hunky human), Beyonsey (dark skinned elf goddess), Nikki Mirage (illusionist of questionable origin and enormous assets/talent)) will perform. Seated at the largest table, and nearest to the stage and thrones, is King Macon and his bride Thane Josleen of Frostmaw. The VIP are free to come and go from the cordoned area to mingle with the underclass, but those not on the guest list cannot enter the VIP area. ooc note: Macon or I will tell you if your character is seated in the VIP section or enjoying this from the standing room masses. Josleen looks resplendent in white, perhaps a little too perfectly so. Indeed, one of the VIP guests is an illusionist hired for the occasion to lightly enhance Josleen’s appearance so that her make up never strays, her dress never wrinkles, and, should she dance, her hair never lose its immaculate coiffure. She greets her friends and family first (Skylei! Hildegarde! Alvina! Huds! Mom! Dad! Lionel!) then moves on to the dignitaries and deep pockets who expect a personal greeting from the queen to be. Gigi, the Prince Pooch, wears a light blue formal bowtie that matches Maid of Honor Skylei’s expensive couture dress. He is the only pet allowed in the wedding.

Macon is once again inside the Rage Armor for an important event. The silver shell is perfectly shined and finally free of the hex Thronnel had placed on it which led to the king having his leg broken during the battle at the bridge. The Marble Crown of Larket rests precariously atop his head and to mark this as an extra special occasion, the king sports a very regal cape in the colors of Larket. Other than that accessory and the lack of Rage Axe, Macon should be very comfortable, as he often dresses this way daily. Close to The Rage Knight are several off duty, or perhaps undercover Kingsguard, complementing the armored ones that roam and protect the VIP area. Also of note, the young Headmaster of The Academy of Magics, Percival is placed near the king. The blonde half-elf is in his finest mages robes with Larketian insignia and all that stuff. He is somewhat fascinated by the illusionist actively correcting the Queen to be’s appearance and might be mistaken for ogling Josleen while observing the delicate magic at play on her person. Augusta, Macon’s very elderly mother from across the sea, is, of course, dressed in all black in not so subtle protest. Her son is a king. He deserves the very best. Why isn't he marrying the -Queen- of Frostmaw? She still doesn't know what the heck a Thane is. From her position among other close family and friends of the bride and groom, Augusta expertly orders around and berates servants while always on the lookout for someone she can gain the ear of to complain about some aspect of Lithrydelian life that compares unfavorably to her Veratoakan standards. Macon greets who he is meant to, VIPs and the like, especially those from Frostmaw without whom this wedding is not taking place. He somehow manages not to growl when receiving Hildegarde, Lionel, and combatants of note in the war that so recently ended. The King of Larket is calm as the guests flow in and the food and music commence around him in the Larketian tradition of party first, ceremony later.

Lionel can scarcely believe he’s here. Just weeks ago, he led a preemptive strike against the full brunt of King Macon’s war machine with intent to kill or otherwise incapacitate the man. Issues have only accelerated since. The peace treaty, such as it is, has been signed. The conditions have been established. Josleen is to become Larket’s queen. Every aspect causes Lionel unease, but Hildegarde’s wisdom is clear: whatever happens next, Frostmaw must be ready. And so it is that Lionel stands, better-dressed than ever before and tapping into decades of finely-honed theatrics to maintain a pleasant forced smile. He stands near the queen as they enter, his Knight-Commander’s vambrace shining brightly over the regal red dress uniform he’s had selected for him. His best troops, all but one of them held back in the standing room, have made sure to take in what they can about the various tactical decisions involved in closed-quarters warfares here -- should the need arise. Rorin, on the other hand, has been given the VIP treatment. Lionel hopes no blood will be shed here today. He is not a warmonger, and he has been made to believe that this event is in the realm’s best interests -- until, inevitably, it isn’t. When Macon approaches Hildegarde, Lionel tenses and his masterful smile slips into something slightly less convincing. He isn’t quite sure whether it’s real or psychosomatic but he still feels that dark aura emanating from the Rage Knight. Does anyone else sense it but him? If not, perhaps it truly is imagined, but there’s nothing false about what the Hero of Hellfire felt when he clashed with the man at the Battle for the Bridge. The tension subsides, if only just, when Macon exits the queen’s presence. This is going to be a heck of a thing, these next several months. A heck of a thing.

Jesen Phenthae, youngest son of the noble house Phenthae, of Rynvale should be used to such fancy occasions, but he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior and rather caught off guard by the sudden invite he has gotten simply by his status as a noble, to this royal wedding. In truth, the high elf was looking to speak to the new king, but when addressed by the guards at the bridge, he informed him of who he was, and told to go here. Assumptions, he presumes? But, being a noble has to come with some form of benefit. right? Either way, the ranger and his closest friend, Sarada, are ushered forth into the VIP section, to where the elf knows absolutely no one. He thinks he sees, maybe, one or two people from his dealings in Cenril, and stopping Desparrow, but he can't tell. So, for now the man simply shuffles about, swept up in the grand nature of this event.

Rorin arrived without fanfare and precedent. He was unrecognizable to most of the populace and all but a few here. While the aspiring paladin normally wore a full helm in battle and spoke through a mask with a tin and gravel tone here he was young and fresh . His normally messy black hair was parted and combed, shining a lively blue in the light. His face held no mark of weather war or time and so it was difficult to say if he was the son of a noble or perhaps a forever young elf by the point of his ears. His grey eyes shone clearly on the many gathered changing from an apathetic glance to a furious jaw clenching glare as they swept over the king and queen. Thoughts boiled inside him but a deep breath kept him quiet. Around his shoulders a cloak trailed made from the fur of a white dire wolf. It had been clipped to very regal shoulder pads, and the center was shaved to patch with heraldry. A shield cut in threes shown the symbol of Arkhen over the snow griffon of Frostmaw next to the symbol of Lionels Catalian Army. The symbols invoked imagery of a knight, perhaps one of well standing, though that may seem impossible to the guests for his age. Around his collar a pin stuck denoting placement in some tournament. On his torso he had clasped a silver embroidered waistcoat with the belts buckled across his chest and leaving the tails to fall about. Only one side of his collar stood up and the ruffles made it seem like the boy dressed himself. A nice pair of formal slacks tucked into frostmaw blue boots, while similiar gloves rested one on the hip of a ceremonial blade and the other around the arm of the bard Lady Raphaline whome walked with him. In ceremony and standing he seemed quite noble, with a scowl on his face for one reason or another, burningly observant as he stared at the processions. Whoever he was for those that did not know him, this boy seemed one of Frostmaws top combatants possibly even of regal status. And he was not having fun.

Hudson and Alvina had arrived in black-tie attire, with some difficulty had woven their way through the crowd to the bouncer, whereupon they were directed past the masses to the roped-off VIP section of this event. Hudson will spare all a description of his tux because it is fairly run-of-the-mill, perhaps Alvina will be more generous insofar as her fancy dress is concerned. They're seated at their table with a cluster of Josleen's hot nurse friends (and + 1s), some of whom Hudson knows from back in the day. Everyone makes their introductions and makes an effort at chatter about the live acts, but this basic attempt at wedding socializing breaks down when Josleen and Macon start circulating. "Congratulations. You look great," he tells Josleen, as he's petting Gigi, who is aggressively getting dog hair all over his pants. Gigi's interest in their friendship wanes the second a catering guy offers him chicken off a stick. Now that the room is filling up, it's getting loud, and he puts an arm around Alvina as he leans close to inform her: "I need to piss again, I'm gonna do it before Rijanna. I'll get you a drink. What do you want?"

Valen would walk through the doors, head up, shoulders back, looking perhaps the most radiant that he had in years. Hair had been done to give off that certain crimson shine, lashes touched up, and a -magnificent- dress. It was by no means more radiant than that of Josleen, a woman whom he admired very deeply during their many talks in the most recent of days. He was happy for them both yet still felt somewhat torn about certain events, but the fact of the matter is that this was to be a happy day, and he intended to enjoy it to it's fullest just as much as he knew that Macon and Josleen would, hopefully. His dress was long and flowing, Intricate sequin mesh overlays purple silk. The collar and under bust belt are decorated with teal jewels and golden filigree. The sleeves are made of organic pin tucked ombre silk that flutters with each step. They are held to his arm with a series of flower and jeweled elastic bands, and tucked neatly in one arm was perhaps a most peculiar site. It was an arm, that belonged to a gentleman, an undead. "Goren I want to thank you again for coming with me.." he would say softly, his countenance positively sparkling. As they moved towards where the rest of the VIP's went, he would make sure to curtsie to both Lady Josleen and her Husband to be, King Macon...no doubt exchanging pleasantries. The Vampire would even give the King's mother the same courtesy, as he viewed her to be a vision of the power behind the once single throne, for what mother held no sway over their son except in the matters of love? The mingling could begin later, but first he had wanted to pay the proper respect on this, their special day.

Hildegarde is accompanied by her Knight-Commander, bedecked in truly Frostmawian fashion. She is a true Warrior Queen: her grey clothing is given bursts of colour with its white fur trim, shades of light blue, dark blue and just a dash of black in the insignia of Frostmaw which seemed to be made up of dyed chainmail. Not only was it fashionable in Frostmaw, it clearly said to the outsiders that this formal attire was quite fit for battle. When Hildegarde calmly greets Macon, she quickly averts her gaze to seek out Josleen who is not hard to find. Beautiful in her white gown, the Silver cannot help but smile fondly over at her. She is pleased for her close friend, yet there is some mistruth to that smile. A part of her is not happy. With the polite hellos out of the way, Hildegarde moves to take her place at the high table where she will surely prove to Augusta why she is a poor choice for Macon. Even in her fashionable furs and cloths, she is an ugly woman: brutally scarred, muscular and bulky, she does not have what most would consider a womanly figure. “Do you see anything good?” she asks Lionel quietly, vaguely gesturing towards some food.

Alvina had worn the dress Josleen had sent, as a designated bride's maid. The crisp light blue fabric of her dress makes Hudson's tux look more common place somehow. What is this thing made out of? Hudson hadn't complained the whole way here, and the bard can only assume it's because it's for Josleen (AND there are so many hot women, everywhere, performing, sitting next to them...). Her normally tumbling crimson locks are pulled back in a smart (and tight) braided bun, minimal make up game here. How they got here earlier enough to part the sea of people to get inside is beyond her. She stands and faux kisses Josleen's cheeks as she approaches with Macon, saying all the things your girlfriends say at your wedding. You look great in that dress, your hair is sublime, etc etc. Hudson offers to get her a drink and that sounds fantastic right now.

Goren was practically dragged along, lost in awe as he looked about the room, the undead of course, wearing the only clothes he had since his rising, the tattered robes contrasting starkly against his surprisingly well repaired cloak, the awe-drunk daze being shaken off as the undead nods, "Not a problem." He mumbles as he looks about, of course, he was given a rather large berth, as one would expect from most people in reaction to seeing a moving corpse, a few scoffs and wayward glances being thrown towards him, not that he noticed. Between his date, the room itself and the over-abdundance of minds to probe, he was positively spoilt for choice, though of course, he did manage a semi-awkward bow as the chains inside his clothes rattled when the vampire curtsied, Goren's hands stretching and flexing as he leans in close, "These people here sure give you a wide birth. Do they not like the dress?"

Leoxander , well disguised, managed to blend in with the crowd arriving. Forfeiting his usual suspicious expression and crossed arm stance to square shoulders back, he maintained a thoughtful and stoic expression, and absently toy with a pocket watch on chain which contained more than a timepiece. In a bored looking and subtle fashion, blue eyes grazed across the scene to observe the persons gathered, the position of guards - on duty and a few expected off, but taking notice of the more important looking subjects including the mournful matron dressed in black. But of all these things, it was the sight of the 'prince' in the blue bowtie that really caught his attention, caused the lift of a brow, and then 'Red' lifted his eyes to the Queen to be and almost lost his calm composure. A slight squint of his eyes, and despite the very different style of Josleen's attire and her very friendly and kind attitude, there was that memory of a red wig burned into his mind. So this... was the famous Josleen. His stare moved casually to Macon, before he reached to take hold of 'Rona's (Eleanor) hand and bowed his head toward her to press his lips to the back of it, in order to murmur privately without being too obvious with his words.

Alan stands with his back at the nearest wall..."pft " marriage he says. never have i ever seen a bigger farce. Alan only being here for the booze and food.

