(LOG) Feast of Ghosts - 2

(18:16) [#] Outside the castle, the wind whipped, rolling in heavy grey clouds. Already, they dropped sharp pellets of ice and threatened worse. Inside, however, the hearths and candles blazed, bathing the dark stone keep in brilliance. Scents of food and flowers and perfume filled every room almost unbearably, decorations far more ornate and plentiful than they were on usual days. Much had been dragged from storage, and new rich cloth luxuriously draped doorways and windows. On the King's orders, the ghosts were to be made welcome, their senses assaulted as tradition demanded. All was prepared, and now was the appointed hour, castle bells tolling to call all to indulge in the Feast of Ghosts. [!dining for RP]

(18:25) Maeryn kept herself well within the crowd as they began to filter into the dining hall. Her red dress mostly hidden by the tight velvet cloak that tied around her shoulders. The hood of which only was pulled down as she entered the dining area, her bright golden curls left loose around her shoulders and dotted with small sparkling diamonds and tiny red flowers. Her bright jade eyes kept to the floor, pretending respect to hide the fear and twitching nervousness. She took the seat a servant pulled out for her, only then daring to glance up at the rest of the table and the rooms occupants. Not a word spoken, and only simple nods of acknowledgement to those present that she knew.

(18:30) The Nameless Lady slowly appeared, yet...did not. She was barely visable to the naked eye, a shimmer of an outline. Only her face seemed to be in any sort of fully visable focus. Those pale eyes devoid of color, but radiating a brutal sadness. She couldn't remember why she was there, or even where 'there' was. Over the long years, more and more of what she had known, what she had clung onto diminished. Only the subtle pulse of green through what was most visiably her veins kept any sort of memory as to who she was, and what her purpose in coming back to this realm was. But she had grown silent, had become the watcher. From a spot in the corner, she hovered, her visage seeming to shiver against the soft breezes from the hearth.

(18:32) Garnett lifted her chin as she swept into the dining hall, pale face more drawn than usual. Paints had been required to hide the darkness beneath her eyes, her hair drawn up into an ornate fall of crimson curls and her gown rich dark blue velvets of Valenti, edged in lace and jewels. Despite the gown and the dress, she could muster no smile, her expression grim as if she were about to face the headsman. Jade eyes flickered over the room, a nod here and there, quiet greetings as she slipped over to Maeryn's side. Her hand fluttered to rest on the back of her chair before she sunk into her own. "Good evening, Lords and Ladies," she offered pleasantly, a small worried glance darting to her daughter. In passing, her eyes caught a remembered ghost, Garnett's breath ceasing for a moment.

(18:35) Arela dressed for the occasion but kept herself in blue as she usually did. An orante, decorative wrap was pulled over her shoulders, a lovely broach holding it close at her collar. Without fear she entered the dining area, smoothing out the front of her skirt with her palms to rectify the fabric of any wrinkles and creases. Her hair, usually bound in tight and proper was left loose save for the twisting braids pulled back on either temple, pinned in place at the back of her head, adorned with a long train of decorative jewels that swayed with her curls. Pale eyes wandered and with a nod she took the seat offered to her by a servant, paying no mind to the appearing ghost but watching Garnett from afar. A low, polite greeting was given beneath her breath, hands folding over her lap once comfortable.

(18:36) Tyltin V had very nearly decided not to come at all; he fancied taking Maeryn back to Karmenys for the winter and the spring campaign, far away from this damned castle and its ghostly residents. But in the end Garnett had convinced him to come, if ony to confront his father in a public setting where civility would reign. And he was curious, too, as he'dnever seen such a Feast before, himself. As he strolled into the dining room behind his lovely young wife, pulling out his own seat beside her. He was dressed in spectacular finery--for him, at least, given his usual lack of attire. A relatively simple blue surcoat and dark velvet breetches clothed him, displaying the pride of his family for the event. "It'll be alright, Ryn," he breathed, gripping her knee beneath the tablecloth to reassure her.

(18:42) William Alexston was without his wife this evening, given her guests and 'condition', and he'd opted to turn up regardless. Just in case a certain relative made an appearance and happened to upset his Royal sister. So, he appeared in his usual ceremonial armour, since velvet seemed like it was for something more casual - and he was there to respect the dead, so he had to look like he was being respectful. He entered the room shortly after Arela and sat down next to her, leaning back in the chair with the usual sounds of creaking leather and clinking metal. He nodded to the table quite casually with, "Evening my Lords, Ladies," and then turned his head to the girl he'd sat down next to. He couldn't help it. He grinned at her, pulled 'the squirrel' face, and then began to remove the metal from his gauntlets. "Your Highness."

(18:43) The Drowned Boy's appearance was noted by the dripping water that seemed to echo in the hall. Hair was flat and hugged the young boy's face, his body covered in clothes that clung to his thing body, drenched and heavy. Dark circles were prominent on his features, his eyes dull and his skin the faintest tint of blue from air loss. Bottom lip quivered as he approached, shy and wary of those that greeted them with such a feast. He wrung his hands and shifted nervously on his feet, creating a puddle that could certainly be seen but never touched upon the floor. He was uncertain as to why he came and what called him but he was there, a child amongst adults and frightened. His presence was akin to water, every movement bringing forth a ripple effect across his body that distorted his being for a moment. Quiet, he held onto his own hands for dear life.

(18:45) Emersyn usually disdained such festivities. For ghosts they might be, but they simply reminded of what was not, but this years..curiousity proved too great. Valenti was on the thrown again, the boy that had killed her son returned to the castle. Older memories tugged too, one dear to her gone before her and the other more recently. She would be here. As carefully as she would have tended her clothing and hair in life, the Lady von Pith sculpted her appearance for this night, olive features several decades younger than when she'd last been seen about the castle. Her black hair gleamed with a ghostly sheen, swept up..and she simply appeared at the foot of the dining table, hands clasped against her flat stomach as dark eyes scrutinize the room's inhabitants. "It is so kind of you to hold such a feast," she remarked coolly, dark eyes flicking from Wyld's son to Mereavus' son for that odd expression he pulled.

(18:47) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen appeared more-or-less intact in the empty chair at the head of the table; larger in death than he'd been in life, his hair and beard maintained distinguished streaks of grey rather than being dominated by the colour as they'd been in the last years of his kingship. He glowed in radiance for a few moments before the light began muting and, though he wanted to remain in his grandson's seat, Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen stood up and took a position to the right, casting his deep green gaze about the room. Despite her hood those forest-green eyes lingered on Maeryn's form, and he even smiled at Tyltin, clearly unperturbed by their obvious discomfort. But as his gaze wandered to the corner that smile faltered, for he was reminded that even ghosts fade, and that was enough to fill him with a subtle terror more exquisite than any he'd felt in life. His own words echoed him from all those years ago: the next feast you attend might be from the other side of the Veil...

