10.14.3013: Victor and Devon's Reception
Summary: Log Summary
Date: 22 September 2013
Related: Planning a Real Khourni Wedding
Devon Victor Reena Anabethe Beden Flint Nitrim Helena Ashleigh Thalo Aaryn 


Living Quarters Greatroom, Blackspyre, Volkan
This room, as the entry to the living quarters of the Khournas family, is about as sumptuous as things get in the Blackspyre. The floor is sheathed in black tile, heated from below by veins of magma running through the tower itself. Deep red carpets have been layered over the tile across most of the expanse of the room, softening footfalls and providing a visual sense of warmth to go along with the physical one. One wall of the greatroom is taken up by a large 'fireplace' where one of the heat-proof transparent tubes filled with lava can be seen pulsing and roiling its way up the tower. Around the other walls are a scattering of drakeskins, paintings of battle and hunt, and shelves of holobooks. Several couches and chairs are gathered in clumps around the room, providing seating for twenty or so with ease. Opposite the lift is a corridor that leads back into the actual living quarters and a private drawing room, with the entrance to the corridor guarded by two men-at-arms at all times.
14 October 3013

On Primus, there was a storm. It wasn't the heavy rains and fierce thunder of a Khourni storm, but it tossed about the yellow lichen of the plains and threatened to blot out the sun. It caused a great moan to carry its way through the chantry nave, layering a sense of foreboding over the whole affair. It was there, before the three male guises and there female guises that Victor Khournas and Devon Grantham nee Volen were wed. The actual ceremony went smoothly despite the heavy air that hang over the family, particularly from the Volen representation. Vows to husband, wife, and house were all exchanged, as were rings, and the most unlikely couple managed their parts without a hitch. Those guests who had been in attendance at the chantry were told that the reception would be held in the living greatroom of the Blackspyre in an hour or so, and that the couple would greet them once again as husband and wife.

That was about an hour and a half ago, and now the greatroom is filling up. Seating has been rearranged to allow for more open spaces, small round tables have been scattered around so people can sit and eat from the generous buffet that has been provided. There is also an equally generous bar that is stocked full of Khourni homebrew ale in brown, unlabeled bottles and golden bottles of mead from Ignis. There's wine as well, but that isn't the drink of choice for certain. Music does add a bit of ambiance to the room, but it is provided via the stereo system instead of a live band.

Lady Devon Khournas is still on the arm of her husband in a polite kind of fashion, though she has changed out of her wedding dress into a more simplistic reception attire. The dress is made of soft, moonbeam silk that faintly shimmers like silver when she moves. It falls gracefully around her frame, though her back is completely bare to show off the curve of her spine. Her hair, which has been reverted to its natural white-gold hue, has been loosened from its original updo to cascade down her back in a series of loose braids. She is talking with Marah Grantham, who has at least been here long enough to witness the ceremony and share a drink with the High Lord of Khournas.

Victor has changed from his formal attire as well, putting aside the high-necked jacket and drape of drake-skin in favor of a simple black jerkin (undone) and plain white shirt. He may look a bit rumpled compared to his shimmering bride — how weird is that term? — but he pulls it off with an easy disdain for the requirements of high fashion. He slipped away from Devon's side for one moment to shake the hand of Nathaniel Volen where he broods in a corner. That brief exchange was apparently enough for the Lord Volen to determine that he had fulfilled his duties as father of the bride, and now Lord Volen has departed, and Victor has returned to Devon with a glass of mead and a bottle of beer. Taking up her arm once more and passing over the honey booze.

Reena is wearing the colors of her house of birth today, a last nod to Khournas before she becomes a Volen. The gown has a gentle V-neck and cap sleeve bodice, with a tracery of weblike, cracklike red fabric over a gold underdress. At the waist is a band of red fabric, and a gold skirt falls to the floor, with a gauzy, sheer red over-layer. As is appropriate with the current physical state of her betrothed, she's been quiet and solemn, with small smiles reserved for family.

Someone told Anabethe this was going to be a casual affair, and apparently no one bothered to actually approve her wardrobe before she showed up at the party. While she's not exactly in her sweats, the skin-tight black pants, drapey gold shirt, and sleek leather jacket are perhaps a little more casual than might have been intended. Though she is wearing strappy gold heels, which leave her towering over most of the company, and her hair is mostly down, just the locks at her temples pulled back. Despite that, she's been doing her best to greet visitors and get them settled.

Following the ceremony, Lord Sergeant Beden Grantham makes a beeline first to the bar, before going towards what he assumes will be a mass chaos congratulatory line for the newlyweds. He orders a strong whiskey-based beverage as he surveys the crowd. Dressed in a formal grey tunic and black overcoat, Beden seems to be offering the occasional smile and nod. Looking pointedly for where his sister relocated to in the mass movements, he seems content for the moment to lounge standing by the alcohol.