Josleen isn’t quite sure what to do with her face. Among the guests there are so many factions who expect a different performance out of her. From Frostmaw, the envoy expects their Thane to dutifully and graciously wed King Macon, ideally with a false note in her smile and no glimmer of love in her eye. Those from Larket are largely split into two equals camps: there are those who look forward and lose themselves in the fantasy of a king and queen in love, and there are those who look backwards and see Josleen only as Kelovath’s accomplice who is now reluctantly conquered by their powerful King. Then there are her closest friends and family who have come to support her in whichever way she moves forward in this marriage, but all of whom have been kept in the dark about her secret affair with the King. Even Skylei is clueless. And finally there is Macon himself who may reasonably expect her to be thrilled at the prospect of marrying him, and indeed, privately, she is. Thus anyone watching Josleen closely (Percival?) may be confused by the various expressions that cycle on the actress’s face. In short, she looks overwhelmed and uncomfortable, anxious and eager to leave her own wedding. She’s a woman bred to please--and look here, it sure has gotten her far--but today, it’s impossible to please a crowd so politicized as this. At most parties, she would be the first to the dance floor and last to leave, but today, on her day, she lingers on the edges of crowds faking her way through niceties. She avoids her mother-in-law, Augusta, as tactic to ensure time does not slow to a grim crawl. When possible, she stands or sits alone and watches cufflinks and elbows rub. She stands now watching Macon interact with a noble Larketian couple. The first hints of a genuine smile thin her lips. Her hips start to sway a little to the beat, the movement small and restrained. She’d like to dance, but with who? And besides, she simply can’t shake this strange spell that has come over her.

Krice was dressed in an all-black suit--maybe also to protest the wedding, maybe simple because he always wore black--with a silk shirt smoothly tucked into his trousers, a dark-grey tie notched under its closed collar, and further obscured by a fitted, pressed jacket. He wore comfortable boots as opposed to dress shoes, polished to perfection - without the use of magic. Undoubtedly Josleen's shifting - however subtle - appearance drew his eye above the heads of other people present, or -past- the heads of any Frost Giants who saw fit to come to this event, but Macon's greeting caught his attention next. The warrior acknowledged the King with simply a glance--Josleen a more forgiving and slightly saddened one--and nothing more as he stepped deeper into the room, a raven-haired woman at his right side with her arm around his elbow. Against his left hip sat his newest katana, the sheath equally polished for appearance purposes. Unlike Lionel, the silver-haired enigma didn't put up a front for pleasantries, though he -was- guarded. -Like- Lionel, he had experienced the Battle of the Bridge so very recently and the events surrounding the battle were still sharp and fresh in his mind. He noticed the Knight-Commander and his apparent reinstatement as he scanned the room for familiar faces, a nod given the other male should he look his way. Briefly, Krice's attention drifted over Rorin and Raphaline, lingering on the latter, before he observed Hildegarde's interaction with the King and Queen-To-Be. Ushered into the V.I.P section, the black-clad warrior lead his Plus-One through the crowds to be seated at a table yet to be completely filled and further back from the two thrones - something he would not complain about. A moment was spared as the presence of an effeminate vampire and his undead escort seemed to cause a stir among some people. Krice looked their way, scrutinizing Goren more than Valen, for obvious corpsly reasons, before he returned his attention to the task at hand. Unfurling his arm from Lita's, he pulled back a chair for her to take a seat, and if she met his gaze, she'd be the recipient of a softer smile that warmed his eyes and touched the corner of his mouth.

Rorin avoided Macon with a passion and gravitated towards Lionel. He would take a moment to lean over and whisper to a servant before standing idly by.

Mythayus would enter quietly and alone. He was wearing a wonderful designed nobleman’s outfit in darker shades of blues and trimmed in silver. A smile confident smile on his face. His blue hue danced across the area looking for any signs of danger or something that could go wrong. He couldn’t help it thinking about his own wedding and its horrifying end. He’d offer a bow to both the king and queen to be. Then make his way to his place in the VIP area. He would greet Hildegarde, and the other Frostmawians. He found it hard to enjoy himself and anxiety bare it’s weight on his chest, but he nevertheless kept a smile on his face and would listen to anyone who wanted to speak with him.

Eleanor lingered near 'Red's' side, appearing more or less a trophy in a sleek, slinky black dress that hugged her curves; gone were the rogue's tattoos and diadem in favor of smooth skin and raven-black hair pulled into loose waves and a deep side part. As her glass-green eyes wandered around in an overly-bored manner, she picked out a few familiar faces in the crowd -- Lionel, Hudson, Alvina, Skylei ... it would be best if 'Rona' kept her distance from them, at least for the time being. As 'Red' took her hand, she turned into him, a spark of surprise and worry briefly darkening her gaze; her jaw tightened, but she pulled a warm smile to those full lips and leaned into the 'tax collector', a lingering kiss at his cheek as she murmured a few words back to him in private.

Rorin eyed the gift table for guests. Paperweights? Violent thoughts crossed his mind while he handled one and with a great amount of restraint tucked it into his pocket.

Lionel does as bid -- he glances about the wedding halls. He feels awkward, seated here in a place of high honor in the throne room of his would-be enemies. HIs shirt feels stiff but it had only just been fitted; surely, it’s fine. His lips purse and he clears his throat, surveying the fine cuisine and choice beverages being served about by those well-mannered white-gloved waiters. Several things look appealing, actually. Roast meats, seasonal vegetables, bread that looks baked as if from the heavens’ own furnaces. As his eyes wander, he notes Krice, and nods back. Lionel fails to mask a note of surprise, seeing the warrior here. But he’s glad, just the same. Rorin and Raphaline are seen, Valen is seen, Hudson is seen. Lionel latches on to Hudson for a few seconds, his heart skipping as he realizes the implication. Sure enough, not so far away from the man, Alvina Liadon. Lionel’s cheeks flush red and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Pasta,” he answers the queen. “I see pasta. Shall I fetch some?”

Rorin picked up a plate and slapped food on without looking. He put his teeth to work where grinding them in silent fury meant something other than destroying his jaw. Quietly the waitress came back with his drink. Rorin took the bottle of bourbon and poured himself a wine glass full. His stare alone was like a lance that dared others to say something.

Valen would have taken note of a few things at this shindig. The first, he could sense heartbeats and could pinpoint where each one was coming from. Krice's stood out the most in this time, and he had turned just in time to catch the look, a friendly nod was given, before another caught his ears. The beat was unmistakeable as he had just heard it the night prior, and his eyes narrowed as he could only assume that the Lycan, who had taken him dress shopping, who had said he would -not- be present, was. Regardless of that fact, as he had very little time for liars and falsifiers, he had a mission and that was to have fun, with his date, even though it be an undead. At Goren's question a soft giggle would be given before shaking his head. "Honestly, at this point, I don't care if they dont like the dress or not. the fact is, rather right now, I can actually feel...free." A bit of a cliche' statement but it most certainly was the truth. Hell, he hadn't really even worn a dress in front of maybe all but two people, maybe three. The music, like it had with Josleen, was starting to fill his spirits and idly wondered if it would be too much to ask for a dance from the soon-to-be-queen of Larket, or even a dance with the king. A glance would be cast in their direction, before he shook his head and looked to the male at his side, leaning in to give a soft whisper. (Do...Do you dance? I think people may start dancing later...)

Jesen picks up on some gossip here and there, informing him of the recent battle and sudden peace slightly. Mixed in with talks of how splendid Josleen looks, what the babies are gonna look like, and the usual talk at weddings, Jesen is informed of Lionel's presence, as well as Hidlegarde's. Of course the Queen of Frostmaw would make an appearance, but the previously unexplained slight tension he felt by the mix of Larketian and Frostmawian(sp?) people is at least explained. As to why, he couldn't tell you, because war is common in the land of war, and Larket has never been a stranger to it either. But it seems on the surface to be over, and this King Macon has naught but the well wishes of his people. Taking a bottle of beer from the server, Jesen pops it open and takes a swig. He was never the wine type. He continues to sit back and enjoy the climate for now, though he watches the ongoings with a careful eye nonetheless.

Hildegarde pulls a face when Lionel says there is pasta. Pasta. She makes a face that’s sort of a confused frown crossed with ‘really?’, “Why don’t you fetch drinks instead?” she tells him, “I best mingle,” she rises from her seat and pats his shoulder as if to usher him off. As if a dragon would want only pasta! The buffet is a decent meal for Hilde alone. Self-consciously, she briefly dusts her tunic and glances around. Josleen is dancing alone. Should she intervene? Or is that too much? With a grunt, the Silver takes a nervous-then-confident step towards Josleen. “Jos,” she hails, offering her a tiny wave of her hand to catch her attention. “You look beautiful,” she compliments with a little smile. “It looks like a grand ceremony.”

Hudson , with his marching orders, peels away from Alvina, leaving her chatting with Josleen with the table of hot nurses, and makes his way to the men's room. This is some fancy men's room, there's like deodorants and colognes laid out. Hudson pees at the last urinal in the row, and then an old guy rolls up and takes the urinal right next to him and commences making the most awkward conversation about how much older Macon is than Josleen. It goes like this: "Do you think he takes essence of centaur to get the job done tonight? When I was his age....." Hudson cannot finish pissing fast enough. Unsubscribing from this unsavory discussion regarding Macon and Josleen the living Cialis commercial, Hudson makes his way to the bar, it's a sea of men over there, and rapidly encounters several acquaintances from his sports activities. Cue dog at a dog park mode, a chorus of men exclaiming "Heeeeeyyy!!!!" at one another. All of them want to congratulate him on the birth of his daughters. The sum of this unscheduled masculine celebration is that Hudson is more or less forced to imbibe several shots of alcohol before he manages to peel away with drinks for himself and Alvina. Alright, he can't find her at the moment but surely he's just got to roam about the room for a bit. Double-fisting, he wanders over to a guard who's posted along the velvet rope, surely he'll see Alvina from this vantage point. "How many people are here?" he asks, making small talk and sipping from his whiskey.

Rorin scowl seemed to intensify somehow but this time the fault was his own. He had accidentally picked goose liver paté to grind his teeth on and currently struggled not to vomit.

Goren looks at Krice as the gaze falls upon them, leaning in again, "See. People are judging you." He gestures to the glance from the male towards the pair, his glowing eyes still scanning around as he clings onto the vampire's arm firmly, though he was light, his grip had a fair amount of strength behind it, "There are lots of people here. Lots of minds. Lots of information." He gently kicks his robe as the chains in his clothes rattle softly, unsure if he could hold back from occasionally just stealing a memory from someone nearby every now and again, his hand seeming to have a mind of it's own as he snaps back to reality, looking at the vampire, "Dance? I might of danced at one stage." He just looks around at the group, unaware that he wasn't really whispering, "The people here look much too fat and pompous to partake in dancing anyway."

Macon hadn't expected Valen to show up in a dress, nor with a rotting corpse, and so it takes him a moment or two to realize just who it is he is greeting when the vampire has his turn for face time with the king and queen. He growls out some half question like 'Valen..?' before looking over his shoulder for Percival and just having to move onto the next set of guests to be seen. Macon has experience with Josleen's need to put on her various acts for the different groups present, and was expecting as much from her today of all days. He gives her the space a captive queen to be might need while stealing silent glances her way when he thinks no one of importance is looking. He catches her swaying to the music alone and takes a step her way, but Hildegarde beats him there. It is for the best, however as he is swarmed by more Larketian dignitaries and a few Frostmawians even that he met during his trip up to the Kingdom of War to attend the mass funeral for those that fell in the battle at the bridge.

Alvina || Josleen has wandered off the greet the next wave of VIP guests and Alvina of course understands. Then Hudson walks away to go...do whatever it is that he is doing, she flags down a waiter and orders some wine. Several glasses rest on the serving tray and she asks for two. Just in case. She'd seen Hudson at parties and knew he'd likely be gone for a while...he'd probably go to shots at the bar, and flirt with some hot women (BUT CLEARLY NOT TOUCH THEM) and return just in time to see Rijanna take the stage. Hildegarde is noted with a smile, and nearby it seems the former(?) Knight- Commander is at her side. Perfect! She turns back to the table, fidgitting with the rim of her wine glass and examining her table mates. They all knew each other and were engaged in the latest gossip (about things the bard had never heard of, people and places even?). They seemed with it. Alvina felt anything but.

Valrae arrived early and uneventfully with her escort, Irenic. They had settled close to the front of the crowd and she was laughing at something he'd whispered in her ear, chin own. Her skin was pearled, her cheeks brushed pink; she wore no jewelry and none of her usual kohl. They'd both dressed in shades of deep, dark blue. Her dress was indigo and midnight silk, with a high collar and lace accented bodice. Suddenly she glanced around, pleasure still teasing her lips and lighting her face, eyes sparkling dark, a heavy golden curl slipped from it's pin. They had been watching the goings on of the privileged guests. It surprised the witch to see Lionel, the man she'd met in a Xalious tavern, dressed so importantly and standing with someone she was relatively sure was a Queen. Huh! So he was important after all. Her skirts rustled with movement as she broke away from her date who had sweetly offered to fetch her refreshments. With guilt rising like knot in her throat, she picked through the crowd until she stood opposite of Hudson on her side of the red velvet rope and stage whispered, "Psst, who do you have to hex to make it past theses guys?"

