02.14.3014: Pleasure Cruise
Summary: Lord Hollolas hosts a party on his private ship.
Date: 23 Nov 2013
Related: None
Alix Brienne Canis Cyrielle Jane Lexille Nitrim Roger Tristan 

Ballroom - The White Wave, Beacon Harbor
House Hollolas may be best known for its ships of war, but the nautical charms of Beacon extend beyond that arena to the world of fun and feasting on the high seas. A shining example of that expertise is the Lord Commodore's pleasure yacht, the White Wave, which today has opened its doors to all for no other purpose than celebration. Well-dressed crewmen - though admittedly well-dressed by Hollolas standards doesn't come close to the finery of the Vale and elsewhere - are there to usher guests to the great ballroom.

The ballroom itself is laid out as a grand feasting hall, with rows upon rows of tables stretching across the center. All along one wall is a mammoth buffet, displaying all manner of fruits of the sea alongside more standard fruit, with an assortment of liquor and desserts to boot. At the rear of the room is a moderately impressive stage, at least fifty feet across and nearly as deep. More crewmen pace back and forth across the area at the guests' beck and call.

14 Feb 3014

It isn't often that Cyrielle Hollolas performs in official capacities for her House. It's been happening more and more often as of late, to be certain, but it's certainly a new place to see the young woman. She's been out of the public eye and peerage for the large part of her late teens, due to being away to study with her druidic mentor. So to see her out on the deck of her father's yacht, welcoming other members of nobility and notable members of Beacon society is a surprising sight for some and a welcome one for the people of Hollolas lands. The family, as it were, is whole.

"Please, drink, enjoy yourselves. You know well what my father likes to see and that is a loud, boisterous crowd of smiling faces." This to a small group of merchants before she turns to accept a drink from one of the crewmen, taking a long sip as dark eyes scan the arrivals, seeking out familiar faces.

It seems that everyone needs time to relax even knights with things to do. Canis seems to have decided to join in on the cruise. He steps onto at the sound of the greeting he recognizes the one who speaks "Lady Cyrielle, it's good to see you again." he gives a nod in greeting to her but moves off to the side to be out of the way.

Following up behind Canis is Brienne, who seems to be bringing a rather reluctant brother along with her. She didn't make him come this time at least! She's dressed in her usual, tunic, pants and boots. Hair is left down now this time though. She hesitates and looks back at Tristan. "If you really don't want to come, we don't have to."

Looking around for a few moments, Tristan pays a bit of attention to the people present, before he shakes his head at Brienne. "And let you make fun of me for chickening out?" A brief pause, and a grin, "Besides, someone need to keep you out of trouble, right?" The last said a bit lightly now.

"Sir Canis, a pleasure. I'm glad you were able to make it out to Beacon." Cyrielle dips her head in greeting to the Ligonier, before gesturing to a nearby crewman bearing drinks. "Please, whatever you may desire, I'm sure we have it. Though there's more ale and whiskey than much else." Casting a wink towards the Valen Knight, her attention shifts back to those boarding. The Arboren contingent — thus far — earns a slightly raised brow, lips twitching somewhat in bemusement. "A pleasure to see members of our Paramount," she calls over, hand shifting on the glass she bears. A light drink, for starting the evening off.

There's a glance from Tristan to Brienne, braids shifting with loose hair against her features. "I assure you, our ships are not so uncomfortable as that. This will like as not be the most comfortable sailing trip you have or ever will take." She winks, nodding towards the room arranged and setup for revelry. "Please, enjoy the food and drinks we have provided."

The guests file in in ones, twos and threes, and soon enough the feasting hall is full. There's /some/ effort on the part of the crew to get people to their seats, but many continue to mill about, conversing and partaking of the refreshments. Just as unsuccessfully, one crew member attempts to quiet the crowd as the broad frame of the Lord Hollolas appears on the stage.

"Good evening to you all!" Roger's voice booms throughout the area, easily heard even over the noise of the crowd. "And welcome aboard. We of House Hollolas are pleased to receive so many honored guests." Slowly he steps forward into the light, the white and navy-blue of his commodore's uniform coming into view. "Tonight, all that is ours is yours. Now, eat, drink and enjoy!" Without further ado, he claps his hands and steps off the stage, pressing his way into the crowd.

"I am glad to be here indeed." Canis smiles at the talk of drinks he nods in approval turning back at the others who'd followed him up and into the hall "Would you like to find a table Brie? My Lord Tristan as well." he offers them not wishing to find himself not knowing anyone all sudden like.

Brienne gives a mock gasp. "Me, trouble? Tristan, you wound me. I haven't tried to hit Lord Densoric in weeks now. Weeks!" Amused, she hooks an arm with his, allowing him to escort her. As Cyrielle greets them, she offers a bow and a warm smile. "My Lady, thank you for your hospitality. We were most looking forward to it." Glancing over to Canis, she grins. "Glad you made it." She falls silent to listen politely to Roger and his welcome, inclining her head if he happens to look over. That's when Canis captures her attention again. "Oh sure, that would be great, thank you."

"No, no, sis. I just know you too well," Tristan replies with a smile, nodding a bit as he's to escort his sister. There's a smile, although it might be slightly hesitant, as Cyrielle greets them. "Thank you, my lady. I'm sure it will be a fantastic evening." A brief pause as he hears Roger's words as well, looking around again after he hears the words. As Canis speaks, he offers the man a brief smile and a nod. "Lord Sir Canis. A pleasure to meet you."

With her father's announcement in tow, the youngest Hollolas child shifts her way more into the hall proper, moving with the most recent arrivals. Not towards a table, perhaps, but mayhap more as an escort.

The bow elicits a slightly uncomfortable look from Cyrielle. She's just not the noble-trappings sort. She can do polite and titles, to be certain, but receiving them in return… Well. "Did I hear mention of hitting Lord Densoric?" She can't help a slight grin. "As tempted as I've been in the past… I'm surprised to hear someone's actually done so."

There's a glance to Tristan and she offers a smile, tilting her head in a nod. "I assure you, it will be. The best Beacon has to offer." Cyrielle steps away, then, leaving the three to sort out a table as she mingles her way through the crowd.

Canis grins to the lady knight "Lkewise." about being glad the other made it to the cruise. He looks on as the announcer speaks about the evenings events before back as he's spoken to about his idea for a table he offers his arm being gentlemanly but if it's not accepted he will still move on towards a suitable looking table "Likewise, My Lord." he responds to Tristan

Well, there's his daughter speaking with a few of the guests. Surely he should be a good host and… oh, wait. There's a buffet! Surely that won't take too long. Accordingly Roger makes his way over to the table, grabs the largest piece of fruit he can find - hey, he has to pace himself - and takes the largest bite he can, seemingly trying to shove the whole thing in his mouth, before shuffling over.