(18:54) Terrance Ronhghyl walked into the dining room in his finest, velvet and sliks in the color of his house; green and white. Trousers and boots remained black, surcoat of green, and tunic of white. What could be pulled back of his hair was tied with a black ribion. His light eyes wandered the room as he spoke his pleasantries, but never falling on a living face. As he took his seat, he found her, the daughter he'd lost before she could live her life. There was much to say, but all in do time and not in this crowd. His eyes would finally find the living faces and give each a soft smile.

(19:03) Arela's teeth clenched when the sound of creaking leather touched her ears. Her nose wrinkled, turning just enough to greet William. Met with the sight of his cheeks puffed out she lifted a hand as quick as she could to muffle her laughter, dipping her head down to shield herself from the odd stares she was bound to draw her way. Unable to stop herself a fit of rather loud chuckles escaped her, chest heaving as she attempted to contain her laughter until the feeling passed. The princess waved a hand at the man and shook her head, embarrassed for having begun laughing at a time where it was not appropriate. The most she could manage was a silent greeting, dipping her head politely toward William.

(19:07) Drysllthen's column of guards resplendent in their polished armour marched into the room, flanking the door, their arrival sufficient to announce the monarch's arrival. Between them, with his Queen on his arm, the King strode into the room. One hand lifted to bid those gathered to dine keep their seats, but quickly his attention moved past them to the less solid guests. Respectfully, he bowed his head to the spectres. "We are honoured to offer you what meager gifts we can, dear spirits, and we thank you for attending us this night. Be made welcome." The pleasant smile turned on his living subjects as he straightened. "Tonight, my friends, is not a night for mourning, but for celebration. Fear not our forebearers that join us, but let them relive the joys they once tasted. Drink deeply and take pleasure in what you have for one day you shall join their ranks. Drysllthen swiveled to his grandfather and thumped his fist to his chest in salute. So greeted, he escorted the Queen to her seat at his side, a kiss offered to her cheek and a bolstering smile before he took his own. "Let us begin with entertainment!"

(19:09) Roselynne broke out her best gown for the evening. A full white gown spilled into a long train behind her, tight enough to subtly accentuate her curves and woven with small sparkling stones along every swirling seam. Her dark red hair was a fountain of curls and deep Valenti-blue coloured ribbon. Paints and powders were applied precisely with an expert hand that made sure her bright emerald eyes popped. She'd begun drinking early, and by the time she made her way to join her husband as they entered the room, she was quite well buzzed. But her smile was happy and her grace perfectly intact. She'd bow her head graciously, though barely able to resist sitting prematurely to find a glass of wine. She seemed all patience as she awaited her seat to be pulled out and sank herself down into it gracefully and properly after returning the peck to Drysllthen's cheek. Fingers knitted together in her lap to keep from reaching for the glass, gaze traveling over toward her brother to give him a slight grin before offering one to the rest of the table.

(19:11) Maeryn gave a muted smile to her mother, but said nothing. Her intolerance of make-up left the darkness around her eyes for all to see when the hood was removed. She jumped, when that hand found her knee, but Tyltin's murmured words eased her and she gave a slight nod of her golden head. Her hand drifted below the table to rest atop of his, though the soft caresse of it tightened until her knuckles were bone white when Wyld made his appearance. Her jades locked on those forest-greens, long after he had turned them away from her. "Good evening," she finally uttered toward the table at large, though her voice held a slight edge of trembling, and her gaze didn't seem to quite focus on any of them.

(19:13) The Nameless Lady's eyes settled on Garnett for a long moment. She knew that fiery hair, that face. But she couldn't recall where. Her smile was heavy as she looked over the girl. Glance fell on the dripping child, her heart aching. Slowly she shifted toward him, without taking any real steps, and put her hand upon his shoulder. She had no voice, couldn't remember how it worked, but those pale eyes tried their best to communicate her wish for him to ease. Then something like a memory flashed, a childs hands, Garnett's stomach, obliteration. She held on more tightly to the boys shoulder for a moment then drifted away. The King had punished her before, and though he was not there, she was sure if she took any further part, offered any other support, that she would get punished once more. Back in her corner, she seemed to shrink, that pulse of green in her veins glinting all the brighter. She glanced at the King as he made his entrance and spoke the words, and she shrank further.

(19:14) Shyloh had been waiting nearby, his heart absolutely racing. No matter how many times he practiced in his head, he was still jittery about the entire ordeal. But at the same time, he had a dream he intended to reach. When he heard the announcement, he took in a slow breath. "I am ready." He whispered to himself. He'd place a mask upon his face, a pure white color, which had a large happy smile upon it. Decked out in blue and black tights with tunic, belled hat of same color was donned. He rolled his shoulders, focusing. It was then he took a hard run forward, moving to two backflips until he was near the kings seat. All energy used, he pushed himself up to curl, flipping straight over him. It was then he landed upon the table, tossing his arms out in a ta-da fashion "Lord and Ladies, your main course for such a festive evening has arrived!" He'd announce in a jovial manner. It was then he landed on his knees before the King, bowing to him "Your majesty, I heard I taste delightful with a fine wine. So I would recommend that." Grinning beneath the mask. Head lifted, eyes trained on the face he had waited so long to see. Only to realize...he had already seen it. This was a 'shit a brick' moment if there ever was once. A small gasp, barely audible, came from beneath the mask as blue eyes widened. He got punk'd without realizing it.

(19:16) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen turned to watch as the youths marched into the dining room with pompous affair, that smile returning to his face when the reigning King of Nharati saluted him so. Nodding in acknowledgement, he clapped his own hands together, though they made no sound to the living ears present. He strolled over to the radiant form of Emersyn, his face growing slightly sad as he contemplated her. "I've missed you," he allowed. "I feared you would not come again, this year...or could not." Still, he did not reach out, afraid that his spectral hand would pass through her without feeling.

(19:18) William Alexston's head turned from Arela when Drysllthen and Roselynne appeared, giving his sister a pleased smile once she seated herself next to him. She might well need that glass. She wasn't here yet, but he knew. He knew she'd come. She'd not miss it if all the demons in Hell hounded at her hemline. His eyes lifted to Emersyn, briefly - he'd been too small to know her. To be aware she'd been there when he was hauled out of his mother, to know she'd seen it in all its bloody glory. Still, she fit the description. He could assume that was Emersyn. One of the few safe names in the Alexston household whilst his mother was alive. He passed a glance to Tyltin. One of the no-no names. This could be an interesting evening. Regardless, he poured his sister a glass of wine and passed it to her wordlessly, along with that 'we'll never escape her' expression.