Josleen blinks when Hildegarde waves in her direction as if being woken out of a daydream. “Oh, thank you.” She smiles reflexively, but there’s no energy in her bones. “It is, it is,” she says as she looks around the crowd and silver and gold and rich food and ample staff. “I didn’t have to plan a thing, and yet somehow felt I’ve done nothing but plan for this for a week.” Over Hildegarde’s shoulder she spies Skylei mingling with Larket Academy of Magic’s gaggly of tenured professors. “Have you spoken to Skylei yet?” She expects a ‘no’ given the strain between Skylei and Hildegarde. “She’s doing much, much, much better.” Meaning: since she was tortured and put into a coma for 6 months. “I think she’s finally -really- ready to move on with her life. Forgive the past, you know?” Maybe forgive Hildegarde, or so Josleen hopes.

Lionel had kind of hoped Hildegarde would decline. In a sense, she has, since his mission is now the acquisition of drinks, not carbs. This is fine. “Right, mingling,” he nods in the affirmative. “Yes, my queen. Mingling.” He watches her leave, his heart racing further with every step she takes. Rorin looks positively charmed, he reflects dryly. Right fine thing, that. Very good. Lionel stands, although he feels a bit disoriented in standing. There’s an easy path through the hubbub toward a drink station without running into Alvina and Catal’s last prince fully intends to take it. WIth this in mind, he walks. Briskly. Too briskly. He nearly bumps into a couple of guests in the walking, unnatural for the man who is generally so adept at deft footing. He’s definitely headed in a direction quite well wayward of the engineer. Definitely. Certainly. Except for some reason he isn’t. Now why is that? He was sure his brain had told his legs where to go. Did dimensions shift? Did he enter a paradox? Lionel does not have answers to these questions for bald men with thinking caps. Lionel is just a man, tragically in love. He’s stepping past Alvina before he knows it and this is fine. Everything is fine. Will she see him? What matter if she does! But a damned waiter intervenes. “Greetings, Ser Lionel,” the waiter says, recognizing him from who-knows-where. Wonderful. Just frakking wonderful. “Hi,” Lionel replies, the world’s worst formal talker. “Refreshment?” “Yeah.” “Very good.” “Thanks.” Lionel takes two. He turns to leave but a flock of very important denizens has inadvertently cut his path. He’s trapped. It’s a bit like the suffocating crush back during the war, except this time he isn’t going to die. Or is he? Who can say? Not Lionel, that’s for sure. Boy, is his heart racing. There are too many people in every direction and Alvina’s table is the only safe harbor. “Aw heck,” he murmurs. “Aw heck.”

Lita had bought a fancy dress in Frostmaw. A sleeveless steel blue number with a plunging neckline that suddenly made her uncomfortable amidst so many people she did not know. Why had she wanted to come to this thing again? Because it was a celebration and fun. It still felt a little strange to be wearing shoes- dark gray boots- and she was already wondering if people might notice if she kicked them off under a table someplace. Discreetly. She squeezed Krice's arm gently, following him through the room and grateful he knew where they were supposed to go. Dark eyes scanned the room, searching for other familiar faces but there were few. The royal couple were a radiant sight, to be certain and she smiled softly. She glanced sideways at Krice as he drew his arm away from her and it took her a moment to realize he'd found their table apparently. She'd been distracted. With a little smile of thanks she'd take the offered seat, glancing around at others at the table. She was grateful to see Hudson making usual rounds and lifted a hand to hopefully catch his attention with a wave.

Rorin manages to assuage his aching face for a moment while he approaches lionels presence. "So what exactly are we supposed to do with ourselves?" The squire asks with only a tinge of annoyance. He had little plans to mingle. Perhaps just being seated would do.

Leoxander played the part well, lips lingering near the rise of Rona's cheek as though the two were exchanging loving compliments. Perhaps a heartbeat was familiar, but nothing else about Red's appearance or behavior would be. Releasing the dark haired woman's hand, the stranger made his way toward designated seating, or standing space if such was the case, taking in details of the throne room and casually helping himself to one of the marble favors from the table along the way. Pocket watch replaced, he absently tested it's weight in hand while searching the surfaces for gifts, searching wrists for jewelry, belts weighed by easily accessible gold, and so on. Still, there was nothing suspicious about this man taking in the extravagant scene and so much display of finery in with so much luxury to look at and so many distractions surrounding him.

Lita admires Valen's dress from across the room. She could never be bold enough to attempt such a vibrant number and he's managed it impeccably well.

Rorin looked at Lionel curiously. "You look oddly nervous. Got somewhere to be Commander?" Rorin followed his eyes. Too many people the young man didn't know.

Mythayus would give a slight snicker at Macon’s response to Valen. It did amuse him. He’d bring a gloved hand to face and move his bangs from his face, only to have then fall back in to place. He looked at the scowling Rorin and lean over to him, “You know if you keep making that face, it’ll stay that way…” He’d continue to survey the area. He wanted this day to be a good one for the King and Queen to be. He always felt so awkward at social events. Mingling wasn’t his strong suit.

Hildegarde glanced over her shoulder when Josleen mentioned Skylei’s willingness to forgive. A glance of the bridesmaid was enough to make her question that willingness to forgive. “Perhaps I will talk to her,” she said quietly. “Maybe after.”

Valen would have given a soft nod, perhaps a smirk, to Macon at the question of if that was actually him, before being glad that he had decided to move doen the bench, so to speak, undead in tow. His eyes however would go wide as his question was answered, a quick look around, before a hand would go to cover Goren's mouth, gently, though in a pleading and hissing whisper "Shh! Don't...focus on that just..." Ugh, he facepalms, certain that this was going to end up being more work than it needed to be but at the same time he was still glad that at least someone had said they would come with him. Had he known that such comments might be made, he would have gone over proper etiquette for a royal wedding first and foremost. "Never say something like that again...Just...not here, please?" Eyes would wander once more and at spying Valrae, a smirk crossed his eyes also caught Irenic, not that he was surprised to say the least, but turned his attention back to Goren. "If I go and get you a drink...You think you can behave for just five minutes...?" It was laced with charm, poise, and a bit of playfulness. "Just tell me what you want and I'l go get it for you."

Rorin finally notes... oh gods no. Valens dress looked pretty on him but when did he meet the talkative corpse? Rorin nearly choked. Who even let Goren in?

Krice scanned his surroundings as he took a seat beside Lita, with his chair turned toward hers, his right side by the edge of the table. Interlocking his fingers loosely between his knees, the warrior noted not only his companion's apparent familiarity with Hudson - to whom he gave a nod - but also to the positions of the guards, the location of Macon and Josleen--he couldn't see them both at -all- times--and the new arrivals kept him busy. And then Skylei walked into his line of sight and he managed to catch himself staring before it got awkward; he hadn't seen her since before her captivity in the Underdark, courtesy of -his- captivity in the Underdark, and she seemed to be doing well for herself. This turned his expression wistfully relieved before he diverted his focus to Lita once more. Just as he parted his lips to speak, a waiter arrived at their table, beside them, and lowered a tray on which several tall-stem glasses stood; some with dark wine, others with red, a few with white. "Refreshments?" Krice shook his head, " No, thanks," and waited for Lita to take a drink of decline before he would attempt speaking again. A whiff of lycan... Lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, the warrior searched the room coolly without obvious eagerness but his eyes did not confirm what his sensitive nose knew to be present. Was he getting sick?

Macon somehow manages to make it over to Mythayus after apparently breaking away from every other person in Larket. With the king are not Kingsguard, but another small group that he wishes to recruit the dragon into. Introductions are made between the rugby club and the former Larketian sheriff. Some of the boys complain about games being cancelled because of war and weddings and broken royal legs, and others wonder how fair it might be for a dragon to join the team. At least he is on our side is the shared sentiment that is doubly true given his aerial assistance in the battle that saw to the end of the Frostmaw/Larket War.

Alvina was half way through her first strawberry wine when Lionel whizzed by, too quickly for her to ignore. Or was it Lionel? Maybe it was her imagination? Clearly. Because the walker is now gone, there's some noise and talking but she can't really pull anything out of it. She looks at her wine glass again, expecting the liquid to ripple in a way that might show her the future or the past or something of relevance. It remains pink wine, and she drains the glass with mild disappointment. Good thing she had gotten two, where was Hudson with her drink? What was taking him so long..? As the bard stands to look around, she spins and bumps right into Lionel, who appears to have known about the crash ahead of time...because he looked very much like a deer caught in front of a carriage, eyes wide and white with unease. Lucky for Hudson, Lionel is blocked Alvina's view of him. Standing there with two glasses of ..something? She blinks, mouth slightly agape with no words to say and promptly sits herself back down forcefully in her chair and pretends she saw absolutely nothing and absolutely no one. Alvina is fine, and completely drains her second wine glass. Damn

Hudson had seen Lita from afar and waved at her, his expression lighting up with pleasure at bumping into her here. He'll have to introduce her to Alvina. Speaking of, he still can't find Alvina... or their table, even... when he's pulled out of his conversation with the guard by the sound of a woman's voice. A familiar voice. He turns and his face briefly freezes in wild-eyed shock. "Wow," he exhales. "What are you doing here?" he asks her, making efforts to temper his expression. He glances around for Alvina again. Still no idea where she is, there are too many people. He turns his body toward the commoner section to better talk to the witch, letting the guard get on with his patrol and guarding business. "You look beautiful," he says automatically, as if it inconvenienced him to admit it. It's awkward now, the awkwardness is like a spilled drink. "So... Where's your man?" he asks her, trying to fix things. "Everything..... good?"

Goren scratches his chin as he nods, "I'm always on my best behaviour!" He looks about, already planning his brief route through the crowd to get as much contact as he could in the brief window the vampire was offering, his hand tracing the familiar runes on his own side as he tried to figure out the best course of action, "I will have.... Anything that can leave me on the floor if I was still alive." He nods rapidly, gently pushing the vampire towards the bar, "Quick, go before I say something to embaress you further." He grins that wide grin, he was always smiling anyway, but he certainly had a hint of deviousness about him at the moment, "Trust me~"

Lionel turns to Rorin, who has somehow manages to skillfully weave his way inside this great unfathomable barrier of people with practiced grace. Is it possible that Lionel is imagining things? “Ah, I’m fine, we’re all fine. Where’s your date?” He smirks. In that priceless little moment, Alvina slams into him. He is every bit the deer-in-carriage-light now, yes. He watches her sit back down. He cannot take his eyes off of her downing her wine wordlessly in a single gulp. “That seems like the best idea I have ever, ever seen,” the Knight-Commander notes to his squire, and he proceeds to gulp his wine as if water for a stranded sailor. The crowd is moving away from them now, allowing Lionel to leave. He carries Hildegarde’s drink, no choice but to move past Alvina once again. Against all logic, he mutters a few choice words: “You look beautiful.” He does not look back. He cannot look back.

Eleanor 's gaze traveled around the room in much the same way that 'Red's' did, taking in the scenery while also scoping it all out. So much of the area's elite were here, their pockets lined with gold and silver, their words laced with shallow pleasantries. She could all but taste the tension that coiled around some of them, and it was easy to catch glances stolen across the room. All of these things worked to her benefit her and her companion, her eyes following the latter as he turned toward the standing room area. Moving fluidly to catch up with him, she linked the fingers of one hand with his, and her other she curled around his upper arm as she leaned in to murmur, "Sae-- so ... many new faces here, loove." Her burr still wrapped around her words, but she was obviously trying to tone it down as best she could, the sounds clipped and careful. At one point, she caught sight of Valen as those celadons shifted around, and her jaw tightened again before she slid a sidelong gaze toward 'Red', lips curled in a coy smile. "Shall Ah get us somethin' tae drink?"

Lita knew more people than she realized present. Hudson, who had been captivated by another guest beyond her field of vision and Mythayus, whose presence was always noticeable even when he'd wished it otherwise. She'd wave at him if he glanced her way but she was in no hurry to interrupt his conversations. She knew Lionel by name at least, though only as someone who had won their card game by chance and not skill. Next time would know different outcomes. She even recognized Valen's company for the event, though she was not ready to admit that fact and would instead be avoiding that topic of conversation at all cost. She turned her head as a waiter appeared, dark eyes flickering over the offered drinks and she shook her head, politely declining. She lifted a hand to Krice's shoulder beside her, if only because he looked so tense. She leaned over to offer playful words, "It's okay to relax a little, you know. Maybe have some fun?"

Mythayus offer the king a warm smile and light bow as he approached. He’d note the members of the Rugby club. Exchanging pleasantries with the men. He was really, excited about joining the club and was also upset about the royal broken leg. He’d smile at the group of men, “There will be more games, and I’m sure, Macon here will be more than happy join again.” He would not dare to presume anything about joining the group, even though he every much so wanted to. He was polite like that. His blue hue would focus on Macon. “Are you nervous?”

Valen would have caught Rorin's horrified expression, and owuld make note to answer that later. He also spied the Lycan whom he had met, Hudson...was it? A sickening grin was given to himself. Oh, seeing -this- one's reaction to his dress was going to be so worth it. Later though, as it seemed Valrae was a friend and would not wish to interrupt, though perhaps... "I wouldnt know if you are or not sweety, we only just met today." would be said with a giggle, another kiss given to his cheek like from before. "I do. Dont misuse it." And then he was gone, making sure to pass right behind Hudson with a smirk as he starte dto get himself and Goren some drinks, maybe even accidentallt bumping into the male before taking the long way back, to pass by Lionel with a charming grin, then back to Goren. all in all, as he had said, five minutes. setting -two- glasses in front of the male, as he had gotten four, and then two for himself, he would sit with a smirk, assuming of course that the male was even still there.