"Lord Sir Tristan and Lady Sir Brienne, am I right? Good to see you this evening." The Lord Hollolas' lips pull back to display a toothy grin, and he dips his head in a little nod before turning his attention to the other nearby guest. "And good to meet you, lad." Roger doesn't bother with an actual introduction. Surely he's known to everyone here, and surely someone /else/ will take care of the formalities.

"That you do, Tristan." Brie agrees easily. Her smile nudges up a few degrees as they look for a table and she slips her hand from her brothers to that of Canis when offered, giving a softly spoken, "Thank you." Though she does keep her pace even with her brother as well. "First sailing and now this," she tells Canis, "I believe I'm breaking out of my routine." Looking back towards Cyrielle, she laughs softly. "I didn't hit him, but I attempted to. I asked him to remove his hand from my person and he didn't, so.." she grins. "It wasn't my proudest moment." As Roger joins, she bows her head to him. "Yes, we just met again the other day in the Taphouse with Miss Lexi, when we spoke about your land for the carnival tomorrow. I do hope you will come."

The young knight smiles "I seem to be good at that, cant forget introducing to Lexi. I hope you thank and not blame me for that." he says giving the other a wink. "Lord Sir Canis Ligonier My Lord." he introduces himself properly still having his manners about him. "How about here?" he motions to a table though he'll wait till everyone approves before sitting.

"Ah! That sounds like Lord Densoric. Always thinking he knows best. You should try some mind games around him, those are fun." This last, parting bit before Cyrielle finds herself near the buffet. Like father, like daughter. Though the young woman's portions are not near so vast as Lord Hollolas', she's still partaking of a fair bit. A little of this here, a little of that there.

There's a brief pause now, as Tristan's let go of, before he walks with the others over towards a table. "Trust me, I have wanted to punch Lord Blue a few times myself. The man is quite depressing…" Pausing as he hears Roger's words, offering him a polite nod. "That is correct, my lord. A pleasure to be here." Looking around for a few moments, including over to the buffet, before he speaks up again now. "Ah, that day…" Going silent, he isn't able to hold back a smile as he thinks back on that day.

"Lord Sir Canis. Pleasure to have you here, lad. Pleasure to have you." Roger's voice drops just a /little/ bit when he's close to the guests, but he's still loud enough to be heard quite clearly on the far side of the ballroom. Grinning, he lets his eyes flicker over to where his daughter is partaking of the refreshments. Good girl. "You won't be sorry you came. We've plenty of entertainment lind up for the evening, and plenty of food."

Brie wears a smile that she directs at her brother. "Yes, that day. The day you asked her out and she said yes." She has a look of pride in her eyes for her younger brother, he was so painfully shy that it was a big deal he had even asked. As Cyrielle walks away, Brienne laughs softly. "I'll have to try that." When Canis leads them to a table, she nods her approval. "It looks a perfect place. Should we fill a plate first?" The food looked good.

Over there by the buffet, Cyrielle is nibbling on something or another as she selects things for a plate balanced atop her drink. The woman's eyes white over and her aura — glowing green vines — begins to shine faintly around her, those vines twining in their transluscent way about her limbs. They almost clash with the gown she wears, but not quite. Those Awakened powers she wields are used to keep the plate balanced.

Canis looks back to the table as it seems to be approved of for the moment but the question turns him in the way of the food. "The food does look good, would you want me to grab a plate or plates?" he offers." to the other as he glances aroud another moment still following the conversation around him the best he can at least.

Jane has been mingling, and the vivid glow of her bioluminescent blue gown serves as a beacon to alert everyone as to her location at all times. While she may not be nobility, she can, at least, hobknob with them; her attention turns inevitably away from a somewhat boring conversation on politics (discussing the upcoming Senate elections) to the spread at the buffet. "I'm fair jealous," she murmurs to Cyrielle, pausing nearby to use a little fork to plop fruit onto her plate. "I rely solely on my own grace to stand and hold a plate while eating and talking, which means I am bound to spill something every single time."

"Ah, yes. That ady…" Tristan repeats. Catching that smile and look of pride from his sister, he shrugs a little. "It was a nice day." Nodding a bit as he hears the part about the food. "It looks good, yes…" A smile, as he looks between the others. "But if we all go, someone else will steal the table?"

It's a sharing of blue. Cyrielle's own gown has its own glimmers of waves and stars; alternating between the colors of her House in the process. It, however, is not nearly so glamorous as Jane's own. The whole affair is a more laid back sort of soiree, though there are certainly nobles and other members of the upperclass — merchants and the like — that seem to have potentially overdressed just a smidge. The brunette glances over to Jane with eyes still whited over and offers a sheepish short of grin. "It's quite the blessing when you have a limp," she admits quietly. Her cane, without a place to carry it in her chosen attire, is nowhere in evidence. "Though I assure you, none of us or ours," the crewmen, for example, "will fault you if you spill something. Just so long as it's an accident and not an attempt to look like you've eaten more." She does wink, sidelong, before turning out to look over the room. "I trust you're enjoying yourself?" It's been a few months — the All Hallow's Eve — since she last saw the actress, but she can at least feel comfortable enough striking up a sort of conversation.

"I'll be right back." he says to those at the tables. Canis looks like he'll grab some food maybe a couple plates for some at the table, when the young knight gets here "Wow there is a lot of food not sure what to try first." he says outloud but grabs a plate at lest as step one.

"I always enjoy myself," Jane says to Cyrielle, smiling sidelong at the woman before popping a bit of strawberry into her mouth. She chews quietly for a moment before stepping closer to close the distance and talk comfortably. "I will do my best to keep my food on my plate; I never pretend to eat anything, because I love food." The actress pauses, taking a moment to look about the ballroom. "I beg you to help refresh my memory, my lady - when did we last meet? You look awfully familiar, but I feel like these past several months have been a blur."

Tristan nods a little, remaining at the table as Canis moves to get some of the food. He shrugs a little at himself, looking around at the people present for the moment.

"As does my father," Cyrielle says with a soft laugh, regarding the enjoyment of food. "I have my moments." So her plate would speak of. She does secure it with one hand, once satisfied with what food is on it, lifting her drink for a sip. There's a tilt of her head in a nod. "I recognize you from your movies," she admits after a moment, "but we crossed paths briefly on Ignis, at the All Hallows Eve party there. I was in quite a different look at the time. Something dark and dangerous, reminiscent of horror films I suppose." She does look towards Canis, grinning somewhat as the Knight takes up multiple plates. "That's quite the appetite you have there, Sir."

Roger, meanwhile, has wandered back over to the buffet and taken up several plates there. It doesn't appear as though the food he's eaten so far has made the slightest impression upon his appetite. He pauses along the way, however, and turns his attention for a moment to Cyrielle, giving his daughter a little smirk.

Once he's finished collecting his food, the Lord Hollolas makes his way back over toward Cyrielle and the assembled guests, and simultaneously he motions toward the crowd to beckon someone over. "Sir Tristan, Sir Brienne, Sir Canis," he booms. Knight, knight, knight. "Have you met my niece, Lady Alixandria?"