Oh there was terse moment when Nathaniel Volen passed by the one-time heir of Grantham, Sir Flint Grantham. There were no words, just a look at one another. Which might've been more than what his sister, Lady Marah Grantham would've given, which would've likely of been simple ignoring. To a Grantham, the greatest insult you can give an enemy(probably too strong a word, more like advasary? Rival? Something like that), is to be ignored. That being said, the paralyzed Ash Knight is here, in his wheelchair. There's a collaspable walker set on the side of the wheelchair, the chair itself having been chromed and polished. As for the man himself, he's wearing pants and dress shirt of a dusty gray, knee-high black leather boots, and a burnt orange vest sewn with accents of silver thread. He's over with the Grantham contingent, trying not to look at crotches, since he's at about that eye-level.

Nitrim's arrival is one that isn't held with much fanfare, as he slips in from a room to the side of the Great Room, clad in a simple, button-up black shirt and black pants, though he's kept his large, menacing boots with all of the plating, buckles, and straps on his feet, which create a dull thud against the floor as he walks. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he goes, he quietly passes a number of guests on his way to the rather generous buffet, even for his normal eating standards.

Weddings are a rather nervous business for Helena, who much prefers the solitude of her work, but the invitation from Devon was impossible to deny. So, the doctor has managed to wrangle up a dress and a gift, a small box wrapped in silver paper that she deposits among the masses at the appropriate table. She pauses a few steps beyond, running her palms over her dress to smooth away non-existent wrinkles, before approaching Anabethe with an apologetic smile. "Er, are you helping everyone find their seats, my lady? Helena Dalton. I'm probably near the others from the Lashes, I suspect." With this observation, she turns her gaze away for a moment as if in search of a familiar face.

The heir to House Grantham has been a respectufully quiet presence, dressed in a long sleeved gown of pale orange, the color clashing slightly with the natural red of her hair. While it isn't her favorite color it is their house color, hence Ashleigh wearing it despite that fact. The design of the dress is also not Ashleigh's favorite but it too is worn with a purpose in mind, that being to hide some of the bruises she got during the melee that was held several days prior. Currently, she stands off to the side, watching for a good time to approach Devon and Victor and offer the couples her warm wishes.

So this wedding Thalo actually did attend. Maybe he figured Victor might try to fight him if he didn't. That would just lead to embarassment for Victor, so Thalo showed up. He even dressed up. Sort of. He's not wearing armor, which is a step in the right direction, and he's got on a dublet. That's about as dressed up as The Wall gets. He did however bring a date to this particular affair, which likely wasn't expected by anyone. Thalo enters the Greathall with Aaryn on his arm, slowing as they arrive and Thalo eyes where exactly the bar is, "Drinks?" he offers up quickly.

Devon continues with Marah for another moment before the pair of women exchange kisses to the cheek. There is even a lingering moment where Marah whispers something against Devon's ear, and the content is enough to make the second-time newlywed blush a faint pink. "Marah…" She says before she laughs softly, and then nods. "I'll come see you in the next few days," she promises. Marah offers an exchange with Victor — a firm sort of handshake and an even firmer expression. There's a definite you take care of her, or I'll take care of you kind of moment between the pair before Marah takes her leave to rejoin her family. Then Devon looks toward Victor. "Alright, now your favorite part… we circulate," and Ashleigh appears to be first on their rotation.

Having attended the lovely ceremony with Thalo, Aaryn is still with him as they arrive into the more intimate setting of the Spyre family room. Unable to stop herself, she looks down at the doublet he wears and the smile tugging at her lips is one of admiration. "I didn't get to tell you at the wedding, but you look really nice." A nod towards where the bar is, the agreement comes easily. "Drinks, certainly. Lead the way." Passing through the door completely, she offers a nod and friendly smile to those nearby, hoping she'd never met any of them before and just didn't… remember.

Reena drifts over towards Beth and Helena, a glass of mostly untouched wine in her hand. "Looks like everything went smoothly," she notes to her sister with a faint smile. "And no one has slugged anyone else yet. Bravo." Getting Granthams and Volens in the same room together is always a challenge.

After offering greetings and condolences to the Volen contingent, Anabethe tucks her hands in her pockets, smile quirking at Reena's observation. "Don't worry, there's a whole party still to go, Reenie," she murmurs ruefully. "I'm sure someone'll take offense to something. Like, maybe we're not serving enough fish. We'll just tell them it's too hot here to keep sushi fresh." Clearing her throat, she whistles softly, trying to catch Nitrim's attention.