Valrae fought the fluttering happiness Hudson's comment roused in her. Eyes down cast, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she simply shrugged. "I don't actually know," She answered honestly. Added, "You look good too," Awkward. This feeling was made worse, not fixed, when he reminded her that Irenic was surely not far away. "Here, somewhere. Getting me a drink, I think." She turned from him to scan her side of the crowd. A tall, winged man should be easy to spot in a crowd and yet somehow she wasn't seeing him. "Things are good for me. You?"

Josleen pats Hildegarde’s arm reassuring. “Skylei is in a particularly good mood today. I think she secretly loves that dress. I’d make my approach today, if I were you.” Josleen’s mother, Jessa, approaches the bride and Dragon Queen. “Oh Hilde!” Jessa stands on her tiptoes to embrace the queen who has been a guest at her home and become a family friend. Jessa stuns in mother-of-the-bride regalia and is enjoying this wedding more than her own daughter. “Can you believe all this?” she says to Hildegarde. “Josleen, marrying a king! I still can’t quite believe it. But I hardly know the King! Tell me, what do you make of him, hm?” Josleen, excuses herself under the guise of wanting to greet her childhood friend Delilah (more like lifelong frenemy). In truth she simply doesn’t want to watch Hildegarde diplomatically dance around how she truly feels about Macon. Josleen greets Delilah and her husband, then leaves her frenemy quickly to fetch herself a drink and bop alone again, enjoying Rijanna’s performance, waiting for the clock to run. She and Rijanna went to school together at the Cenrili Academy of Art and Music. And here they are. She glances over at Macon often.

Rorin started to back away from the colliding... couple? What was Lionel not telling him? Whatever it was he took it with him towards Hildegarde. Rorin shrugged and looked about. Maybe there were lawn games to play or a fight to get into. The well dressed noble warrior boy mosied towards Hildegarde. She might have something interesting to say.

Alvina can not and will not say anything to Lionel O'Connor because she'd made a very firm and final promise that she would and could not do so. She refrains, even when he calls her beautiful. It makes her heart race, but she pretends that's just because she downed a glass of wine like it was a party shot...and it wasn't anything like that. In fact, instead of acknowledging that was Lionel, Alvina is going to try very hard to pretend that was Hudson. Yes! Hudson just told her she was beautiful, how charming. Wasn't he the perfect man all of a sudden? Flattering her and getting her drinks? The bard feels a bit warm, thanks the gods all her unruly hair is tied up nice and tight against the back of her head, and fans herself with an empty hand until no one she can immediately recognize is within ear shot so she can sigh out the long, terrified breath she'd been holding. Now it's just a waiting game...when will the performers begin? Or when will she see someone close enough to drag into conversation? She notes Krice, Josleen, Hildegarde...familiar faces that have no names in current memory...no one of alarm or surprise. Lionel seems to have vanished into the crowd of people. It's for the best.

Krice glanced between Lita and the waiter, noting the former's dismissal of the offered wine. He arched a brow but said nothing, instead offering her a wry smile for her teasing words. Reaching up, he lay a hand over hers on his shoulder. " If you want to mingle, go for it." With the same hand, he gestured for her to enter the crowds of people. " I see a couple of people you know." Valen and Hudson the only two, unaware of Lita's card game - and thus acquaintanceship - with Lionel or others.

Skylei :: You know how there’s a saying – you can polish a turd? Well, I’m not saying that Skylei is the equivalent of poop, but hell she’s been polished and primped beyond anything she’d ever wished to experience. And here she is dressed in blue couture that cost more than three pay packets, surrounded by important people and feeling more out of place than polar bear in a volcano. But she does her duty – if begrudgingly. She smiles to few, talks to fewer (academics only – please and thanks – Skylei has no interest in your small talk dribble drabble) and remains close enough to Josleen that the bride is always in her line of sight. The bride mentions Skylei’s good mood. Skylei’s face, when she forgets to set it to a fake smile, is a picture of discomfort and discontent. Josleen has always been somewhat of a fantasist.

Leoxander nodded to her words, her offer, and spoke in a patient and quiet tone, enunciating his words. "I'll join you." He didn't particularly want anyone to realize that these two were not among the groups of friends and acquaintances but he also wanted to make sure 'Rona' didn't start digging too early for souvenirs. Rather than reach for his usual tastes, Red seemed to favor an appropriate hue of wine in a crystal glass, although he didn't hold it as elegantly as a practiced connoisseur of such refreshment might. Careful when poking that beak like nose into the rim, he awaited her selection before he motioned wordlessly to his date and took a drink of the alcohol, somehow, miraculously not making a face at the bitter taste.

Goren was totally going to misuse it, waving to Rorin as he quickly moved through the gather, his bare hands reaching for any exposed flesh on the upper-crust of the Larket society, his chilling touch visibly making people winch and yelp in shock as he quickly grabbed whatever memories he could off the top of their mind, carelessly leaving a trail of people stunned, confused, or holding their head as if they had been struck by the worst brainfreeze of their life. He'd said it before, if he wasn't careful, some of the pulp came off with the orange skin, and it wasn't a pleasant experience for anyone to quickly have his presence inside their mind, a particularly dirty old man, who was talking to a rather obviously distressed young woman got a particularly bad blow, the corpse holding onto him for just a moment longer before the corpse ducked back through the crowd, trying to be inconspicuous, but considering he was the only dead thing in the building besides the food, it was unlikely he wasn't noticed, returning to his seat just as he sees Valen turn from the bar, grinning as the other male sits besides him, taking the glass in one hand as he leans into Valen, his body looked surprisingly restored after a few minutes of probing, he even had lips again, finally able to cover his bare teeth as he leans in and brushes the vampire's hair aside, "So... You must know a thing or two about sucking"

Hudson without thinking just gives Valrae Alvina's drink, because he feels ridiculous holding it and has forgotten the fact that it was for Alvina, that's the effect of his brain on Valrae. He almost doesn't notice the gay vampire bumping into him. "Yeah, I won't stay long then, I don't really want to meet him, that's weird for everyone," he says, likewise scanning the crowd for the guy he'd seen Valrae go to the witches' ball with. "Things are fine," he answers automatically, drains a considerable amount of his drink. "I'm getting a little drunk, I think, it just hasn't caught up with me yet," he concedes. He steals another look at Valrae. UGGGGHHHH. She's like a bad weed that grows in his brain. Every time he thinks she's out... nope. He's literally missing Rijanna right now to talk to her, that's how dire the situation is. "I think sometimes about that, uh," there's people around, "sad thing you told me about. I hope you're doing OK about it. I'm uh, still sorry." A beat, wherein the awkwardness expands again between them. "So... I should go, uh, before," he says, backing away from her. "It was good to see you," he says lamely.

Hildegarde is in the middle of awkwardly hugging Josleen’s mother and dancing around the subject of Macon. She hated his vile guts, but she managed to make a passable comment about his decency. He was decent (at being terrible). With the awkward moment fading fast, Hildegarde turns to find Rorin at her elbow. “Oh, Rorin,” she says in surprise. He usually shadows Lionel. “You look glum,” she tells him, understanding why he would look glum but hinting he should try to fake it a wee bit.

Rorin almoat shrugged at a queen. Instead he gave a rather weak smile and drained half his hand bell sized wine glass of whiskey.

Lionel isn’t actually so far behind Rorin. He’s en route to Hildegarde and with an able bow he’ll present her drink. “My apologies for the delay, my queen,” he offers by way of apology -- but he sure as heck isn’t planning on explaining it. Further bows are afforded for Josleen’s mother and anyone else nearby. Well, except Rorin. That would be bizarre.

Rorin burped into his hand rather unformally. The more he drank, the less he cared. The small became a sarcastic grin. It was funny how many people in here didn't give a damn about who died or who lived as long as their bank accounts survived. Then there were the peacemongers and those who couldn't raise a sword to save their lives. What exaclty did they have to do with anything?

Lita had never been dubbed a social butterfly but she was excited to get the chance to catch up a bit more with Mythayus. Their meeting in Larket had been unfortunately brief and he looked much better now than he had the week prior. At Krice's words she leaned towards him to press a kiss against his cheek. "Play nice with the other guests." She teased as she stood from her seat. It was a warning that he might have usually given her instead. She'd lift a hand to Hudson's shoulder as she passed him, a quiet hello, lifting her hand and wriggling her fingers to wave at Valrae as well. She didn't pause long and didn't want to interrupt, just wanted to say hello as she made her way towards Mythayus.

Hildegarde accepts the drink from Lionel, jerking her head in the direction of Rorin. “Rorin, I think it’s time you taste some of the food on offer here,” she tells him in a bid to make him eat and sober up.

Krice turned his head slightly into Lita's kiss to his cheek and lifted his chin as she rose from her seat, watching her wade through the crowds on a path that took her to those with whom she was familiar. His gilded eyes drifted from her retreating figure to scrutinize the gathering at large. Before long, he found himself watching someone, tracking him-or-her through the throngs of people and noting the changing behaviours of said people. Curious. As he stood from his chair and positioned his katana beside him, the silver-haired man lost sight of his target and pressed his lips into a thin line, features contemplative. While Lita mingled, he moved into the crowds with unhurried, calculative steps, patrolling for further signs of disturbance. The deeper he waded, the stronger that lycan scent became. Again he turned his head, discreetly searching for the source.

Lionel holds his tongue, avoiding the temptation to reiterate the queen’s own words. He certainly concurs, but the more they press in unison, the less it will seem to matter to the lad. And what’s more, the fewer of Hildegarde’s own words the squire will learn to accept. Instead, he stands tensely, but with one arm behind his lower back so as to appear poised.

Rorin raises his plate of... well, disguisting duck innards, if he was being honest, towards Hildegarde indicating he was doing quite well on the food side of things. Whatever a paté was he had no idea why nobles would want the least favored meat of a fowl in the style of it.

Leoxander took notice of how well Rorin was draining those glasses, and the slightest nudge to 'Rona' was given to point the fact out. But his eyes averted to wander again as he suffered another drink from his own glass or red wine.

Macon shakes his head at Mythayus’s question of his nerves and confidently answers, “Not at all.” That wasn't entirely true, but he plays the part well enough. “This whole thing was my idea.” That was entirely true. There were only three people present at the peace negotiations, and all three of them are also here, but Macon’s suggestion that he marry the Thane had been discussed with no one prior to him bringing it to the table. This was a sore spot with the bride for a while. For the benefit of the rugby squad the king also dips his head in the direction of Josleen and makes some comment about how smokin’ hot she is or something, so it could be worse. He has to leave them all to mingle some more, he guesses, and Mythayus is left with his future teammates for now.

Valen almost spits out a bit of espresso-wine, before looking at Goren with a hand once more over his mouth. Lips now...that...was wierd. "Now you listen and you listen good. I trusted you, and then you say things like that. We are in -polite- society. You want this to work?" A pleading look was given to his eyes now, "Please...Goren." As if in response to the question though, he would point to his fangs. "Unless you want to find out, then behave." With that he would immediately down his two glasses of wine, simeltaneously if needed. this was turning out to not be what he expected but, perhaps it was still salvageable. "Give me one moment. Im going to go and secure something possibly awesome, and then I will be right back." Getting up, all his nerves telling him not to, he would move towards Macon with a smirk, and curtsy once again, looking to Mythayus with a soft gaze, before spekaing to the king. "When the time comes...I hope you and I might share a dance..." He kept the undead in sight however, glancing that way every now and again.

Rorin laughed and nearly choked. This crap was disgusting but it was funny comsidering nobles were eating what homeless people considered trash. The aspiring paladin rather presumptively took an entire loaf of fresh bread and bit off the end. What did he care if anyone looked at him? None of these people would know his face on the battlefield. None of the so called higher statused would know the faces that had been been lost, their ashes sparkling in a small diamond hanging around his neck. Rorins face fell as he turned to darker thoughts. A rather sad look sat about his face.

Valrae was handed a drink abruptly. She accepted it, mostly because if she didn't she was sure he would just keep holding it out or moving forward enough to spill it on her dress, and partly because the turn of conversation all but required it. And she drank it, quickly and in one turn of the glass, without knowing who it was meant for. Typical, Valrae selfishly taking things meant for Alvina. Only, she hadn't known about the drink... Just the man. The witch frowned after Hudson's retreating figure, wishing he would refrain from being sorry and telling her about it until Irenic returned. Handsome and clueless as to why she had an empty drink in her hand, he offered her a questioning smile. The frown that bowed her lips stopped him from actually asking. Adding further salt to her self inflected and guilty wounds, he simply traded her empty glass for a full one, though it was the cheaper stuff the common guest were served, and left to discard it.