Said niece has, for the majority of the evening, been loitering with something of a foul mood behind the nearest large architectural feature - column? Gargoyle? Whatever it is, she's been ducked behind it for a while, muttering something about how she'd left this pomp and circumstance when she'd left her father's court. When she hears her name, though, there's no avoiding being acknowledged, and so she looks up, dark eyes resting on Roger before sidling over to stand to the left and behind him. "Evening good Sirs," she greets, eyes alighting on each before they look to the floor."

Canis looks back and is lucky to hold onto the plates "Oh no, My lady I was getting food for the people at the table perhaps not my best idea." He does manage to get a tray and some dishes with sampling of food "That works a little bit better." He makes his way back to the table and is introduced "Good evening My Lady." he sets the tray down which has a bit of food and drink for each of those here to eat if the want it.

"Ah, the Hallow's Eve party, of course. Your costume was paired with another's, was it not? Or was it that two of you had similar ideas? Ugh, my memory is horrible. It's a miracle if I make it through a scene without forgetting." Jane chuckles in amusement at herself before lifting her glass of wine in a half-toast. Whatever she plans to say next dies on her lips as Roger makes introductions, and the actress steps away from the group so as not to impede.

Brie had taken a quick look around, then she had gotten a plate and is filling it with food, near Canis. Hearing the question from the Lord Hollolas, she turns and faces him with the others. "Lady Alixandria," she inclines her head in a bow and offers a smile. "A pleasure meeting you."

It's, at the least, not as much an overbearing sense of finery as the affairs of some. No, this is not some Valen ball. There's just as many folks in their utilitarian military wear as there are in gowns. A Lord Commodore Hollolas party is more about the imbibing of food and drink than anything else. Cyrielle catches her father's smirk and her eyes narrow slightly. It's a playful sort of thing, though that's only noticable by her own smirk. Few emotions show in an Awakened's white gaze.

"It was, yes," Cyrielle says to Jane with a tilt of her head in a nod. "My friend, Lord Nitrim Khournas, thought it a fun combination. I must say, it was interesting getting into such a wholly different sort of… character for an evening." Her gaze settles on her cousin, then towards the others. She does, however, note the actress starting to step away and offers a slightly flippant gesture. "Please. All are welcome."

Having waited at the table for a few moments longer, Tristan's moved in quiet over towards the table now, to get hold of some of that food. At the introduction, he offers a brief smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Alicandria."

Better late than never, Nitrim makes his way across the deck to the ballroom doors with a spring in his step and the quiet ratcheting of his many rings, finger over finger. Tapping the door with the brass-covered claw of a finger gauntlet, the blonde Khourni lordling pauses for a deep breath and yanks the doors open. Senses assaulted with the sights, sounds, and smells of a full-grade Hollolas get-together, whiskey being chief of those favored scents, Nitrim can't help but conceal his grin as he makes his entrance.
Dressed for the seas in a new, ship-frieldly coat of design matching a more "Hand-like" fashion, the young drake clasps his hands behind his back to lean slightly forward on his quiet gait towards the assembled masses. As he nears, he flips a cigarette from behind his back and places it between his lips. His eyes glow over into white and the flash of fire at his palm lights it.
"Well good evening Lords, Ladies." He says to them, his dark green eyes scanning their faces.

"And now that we are all acquainted…" Roger cups his hands together and claps them twice, the noise booming through the room almost as loudly as his voice. "Let the feasting begin!" The buffet, it seems, was merely an appetizer. Crewmen fill the ballroom in an instant with plates of nearly every seafood dish known to Man - or at least every dish known to Roger - and lay them all down on the long tables.

The Lord Commodore is about to head back to his seat when his roaming sea-green eyes catch sight of a Khournas entering the room. Just in time, isn't he? Deliberately he pushes his way through the crowd until, in no time at all, he's standing right at the much younger man's side. "So glad you could join us, Lord Nitrim," he says with a booming chuckle. He raises his hand in the air, holds it up for a moment longer than is strictly necessary, then extends it out to shake.

Canis has taken too long to get the food it seems as people have moved back to the food table. He sets the tray down all the same grabbing a bite to take with him at least to take a bite of as he moves back over to mingle with the others. He looks back as another enters the room giving a nod in greeting.

Alix just nods, acknowledging each and every one who greets her properly before her eyes catch on Nitrim's entrance. She sighs at the bravado, but there's nothing she can say about it, even if she wanted to; she's a newcomer, and her host has gladly accepted him, at least on the surface. It doesn't stop her following him with her eyes though, and she places a hand on Roger's shoulder before leaning in to whisper and depart to grab some food.

Through the haze of the cigarette smoke breathing up through his lungs to spill out between his lips, Nitrim's green eyes widen as the much larger, much meatier man stops beside him and raises his hand. Eyes to Canis for a nod, then to his potential face-puncher, he stares as the hand extends for a shake. Nitrim can't help but grin and pluck the cigarette from his lips, which sends the scar tissue that lines the side of his neck twitching.
"Lord Commodore Roger Hollolas." Nitrim's eyes flit to Alix as she leans in, switching quickly back to his host. Like lightning, Nitrim's hand clasps into Roger's for a test-of-strength shake and a bit of grit to his teeth. Move. Think. Act. "It's good to see you again and thank you for the invitation. This place is fucking great, and after a few days on a Hollolas ship I've been ruined for that strained mule-piss they call whiskey back at Volkan. What do I have to do to get a drink in my hand?"

The youngest Hollolas' whited eyes shift towards the entrance to the vast room… perhaps sensing something. Eyebrows rise slightly and she shifts to her toes, securing a better view of the entering Khournas. "Ah," she murmurs, before popping some tidbit or another in her mouth. "Excuse me, Miss Wyre. I may have to run some interference."

Cyrielle moves slowly through the crowds by the buffet tables — as more people descend for food — and makes her way towards where her father has beset himself upon the poor Khourni lordling. She remains in her Awakened state, green flaring up as telekinetics keep cup and plate balanced. She doesn't move quick, unfortunately; her limp keeping her pace in check.

"Mm, alright." Jane accepts Cyrielle's invitation to stay, focus shifting from one noble to the other as she silently puts names to faces she may not recognize. Of course, there's no mistaking Nitrim when he enters, fashionably tardy and rolling in like a prince with that lazy smile and damnably dashing screw-it-all attitude. The actress rolls her eyes in exaggerated disdain, letting out a quiet tuh with her tongue against her teeth before shifting her attention back to her own food and drink; it appears her conversation companion has left to greet the Khourni.

But if Jane is bored, surely Alix could help? She's looking somewhat dour still when she reaches the table for the food, and she looks up as her cousin leaves for the lion that's just walked in. Seems she's having a hard time keeping her opinion to herself, but look! A pastry. Maybe if she stuffs that in her mouth she can't gossip? Popping the baked good into her mouth and chewing, she looks up at Jane and winks.