(19:23) Emersyn's disapproval for the antics of the younger generation fairly oozed from the woman, and she drifted toward the young woman who was laughing so plainly with a scowl. It moved rather sharply to the boy who was so unmistakable Eave's child. "Hmph," she uttered, the two in very real danger of getting a ghostly twap upside the head. They were, however, saved from such a terrible fate by a welcome distraction, for while her smile for the long dead King was small it was purely pleased. "And I you, my Prince," she murmured, dark eyes locked onto his face. Had she a heart still, it would have raced. Propriety in that regard seemed foolish now, but struck by a similar worry, her hands remained firmly clasped.

(19:24) Tyltin V had shirked his sword after considering the consequences of enraging any warriors present, but still his free fingers fumbled around his hip, searching in vain for the fine copper hilt of the blade that wasn't there. He nodded to William, acknowledging their families' mutual emnity even though he felt no ire toward Mereavus or her spawn--none that he didn't feel toward nearly all men, at any rate. Maeryn's tightened grasp was matched by his own bone-bruising grip when the old man flickered that smile to him, and though it would do no good he wished only to rise from the table and throttle the dead bastard. "You see...he's ignoring you, love," he found himself saying, as though it were any consolation. He didn't even mind the stench of cooked flesh that assaulted his nose, as he kept a keen eye on Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen, to the expense of the other ghouls.

(19:25) The Drowned Boy's sullen gaze shifted from the gathering living to the woman who touched his shoulder. His eyes searched her face but saw no one he knew but that touch was soothing; her touch reminded him of his mother and a sob caught in his throat, tugging harsly as the sleeves of his tunic. It was hard to ease and before he could try to draw her back Shyloh distracted him. Pale eyes widened as a faint giggle escaped the boy, rocking on his feet in delight. What fine entertainment! Although intrigued he remained planted in the spot he had appeared in. His relaxation was visible, the sight of a jester one that eased him. Shyly, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers towards Shyloh, unaware that the man was distracted with his shock at discovering just who the King was.

(19:25) Mereavus had a flair for the dramatic. She always had. Appearing out of fireplaces was something one only did when one had a perfectly good taste for that sort of thing. And it'd be horribly bad taste to appear in an inferno. A candle would do. A breeze over the wick, a fluttered, stray touch of flame that curled outwards and began to blush until it was burgundy. Nothing changed. Burgundy and gold quatrefold brocade, rubies. All ethereal reds and proud carriage. She was an unsurprising member of the feast; so recently dead and so insufferably still there. She lifted a hand to brush a strand of mahogany back into its ectoplasmic place, and shifted her eyes onto the room. Danele's fool husband. Her howling brat. His twelve-year old wife. Garnett, looking like her womb had imploded a second time. Her stubborn, well-bred children. William's endless Plebeian streak. Roselynne's refusal to be happy. Drysllthen's aflame bathwater. And Emersyn. There was one good thing in the room, at least.

(19:29) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen forgot Maeryn indeed when those strong, dark eyes stole his gaze, and he felt Emersyn's voice wrapping around his spine, rooting him in place. "Let the children have their fun," he said at last, casting a glance about the living souls, some happy, others desperately sad or furious, all vital. And he felt that deep pang of envy and hunger common to all spirits, wherever they rest. "Where have you remained?"

(19:31) Maeryn chewed on the inside of her cheek, gaze never departing from the giant of a ghost, even as her brother and his wife entered. When Wyld's attention was caught on another dead, something of a relieved smile ghosted across her face. Taking a deep breath, she looked away and pinned her eyes on the jester as he began his antics, a polite smile on her face. At Tyltin's words, she nodded and very nearly lifted from her seat to slide away from the uncomfortable crowd, to flee without fear of being cornered alone. "Would they notice if we left?" she whispered to her husband, whilst still smiling in Shyloh's direction.

(19:32) Drysllthen's head tilted to offer a warm reassuring smile to his mother, holding her gaze for a moment until it seemed she wouldn't simply slide from her chair. Though he'd started well with seriousness, a smile spread over his face as he watched the interactions, a nod here and there. The sad ghostchild drew a flick of his fingers, the King inviting him nearer as the room exploded with activity. Laughter boomed from him as his guards twitched, Drysllthen clapping his appreciation for the bold entrance of the jester. While taking an offered glass of wine from his taster, he met the boy's gaze with a cheeky grin, lips pulled up at the corner as feigned innocence glittered in his eyes. "I'm afraid you don't suit my tastes, dear jester, but you could try my cousin.." His goblet tipped toward Arela. "I hear she bites." His white teeth snapped sharply at the boy, his cocky grin remaining for his own antics.

(19:36) Roselynne shot a grin at William when he took it upon himself to cure her torture of having a hand without wine. "Why thank you, darling," she uttered in a tone that answered his unspoken words, a sigh escaping her. Just as Shyloh bounded upon the table, she'd taken her glass up and out of harms way. While others were distracted she downed a rather large portion of the liquid. Then she felt her, that familiar presence so very near. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder and gave a nod of her head in greeting, as well as a raise of her glass in the spectre's direction.

(19:38) Shyloh put on a wobbled smile towards the King. Sneaky man he was. "On the contrary your majesty, I think her petite boot already got a mouthful." He'd glance over and notice the boy, head tilting. He had never encountered an actual ghost before. He was a bit anxious around a crowd, but with ghosts present it was more so. It was then he kicked off of the table, landing on his booted feet with a thud. He noticed Maeryn, bowing towards her once. Seeing as how she was speaking to Tyltin, he would let her be. But it was nice to have a friendly face in the crowd, he believed. He'd then skip his way over to the ghost boy, smiling to him. "Why so kind of you to join us. I don't suppose you fancy little tricks hmm?" Wiggling his brows at the boy as he hopped backwards. He figured he would head for the King since motioned, and thus he moved back in that direction.

(19:38) Tyltin V allowed his gaze to be stolen by the jester as well, if only for a brief moment. Such an acrobatic display had him considering the boy's usefulness in battle...give him a dagger or two and he could twirl through shield-walls with ease, but the Swordking doubted Drysllthen would appreciate such an appropriation of the talent. His lips parted to try and allay Maeryn's attempt at early departure; surely Drysllthen wished his Crown Prince to remain at least until the meal began, after all...but then he noticed the erupting candleflame forming itself into the red-dressed, mahogany-haired woman responsible for killing his mother. Swallowing with a bit of difficulty, he shook his head. "If we slip away without a fuss, certainly..."

(19:39) Arela was curious and found herself stealing glances at those that came to the feast, alive or not. Her eyes lingered on each for a moment, appraising the guests with a curious stare before moving on, interested in listening and spotting what she could. Her cousin's voice pulled her away from her thoughts, accepting a glass of wine in one hand as her lips pursed. She may have trouble understanding the local language at times but she did very well know what he was saying to the jester. Brows lifted ever so slightly as she hoisted her glass up, lips curling into a strained but sweet smile in greeting to both her relative and the man she had beat down. "If he wishes for another round...I would be more than glad to hit him again."