Hudson feels a bit like Odysseus probably felt when he successfully sailed past the sirens. He's more excitable, puffed up with relief really, when Lita does a drive-by shoulder touch. "Hey you," he calls out after her, and then, before the gravitational pull of Valrae gets the better of him, he doesn't look back, just drains his glass and continues back in the general direction of where he'd thought their table was. And there it is, and Alvina, with multiple wine glasses in front of her, evidently enjoying Draque's set with the rest of the hot nurses, who all seem to know all the words. "Heyyy babe, I got held up by a million people," he hovers over her, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. Can Valrae see them? Uggggh don't think about it. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and raps a stanza in her ear because it's the easiest thing to do. It's still too weird, freshly seeing Valrae, after all.

Rorin sneered as he watched Macon on the move. A daring thought crossed his mind. To hold it? Or…

Goren was 'mingling' with the people he had been left with, though of course, some had noticed his little trail of destruction through the VIP area, and given him a bit of a bearth, though he eventually found someone to talk to, even if they were just giving him curt smalltalk to keep him occupied, the undead barely even noticing the gaze from Valen on himself as he watches the silver-haired creature follow his path, his mind was still breaking down what information he had gathered, so he had no intention to make another steal until he'd mostly finished off what he'd taken already, tipping the drink down his gullet without a second thought, letting the warmth of the alcohol fill his belly before he quickly follows with the second, humming softly as he strums on the table, staring at the bar as he grumbles, "I've had better drink at a funeral home."

Leoxander decided it was time to 'mingle'. Carefully. Still loitering at the refreshment's table, 'Red' found an excuse to look at the duck pate that Rorin had showed his disgust with, in favor for an entire loaf of bread. A sidelong look with a turn of that large, beak nose and blue eyes studied the man's forlorn expression for a moment. "You seem distraught, friend." In truth, this was not a friend, but not completely a stranger, either. Still, nothing of Leo's usual rough tone was evident in the careful way this well dressed man spoke. Not to mention... he was still nursing that disgusting glass of wine as though it were the most perfect taste known to mankind.

Mythayus would nod to the king, “Even so, sometime nerves can still creep in.” Mythayus would be pleased at Lita’s joining him. He’d introduce her to his future teammates. “Lita how are you, my dear?” He offer her a warm smile and bow slight bow. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Alvina is not clearly moping when Hudson returns, but she's overjoyed to see him. "Hudson!" She calls, over the music, to throw herself into his arms. By now, the wine was dangerous territory. She still had to be in THE WEDDING but she was sufficiently drunk. She kissed him boldly in front of everyone at the table, mid way through his rapping. Surely their kiss would refill whatever had leaked from her heart by Lionel's passing. That idiot. She was not thinking about Lionel while she kissed Hudson. She was thinking about bright things, like babies and the house they would move into and...and...love, and stuff. "Dance with me," She begs him, reaching for his hand. Her face looks flushed through her thin makeup.

Josleen frowns as Macon leaves the group of men and disappears further into the crowd, rather than coming to her. She hides her frown in a glass of wine, her first of the evening. She sees a near stranger approach her in her periphery and loses herself in the crowd as well to avoid the forced interaction.

Eleanor didn't leave Red's side as he decided to join her, her hand still linked with one of his as they made their way through the crowd to the refreshment table. She took up a flute with her free hand, sniffing the bubbly contents as if something she was accustomed to, and sampled a sip, pale eyes shifting toward her mate with obvious mirth. Rona kept her voice low as she spoke to him once again.

Krice 's lycan-tracking ways took him to Valrae, whom he regarded with a simple glance and a nod of greeting. After a moment, he even broke his silence to utter a smooth, " Hey." Then he turned his head, following the dog-smell to a pocket of air surrounding Hudson. He could only assume that Hudson was the lycan whose scent had caught his attention and left it at that, wading through the crowds once more. He almost bumped shoulders with Josleen as she moved to avoid forced interactions and he mumbled a respectful-enough apology, his gaze lingering on her perfectly-kept face before he proceeded onward.

Rorin looked at the oncomer. Something familiar sat in his eyes... Rorin shrugged it off. "Excuse me," he said as he rather impromptly handed the man his plate of food and began to stride off very meaningfully in Macons direction. Several people gave way to the boy with a knights cloak and a scowl on his face. A few looked nervous. What kind of child strode his way to the betrothed king?

Macon ’s mother captures Rorin just before he can do anything silly. She tells him his shoulder pads are audacious and that he reeks of wine, but he still gets to listen to her complaints about the Larketian wedding tradition. “Honestly. Why do they do it this way? No one will even be paying attention, they'll be so full an’ drunk, ‘ow will they remember ‘ow noble Mackie looks on this…” Blah blah blah blah.

Leoxander released Rona's hand abruptly to catch the plate of food handed his way, doing his best not to look pissed off. Patience, calm... that was the portrayal he was keeping to the front. He finished off his wine in a gulp and set it down in order to extend his arm to his date for the evening, the black haired beauty in her fitted gown. It was a wedding, but the way the two were dressed suggested they were too snobby or too rich to worry about any theme beyond their own sleek appearance. "Unusual crowd..." He said lowly to the woman at his side.

Lionel periodically reviews Rorin’s whereabouts, concerned at the prospect the boy might do something utterly untoward. He flicks his gaze between Rorin and the queen, contemplating his next move, although Leoxander’s arrival startles him. He’d not seen the man previously, but then, he was pretty much not seeing anyone not named ‘Alvina’ for a while back there. It’s interesting, and Lionel wonders if Leoxander might have thought to make a mark of him, and he prepares to interject. But then Rorin begins his stride. With a quick knowing stare for Hildegarde, Lionel is off, moving quickly -- but altogether casually -- in front of his squire. He joins him at a pace, and there’s still plenty of time to slow it down. “It occurs to me,” he tells Rorin, “that you might wish to either relocate Raphaline or head out into the standing area and ensure security’s air-tight.”

Lita managed a smile for her old friend, feeling a little less uncomfortable in the fancy dress and boots than she had previously. At his bow she offered him a polite curtsy. She wasn't a stranger to royal affairs just had never shown up to one as herself before. Certainly not for a couple she knew so little about. "You're a sight for sore eyes, friend." She was curious as to all those rugby players nearby and she lofted a brow at Mythayus in curious question but didn't ask. "You look far better than you did our last meeting. I'm glad for it. Are you here with someone?" She glanced around, half expecting a crazed fan to be standing nearby with a neon sign sporting 'I'M WITH MYTHAYUS' plastered overhead. No such luck. "I shall have to ask to steal you for dance at some point."

Rorin smiled and bared the brunt of a matrons insults. What an entertaining woman at this hour. His gaze was rather intent, despite a strange and most likely creepy smile. "Yes of course. I believe it's so everyone has a chance to speak and settle in," he gestured at Macon and with a bit of grace attempted to slip past.

Hudson had not anticipated that but isn't exactly complaining. It's just poor timing, and in general, not a thing that happens when you've been together a million years. "Wow, you're wastedface," he observes, with affection, though he's unable to stop himself from glancing in the general direction that he'd last left Valrae. Focus. He helps Alvina out from her chair, leads her to the dance floor, which is getting packed because women always pack dance floors in response to Beyonsey, out of the hopes that she'll perform Single Ladies and they can all squeal and do the arm movements and in general dance in a circle that excludes all men. It is Known. The hot nurses and their dates join them. On the dance floor, everyone begins throwing their finest white people shapes, shouting along with the performance. Hudson is not a little liquored up himself, but not so bad that the tenor of his dancing with Alvina verges on 'teenagers grinding at prom' quite yet.

Rorin turned to Lionel and the kings mother, "have you met frostmaws knight commander?" He asked her rather pleasantly and had them shake hands, "I hear he has quite the tale about traditiona in his kingdom," while moving to keep one between he and the other Rorin skirted for the king.

Josleen circumvents the dance floor, en route swapping her first glass of wine for a second from a passing tray. She bumps into Krice in passing, spilling her drink and needing to fetch a third. A waiter cleans the mess quickly and Josleen tells Krice not to worry before continuing to her next 'very important meet-and-greet'. She stops strategically far from Augusta. She nurses her second drink as she bops to Nikki Mirage’s music.

Valen looked down crestfallen as it seemed his bold attempt to garnish a dance with the king had been...well..unheard. Regardless, he would turn around, pass the Bacon Mother and Rorin, to whom he gives a nod "Rorin...You certainly look well. Glad to see it." To the matron, he would then say "It does my heart good to see you so well at such a young age my lady. I certainly hope that soon we have news of your grandchildren." With that, he would return to Goren and sit down, taking both hands to the sides of his face and looking into them "Im...Im not ugly am I? Tell me that at least?" Panic was in his own eyes now, thought it was most certain it had nothing to do with his looks. "Never mind just...I dont...usually like these big crowds."

Macon doesn't really recognize Rorin despite how close to each other that had unknowingly come during the final stages of the battle on the bridge. He receives the boy with as much warmth as a man can while knowing the other might still want to kill him. He takes his slate stare off of the Paladin, but not after noting the insignia of Arkhen and internally growling, looking for Josleen, but only catching a glimpse. Meanwhile Augusta now has a fallen hero to complain to, this time her target is strange Lithrydelian weather. “Do you know there is a place, above ground, with no sunlight ever! Outrageous. They should level the whole city.” Also, O’Connor, why is there no navigable coast south of Xalious? What is down there?

Mythayus let out laugh at her searching for his +1. He’d shake his head, “I’m here alone. I also have to say you’re a sight for sore eyes as well.” He smiles straightening himself up, “You can thank Thamalys for that. He he helped me out and aided my healing.” He give a light laugh, “I’d love to have a dance with you, my dear.”

Alvina didn't notice Hudson's lack of attention to her. It took her months to notice the first time Valrae was the only thing on his mind, and that was when she was sober. They could be thinking about different people, and dance together, and pretend they only saw each other. That was the sad dance of life, pretending to be content with what you have, because you built it. It's superior, full of your blood sweat and tears. Your whole life has built to this moment. How could you second guess your choices now? She does her best to dance but she can't really hear the words to the songs that are playing. There's a louder throng in her chest, that she can't overcome. Much as she tries, to just hold on to Hudson, ride out this drunk wave of melancholy, and return to her friend's wedding party. It's a happy occasion. She's wearing a dress that she's not slim enough for (it doesn't look bad but people please, she just had a baby.) Her hands tug on Hudson's tux collar, so he'll kiss her again and she won't think about anything else.

Goren looks at the vampire and then points to his own face, "I don't have eyeballs, proper skin, any form of muscle and you're asking -me- if you're ugly." He chuckles, "You are beautiful, I am ugly as sin." He burps softly and covers his mouth in surprise, the blue glow of the memory thread between his fingers rolling back and forth before he hands it to his coat, letting the thread stitch itself into the weave as he looks innocently back to Valen, "I love big crowds~"

Rorin patted Valens shoulder. "You look pretty," he told... the vampire, as he nearly seized at the thought of her grandchildren. Still he had nothing but the most polite of smiles on his face and the most burning look of pure black loathing in his eyes while he attempted to further approach the Mad King. It had been a rather awkward dance so far. Who would get in his way next? Or did his hand have to tighten any further on his coat and ceremonial sword? If so he was afraid of snapping in halves at the waist and rolling about like a broken doll. Quite frankly Rorin himself lookec Mad.

Eleanor took the offered arm, sidling up next to Red with a winsome grin, mirroring him in taking the rest of her drink before setting it aside and leading him toward the dancing area. "Indeed," she responded huskily, shifting her gaze from the Red to the crowd gyrating and back again. "Dance wi' me."

Krice dismissed Josleen's need for reassurance, almost replaced the glass she'd dropped when bumping into him, adopted a stiff expression as a result of nudging her magical dress - though its illusory appearance kept it from crease-by-Krice, but turned to proceed inward as she tended to her replacement drink, herself. He arrived at the table shared between Valen and Goren to observe their interaction, affording the former a nod.

Valen looked to Rorin and smiled appreciatively "Aww thank you! You look handsome yourself today."

Lionel is caught between a matriarch and a hard sharp pain in his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Alvina. She’s tugging Hudson. She’s kissed him. She’s beautiful. Rorin gets away. The hero fails his quest of apprehension thanks to the apprehension which lingers deep within. He needs air, but he’d never leave the queen. “The coastline is very rough, my lady. The seas are very rough. Tempestuous.” These words are for Augusta, but he has half a mind to march over to march elsewhere with them. It would be the worst mistake he’s made since the last one. “If you’ll excuse me,” he offers a bow so practiced it might be the ghost of Briar Ku Risu come to masculine life. He’s hot on Rorin’s trail again, but slower than he’d like. Something is tugging him backward. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, secretly wondering if the woman he loves might glance back. This is outrageous. This entire thing’s outrageous. A waiter passes and he grabs a glass of wine like his life depends on its consumption. One big gulp and it’s gone.