"So glad you could /make/ it, lad." Roger's grip is firm, just on the good side of bone-breakingly so. "There's a bar down there in the corner, hmm? I'm half-surprised you haven't yet spotted it." With a broad gesture Roger points in the general direction of the place, then turns his head back to Cyrielle, smirking again and muttering something to himself. "We'll catch up later, lad." With that, the Lord Hollolas is off again, pushing his way toward the stage.

Up onto said platform he goes, and his booming voice echoes through the ballroom. "Now, I ask that you all give a big, hearty welcome to the star of this evening's show, Miss Jane Wyre!"

Ow. OW. OWWWWW. Despite the searing degree of oh my god my hand, Nitrim maintains his cool while his many-ringed hand is near turned into a string of pasta within Roger's meaty bear of a grip. "I came right here." Nitrim slides his hand behind his back as the shake ends to flex and return his circulation to normal. Nodding upwards, he lets his host depart. "Sure thing, we'll link up then."
Taking a step back, Nitrim watches as the Jane is introduced and brings his hands up to applaud the famous movie star. The clapping also helps to bring back circulation. Eyes blinking, he's sure to take the time to wave his hand to the side painfully between applause.

Oh, famous. Alix makes a note of this, somewhat embarrassed that she's stuffed a pastry right into her face before the guest of honor. Way to go, girl. She finishes chewing and swallows, putting down the plate to clap in appreciation while clearing her throat.

Now that she has had her food and met most everyone, Brienne quietly slips back to one of the quieter places to enjoy the rest of the cruise.

And finally, Cyrielle breaks through the crowd. She's unable to provide any applause with the rest as Jane is introduced as the entertainment; her hands are still full of plate and glass. She's missed her father — and any looks — but does come up along Nitrim's side. "I'm sorry," she murmurs sidelong, looking towards her father on the stage. The plate — with appetizers, rather than the full food that has been brought forth — is extended towards the Khournas. "Shall we find you a drink and a place to sit?" Her own drink seems to be a mixed affair; like as not, she's pacing herself for the evening.

Jane watches as Alix sulks her way over to the buffet, and she laughs quietly as the girl stuffs a pastry into her mouth before she lets spill anything particularly vitriolic. "Wise, my lady," she murmurs, winking in return before her attention turns up toward the stage. Exhaling quietly, she waits until her name is called out before the jig is up, and she must cease mingling like a regular invitee. She smiles faintly at Alix before passing through the crowd, nodding to people here and there as she makes her way up to the stage.

After curtseying gracefully to Roger, she waits until the microphone is free before taking her place in front of it. "Good evening, I hope everyone is having a wonderful time. This is a little something different for me, so I ask that you save throwing food up here until at least after my first song. Letha Vallas was slotted to play with me, but was held up by a little illness, so I get to carry it on my own. No pressure."

Jane flashes a smile, exhaling slowly, and signals for the music to begin, piped in via speakers in the ceiling. It plays softly, and the volume of her mic is low enough such that those loitering can still converse pleasantly without yelling.

Not yet seeing Cyrielle, Nitrim slips his cigarette back between his lips and rubs gently at his eye. "No, naw, it's quite alright. He's a big guy; marking his turf. I know the playing fie—" Nitrim starts and turns to look at Cyrielle. The cigrette nearly tumbling from his lips his eyes dip, blink, and blink again. "Holy shit." His eyes widen as he takes the plate from her and laughs, brows knitting together tightly.
Pausing for a drag from the cigarette, he plucks it from his lips and cranes his scarred neck around to find a place to recover. "Jane sounds great and, yeah, I really need a fucking drink. Lead the way, Cyri? Who's all here? Any from the Khourni umbrella?"

Of course, by the time Jane hops up on the stage, Roger is long gone, and back at the… buffet table. Well, where else? "Enjoying the show, Lady Alix?" Even as he speaks, he's picking up something else to devour and turning back to face the stage, and he puts down his food for just long enough to clap in honor of Jane's performance.

"The coat suits you," Cyrielle says, grinning somewhat. Is she pleased for his reaction to her chosen attire, or just happy to see her friend in general? Freed of the burden of the plate, she takes a sip and tilts her head, stepping in to tuck her hand into Nitrim's elbow. Invited or not. It's only proper, right?

The daughter of the Lord Commodore leads the Khourni lordling towards the bar, head tilted to listen to the performance. "There's a few Arborens, my cousin, Lady Alixandra. Mostly naval sorts, thus far. I suppose many forgot that winter here is just as pleasant as any other season."

"Well enough," Alix replies to her uncle, grabbing at another morsel and popping it into her mouth before clapping a bit more. Seems she enjoys the smile and nod treatment while looking around at everything going on, for the moment.

"Oh so that's who that was that nearly vaulted over his shoulder while we were greeting?" Nitrim asks Cyrielle, strolling along with her arm in his as they belly-up to the bar. Setting the plate of food down, he takes a pull from his cigarette, and then turns the cigarette over to over a drag to the Hollolas daughter. "I don't think I've ever met her before. She moved rather quickly. Though your family tends to come and go like the wind."
Drumming his fingertips on the bar, Nitrim motions to the tender for a glass of the good whiskey as he idly scratches at the tattoo on his arm. Eyes closing and letting out a deep, cleansing breath, he focuses on the sweet sounds of Jane Wyre as a means of finding his center. This is the lion's den for the moment. "And thank you, I love the weight of the coat and I feel good in it. It was a very good gift, Cyri."

Jane sways back and forth to the music, a smooth and cool song with a nice walking bass and twangy plucked guitar. Her gaze drifts away to stare at some point on the far wall as she begins to sing, one hand holding the mic while the other keeps time tapping against her thigh:

"Rusted brandy in a diamond glass / Everything is maaade from dreams / Time is made from honey slow-and-sweet / Only the fools know what it means. Teeemp-tation… Te-emp-tation. Teeemp-tation. I can't resist."

"Yes. She's…" Cyrielle's brow furrows as she considers, but soon there's a shrug. "Be nice to her, should you interact. And, well, yes, we do. Comes of letting the winds guide us, as we do." She is smiling, accepting that cigarette to take a slow draw on. Her eyes flutter closed and she even releases her Awakened state. As the color returns to her eyes, she passes it back and finishes off her drink. It's slid over and soon replaced with a couple fingers of whiskey for herself.

"It's much more suitable for the climate here and sailing than your other coat. I can't imagine how much that thing weighs once wet." And even on a good day, one can find themselves soaked while sailing. Cyrielle does lean in, murmuring something to Nitrim as she watches Jane sing.