(19:40) Emersyn's sultry lips curled into a pleased smile. Even after death, she still held his eye. "In my home in Tsgerl mainly," she murmured, stepping back from the feast with a hand outstretched..not quite attempting to touch him, merely to draw him back. "You should have visited. I.." Her brow furrowed slightly. "I did attempt once or twice to find you, but this year, I was able to get here more easily. Whether it is-" Eave's entrance cut her off, one dark brow arching at her. "You must always make an entrance, mustn't you, darling?" She cooed over toward her, a small smile on her lips as she listed toward Wyld, the fear that he might drift away again more than she might have guessed.

(19:42) William Alexston had been about to take a mouthful of his ale when Roselynne turned to acknowledge the presence behind them. He knew. He could smell that perfume a mile off, and it seemed to permeate the Veil like some ridiculous puppy-hellhound that had to announce her presence. He lifted his own glass, and then opted to leave his spectral mother to whatever it was she intended to do whilst she was here. "Cordelia's pregnant," he murmured to his sister, reasoning she ought to be the first he told before his brows arched and he turned his head to Arela. "Beating the local jesters, now, are we? You'll get a reputation as quite the firebrand if you're not too careful."

(19:44) The Drowned Boy's eyes lit up again s the King beckoned him near. The closer he got to Drysllthen the closer he would be to the entertainment. A child, so easily amused with tricks and fun! The sound fo water squishing in his shoes sounded with each wobbled step, form rippling into and out of existence. Nearing the King's chair he reached out to grip the arm for support, eyes shifting to Shyloh as the man greeted him. "Yes," He murmured, mystified by the bell hanging from his hat. His voice was soft, muted as if still held beneath the water. "Tell me...How long can you hold your breath?" His head canted, staring up at both the jester and the King as if having asked both the question.

(19:45) Garnett watched in silence, more than grateful for the copious amounts of wine that flowed through the room. For herself, she was well into her second goblet, unable to little more than stare at the ghosts of her youth and vaguely listen to her children. Blankly, she stared at the jester, all the words spilling from so many mouths. It was somehow the whispered conversation between her daughter and son-in-law that reached her ears, and she shot them a threatening glare. If she had to be there, so did there. "Wait until after the meal. We will make excuses regarding the weather and go home. Away from hre." she whispered, her voice coming from a great distance. "He is not here. I have no reason to be."

(19:45) Mereavus's eyes remained on Tyltin when he saw her, offering him a broad smile and heavy lashed wink. Responsible for her death indeed, and in no remorse about the entire affair, by the looks of it. Once she'd done smirking about it, she turned her head in Emersyn's direction and sauntered over to her old friend and the King she'd conjured half-truths for. Endlessly amused by the gathering. "And what did you expect?" she asked, smiling quite openly. "A mousish entrance? Something small and subtle? It was small enough." She turned her head to the man who'd been King during her youth and continued smiling - very nearly in mockery of him. A terrible shame he'd fallen, really. Honestly. "Aren't we all looking rather well in lieu of our circumstance," she remarked. Well indeed.

(19:48) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen felt his own lips twisting into an unconscious little grin as the dark-haired woman spoke so softly, and he stepped away from the table without a backward-glance at the golden-haired girl. That smile faltered again when Em talked of visiting, and he meant to speak, when his companion cut him off. Turning, he chuckled despite himself. "Hello, Mereavus," he intoned lowly, reading the disdain on her features much more easily now that he wasn't attached to his own image anymore. "I cannot for the life of me convey how marvelous you look, my dear," he managed with a little wink; even his wife's confidante-turned-murderer couldn't dampen his enjoyment of the arrair, the one time he saw more than ghastly shadows himself.

(19:52) Maeryn listened carefully to Tyltin's words. Her hand wrapped around his and she began to rise from her chair, using Shyloh's attention grabbing as a cover. But then she felt Garnett's glare on her. Biting her lip, she slowly lowered herself down to sit. "Couldn't we all leave now, Mother?" she whispered. "We've made our appearance, no one is watching." Pleading in her eyes rose. "See, there is no reason for any of us to stay," she urged, trying to get the older woman to give in. Then she threw a glance to Tyltin, begging him to try to convince her.

(19:55) Arela's lip had not met the rim of her glass as William spoke, eyes shifting to catch the man in her gaze. The princess hummed for a moment, took a sip of her wine and cradled the glass in her hand as she replied. Her smile remained but the edges of her lips twitched slightly, shoving back the desire to outright grin at the memory of stomping on the poor jester. "Yes, that is true but next time he should watch where his balls land." A single brow quirked as the Leugish woman returned to her drink, another sip stolen of the dark liquid. Now, she took to watching the ghosts, studying Emersyn and Wyld before eyeing the child by her cousin and Shyloh. Lastly her gaze shifted over the back of her chair to stare at the feminine apparition before the drunk of a ghost made his entrance, his presence making her lips twist in disgust.

(19:56) Tyltin V felt Maeryn freeze and then lower again, only belatedly realizing that Garnett had spoke, those echoing words trickling through the haze. He thought to argue, but not even he was heartless enough to rip her away from the meal--not when it was just possible that his brother might make an appearance. "If Mother wishes us to remain, Ryn, we shall. But we will leave as soon as she says it is okay," he spoke slowly, his jade eyes boring into her aged, made-up face in entreaty.

(19:56) Roselynne turned away from her mother then, a great smile on her face as the dead woman ignored her children and went to associate with her own kind. "Well now, doesn't this feel rather famili--" she began to utter to Will quietly before his announcement cut her off. Her sculpted brow perked high on her forehead. "Did you just say she was...preganant?" A slight grin twisted on her lips. "I must say that is shocking. I didn't think her the type to allow her figure to inflate even an inch." Her snarky remark was overlaid by a bright grin and she raised her glass a second time, "Well congradulations, Brother."

(19:58) Shyloh glanced towards Arela, putting on a nervous grin "My spine never felt more honored, Princess Arela..." He'd rub at the offending spot, which suddenly begin to sting again despite having long since healed. He'd then turn his eyes towards the child, brow lofting at such a strange question. "I would not know, lad. I do not swim often." He would smile a bit "I am sure you and his majesty would be interested in helping me. You see I've lost something very important to me." Nodding, hoping to take focus away from the child's death.

(20:00) William Alexston made a sound of agreement to their being ignored. "We're imperfect, remember," he reminded her, taking that drink before openly coughing when Arela mentioned where the jester was putting his balls. He gave the Princess an arch look. "Terribly inconsiderate to have his balls land anywhere that displeases you, my dear," he agreed, before looking back to Roselynne. "I'm sure the expanding waistline prospect will mortify her," he agreed. "But don't mock her about pregnancy, please, sister, it's not a subject she ought to be prodded about. I may need to ask you for advice on precisely how one holds a baby, though, as I've not touched one in my life."