Rorin finally gets to him. Finally. And what does he do? Perhaps against all odds- he reaches out to shake Macons hand. Although the look of madness fades from his face so quickly something about his very aura has a burning feeling of hatred and death. Ther are no words to compensate for his feelings. There are no sonnets and dirges devised to describe the multitudinous tidal waves of thoughts that had occured before this moment. "Macon," the boy quite simply arrives at. Perhaps not the most regal thing to say but since when did murderers need manners? "Macon, it seems you're doing well." He continues. Why at all he is speaking os perhaps a mystery. Also why he would dare to have his clear crystalline gaze fall into Macons own eyes. Perhaps he looked for something. An apology. A sacred truth. To know that somewhere somehow this monster had fallen apart inside as he had too. "And the Lady Josleen as well," he glanced. All in white and impeccably beautiful. "Quite a magical gathering here." His words are simple and yet laced with a gravity that no minor lord would wish to stand. He paused. Rorin had lost himself and he was vaguely aware his grip was far too tight. He let go and the bones of his hand was far too sore. "I wish you well," unto your death the boy quietly thought. Perhaps he should turn and go. He stood firm first and awaited the Kings reply.

Lita would reach for Mythayus' hand and tug him near the dance floor. "Good." He'd agreed to that, right? Despite the fact that she wasn't the biggest fan of the current artist performing, the music wasn't bad and Hudson looked like he was having a great time on that dance floor. She really hoped that was the mother of the twins he was kissing, though it would be none of her business either way. Hudson would get a playful wink as Lita tugged Mythayus into a fun dance.

Leoxander nearly broke character for a moment, still holding that plate of food Ronin had handed him. His eyes narrowed a little on Eleanor, known for tonight as Rona, as though to let her know she was pushing it. And she was gonna get it for that bold move. Doing his best not to tighten his jaw in that familiar way, he even forced what appeared to be a completely fake and slight smile upon mostly shaven features, or so they would appear. "My dear, that should really wait until after the vows, I think..." A deep murmur of kind words the rogue would never use, as he set down the cold fowl pate. No need to draw unnecessary attention to them, being the only couple dancing. Who knew if Leo even knew -how- to dance? But Red Naxeol certainly should.

Hudson is not nearly as drunk as Alvina, it becomes apparent very quickly. The first obvious clue is that she has no sense of timing and is just moving offbeat in a seductive wiggle and in the alternative attempting to attach herself to him and make out with him. Generally speaking, after all this time... well, he's fine, but she's not this into him. (What, #Relationships. He leaves dirty socks around and eats cereal out of the box and farts under the duvet and stuff. The magic's gone.) This weirdness with Valrae potentially seeing them, he gets over though, by the grace of booze and the fact that it is sort of nice to have one's woman throw herself at you spontaneously. You become more forgiving of whatever last pain in the ass thing she was doing (in Alvina's case, constantly nagging him to launder poop-filled diapers). Also, he'd have to literally peel Alvina off of him and that requires more force of will than he's capable of. Fine, he will kiss her, easy with her hands, though!?!? They're becoming Those People At The Wedding now, he is aware, it's a little embarrassing, but also... kind of great if he doesn't think about it too much. During a break in performances, he spies Josleen and leads Alvina over to her. In no small part because he can't handle another dance with Drunkvina right now, it's too much peril. "Dance with us! Last song. C'mon," he invites Josleen.

Valen would blush slightly before shaking his head "Just...I was just asking. Thank you..." Hands would go to hold one of Goren's, thumbing over it and taking note of the...skin? "You know Goren, I-" He then noticed the memory threads and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly but made no mention of it. "I was just thinking about something but..." A wink "Maybe I just wont tell you."

Josleen smiles at Hudson and Drunkvina and chirps, "Sure!" There's a falseness to her, but that's nothing new. She sets down her glass and dances with her friends, and within just a few beats she's genuinely feeling the music and cutting loose and little bit. It's easier with this couple. It's why she appreciates their friendship. Drunkvina, however, is maybe a little fun to provoke into getting low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low.

Alvina will get as low as she can, falling over if she has to. Josleen should be smiling. It helps her forget why she was upset in the first place.

Krice attribute that second lycan smell to Hudson as well, and to the variety of scents, perfumes and colognes that wafted through the large room. He was confused, and Hudson is the only lycan he can viably detect. That was a before-thought. His current mind was set on Goren and his glowing digits, as well as the fact that he looked a little less dead now than he had been when first the warrior entered the large room. Curious. Rather than interrupting Valen and the undead creature, Krice turned away and mingled with the crowd once more, noting Lita's dance moves alongside Mythayus. If he thought anything of it, he didn't express as much.

Macon nods to Rorin and shakes the young looking knights hand, somewhat unaware of all the hatred he holds for him. He glances Josleen’s way when the kid points her out, the king thankful to steal another look before narrowing slate eyes back on Rorin, “Indeed. Thank you, and all the other Frostmawians, for comin’. Your presence will solidify peace further, I am sure.” He's practiced that line, definitely and he is soon to be pulled away for the wedding ceremony to begin.

The Ceremony

The party as a whole is called to attention; no simple task given the Larketian tradition of celebrating before the actual wedding ceremony takes place. This logistical nightmare of positioning hundreds of (likely inebriated by now) guests is perhaps why the previous Queen and King Consort chose to forego this particular Larketian cultural quirk. Somehow the task is accomplished as Josleen and Macon take their places opposite each other on the dais in front of the two thrones. The pair are between the onlooking crowd and the highest ranking priest of Cyris that Larket still has to offer (after Macon himself killed the High Priest then falsely accused Kelovath of murder, aka Shhh). The ceremony is much of what one would expect from a royal wedding in The Hard City. The officiant is carefully practiced, slow, and deliberate, never going off script for the benefit of entertaining the audience. Love is compared to stone, like everything else in Larket. The vows are standard and subtly worded to slightly favor the King, and the whole thing is sort of short and blunt. It culminates with the exchanging of the rings, a kiss which Macon pours some adoration into in spite of Josleen’s attempts at playing the role of purely political bride towards some of those present, and finally with the crowning of the new Queen of Larket.

For the ceremony, an excessively long train was attached to Josleen’s dress by local Larketian couture designer Ascor de la Renda. Ascor perfects the twisting splay of the fabric then rejoins the VIP crowd. He takes Headmaster Percival’s hand and pecks his cheek. During the ceremony, with her hand in Macons’, Josleen struggles to maintain her charade of indifference. She can’t help smiling at him, and hoping that their distance from the crowd means none will see just how infatuated she has become. She returns the adoring kiss in kind, and as they pull away grins up at him privately, letting him know that she is just as thrilled to marry him. The High Priest of Cyris moves onto the crowning ceremony, giving a short speech about the crown, the responsibilities and power of the queen (always subordinate here to the King’s but grand nonetheless). The priest stands on a high step behind Josleen and lifts a thin marble crown above her head. He declares Josleen the new Queen of Larket, and just as the crown meets her golden brown hair, the fort quakes.

Residents of Larket across the city feel the earth shudder and jerk back and forth in violent strokes. Even the strongest men lose their footing. In the western quadrants, stone faces drop of buildings like tree bark flakes off a tree. Roofs cave in on napping retirees, nursery floors split like nuts under cribs. Anything attached to walls crashes onto the floor. Furniture tumbles on unsuspecting Larketians, maiming and crushing limbs and skulls. The towering tenements cease to tower above anything at all. In the Red Ogre Inn the hearth spills, and draperies and carpets catch fire. Several more fires erupt across the city, particularly in the north and west closest to the earthquake’s epicenter. In the east, where a King weds a new Queen, the fort chandeliers come crashing down on posh guests. Liquor tumbles free from the walls that crack in spidering veins. The joints where walls meet ceilings give and tear, debris and dust falling loose, often in a shower, sometimes in chunks. One wall in particular, freshly rebuilt after a dragon hole-punched her silhouette into it, comes tumbling down to reveal that recently-patched hole. The quake can be felt in Kelay, where wall hangings and drinks may tumble. In Gualon, though there is unlikely to be any damage, the rumble can be felt nonetheless. For the most past, the bulk of the damage and brunt of the casualties occurs in Larket. The earthquake lasts no more than 20 seconds, but its destruction will be felt for years.

Joleen’s new crown falls to the ground and shatters. The priest falls off his step and knocks the queen forward on her hands and knees.

Alvina who had been standing in the proper bride's maid position (behind Skylei, maid of honor), tumbles backwards when the quake begins. Even if she had been completely sober, the trembling was enough to force her back on her behind. Having kids continues to be the blessing that, indeed, keeps on giving. Thank the gods for this gift. Her pristine blue gown, made of fabric she can't begin to imagine, twists to catch in her impossible heels and rips the seam up the side, only while the bard is struggling to get back up on her feet. She watches, in horror, as Josleen tips forward and her crowd explodes on contact with the tremulous earth. They say if it rains on your wedding, it's a blessing. What's the idea behind Earthquakes? Josleen falls, crown shatters, Alvina makes a face of helplessness and looks at Macon to help up his new Queen. Maybe she's imagining the overall feeling of dread that is literally pulsing out of the ground below them. No, literally. Everyone else is struggling, it's not in her imagination. This earthquake is real. That or the strawberry wine is spiked. Was Macon bending down to help Jos? No? Why isn't he? What is going on? Where is Hudson? Emerald eyes turn to look for the alchemist, spotting him sitting...next to Lionel of all people. FANTASTIC. End of the world? Right on time.

Valrae had watched the wedding from her place in the common crowd. She did take a moment to appreciate the brides gown but her eyes were mostly for Alvina. She was struck again by how beautiful the woman was. In the comparison that she couldn't stop herself from entertaining she was too thin, her hair was too ordinary... Perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow would always be that she was obviously of lesser moral character. And she had Hudson, children. She'd never actually wanted them but suddenly that didn't matter. Jealousy, a bitter and cold feeling, emerged it's ugly head in the secret parts of her heart and threatened to grow there. Pitching forward in the sudden earthquake was enough to pull her mind away from any envious thoughts. Irenic attempted to catch her, lost his footing, but they both ended on the ground anyway. It was crowded where they were, and someone's elbow made solid contact with her temple. There was screeching, somewhere close to her a baby was wailing, and people were pushing each other in panic. The avian managed to find his feet first, before Valrae had even processed events, and pulled her off the floor before she was trampled by a terrified mob.

Hudson is hustled into a seat for the ceremony. It's just that the seat happens to be next to Lionel, whom he recognizes. It's only after that he greets the others at the table, and they've all got time to kill waiting for things to begin, that Hudson realizes that Lionel is pretty high-ranking, that becomes apparent now that Hudson is no longer distracted by a woman giving birth to his children. "Hey mate, good to see you again," says Hudson, plenty of warmth in the way he addresses the other guy. He feels compelled to make small talk with the other guy, even making a joke at Alvina's expense, it goes a little like, Drunk girlfriends, LOL. Anyway, this charming friendship must be put on hold because the ceremony commences, and Hudson sits still and tries not to look too bored. He is not so much following the events, more so thinking about and dreading a conversation that he'll have tomorrow, actually; it is a certainty that once his temporary shine has worn off there'll be a little weirdness with Alvina, because they've been together how long, literally have children, and aren't married, and here Josleen got married to this king person in maybe five seconds... she seems to like him, at least, or maybe it's that all women radiate happiness on their wedding days because FINALLY they TRAPPED HIS ASS! And then suddenly the ground is moving, Hudson can hardly believe it, a dessert plate has slid off his particular table and crashed at his feet. He grips the table, to prevent the flower centerpiece from having the same fate, and just as suddenly, the earthquake is over. Josleen is in a crumpled heap, Alvina seems a little worse for wear but also fine, thank the gods, and he can't help himself, he turns to cast his attention back into the common area, searching for Valrae. There's a stampede of people trying to get out over there, he can't see her, and he looks for a solid thirty seconds. He says a word that rhymes with 'sit,' and, assessing the damage here, begins to wonder whether the earthquake was worse in other locations, like maybe Cenril, where his children are with his mother. There's too much going on at once. People around him are starting to move and help others up, likewise moving to the exits, making the rush to get out worse. Hudson makes eye contact with Alvina: let's go, as soon as we can.

Sabrina had come rushing in, after the quake. She was not at the wedding for obvious reasons but now amidst the carnage she had to crawl over to get here she needed to lay eyes on the King and Queen. The door was wrenched open, stuck some degrees just enough she could squeeze through. Waving dust from her face she is already coated with it, but keen eyes follow the rumbled trail to the place where they should have been exercising their ceremony. With the caliber of the shakes she awaited aftershocks, full well knowing this night would last several weeks through. The amount of injured far surpassed the ability of even her crew. And that wasn’t counting who laid buried beneath. She was half-way up the aisle, shedding the long sleeved coat to the floor exposing bare arms and not stopping as she stormed up the path. She was probably the only one here not injured, not having been in the building at the time. She locks eyes with Alvina and presses her knees to the floor next to Josleen. “Where is Macon?” Her eyes are black as pitch, an unfiltered version of her affliction that this poor stranger likely knew nothing about. It might be frightening. She had taken to scanning the immediate area for Macon, giving orders to Alvina. “Stay with her.” Stones are kicked and a limb here and there freed but she did not panic in her search; these kinds of things historically, had brought human settlements to their knees but it didn’t mean everybody died. “Macon.” She calls out finally, but not like ‘ oh where art though’ more like ‘you have chores, boy.’There is a crack at the entrance; just as people flood to get out, Rohk had finally made his first appearance in months. The massive hound was tearing at the door, not for the local Royalties here, but his Queen Hildegarde and his Elfess were in this building somewhere. The beasty is wrenching the door open, probably causing more harm than good as further pieces of structure fall on those escaping.