"Glad you were able to make it here," Roger addresses his niece in what he likely assumes to be a relatively quiet voice. Anyone nearby probably still hears him. "Reading is all well and good, but especially in times like these, we ought to /relax/ on occasion." A grin as he picks up another pastry and motions toward Jane. "Did you speak with Miss Wyre yet? Haven't had the chance."

"Mouth was full," Alix replies hastily, just as Roger's popping his own snack into his. Family trait, perhaps. "Didn't want to embarrass, so I kept my mouth shut. She was, however, kind to me." Which counts, of course, and she nods as her uncle offers praise for her presence. Beaming a little, Alix lets the plate down onto the table slowly before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her pants, as she's wont to do, and looks around. She can't help but notice the look or two she's getting from the bar, and with one final sideways look to Roger, she departs the buffet table and makes her way over to where she may or may not be welcome. Third wheels are so much fun, aren't they?

Leaning into Cyrielle's shoulder, Nitrim quiets as he reaches for his glass and listens to her whispering. Nodding gently, his face scrunches up as the tip of his copper-jacketed claw ring chimes a tap against the glass. The whiskey inside ripples as he whispers back and brings the glass to his lips.
"I'm going to be just fine to your cousin, your father, everyone here. This is supposed to be a good time, and damn, I hope it's going to be." Prying his chest free of the bar, he fingerpinches a morsel of food into his mouth and turns, pressing his back against the laquered wood of the bar. His arm is offered to Cyrielle once more. "Oh look he's she's com—Lady Alix Hollolas," Nitrim salutes her with his glass, his head tilting in a friendly, official nod. "Your cousin was just mentioning you. Have a drink with us?"

"Well I know that she is made of smoke / But I've lost my way / He knows that I am broke / But I must play. Teeemp-tation… Oooh, temptation… Temptation… I can't resist."

All seems to be going well for Jane, and as she closes up the final verse, the bass comes to a stop and a quiet metallic whisper of a cymbal signals the end of the song. In the pause between pieces, the actress-slash-singer turns to a stool set behind her and takes up the glass of water waiting. The next song begins, a more playful guitar line with light percussion and bass accompaniment.

"If you were a jouster, I would rail you. If you were a piece of wood, I'd nail you — to. the. floor." Jane flashes a cheeky grin and continues, leaning into the mic. "If you were a sailboat, I would sail you to the shooore. If you would a river, I would swim you. If you were a house, I would live in you all. my. days. If you were a preacher, I'd begin to change my ways."

There's a slight nod to Nitrim, brows furrowing somewhat. Cyrielle looks frustrated about something, or perhaps mildly pained. There's a slight narrowing of eyes; like something's pulling at them. She lifts her own glass and turns, much as the Khournas does. She doesn't take his arm just yet, no. Instead, she smiles towards her cousin as Alix approaches. "Alix," she says; voice pitched loud enough to hear, but low enough to not disturb the wonderful singing of Miss Wyre, "I'm so glad you came out. Have you yet met Lord Nitrim Khournas? I've been introducing him to the wonders of sailing these past few weeks."

"All good things, I should hope," comes Alix's reply, winking at Cyrielle before turning to nod once, slowly, to Nitrim. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Nitrim," she greets, hands staying put in the oversized pockets of her pants. Jane's lyrics gain her attention for a moment before she turns back to the bar with her brows raised. "I'll admit this is quite different from the library." Make of that what you will.

There's a rarity here in Beacon: utter silence from Roger as Jane's song takes a more… cheeky tone. He looks straight at the stage, unblinking, for a few moments… and then bursts forth into laughter, loud enough to cause some of the nearby glasses to quiver, and claps his hands vigorously.

"Plenty of good things, really. She loves the Hand and her family." Nitrim replies, watching Alix over the rim of his glass as he down's the last finger of whiskey. "Likewise, Lady Alix." Finger tapping against the glass, the Khourni takes a step away from Cyrielle to make room for Alix, and motions for his drink to be refilled. Sending a quick, hopefully shared, look to Cyrielle, he grins his silver grin and opens a case of cigarettes, offering them over. "So tell me, the two of you please, is this pretty normal for a Hollolas get-together or is this the inter-house safe equivalent?"
The booming laughter from Roger can be heard from across the room, sending one of Nitrim's slender brows to rise and quirk towards the Lord Commodore. His grin widens, eyes lidding with a lazy sort of joy. "Where did Jane find this song? It's lovely."

"Sometimes I believe in fate, but the chances we create always seem to ring more true. You took a chance on loving me, I took a chance on loving you." Jane pulls the mic from its stand and moves away closer to the edge of the stage. The loud laugh from Roger draws her attention, and her lips part into a sultry smile. She offers the Lord Hollolas a quick curtsey and a wink before launching into the next verse.

"If I was in jail, I know you'd spring me. If I was a phone I know you'd ring me all day long. If I was in pain, I know you'd sing me soothing songs. Sometimes I believe in fate, but the chances we create always seem to ring more true. You took a chance on loving me, I took a chance on loving you."

"All good things, so far," Cyrielle murmurs to her cousin, lips twitching somewhat in a bit of bemusement. "Though I'll have to tell him some of the other kind if you don't leave the library more often." She lifts her drink, draining a fair bit as she reaches out to take a cigarette. "Thus far, it's fairly standard. Well, yes, for a safe equivalent. We'll see if father challenges you to a drinking game or arm-wrestling contest later." The Hollolas girl winks at the Khournas.

Dark eyes do drift towards the stage and Cyrielle raises an eyebrow. "That would be Miss Wyre for you. Full of surprises."

Taking a cigarette, Alix snorts in laughter with an accompanying shrug. "Hell if I know. If everyone congratulating me on coming out tonight wasn't an obvious sign for you, Lord Nitrim, then I'll inform you that this is my first time outside either my bedroom or the library since arriving in the Lord Commodore's household." He's got a lighter, right? By the look on her face, Alix would love to borrow it.

"Excellent, I was hoping that someone large and known for his arm wrestling would find a way to wrench my arm from its socket and laugh while I bleed to death." Nitrim murmurs playfully, with eyes that suggest a mild-fondness for the man as the joke is delivered like a roast. Eyes, of course, that begin to snow over into an opaque white. His hand lifts towards Alix and a small flicker-flame hangs just above his fingers. "But good for you, Lady Alix. A few months ago I got knocked out of a bit of self-imposed exile, myself. My advice? Keep one foot where it's quiet."
Smirking, not to his own genius but at a private, self-depricating comedy unto himself, the Khourni lordling flips a cigarette out of the case for himself and waits for Alix to light her cigarette before leaning towards the flame for himself. "But I think Jane's just what this party needed. Something light. Everything's been rather serious lately."

"Haven't heard truer words in quite a while, lad." It seems Roger has made his way over to where the others are gathered, almost unnoticed. "That's why we're all here, isn't it? To lighten up." Evidently taking his own advice, he calls for another drink, and there's one in his hand right away. The Commodore doesn't seem slowed down in the slightest, though. "By the way, Lord Nitrim. How is your noble father these days?" Sip.