(20:00) Emersyn rolled her eyes expressively at both of them, her hand reaching out to curl around Wyld's arm..but she caught it, drawing it back to herself again. "You do small and subtle just as well, Eave darling. Surely you don't think this entire feast is just for you, hmm?" Wyld's jest drew a shake of her head, lazy amusement pulling over her lips as she glanced toward the feast. Truly, as little interest in it as she had thought. Her full attention centered on the two faces before her, delight at seeing them again scarcely able to be contained...Giddy, almost, in the fashion that Emersyn von Pith could be giddy.

(20:04) Garnett nodded her appreciation to Tyltin for his support of her desire. "Thank you," she murmured, pulling a deep breath. "Maeryn, do not be rude." Jade eyes focused for a moment, reminding the girl that she'd taught her more respect for the spirits than that. "I do not intend to stay long," she promised both of them, nodding toward the table. "The jester is amusing. Or perhaps you ought to greet the other ghosts." Her suggestions lacked any real force behind them, and Garnett snagged a passing servant to refill her glass.

(20:06) Alcoholic FitzGibbin staggered his way further in, looking rather giddy despite his dead state of being. It was then he moved behind each seat, preferably the women, and sloooowly began to peek over their heads. It was obvious where those bloodshot eyes were trained. Eyeing each clevage he was able, his grin only grew wider. First Roselynne. Hmm, not bad not bad. He'd grab 'em..if he were capable anyway. Next to William. Alright, that is a man. He skipped right past that. Then to Arela. Brow lofted. Snack sized, he could handle that too. He didn't say much, which was likely benefit to the rest around the table.

(20:07) Mereavus made an amused sound at the former King's remark, and turned her head to regard him cynically. "Given that we're all rather lacking in life presently, I'd say it would be rather difficult," she responded, head tilting back towards Emersyn. In no mood for concealing things today, apparently. It was all in the past, nothing could be done about it now. And now there were no titles, only old interactions and an equal power base. "Not the entire feast, certainly, but when one is the Queen's mother it's rather hard to contain one's self, I'm sure you understand." Self-mockery in that particular sentence; fake smuggery for once. The Queen's mother. What an empty and hollow thing to the dead. "Who'd have thought your great-grandchild would be my grandchild, too, hmm?" she mused in the former King's direction. Bizarre turn of events. "Life is perverse."

(20:09) Drysllthen glanced over curiously at Roselynne and William, brow arching at the quiet conversation though he could not hear the contents of it, not with jesters and ghosts filling his head. Attention turned to the child at his side, a grin flashing over his face. "If you like, I shall hold my breath and you can count to see how long I can keep it, hmm?" He paused for a sip of wine, chuckling rising at his cousin's tartness toward the jester. "Yes, Arela, he really ought to be more careful where he tosses his balls. They might get...caught." A smirk flashed to the jester. "What is it you've lost, boy?" Attention jerked away for a moment, a fist lifted to greet the arriving ghosts. "wine and women we have a plenty, good spirit. Do enjoy!" The pleasure in his eyes doused slightly at the leering at Roselynne.

(20:09) Maeryn's hopeful look at her husband fell, when he agreed with Garnett's wishes. "Fine," she whispered, turning back to watch Shyloh without really seeing the boy's tricks. She made effort to keep her voice far below a whisper. "I am not being rude. I think I've as respectful of them as I could possibly be. And I've had my fill of them, thank you." So, perhaps she was a little rude, but at least she had the sense to not fully voice her sentences, the last bit lacking any sound at all, only a movement of her lips.

(20:10) The Drowned Boy's gaze shifted to the woman the jester was speaking with before returning to Shyloh's face. He did not know how long he could hold his breath and he opened his mouth to suggest something, cut off when the man asked for his help. He tried to brush his matted hair off his brow, eyes widening as he shot Drysllthen a questioning stare. "I want to help! What did you lose, sir? I can try to find it. Mother always said I was good at finding lost things." At times his voice faded entirely and others he gurgled as if choking on water, still reliving the death he had experienced quite recently. The King's offer to hols his breath then drew his attention back, "Yes, do!"

(20:13) Roselynne smirked at William, "Come now, you know I cannot help but prod at people, especially my dear siblings." She flashed him an innocent look before feeling that brief leering gaze. Her brow perked, at the spirit as it moved on, gaze glancing at her husband for a moment, sublty reminding him not to allow such actions to get to him before turning her head to William again. "You know, you are allowed all the practice you desire. Alesandra does love to be cradled. I'm quite sure she'd not mind her Uncle spoiling her with cuddlings." Her brow arched, clearly displeased that he'd not yet held his niece.

(20:13) Shyloh held his head up high "I assure you my balls are precisely where they are supposed to be." Holding up a finger. Tsk, so many jokes. However glancing over his shoulder, he saw Maeryn. Expressions were mostly hid beneath his mask, luckily enough for they were easily read. He'd grin "Yes your majesty, I am sure that would please the boy quite well. I am afraid I am a terrible swimmer. I I believe a bird would have an easier time than I would." He'd then clear his throat "Princess Maeryn, just the woman I was looking for!" He'd call out to her "Perhaps you can assist me, the child, and his majesty in a very large mystery of mine. I've lost a bauble, and I know you have a good eye." Motioning her over. He wanted to see her have a good time at least.

(20:15) Arela gestured toward William and smiled wide and knowing as he agreed with her. The jester was given a nod, "That is good though you did make up for your mistake with your entertaining performance that same night." She lowered her glass to the table, tracing a single fingertip along the lip of her glass. Eyes narrowed as her cousin teased, tsking softly as she shook her head before speaking aloud and across the table to her relative, "How embarrassing that would be if his balls got caught in an inappropriate place." The nearing of the drunken ghost triggered a stare of distaste from the princess. Her fingrs curled around the stem of her glass and lifted it, ready to simply chuck the contents at the apparition. Too bad it wouldn't soak him but the thought was enough for her.

(20:15) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen was rather proud of the joke, himself, but he suffered Mereavus's analysis of it without riposte,and his good humor threatened to flee him when he sensed Em's hand coming so close only to flit away. With a sigh he glanced toward her and brought a hand up to her face, very carefully drawing a finger over her cheek. The digit pressed until well past what it should have, and still he felt nothing, not even the cool ghostly whisper he'd expected. With a blink he shook his head and gathered himself. "That is not so odd, given whom you chose to marry and the circumstances surrounding my grandson's enthronement," he said with a practical shrug, his mood beginning to sour.