Lionel waves to Hudson, resisting the urge to run. It’s unfortunate there’s no reason to run, he dwells, because now would be an opportune time. “Yeah, man. Rightbackatcha. Congratulations on the… you know, all of it. It’s a lot to take in.” This is unbearable. After this thought, pure and present hell breaks loose. He rises from his seat at the first sign of trouble, switching suddenly into a full-on warrior’s pose. “Alvina,” he mutters uncontrollably, glancing to Hudson with a passionate plea plainly clear on his face. “S-save her.” In all likelihood, her lover is already gone, and that’s just as well. His left leg is bent at the knee and his back is pushed forward and he’s off -- sprinting through collapsing wreckage with too much on his mind and not enough time to think it. Too many people are simultaneously in need and instantaneous calculations must be made. It shatters him to know he must focus solely on the queen. Debris piles down all around him and were it not for the supernatural haste he possesses, surely it would be upon him, too, breaking him into pieces. Guests to his left are mauled and unrecognizable. A lithe woman to his right -- for a heartbeat he thinks he recognizes her -- is very nearly crushed but for Lionel’s aggressive push. She is saved, but for how long? Lionel cannot stop running now. Hildegarde’s survival is paramount. More than anything the clips and scraps of wood and stone can do to shred his shoulders, the pain of knowing he must be selective in his rescue is nigh-unbearable. Somewhere, somehow, Catal’s last prince is positive Caedan Navarre is watching his every move with intrigue… or else throwing chunks of matter at him indignantly. A mob screams directly to the east; their screams are silenced when a great chandelier turns all their bones to dust. Where is Krice? Where is Rorin? Where is that damnable king -- was this his doing? Could he be so bold? Where is Alvina…? He stops just short of a massive construct tumbling down and killing him, and without much thought for it he pulls as many from the zone of impact as he can. He is no longer running and he scans the area preciously, his azure gaze taking in the chaos unfolding. At last, he spots Hildegarde, and she’s still intact and well enough for it, but so much is spiraling downward all around her and there is only one thing Lionel O’Connor can do. In renewed speed, he vaults toward her. “My queen,” he screams, loud as he can, and he pushes her aside after warning is given, wayward of the worst of it from a ceiling that will not stop falling.

Hildegarde , like Lionel, is quite lost in the events of the party until the earth itself shakes. Surely this is a testament to how bad this marriage is? But there’s no time to think about that, not when madness ensues. The earth quakes, the people scream, disaster everywhere. Hildegarde’s balance is nearly knocked off, she’s trying hard to see through the crowd and help those nearest her but everyone is simply running and clamouring; everyone is so desperate to live and to survive that they might even trample over one another if they can. So distracted by the hysteria of noise, the Queen of War is promptly shoved aside by the Catalian Prince and drops to the floor with a grunt. Fortunately, the shove has saved her life: the huge slab of rock half crushed into the floor proving that. “Lionel!” the Silver yells, already clambering to her feet in an effort to stand upright. “We have to help,” she tells him stupidly, knowing he will already agree to this. “Go go go!”

Rorin gave a scowl as the king left him for the preceedings. This would be the perfect time with Macons back exposed... but no. Not here. Not now. Rorin finally rescued Lionel from his meet with the mother of the King, not sparing another word, and even dragging him silently by the arm towards Hildegarde. There he looked down in pain. It would be a task not to cry. The aspiring paladin followed the dragon queen and the once-commander to their VIP seats near the dias for the marriage of King Macon and the Thane-Queen Josleen. What an asbolute farce. Or was it? Across from them hung the very large portrait of the last King and Queen though he hadn't known the pair he wondered what they thought of those that ruled Larket now? They were legends in power and strength that it is said they drew only from eachother. What kind of hearts stood here now in front of those so meaningful words- 'Fighting Freedom'? What was to come... Rorin sat in thought, leaning forward unceremoniously with his elbows splayed on his knees. There was a nice priest, a few things said about the King. The very idea of this matrimony disguisted and infuriated him. Still it was something to sit through. Josleen looked so pretty, so beautiful- all that white so carefully made. Rorin smiled. He had not personally spoken to the thane and perhaps though it was not truly frostmaws proudest moment it was her day. Something to be celebrated one way or another supposed the boy. Maybe he was simply tired. Tired of war. He hung his head as they kissed. It was not something he truly wished to see. While saddenes gray eyes looked up at the crown so delicately placed he had a sudden pang. That feeling. The feeling of a great and immenent danger. Rorin would grab at Lionel with his eyes wide, "something-" he said with quiet urgence, the import burning in his heart. "Something's about to happen," he tried to say as he grabbed at his own chest and then the ceremomial sword. The building shook. Rorin was on his feet. The earth broke and crumbled. Though the squire was lost as to his footing he pulled the sword of it's hilt- blue iron shining in the light, and plunged it deep within the earth. He grumbled and roared while he tried his damndest to remain still. Somewhere out there great crashing sounds meant the destruction of at least in part the city and he feared the worst. What sort of creature preyed upon them now? The walls begin to crack and crumble and it cannot be said that Rorin is not quick on his feet. The boy ducks, rolls, shoves himself forward, trying to bring Lionel to Hildegarde as he forces the sword to make another handhold. His other arm comes up while he watches the fort begin to fall apart- and in the air above the three something much more familiar to those that battled on the bridge would begin to appear. Rorin summoned forth a giant wall of force, holy power spilling forth, a dome of protection breaking apart and pushing off any debris and wavering just slightly as part of a grand chandelier split on it. He was doing his best to save the Queen Hildegarde, no matter how much it was not needed. The force of this may even break his armor but there was no doubt where Rorins heart lay. The paladin boy guarded his friends. No matter what the pain. Hildegarde wanted to go?! "No- shrite," he said grunting, all of his will rather comsumed, "where- to?" He asked as he grinned and chuckled, trying to stand as toms of debris shattered against the force of his very soul. The dome would not last forever.

Lita was glad to see Krice moving through the crowds towards her as the ceremony began. Everything was quick, concise, straight to the point. She liked this wedding more and more already. She was hoping there'd be more music. The silver-haired warrior still owed her a dance and she was not about to let him off the hook. She didn't feel the earth moving until it was too late, though she was curious as to why the new Queen was leaning so far forward towards the floor- she turned away as she lost her balance, stupid boots, and she reached a hand out to the nearest table to try and catch herself but only managed to tip the table up as she fell. Plates, food, silverware and that pretty centerpiece flew everywhere. Somebody's wine glass met her temple with enough force to shatter and she winced, hoping that stain on her dress was mostly from red wine. She'd mumble a curse under breath as she struggled to her feet again. People were running, shrieking, most trying to get out while others rushed to save the dignitaries in attendance.She glanced over her shoulder, vaguely aware of the fact that Krice was supposed to have been somewhere nearby. Dark eyes narrowed, trying to find him through debris and dust. Her head pounding she'd lift a hand to her temple, fingers wet and sticky with blood. Another curse and then she was looking around for Mythayus. What the hell had even just happened?

Valen had been about to shed tears at the entire proceeding, and then the earthquake. He looked all around him as things started to go to hell. Was the wedding cursed? What -happened-? He barely had time to react, and his first and forefront thinking was to protect others, until a tumultuous tremor knocks him to the ground with a shout. That whole damn ceiling was going to cave in it looked like! With a grimace, and a wince as he was sure he had landed on something but did not care what it was at this point, he would try to scramble to his feet. Josleen was down, so many others as well, chandeliers crashed into various places and it truly did seem like the end of the world. At about the ten second mark, for some reason, only one thing was on his mind. Protect the Matriarch, Macon's mother. Should something happen to her, he did not want to even think about what the king would do. Extending his hand out quickly, shadows would form a bubble around the elderly woman, shielding her, and counting on Macon to be the one to protect his bride from the falling debris and rubble. Goren would not be lost, as a hand would point in his direction and do the same, before one final piece from the ceiling fell right in front of him as the earthquake subsided, knocking him backwards as he hit his head hard on the floor. Groaning, and holding the back of his head as he stood up, slowly this time, he would look around. Valrae was safe, and that was good. A nod would be given to the Avian for his quick thinking, eyes lingering on the witch to make sure she was alright, before he noted that the walls, were still tumbling down. He had to think fast once more, and looked to Goren "Gore. Make sure that people get out safe. Don't f(he swears) around." What feminimity was inside him was gone at the moment, and he was all in business mode, protector of Larket, defender of the Stone. Dodging whatever debris was coming, down his way now, he would find Macon's mother, and throw up a barrier the largest he had ever done, that would shield almost the entire wedding party that was in his vicinity. He didnt care that Macon didnt trust Vampires, all he had to do was trust Valen. this was surely putting a strain on him however, the black scar on his chest almost bubbling in agitation as he groaned out in no small amount of pain, but he held fast. He was Larketian, and he did. not. Break.

Leoxander had returned to the sandbox just moments before - rather, the standing/sitting room. His date on his arm, the two would just find a chair if available, doing his utmost best to keep his posture straight and purposeful. Any mind reader might guess he was already bored out of his ever lovin' mind, but he was also formulating plans, plans due to change, while watching the other guests up in their more important spot, keeping a calm expression on his disguised face. The crown placed on Josleen's head has his gaze but it is an impossible target ... at this point. With so many guards and friends stationed. Of all that he could have anticipated for this affair, that earthquake was not a part of his plan, and the stranger who looked, smelled, and acted nothing like Leo instinctively held onto Eleanor, or 'Rona', with an arm held over her head, in case that throne room came apart, drawing her down into that lesser than V.I.P. space. ducked down. He had his share of bad luck and curses in his day. Rainy day being the obvious for a wedding. But a bloody earthshake? Red's perfect hair might just be askew after that ordeal, but given the crowd rushing for the exit he doubted anyone would notice. This could either be hell sent, or heaven sent, depending on what they decided to do with the opportunity and how others reacted, but he made certain Eleanor was well enough to keep moving. Only then would he look around to see what other injuries or casualties there may be. Given the destruction, Leo more or less forgot about his disguise. Seeing Lionel rush toward his loyalty, Leo would eventually release 'Rona' and abandon his greed to see who he could help off the ground. Royalty or not. "Get under somethin' strong!" He called out into the throne room, forgetting his regal accent, as no one had given the instruction yet. Even if that first moment was over, he was traveled enough to know more may follow. And outside was not always the safest place to be in a castle courtyard.

Eleanor took to sitting at Red's side, snuggled up against him to play up their masquerade. She even leaned into him, as if to whisper flirtations in his ear, although it was mostly comments about how boring this whole event was so far and how she couldn't wait for the fun to begin. Little did she know, s--- was about to hit the ceiling, as it were -- or rather, that it was about to all come crashing down. Jostled into the lycanthrope's lap with the force of the earthquake, the two of them crouched down between the chairs, celadon eyes hooded beneath a sharply furrowed brow. "Wha' in th'--" Debris fell, people cried out in horror, and she searched around with a worried gaze. This had definitely not been part of the plan, but the rogue was adaptable. With Red-- now Leo-- surging forward to aide the others, she wove between falling plaster and stone, spinning around to avoid being crushed or smothered by the panicked mob. Although briefly separating herself from the red-haired male, she spun back around indecisively, then let loose a stream of curses that would make even the pirate blush. Mumbling under her breath with an angry stride, she crossed back to where Leo was with the intention of helping him corral the others to safety, shooting him a frustrated side-eye although saying nothing to him about their plans. She'd put a pin in them for now, but had no intention of abandoning things altogether. First things first. Reaching out a hand to anyone needing help up, she guided them out of harm's way.