"Perfect. I'll let him know you're interested," Cyrielle offers to Nitrim, smirking somewhat. She lets him assist Alix with the flame, her own eyes whiting over as she lifts her palm where a small tendril of flame appears. It casts a warm glow against her features as she lights the cigarette. Taking a long drag, she captures it between her fingers upon exhale, smoke curling up and away. Her whiskey — ninja-refreshed by the awesome bartender — is gathered up and she seems on the verge of stepping away, to clear room for others at the bar… yet there's her father again. Suddenly, her whiskey is vastly interesting and she's downing it at a rapid clip.

"Thanks," Alix slurs with the cig between her lips as the young Khournas lights it for her. She inhales, lets the smoke settle in, and exhales before another word is spoken. "I do try to keep /both/ feet in the quiet, you know." And then there's her Uncle. Talk about Ninjas.

"I see less and less of him than I should." Nitrim reacts quickly as Roger sneaks up on them. Fingers wiggling the flame away, the drake's eyes slowly meld back to their natural color as he shakes his head and salutes Roger with his drink, then gestures it towards his neck. "The invading army is poking around Obsidia and Volkan, keeping myself, sisters, brothers, cousins, everyone on patrols and on high alert. He's a very busy man. I haven't had a sit down with him in weeks."
Swirling the whiskey in the glass, Nitrim chuckles under his breath, casting a look to Alix and Cyrielle with a roll of his shoulder, tightening the muscles just in case. "But like your lady niece says, Lord Commodore, where you can keep both feet in the quiet it's probably safer all around." Turning, he squares off to the three of them, making it a circular conversation. "Really, how have all of you been up here at the Hand?"

When one song ends, another begins, and the tunes almost blend seamlessly. Now that she is in full swing, it doesn't sound like Jane is going to stop any time soon.

"Oo, watchin' me / hangin' by a string this time / Don't, easily / The climax of a perfect lie. Oh, watchin' me / hangin' by a string this time / Don't, easily / Smile worth a hundred lies. If there's lessons to be lear-er-erned, I'd rather get my jammin' words in first, so. Tell you something that I fou-ou-ound that the world's a better place when it's upside-down, boy. If there's lesson's to be lear-er-erned, I'd rather get my jammin' words in first, so. When you're playing with desi-i-ire, don't come running to my place when it burns like fire, boy."

The faster beat has Jane snapping her fingers in time, swaying her head back and forth and sending her red hair dancing around her shoulders.

As her own eyes lose the white of the Awakened state, Cyrielle glances to Nitrim, then to the stage. She listens to Jane's singing a moment before her gaze returns to those gathered to chat. Eyebrows lift somewhat at Nitrim's question, but she adopts an easy smile all the same. "Weathering Winter much as always. By lounging on the beach and feeling a bit of pity for those mountain sorts that have to suffer snow."

"Bah. There's little in the life of a Head of House that cannot be delegated, Lord Nitrim. And you can tell him I said that, if you ever get the chance." Seems the drinks are getting to the Lord Commodore just a /little/ bit, as they've served to loosen his already indiscriminate tongue. Hmm. "Making certain the fleet is ready, and that's about as much as I'd like to say on the subject here." Better things to discuss than war, right? There's an approving nod in his daughter's direction. "This /is/ a fine place to be in the winter. And summer. Hrh."

Puffing on her cigarette, Alix sighs. The smoke exits her nostrils like a dragon as she straightens up, and she turns to pat Roger on the shoulder. "Beloved Uncle," she says, then she meets Cyrielle's and Nitrim's gazes respectively before flicking off some ash from the end of her smoke, "I believe my books miss me. It was a great pleasure to meet you," she says to the Not-Hollolas before her, "and I do hope we don't need to wait for another event such as this to converse more freely." Roger gets a bow, the other two a deep nod, and on her way out, Jane gets another round of applause as Alix exits toward a more quiet place to be alone.

One more song, and then it will be time for Jane's break. The next one is a slow number and hints at heartache with soft piano and a taste of strings. "We walked along a crowded street / You took my hand and danced with me / Images… And when you left you kissed my lips / You told me you would never ever forget / These images, no… Well I'd never want to see you unhappy / I thought you'd want the same for me."

Slowly, Jane makes her way back to the mic stand in the center of the stage. Her eyes flutter closed while she taps her hand right hand against her thigh. "Goodbye my almost lover / Goodbye my hopeless dream / I'm trying not to think about you / Can't you just let me be? / So long my luckless romance / My back is turned on you / Should've known you'd bring me heartache / Almost lovers always do…"

Looking to Alix, Nitrim greets her with a sharp nod of his head, enough that it could be considered proper. "It was nice meeting you, too, Lady Alix. We'll get a chance, maybe we'll all go grab some dinner and conversation on a night that isn't too busy." Nitrim pauses, thoughtful. "Have a good night."
With a brush of his hand and a brief moment to listen to the music, Nitrim turns to face Cyrielle and her father, his glass of whiskey hovering at the center of his chest and his cigarette to one side. "I will tell him that, but like my father I'm a bit of a busybody. Like a shark; we stop, we die." The cigarette is slipped between his lips for a gentle pull. "But I like it up here; less ash to chew on, the smell of the sea, all of this good food. Your Lady Daughter and some of our friends got a good taste of the sea. This…ship? She's a beauty. Is she your personal ship?"

"And all the seasons between, father?" Cyrielle laughs softly as she finishes off her whiskey. She sets the glass on the bar and soon it is filled again. The woman has been pacing herself, but there are some… stresses causing her to speed up the rate of her own inebriation. "I had thought to perhaps make introductions to the Lord Khournas, but found it easier to simply send a cask of one of my favorite distillations. He did send his appreciation, so I suppose it went over well-enough."

As Nitrim offers his compliments, Cyrielle turns slightly, looking towards the stage. There's a slight raising of her eyebrows at the shift in music, but she still seems to be enjoying it. "I didn't know she was talented beyond acting," she muses; partially to herself. "She has a wonderful voice."

"Good evenin', Lady Alix." That's about as much as Roger has time to say while his niece departs, and then his attention turns back to Jane's performance and to his daughter. And, perhaps most importantly, the man conversing with his daughter. "One of them, Lord Nitrim. This one's specially made for peace, and the other's built for war." He's close enough to a wall to lean over and pat it a few times. "Good that we're getting some use out of her now."