(20:19) William Alexston swallowed a mouthful of his ale. "All the same, I'd rather you could help that particular urge on that topic," he answered, apparently quite serious when it came to not making biting remarks about his wife's condition. Oddly protective, really. He didn't hold babies - Alesandra had been born, she was healthy, what more did she want from him? Babies all looked the same. Small, wrinkly and scrunched up. He could fill in the image of what she looked like perfectly well. "I'm sorry I haven't visited so much, I meant to," he told her, leaning in to murmur something to her for her ears only. "I ended things with Merripen, ugly times."

(20:19) Alcoholic FitzGibbin was used to disapproving stares from men, since his wandering eyes was the fuse to the dynomite more often than not. He'd then look towards the King "Y-Your macheshteh ish too kind...." Wobbling an arm back and forth between his slurring. He'd then look around the room, allowing his gaze to fall mostly on every lovely lady he could catch. "Me sistah once told meh that I wash a drunkin' bastard..." He'd pause and crack a large smile "Joke ish on 'er, I am perfectly soberererrrr..." Just then wobbling back a few steps and falling right on over. "Ear infecshun..." He'd mumble his excuse to the fall.

(20:20) Tyltin V felt his stomach wrench when his decision caused his wife such grief; a wary glance at his father filled him with resentment, for he'd been looking forward to this night, perhaps to answer questions he'd had all his life...perhaps only to enjoy the dead man's company. But he'd been robbed that opportunity by Wyld's lust and his own envy-soured belly. Redoubling his grip on Maeryn's caprive hand, Tyltin tore his gaze from the overlarge spirit, taking notice of the drowned figure for the first time. Shaking his head, he looked down at the food upon his plate, frowning when he saw the fibers of meat mixed in with the vegetables and bread. There wasn't even a glass of water to be had.

(20:21) Drysllthen suffered his wife's silent reminder, merely offering her a pleasant wink before he grinned at the boy. Eyes widening, he took a huge breath and held it for a fair long time..but such things could not last, and he saw a waiting servant lingering by the kitchen door. Gloved fingers flicked for them to commence serving the meal, a light savoury soup the first of many courses which began coming out at regular intervals. Only then did he offer a glance to his sister and mother, silently regarding their dour faces. Discomfort was all to apparent on them, and he smiled, attempting to prompt smiles from them. "Ahh, here comes our dinner," he remarked, sitting back in his seat. "Tell me, lad," he addressed the dripping child next to him. "What was your favourite meal?"
(20:22) Tyltin V: [Ignore my reference to food, if you will]

(20:26) Maeryn's displeasure did not lie on her her husband and mother alone, moreso in the fact that they were correct and that meant she was trapped. Her hand left Tyltins and began to curl through that snowy lock, quite ready to rip it from her head. She resisted, however, if only to not appear to be rude. Hair all over the dinnertable was not all that proper, nor appealling. At Shyloh's call of her name, she forced a bright smile toward him and nodded her head, if only to show Mother that, despite her words, she intended to play nice. Without waiting for any sort of reply from Garnett nor asking Tyltin if he minded she move, she rose from her chair and wandered over toward her brother and the jester. "Alright, jester dear, what shall I help you find this evening?" She asked, with a surprising sparkle in her voice, looking for all the world as though she were ready to play the Magician's Assistant.


(20:28) The Drowned Boy counted on his fingers as Dryllthen agreed and took a deep breath, watching with an odd interest that most boys his age should not have when it came to watching another willingly contain their air. He nearly rtied to goad the King into holding it for longer but dropped his hands and announced how long he had held his breath for all to hear, "Three handfuls." A full thirty seconds; this impressed the drenched boy and he stared at Drysllthen for a long while. "I could hold my breath for longer," He stated cooly, dropping his voice to a whisper. Just as quick as he was to fall into a darker mood his spirit lifted, "My favorite meal was beef stew and bread. I liked dumping the bread into the broth and letting it soak. Bread doesn't need to hold its breath."

(20:29) Roselynne's brow perked yet again at William "And all the same, I do hope you'll forgive me if I occassionally slip, afterall it is quite hard to change ones entire sense of humour and way of expressing love." She downed the rest of her glass and snapped her fingers for the lingering servant to refill it. Once it was, it was again brought to her lips. His apologies were ignored, completely it seemed. But she did make mental note to lite into him about it at a later time. His murmur nearly had her spitting out her drink. A napkin quickly pressed to her lips. "You what? Why?" She whispered, leaning closer to him to keep other ears from hearing.

(20:34) Shyloh took a step to the side when Maeryn approached. He'd reach up to his mask, pulling it to the side a bit so his eye was visible. He gave her a knowing look and a single, short nod of head. He'd then place the mask back on, keeping a constant smile even if what was beneath differed. He'd clap his hands together once, rubbing them up and down. "Very simply, the bauble I have is most stubborn and peculiar. It never comes to me, but only to others. I think it hates how I toss it around so. Tsk. But I have a job to do and simply can't go without it." He'd step towards the child, fascinated with breath holding, and smiled down to him "Mm...maybe you." He'd sweep a hand behind the boy's head and empty hand now had a green bauble in it. "No, seems the green bauble has a fondness to you." He'd then turn to Maeryn, rubbing his chin as he rolled the green sphere in his fingers. "Well surely it must have attached itself to you." He was careful with Maeryn, well aware of her sensitivity. Thus he didn't reach for her, but instead opened his fingers, swept them 'across' her face at a safe distance, and then flipped wrist. There was a blue bauble. He'd purse his lips "Well now that is just frustrating." He'd then eye the King. "Now I know you must have it, your majesty. Quite the sneaky fellow you are." Waggling a finger at him. He'd then snap his fingers "Now, come on out." He'd demand. Like that, a red bauble would roll out from beneath the King's chair "Pfft, there you are. Hiding like that." Shyloh reached down and plucked it up.

(20:35) William Alexston grunted at her insistance, and turned his head with a very solid gaze. "I mean it, Roselynne, not one word in mockery about her pregnancy," he stated. "Mock me as you like, but not her. If you slip, I won't forgive you for it. My wife isn't there for your amusement." Very serious about it, then. He had no intention of letting people upset his wife because they felt like running their mouth, sister or not. "I couldn't trust her," he answered the second part. "Not after... All that, and it seemed stupid to have a liability attached to me out of an inability to let her go. It's not just me anymore, it's Naiia and Cordelia and Julian. And the baby. I couldn't let her jeopardise any of them, so I finished it. I'm not having any other women now. Just Cordelia."

(20:36) Emersyn closed her eyes as if she could feel the brush of Wyld's finger against her cheek, and when it never met her, those dark eyes opened to linger achingly on his face. Compulsion, possession..the expressions of ghosts in the living world never held much interest for her, but then it crossed her mind, the subtle question in her eyes to Wyld. Perhaps they could find willing souls. Ripping her attention from the pair of old comrades, she scowled at the rude drunken ghost. "Honestly," she snapped. "Why do you not attend a party at a tavern? This truly is not the place for you, you drunken beast." Her nose curled as if she'd managed to smell something vile, and it was him.