Krice wasn't one for pomp and ceremony, yet here he was, attending one of the biggest ceremonies in recent history. As the official aspect of the wedding began, he moved through the crowds while they were still settling, drawing closer to Lita until he could no longer approach without potentially drawing attention away from the affianced couple. Though what could, really? An earthquake, maybe! He felt it before it took full hold, a subtle tremor underfoot that even the ridged leather of his boots could not absorb. Despite his strength, despite his balance, the violence of the erupting quake knocked him to a knee and he reached out one hand to stabilize himself, fingers splayed against the earth. The stone floor split under his palm and he lifted his hand, squaring his shoulders as he searched the panicked citizens - and officials - for Lita. Overhead, a chunk of ceiling broke free from its tethering crack and fell toward the crowds below. Krice moved to dodge it, but realized that doing so would jeopardize the people around him. Reaching up, he extended his arms to catch the slab, barely wider than him and thus easily balanced, while calling commands to the people around him to not only duck but to actually -move- before he could drop the heavy stone to the floor. The skin over his right hand's knuckles was split, loosing his purified blood in thin, unhurried rivulets over the bump of his wrist and into the black silk cuff of his shirt. People scrambled away from him if only to escape the debris that continued to fall, that he continued to redirect away from the evacuating crowds whilst proceeding toward Lita. In his peripheral vision, he saw a holy dome protecting three, then one, but the crowds and chaos prevented him from identifying the shielded person or the two who left it. Other people needed his help, people who weren't supernatural in any way and wouldn't survive falling debris. He didn't abandon his attempts to reach the raven-haired vampire but he diverted from his path to help wedding guests to their feet, mostly the women, older men, and some younger males who struggled over the craggy terrain. Another chandelier fell and he ran for it, skidding beneath its eastern edge with his hands poised under the golden rim. It clattered around his arms, a ghastly noise of crystal and slate as its far edge smashed into the floor, and the people unfortunate enough to have still been there when it crashed. He cringed but focused on the few who were under the dangling crystal which -he- held up, the people he -had- managed to save, his elbows locked into his sides, musculature of each arm tense and rigid to support the heavy light fixture. Only once the four survivors were clear of it did Krice let the rest of the damaged chandelier drop to the floor, turning to pursue his companion. One step later, another concrete slab fell across the back of his left arm and shoulder blade and he grunted as its weight pushed him to the ground, cringing at the discomfort caused. Bruised muscle, scraped skin, and torn clothing aside, the warrior returned to his feet and ran for Lita, who he could see through the parting crowds. Covered in stone-dust, he arrived by the woman's side and reached for her, a relieved murmur of her name precipitating his hands finding her arms. Gently but quickly he moved her away from the more treacherous areas of the room and put her back against a sturdy pillar, his arms creating a 'fence' that flanked her, hands locked against the stone at her either side. With his mind focused and eyes scanning the chaotic scene, the silver-haired enigma felt the earthquake subside and watched as the last crumbs of debris fell to the ground. Sabrina's arrival drew his eye, along with the team that followed her in, and he was relieved that she could be here to help those he could not.

Mythayus would dance with Lita till Macon and the queen to be would call for everyone’s attention. He’s smile to Lita, ”I suppose you need to go back to the person you came with.” He’d watch her leave. The return to his own spot in the VIP area. He’d smile watching the ceremony take place and he agreed that the Larket tradition of celebrating before the wedding was a bit silly. His continued as the crown was placed on the Queen’s head, but the earth started to quake. He struggled to keep his balance staggering forward and backwards. He survey the area for a moment or two, seeing the tragedy that he so wanted to prevent, but who can stop an earthquake. He also decided that wedding are horrible and only lead to tragedy. Snapping back into the current situation. Everyone running around, he wanted to make sure everyone was okay, Lita, the King the queen, their respective families, and his future rugby teammates. After making sure the mention were okay and safe. He’d starting hurrying, to help those around him and to make sure they were safe, and start removing debris from those who maybe trapped. Once one was free he’d move to the next person(s).

Raphaline has for most of the wedding kept close to her escort, more so to keep an eye on him. But when the earthquake occurs and the party becomes a funeral, she chooses to toss aside the obligation of feminine presence and tosses her heeled shoes to the side, ties up her dress so she can move more freely and moves to help any who are caught beneath the feet of fleeing people or falling ceiling. She moves, jumps and dodges out of the way as best as she can, getting scratched once or twice on the leg from sharp rubble, but does help in escorting guest out. Once the shaking begins to subside and the earthquake seems to be coming to an end, it is only then that she takes a moment to check in with all the people she knows here. She notes where each is, and with a sigh of relief begins to look for both Lionel and Hildegarde. Where had all this come from?

Eleanor stuffed all the pickpocketed items SOMEWHERE on her person, all surreptitious-like, and flashed Leo a grin amidst all the chaos.

Leoxander made off with a bottle of wine before he made his way to 'Rona' in the chaos.

Eleanor thinks Leo doesn't have any choice. With a wolfish grin she sidled up to her partner-in-crime, having made a killin' at the expense of the party members, and took his lead to get up outta this joint.

Leoxander tossed a present to the new Queen.

Leoxander gave Josleen 1 message in-a-bottle.

Macon -is- helping Josleen up, dammit! Or he would be if he hadn’t been immediately surrounded and covered by Kingsguard. As soon as he’s managed to get himself free and regained his footing he is forgoing it to kneel beside The Queen of Larket and place hands on her side and shoulder to usher her back to her feet. Sabrina is given a look of bewilderment, like ‘I have no idea what is going on.’ He’s lost his crown as well in the quake, but that thing is thick enough to withstand the fall and make it out of its duel with gravity with only a chip or two knocked off. The nearby Kingsguard react as well, chasing after Macon, all of them swarming again towards the king and new queen. They are sent packing with a growl and wave of Macon’s hand as he looks out over the crowd and the crumbling wall of the throne room. He has no time, nor the luxury of being able to panic, that is for the guests, not the king. While getting his bride onto her feet he is barking orders at any guards or fort staff that will listen, for them to create order and get the guests to safety. With a dip of his head he gives a silent order to Sabrina that he will protect the bard, and that the healer is more needed elsewhere. Obviously he has decided that the coronation instantly made his wife Hard Larketian Stone and that she hasn’t sustained any injuries that he can see, otherwise he would have thought twice about sending Sabrina away. The timing of this is all too perfect and for half a second Macon is scanning the crowd for Percival to perhaps get an explanation as to what caused this quake, he can’t find the headmaster in the chaos. While he is scanning however, he catches a glimpse of Valen’s heroics in regards to Augusta and one can be sure the vampire has at the very least won over the opinion of the impossible to win over matron. Once he is confident that nothing is about to fall onto himself and Josleen, and that the guards and the several helpful guests, excluding the ones that are looting, have the disastrous situation on its way to being under control, Macon looks to his queen. “Alrigh’?” Probably not, as they stand on the dais with a view of the panic and devastation. They’ve been married, what? Five minutes? And everything is literally crumbling around them.

Josleen is too overwhelmed and stunned when Sabrina demands to know where Macon is. Macon? Isn’t he right beside her? On hands and knees she looks around for her husband, confused by the quake and blinded by the dust. Macon finds her first and helps her up. She holds his hand tightly. While he barks orders, she calls for her parents and Skylei. Her family was coming to her as she looked for them, the family keen to leave together to ensure the survival of each member. Having accounted for each other, they can now roll up their sleeves and dresses and get to work ensuring the safety of other friends and relatives. Josleen looks up at Macon, unharmed as he deduced, as he asks if she’s alright. Her face twists apprehensively, but she nods. She is physically fine, it’s true, but this has shaken her, literally and figuratively. Unlike Macon, she doesn’t immediately suspect foul play. Unlike Macon, she has never orchestrated mass crisis for personal gain, and thus she doesn’t project wickedness onto anyone else. For now, this is just an earthquake, with the same tragic timing all earthquakes possess. She sets about ensuring the guests are alright, and tallying those that are not. However, this time, she never strays far from Macon, always no more than an arm’s length away. Few newlyweds spend their first evening tending to broken wedding guests and a fractured home, but Josleen doesn’t pity herself just yet. Work keeps her focused, and when the work that must be done tonight is done, exhaustion clouds her thoughts.

Sabrina gives a nod to Macon and already around the outskirts of the throne room the healer’s team had spread, working from the rim to the center and placing citizens in order of need. A lot were helped to their feet, unburied and superficially wounded individuals were sent to the door. The team was efficient at weeding out those who could report to colored sections of material they were handed and directions given to various stations. It was an emergency procedure with a response team that never dreamed of reporting on this caliber. The students were used as ushers and the immediate area under the chandelier is essentially avoided as pools of blood rolled out onto the floor, thick as it mixed with dust and debris. No person was favored over the other, no matter their status, the care was ordered by need as a basis. A chic Larketian who Sabrina had sworn was on the council demanded treatment, yelling at a healer to take him first and he was met to a solid fist and a broken nose when he is pushed out of the way to attend to a wailing baby. Where the Larketian would have begged for services he was now standing with that very baby forced into his arms and entered into services for the Guild by way of draft. There was a small protest that was overruled as he was told to take the baby outside and he did so with little more fuss. Seeing that the King and Queen are alright she moves toward the chaos from her positon. Krice and Lita catch her eye and it is to them she is headed. He is bloody but he is fine, Lita looks more irritated than anything and the elfess suggests to Krice. “You did say you would find him.” Gesturing to Ro at the door she adds. “Calm him down before he hurts someone else?” She had work to do so that was the end of the pleasantries as she begins working in the order her path takes her. She kneels from spot to spot, spending only moments with those she finds before moving on to the next. Each healthy citizen is then enlisted to provide aide to those still in need. By ‘executive order of the King’ or so she would lie. There was no real time for people to question the authenticity of this order now.

Valen would lower the barrier finally once the worst was over, with perhaps a bit more difficulty than he would have liked to have seen. It was almost as if he could not stop it this time, though with determination the shadows would vanish back to where they had come and the Vampire would stagger ever so slightly, a hand coming to his forehead, a pain gripping his shoulder though it dulled now that the flow of magic had subsided from him. He felt weak again, but not from bloodloss, something was the matter and he intended to find out just what was going on, but it would not be this night. He had other promises to keep, and as much as it was ungentlemanly to leave his date, he knew Goren would be okay. Staggering, and using whatever he could to keep himself upright, he would look to Macon with a nod, though a look would also say that he would wish to speak with him later. So it was, he would start to make his way towards the exit, helping any whom he could along the way.

Lita was distracted as above the chaos, a familiar voice pierced through the room. She narrowed dark eyes at Leoxander- 'Red'- and he didn't look familiar but she knew that voice. She'd heard it too many times amidst the crowds of a gambling parlor and ringside, over the noise of underground brawls. She didn't recognize the man but she knew the voice, so out of place here. She was supposed to have been finding Krice but he was gone again, helping others. Good. She helped a woman to her feet, wiped her fingers across the girl's face. Tears had streaked through a layer of dust already settling over the girl's cheeks. Lita squeezed the girl's shoulders. "Hey, you're okay." Her voice sounded loud in her ears but maybe that was just because she was trying to talk over that pounding in her head. "You're okay, here." She steered the girl towards a nearby table, where a few people had huddled for cover. One of the gentleman there took the girl under an arm without question. Hopefully they would stay under cover until the room had settled a bit more. She turned back to find Krice again only to see that bit of ceiling fall on him and she managed a few steps forward, stumbling over a bit of debris- damn boots!- before Krice closed the distance between them himself. She didn't argue, just let him steer her away from the room's more open areas, until her back was against something solid. The stone was cool against the bare skin of her shoulders but she was trembling slightly, despite her best efforts for composure. Her hands lifted to the warrior's arms around her, fingers squeezing gently. Her head was still pounding. The noise and chaos around them felt far away, a little blurry. But he was here. He was safe. She tilted her head forward and down, letting her eyes close as the rubble settled around them. "I'm okay," she murmured, the reminder more for own benefit than for his. Another familiar voice- Sabrina- drew her attention and she lifted her head to look at the woman over Krice's shoulder. A brief glance sideways as she mentioned the beast at the door. So that's what she'd been talking about. Her gaze slid back to Krice. "Go, I'll help here." She wasn't a healer by any means of magic but she could assess wounded and dress a wound if need be so she'd follow Sabrina as the woman helped the others present.

Hudson finds it strange that Lionel should be so preoccupied with Alvina but doesn't get a chance to dwell on it or ask the guy what it is he means exactly. The room is crumbling in places, but Hudson cuts through the crowd to reach her. "The girls," they say immediately to each other. There's little room for cleanup efforts or triage after that, Hudson sees to it that they make their way out.

Krice saw Raphaline in the crowds, leaving her post as Rorin's date to tend to people who needed a healer's help. Good. Two healers he could trust to assist the injured as best as could be done. He glanced back at Lita nestled safely between himself and that sturdy pillar, his features softening in apology for the injury to her head. Keeping one arm alongside her, he withdrew the other hand to her bleeding temple and hovered his palm over it, protecting the open wound from the falling dust of stone, one grinding another, during the earthquake itself. He was reassured by her murmured words. Josleen and Macon were not his concern, especially since they had Kingsguard to assist them, and the injured people had healers. Granted, it would take a lot of work to help everyone. Sabrina's voice was a distant swirl of sound at the back of his mind before he blinked her way, her words snapping into focus. He shot a look toward the collapsed door where Rohk was fighting his way into the building, and it was with a grunted apology to Lita that he jogged away from her, careful not to jostle loose flooring in his approach of the hound. He unwittingly passed Valen on his way to the door, the scent of blood and dust following him as he arrived in front of Rohk, arms outstretched. " Hey, heyhey... Calm down, Sabrina is fine." He moved to redirect the the hound away from the entrance, allowing people to leave.

Valen would have given a wince at the smell of Krice's blood, but still showed that unwavering resolve, and a nod to him given, though continued helping others on his way out.