Nitrim's eyes trail the elder Hollolas as he moves to caress the ship's wall, nodding a few solemn times at the gesture. He looks to his glass and lifts it towards Roger in a minor toast. "Well let's hope she gets a lot of use in the future. If I had my way this war wouldn't last any longer till it gets out of everyone's system and we can go back to doing what we were meant to: being alive." The glass tilts back and the last of its contents disappear, the empty container left atop the bar.
Speaking of being alive, Nitrim is forced to look to Roger's daughter beside him, Cyrielle, in a quiet, thoughtful look. The slow song narrated by Jane fills a momentary silence; a brief moment of respite from the hopes and dreams that some things will survive. "I believe we're going to be fine, though. There's hope everywhere." Nitrim murmurs towards Cyrielle, hand rising to clear his throat gently in his fist. Considering a moment, he then centers his eyes on the elder Hollolas. "Lord Commodore? If I were to ask your blessing to ask your daughter for a dance; no bullshit, no politics, do you think that I could have it?"

Once the song comes to a close, Jane replaces the microphone on its stand and makes her way down from the stage. The glowing fishtail hem of her skirt sweeps behind her as she drifts among the people, pausing to shake hands or kiss cheeks while carefully making her way toward the bar. The singer is flushed when she finally arrives and orders another glass of wine, but once it is delivered she is off again to find her 'boss' for the evening. Lord Roger is not a difficult man to spot, even in a crowd, and the illumination of her gown makes it just as easy to see her coming.

"And lest you ever wonder, Lord Nitrim," Cyrielle says to the Khournas, lips twitching in a smile. "Hollolas ships are the best on the seas. Valta's dinghies could never compare." A light jibe, at his own House's vassal. She soon has a fresh drink in hand, as well as one for the Volkan-born, which she holds out to him. The request draws a raised eyebrow and she's quick to seek distraction. Perhaps unsure of how the response may be.

And Jane is a perfect distraction. Cyrielle lifts her glass towards the woman. "You have a wonderful voice," she offers, by way of greeting and compliment.

"You've a curiously… indirect way of asking my permission, Lord Nitrim." Permission, he says. Not blessing. Tilting his head to one side, he asks, "Nervous are you? Nah, couldn't be." A big grin, and a hearty clap on the back to boot. "Go right ahead, lad. I'll be /right/ here."

And then there's the lovely Miss Wyre approaching, and he turns to face her, giving a little nod. "A most excellent performance! Ladies, gents, let us show our appreciation for Jane Wyre." Even before he's done speaking, he's clapping, and his voice booms throughout the ballroom.

Taking the offered glass from Cyrielle, all of Nitrim's attention is on Roger as he waits for the verdict, and when the verdict is in, he nods his head and behind his closed mouth grits his teeth against the force of the clap to his back. The Hollolas man is strong. "Your house. Your right to refuse." Nitrim says quietly to the man as the call for Jane's appreciation begins.
Smiling broadly to Jane, Nitrim lowers his head to the woman and slips to stand beside Cyrielle, clapping his hand against the side of his glass in appreciation. While he applauds, he turns to Cyrielle, gives her a wide pair of eyes to note the passing of the tense moment, and then turns to Jane. "YES, Jane, I know your acting work but I never knew. You should have been on stage at the concert for the soldiers." Nitrim's eyes shift to white, lighting another cigarette. "Were all of those originals?"

Lexille 's been in the back, observing mostly(And maybe drinking a bit!). She's dressed in a very loud pant/tunic suit that has a matching hat that only old ladies wear. She's either color blind, doesn't care, or wants to embarrass her carnies who have been populating the corners and keeps folks entertained when needed. She's moving up to the bar area though, ready to demand some attention of her own. She's moving with a cane, although it doesn't seem like she's using it as support so much. Stepping up to where the owner of this party is, "Well Hells Bells, Roger…. I can now say I've partied on a boat. Well done." She'll laugh softly, looking over to Jane, "You sure got a pretty voice ta go with your looks!" She's grinning, and will tap her cane to the deck softly.

Taking the offered glass from Cyrielle, all of Nitrim's attention is on Roger as he waits for the verdict, and when the verdict is in, he nods his head and behind his closed mouth grits his teeth against the force of the clap to his back. The Hollolas man is strong. "Your house. Your right to refuse." Nitrim says quietly to the man as the call for Jane's appreciation begins.
Smiling broadly to Jane, Nitrim lowers his head to the woman and slips to stand beside Cyrielle, clapping his hand against the side of his glass in appreciation. While he applauds, he turns to Cyrielle, gives her a wide pair of eyes to note the passing of the tense moment, and then turns to Jane. "YES, Jane, I know your acting work but I never knew. You should have been on stage at the concert for the soldiers." Nitrim's eyes shift to white, lighting another cigarette. "Were all of those originals?" He grins against the cigarette's filter towards Lexille. "Yes, yes she's very talented, isn't she?"

There's a bit of a sympathetic flinch from Cyrielle at the clap on the back her father gives Nitrim. Perhaps less clap and more battering ram is the term for it. The young woman seems a bit on edge; perhaps all the socializing. Perhaps having her father always so damnably near this evening. Or maybe all of the above. However, permission has been given and she downs the whiskey in her hand, setting the glass with a finality on the bar. She'll be back for more later, never fear. "Lovely," she states to the group at large. "We now get to witness how utterly terrible I am at dancing." There is a look, in addition, at the very brightly dressed woman and there's a look of confusion at first… as if Cyrielle is trying to decide if maybe she's had too much to drink, or maybe someone really did wear that out of the house.

Miss Wyre dips into another curtsey for Roger, this one deeper, and lingers a moment before straightening. "You are all much too kind," she murmurs, blushing prettily and hiding a smile behind the rim of her wineglass as she takes a sip. "Oh, Lord Nitrim, a pleasure to see you here! Some of them were originals, but honestly, I didn't write them entirely by myself. Thank you, my lords, my lady, my - oh! Thank you, ma'am." Her gaze lingers on Lexille, taking in the older woman's colorful appearance, but she is far too polite to do anything more than bob the woman a grateful nod. "You are sweet to say so, thank you."

"Good to see you've finally come out of the shadows, Miss Lexi." That's addressed to the older woman, of course, but Roger's attention stays on Nitrim for a moment more. "That's true, lad. I'm sure you won't forget it." A little grin, a little nod in Jane's direction, and an off-hand "Whether you wrote them or not, those songs were a /tremendous/ addition." And then, finally, his eyes rest on Lexi properly. "Well, what do you say? Can you match Miss Wyre's performance?"

Lexille cackles, fully aware of the looks. Eyes going from person taking to the next,as she tells Jane, "I'm not sweet, don't let anyone full ya. Piss and vinegar, all the way." Her eyes linger on Nitrim though, "I always pictured you as taller. Brillanna made you sound taller." She'll narrow her eyes and click her tongue at him before turning back to Roger, "I wouldn't want to brake the poor dear's heart by doing it myself. But some of mine will be on shortly." She'll grin, showing she either has all her teeth, or really good dentures, "You gonna just stand there, or are you going to ask me to dance? Can't let these kids take to the dace floor by themselves."