(20:38) Arela's lips pursed as the drunken ghost fell over and blamed it on a loss of balance. She scoffed beneath her breath, quick to distract herself with another sip from her glass. She wasn't aiming to get drunk but she did plan on getting buzzed to better enjoy her night. Attention returned to the show going on, offering a smile to Maeryn from afar, recalling the brief conversation they had had in the parlour some time ago. Amused she fell silent to watch the going ons, a light giggle escaping her as Emersyn scolded the man who had fallen over.

(20:39) Alcoholic FitzGibbin laid there, drinking from the ghostly bottle in his hand. Hey, this was some fancy flooring. Much better than the ones he used to pass out on. He'd look towards Emersyn once he was addressed, another hic noise leaving his lips. "Haven't ya ever seen tha women that haunt taverns? Like gnarled beasts with breasts, they are. I'd be better off makin' love ta a wolverene." Cheesy grin coming over him "But you, yer a sight for sore eyes. Why dontcha come over here and give ol' FitzGibbin a kiss." Puckering his lips at her.

(20:42) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen let his eyes wander away from Emersyn, partly so she'd not see the great weight of sadness welling within them, but when they caught on Maeryn moved he halted. "I think I know of one possibly willing," he said in answer to her unvoiced question. "But her guardians keep her tightly leashed and fill her heart with fear and hate. It will be...difficult, to persuade her." Odd that he only spoke of the one candidate. "If only you'd been felled by the Wizard; then a great deal of trouble could have been averted..."

(20:42) Roselynne met Williams gaze with a very solid one of her own. "I am appalled that you think me so incapable of minding other people's feelings, William, dear." She tsked quietly, obvioius in her movements that she was going to do as she pleased, damned his approval or not. At his admission, she shook her head and put her hand up to silence him. "Be that as it may, William, speaking about it like this, with all these ears is not something I would advise. You've just implied something that I desperately hope no one else heard." Words spoken directly into his ear with a slight bite. Honestly, anyone who knew Merripen knew she'd not give up on him just because he said so. Her quite common knowledge 'accident' was testement to that. "I'm sorry I asked." She acknowledge before he had a chance to call her on it. "I expect to hear more of it later."

(20:46) Mereavus made an amused sound at Wyld's assertion and then turned her head when Emersyn told off the drunkard. "It's a pity Morcant's not dead," she stated. "I'm sure he'd find some way to drag him off by the ear infection." She made a disgusted face when he puckered his lips and apparently refused to acknowledge him further - filthy Pleb. "Honestly, he makes exorcism look tempting," she remarked, hand toying with the pheasant feather protruding from one of her curls absently. Her brow furrowed when her spidey senses tingled, and she cast a dark look over her shoulder. "Would you excuse me, it would appear that my children can't even be civil to one another at the dinner table. I thought we'd got past that eighteen years ago." At which point, she turned, and sauntered around the side of Roselynne's chair to eye them both. "Could you two pretend to like one another for one evening, or would that require too much sobriety?" she enquired, brow arched.

(20:46) Maeryn peered around theatrically as Shyloh explained his plight, as if she could instantly find his missing bauble. She had a good idea that he was going to do the trick he'd entertained her with before, thusly when he pulled the ball from the air near her face, she made an appropriate squeal of surprise. Though still, she had yet to figure out exactly how he had pulled it off. "Why I swear, jester, I had no idea!" She flicked her grin over to the dripping child beside her brother, her eyes wide. "Have you ever seen anything so amazing?" she asked animatedly, letting herself sink into this false merriment and ignoring the rest of the room entirely,

(20:50) Emersyn scoffed at the drunken ghost with a shake of her head. "I cannot even eat, but I assure you I would lose my lunch at such a prospect, and I have no wish to do such a thing." Her head lifted, gaze following Wyld's before she gave a quick shake of her head. Garnett's hovering over the girl was far too obvious, as was that of Wyld's son. "Not her, not them..." Her presence rippled at the thought, and she sunk back into the corner of the room, drunken ghosts, squabbles and all the rest too far gone. Dark eyes lingered heavily on Wyld. "Would that he had. Tsgerl is lonely, and I find myself wishing for you." She remarked bluntly. "I cannot say how much longer I shall linger in this state. A few more years perhaps, but it grows wearing."

(20:51) William Alexston had been about to answer his sister when mummy dearest appeared, grunting and putting the tankard down. "And she speaks," he remarked. "It's good to see you, too, mother." Really, he didn't care. If Roselynne was going to act like a bitch and then dislike it when she was called up on it, only to be too headstrong to really give a damn about anything but what she wanted to do, she could live with him disliking her for one evening. All he'd done was talk to her and ask her not to say something, and she had to run her haughty mouth. Too much like her damn mother in some ways and not enough in others. "I'm perfectly sober, thank you."

(20:52) Tyltin V kept a wary gaze on the jester now, interacting so easily with his wife, and he tried to master that strange rising of emotion within him. Breathing out slowly, he began eating the soup produced, using its liquid to quench his thirst more than anywhing else. "He still may come, Mother," he found himself saying under his breath; with anger at his philandering father brewing deeply, his last hope had affixed to the sainted brother to alleviate his deep need of family and answers. Brow drawing down, he could only hope...

(20:54) Alcoholic FitzGibbin moved to ease himself off of the floor. It was there he made his way over to Emersyn, someone now of deep interest. "Oh a fiery lady. I like those sorts. Tempermental, bold, outspoken, and a complete thrill in tha sheets." He'd hum as he tucked arms behind his back, casually floating his way over with each step. "I was quite sought after you know." Another hiccup soon following. "Had tha stamina of a stallion I did. I like me wine, and I like me women." Taking an exerpt of that silly rhyme. "And I was able ta handle both with ease. Ya dun know whatcher missin there, pretty lady." Winking to her. Such a shameless flirt.

(20:54) Roselynne's lips tightened into a positively false grin when Mother finally deemed them worthy of her time. "Good evening, Mother. I do hope you are enjoying yourself." She rose her glass and took another long drink from it, just as she called her out on sobriety. "Why Mother, I'm simply doing as tradition dictates. I'm drinking enough for both myself and for you. It's my token for you." Her grin brightened a little and she took another long sip from her glass. "And William and I are getting along just fine. Whatever gave you the impression that we weren't?"