Nitrim's brows lower with that scant tilt of the head as he tries to place Lexille, her face, her mannerisms, and that name. Brillana. Brillana. For a moment, the name doesn't ring a bell…until it does. The brows shift back into place.
"Well, I'm over six feet tall. Humans don't come much taller do they? Did she say I was ten feet tall?" Nitrim plays back to the elderly woman, flashing a smile as he draws his cigarette back to his lips. As the cigarette hovers, however, it is waved in a circular gesture towards Jane. "I think sometimes we follow the same social circle but are usually one or two steps behind the other, Jane. You've got a few steps on me lately, though, I've been buried in my work. Congratulations on the new movie, by the way. I can't wait to see it, personally." The cigarette finally reaches his lips, the end flaring as he takes a drag.

Laughing quietly, Jane dips her head to Lexille once more. "Piss and vinegar - duly noted, and I shan't make the mistake again." She is, perhaps, a bit grateful that Nitrim pulls her back into conversation, and she turns toward him with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile. "Or perhaps our circles merge at some point, my lord, but I defer to you; I am quite sure you are always several steps ahead whether you're on hiatus or not." She drums her fingertips against the edge of her glass briefly, shifting to cross one arm over her chest and rest her elbow atop the back of her empty hand. "And thank you. They're releasing an official sneak peek next week, I believe. I'm anxious to see what amount of press it'll drum up."

"If only I could, Miss Lexi. Later, perhaps. Now, there's still hosting to be done…" There's something resembling a frown on Roger's face for a moment, but it's gone just as quickly. To Jane: "Again, a splendid performance. You are welcome to visit Beacon at any time, Miss Wyre." To Nitrim and Cyrielle, he merely says, "Enjoy yourselves. I won't be far off."

And of course, the Lord Hollolas grabs another fistful of food before shuffling off to the back of the ballroom.

"Well…Humans do. The way she spoke of you…" It's hard to tell if Lexi's implying Nit was spoken well of, or the opposite. She'll nod to Roger, "oh course, oh course. You go ahead and do what needs to be done." Yes, she just gave him permission to leave. Looking at the rest, she'll smirk slightly, her fingers drumming in the head of her cane.

It's difficult to deny, but the source may be hard to pinpoint. Cyrielle is blushing. And has been. Perhaps the young Hollolas just knows well what the older woman is referencing. She'd put aside her drink, but at some point… she managed to get her hands on not one, but two glasses of whiskey. Does one get handed off? No. She's double-fisting. In another time and place, this would be a prime situation for Edward Fourty Hands.

"Well you'll have to tell her I said hello the next time you see her. Is she doing well, or …is she performing here tonight?" Nitrim replies, exhaling a cloud of smoke above the trio with a passing nod of his head to Roger when he leaves. Turning to his side, he looks to Cyrielle's face, leaning in to murmur something to her as he ashes his cigarette. "And you…" Nitrim continues as he rights himself back up, planting a boot against the bar behind him, leaning casually. To whom is he speaking? Jane. That's where his eyes go. "…are you still in the middle of filming or is all of that wrapped?" His finger gun hands to his temple, finger swirling. "I'm thinking."

"Lord Hollolas," Jane murmurs to Roger as he departs, and she turns her attention back to both Lexille and Nitrim. The former's comments have the actress fizzing with barely-restrained laughter, and she giggle-snorts into her cup while drinking. "Still in the middle of filming," she informs Nitrim, casting a curious glance toward Cyrielle; the blushing is noted, but there's no particular point for the woman to press. Her gaze flicks back to the Khourni. "We're filming in Beacon, actually - well, right outside of it, anyway. Hence why I decided I could afford an evening away. That, and since I was in the area, I thought I would offer my services for the Lord Commodore's party. I've never really been on a ship before. It is beautiful here, my lady." There, she has angled to include Cyrielle in the conversation.

Lexille lets out a soft snort and pints a wrinkled finger at Nitrim, "Son, you had to think to remember who she was. I ain't bring you up to her to get her all upset again. Took me months to get her to stop mopping about 'cause of you. Don't want to have to redo all that work." Turning to Cyri, "I see he's got you all 10 degrees of blushing too." Lexi doesn't seem to be lecturing, as much as offering advice to cyri, "Snake handling isn't the easiest. But then again, I heard his snake's nice. Have fun." Shirely Lexi couldn't know about Dahlia….so she must be talking about something else…yikes. Lexi cackles and nods, "oh! I do love a good Holovid set. I got to watch filming of The Stampede of Wildrom back in…2060, I think it was. Very interesting."

And it's an inclusion that Cyrielle can handle. Not multi-layered jibes from her father, or Nitrim getting himself into trouble, or an older lady making everyone feel just a little awkward. There's a sip of one of the drinks and after a long, deep, bracing breath… the color begins to fade from Cyrielle's cheeks. "Never before? We'll have to fix that. Had my brother not lost his ship, I'm sure he'd be glad to give you a tour of the region. Enjoy your evening here and your time in Beacon. Should you need anything, please send word to the Hand."

Not that the brunette stays at the Hand, but she'll gladly direct people there. It gives Fi something to do, afterall. See? Even the youngest can delegate! Roger teaches his children well. Lexi's words, however, earn a sort of look out of Cyrielle and the response is a very swift downing of the rest of the whiskey. "I… need some air," she gasps in the wake of such, beginning to make her way for the doors out to the decks beyond. "I'll be… back momentarily."

A sharp intake of breath sucks in over Nitrim's teeth as his mouth opens to reply to Lexille…and stops. It all happens so fast. Lexille says what she does, and Cyrielle walks off, and the Khourni nobleman, brushes his hand down the front of his goatee while he shuffles from one foot to the other with a nervous, little laugh. "I… was going to say, Jane, I might have some character-basis information you might be interested in."
Tongue rolling over his teeth, Nitrim turns in time to see Cyrielle's back. Watching her leave, he takes another pull from the noxious cigarette and levels his eyes back towards Lexille. "Well, all the same, ma'am, I hope things are well with Brillana. It's probably for the best then that she isn't performing here tonight, right?" His eyes narrow, cheeks darkening a shade as his hand comes to brush over his eyes. "Ohhhhh fuck me" He groans into his palm.

Even Jane's jaw drops a little bit, and she can no longer pretend she's not picking up on the undertone of the conversation. The expression he turns on Lexille can be read like a book, and it looks something like this: holy shit, you are a saucy little minx. "We-well," she stutters, flailing frantically for some way to redirect the conversation, but Cyrielle's abrupt departure eliminates the need.

"I should really make the rounds tonight," Jane concludes, glancing over her shoulder to the mingling crowd, some of whom have been chomping at the bit to speak with her. "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Lord Nitrim, I think in these situations it is only appropriate for a lady's escort to attend to her outside and be sure she is safe while catching her fresh air. It was good to see you again, and I will be in touch with you about that information." To the pair she offers a dip of her head and spins on her heel in a flash of light to push off into the crowd.

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