(20:54) The Drowned Boy reached a hand behind his ear after Shyloh made to pluck a bauble out of thin air! He cooed gently and wondered just how he had managed to pull the ball out. Eyes continued to follow his hands, never bothering to pay any mind to Maeryn, far too intereted in the jester's antics to pay much attention to anything else. His lips pulled into a bright, amused grin as he lifted a hand, fingers splayed and palm up. "May I hold one, sir?" For a momebt he forgot that he was dead and when it clicked he promptly lowered his hand and frowned, shifting uncomfortably in place. His fingers tugged at his tunic and in and effort to relieve himself of some of the excess weight he began to wring his shirt, a downpour of water echoing throughout the room.

(20:55) Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen had thusfar successfully ignored the drunken wight, and saw no reason to break that string of inattention now--time was too precious to waste on such things. Sighing regretfully, he turned to the remnants of Emersyn, as beautiful as he could hope to recall and yet still only a husk of her former glory. Following her to the corner to escape the writhing tangle of action, he did not turn away from her as she spoke of her intentions. "I cannot leave these grounds...or I fear not. My son was quick to wander out into the shadows beyond the walls....but he has never returned, and I doubt he will. But now I don't know if I can gather the courage to follow him..."

(20:57) Drysllthen chuckled at Shyloh's tricks, his head shaking to find the bauble emerge from his chair. "Saeryll would delight in that," he remarked lightly. A glance to Maeryn for her sudden brightness drew an arched brow from him, but onward the feast must go. The servants piled more courses on the table, the King managing to eat in some places with in the conversation, but it seemed whatever was happening between Roselynne and William was growing more heated. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, Eave swept over. "Ahh, good evening, my dear," he remarked pleasantly to her. "I do hope you're enjoying the feast." He shot a smile to Roselynne, as if to remind her to put on her own. "We did try to do our best for our guests."

(21:00) Garnett frowned, finding this last glass of wine had done little to relieve the chill that kept passing through her. She swore ghosts unseen were gliding over her, and the attempt not to glare at Wyld was growing wearing. At least the von Pith creature distracted him. Tyltin's whisper caught her ears, and she glanced toward him, her hand reaching out to squeeze his beneath the table as she sighed. Slipping into Maeryn's seat, she spoke close to his ear, her head shaking. "He will not. I know not why I thought he would, but he loathed such gatherings in life. If he is here, he will not be at the feast." Bitterness crept into her voice. "I am ready to go. Perhaps we could take a look through the castle before we depart, but I hold no hope."

(21:01) Shyloh smirked towards Maeryn. At least she was humoring him a bit. "My lady, do not stray. I shall require your help for something a bit more....tricky to perform. If you are not needed back at your seat just yet." Simply disappearing and reappearing baubles were cute. But Shyloh had a much larger routine in mind, not wishing to disrupt conversation and eating just yet. He'd look to the boy, frowning. He felt bad for the child. "Give me your hand child." He'd murmur, knealing before the boy. If he did as requested, he'd murmur "Open your fingers, palm up." Shyloh slid his own physical hand beneath the ghostly one, dropping the bauble into his palm. Yet it looked like the child had it in his own. "There." He'd state with a smile.

(21:01) Mereavus regarded her daughter for a long moment, and gave her a smile with all the warmth of an iceberg before she bent to murmur particularly quietly to her. "Do try to grow up a little, darling," she told her. "You don't quite do 'fake' much justice, especially not when half-tippled." And after which, she straightened, moved behind her to murmur something no doubt just as barbed to William, and then she seemed to have her fill of the evening. She'd no doubt waft past Emersyn another time, and she had intentions when it came to her son. "Try not to vomit on your shoes, Roselynne, dear," she remarked as she headed back to her candle. "Terribly bad form, you know. Though I suppose I'm assuming you'll be upright by the time that happens." And a moment later, she was gone - back to wherever it was she came from.

(21:04) Arela's eyes wandered to Mer then down to her two children then over to her cousin as he greeted the ghost. Arela was out of the loop so she didn't bother thrusting herself into any sort of conversation. She ate in silence and tried to catch bit and pieces of conversation every now and then. Some spoke too quickly, too quietly and she strained herself to the point of irritation. Conversation didn't look too appealing but the food and wine did so she indulged to keep herself distracted and at ease. Now if everyone was speaking in Leugish she was bound to have a better time but she understood that this wasn't her place to choose what language was spoken at the table.

(21:06) Roselynne chewed on her lip after the terribly insulting and biting remarks from her mother. Fury welled up in her, and the deep desire to snap back at her was all to hot. The words nearly escaped her tongue before that old instinct took over and swallowed them for her. On must never speak back to Mother, afterall. She took up her napkin and pressed it to her lips before rising. "I do hope everyone will excuse me, I believe it is time for Alesandra's dinner." And with that, the Queen excused herself. The amount of alcohol she had consumed not bothering her balance or grace in the very least. Not a backward glance was taken as she retreated from the dining hall heading for the safe nest that was her daughters' bedroom.

(21:07) Tyltin V gave Garnett a long, saddened glance as she spoke of his brother's predelictions for such banquets--or, rather, his lack thereof. Nodding heavily, he sighed and finished the last of his soup before standing just in time to have the Queen's departure take all eyes from his own rising. He wandered toward the doorway he'd entered through, hovering with his eyes locked on Maeryn, ready to catch her gaze and gesture for her to join them in their departure.

(21:09) Maeryn glanced toward where she had been sitting at Shyloh's question, having noted Garnett moving over into her chair and whispering to her husband. Something like a prickle of jealousy, until Tyltin rose and locked eyes with her. "I'm sorry dear, it seems I am being called away. But I am quite sure the lovely Princess Arela will be more than happy to assist you," She grinned at the woman apologetically before brushing a kiss to her brother's cheek and quickly stepping away from the mass to join Tyltin and Garnett, away from all the spirits, both ghostly and liquid.

(21:10) Emersyn flicked a dismissive hand toward the vaunting drunken ghost, annoyed at his distracting her from Wyld. "Then what shall you do? Wait here forever?" She asked quietly. Her hands reached out for him once more, drifting through his arms as she sighed with frustration. "Would that I could be more solid here. Perhaps I could stay, but as it is.." Her gaze dipped downward. There was little to say, and whilst she could not touch him, she pressed close to him, spectre resting nearly atop his as if she could find a way to touch if she lingered close enough.

(21:11) The Drowned Boy lifted a hand nervously out toward the jester. He wondered why he would be asking for his hand when he couldn't touch the ball. All else was ignored as his fingers curled out, showing off the blue hued skin of his palm. His fingers twitched every now and then but other than that he remained as still as possible. When Shyloh placed his hand beneath his the jester was bound to realize the chill that emanated from his body. Mae's excusing herself wasn't heard, smile touching the young lad's lips as the ball was placed in such a manner that it made it look like he was holding it. Closing his fingers slightly it appeared that he was holding the ball, mesmerized with the sight and unable to shift his eyes elsewhere.

[And then we all died]