Noting the couple heading towards the bar, Beden gives a polite nod and smile. "This guy's got quite the skills, my Lady, my Lord." Motioning to the bartender, the Sergeant raises his glass. He looks both to Thalo and Aaryn, though he's not sure he's ever met them before. Racking his brain, he comes up with zilch. He raises his glass in further greeting. "Beden Grantham."

Victor frees his arm from Devon's to shift his beer to his left hand and envelop Marah's hand with his own paw. His shoulders lift and fall in an almost imperceptible shrug at the look, a faint chuckle touching his lips. Looking back to Devon, he chuckles, "Hell, Dee, I don't hate circulating when it's just a party." As they start over toward Ashleigh, he rumbles, "And sometime, you'll have to tell me what Marah said." And then he's holding out his right hand to Asleigh as they approach, "Thanks for makin' it."

Quietly urging some sort of creamed appetizer onto a plate, Nitrim hears that all-too-familiar whistle and looks up and over his shoulder towards Anabethe. He's got a muted look in his eyes, which he's normally had a muted look in his eyes, but he's not drunk(yet). Nodding sharply in an upwards manner to her, he glances to the guests in an display of subliminal communication as he steals a fork and opts to leave the buffet line altogether. Pausing to allow a couple to pass before him, he sidles up to Anabethe with his plate and fork in hand, stabbing gently at the first bite. "Well look at my attractive sisters." Nitrim leads in, in his own blend of sarcasm. "Lovely ceremony wasn't it?"

"Oh! Lady Reena, you are looking absolutely radiant," Helena greets, half-turning to the woman as she approaches. The Dalton takes it upon herself to reach out and place a hand on Reena's arm ever so briefly. "My condolences, my lady," she offers in a murmur, glancing sidelong to Anabethe at the mention of sushi. She cannot help the slight quirk to her lips, although she does her best to stifle her amusement. As Nitrim approaches, she glances away to scan the crowd once more. "I was looking for the Granthams, actually. Did Sir Flint happen to make it, do either of you know?"

Noticing that Devon's bringing Victor over, Ashligh rushes to bridge the space between them, meeting them about half way. Victor's greeting is ignored for just a moment but only because she is hugging the slight bride, her eyes filling with tears. "You are so beautiful," gets complimented sincerely, the embrace held for as long as Devon allows it and then Victor's hand is taken in hers once the embrace is complete. "Lord Sir Victor. It is a pleasure to finally meet the man hwo is stealing my sister from me." Ashleigh's attempt at a joke mostly succeeds but there's a slight warble to her voice and she starts to tear up despite the valent effort she is putting into not crying. "Please promise me you'll take good care of our Devon," she whispers before daring to move in to give him a peck on the cheek if allowed.

"Quality makeup," Reena confesses to Helena with a flit of a smile. "It covers the dark circles under my eyes." She's been in New Atlantis for the most part since Kadmus' injury. She nods to the doctor, "Yes I believe I saw him enter. He may be with the Grantham contingent." She nods to her brother when he approaches. She looks tired.

Anabethe reaches out to wrap an arm around Nitrim's shoulders and press a kiss to his temple. "Hey. Good to see you out," she murmurs, giving him a squeeze before releasing him and looking out over the crowd. "Flint said he was coming, so I'm sure he's here somewhere," she answers Helena. "Probably…There, that should be him," she says, pointing toward a gap in the crowd at eye level.

Speaking of Flint, he wheeling himself towards Devon and Victor. "Dev, Vic, Ash." he greets the three of them. But he focuses on Devon for a long moment, as if he's trying to find something worthwhile or inspiring to say. Nothing comes to mind. He shakes his head. "You already know everything I've already said, Devon, not reason to hash over it again. In the end, more than anyone else, I want you happy. That's it, and that's not such a bad idea to chase after, is it?" Looking at Victor, he smiles. "I know that look my sister gave you, she've given me something like that a couple of time. But, yeah, what she said." Pause. "Good luck, with everything, no matter what it might be." Reaching down with a hand, he takes that walker, jerking his wrist to make it snap out and go rigid. "I won't be able to dance with you Devon, but I'll be damned if you hug me in this chair again." Setting the walker infront of him, he hefts himself up, using the increasing upper body strength to keep him upright, and locks his knees straight to give his feet stability. So long as he can hold himself up and isn't pushed over, he looks pretty stable. "Now, hug me damnit, before I fall over."

"No, I don't," Devon says in reply to Victor with a slight grin. "That's a secret I get to keep." She then turns toward Ashleigh with a bright smile. There is a genuine affection to the embrace, and she closes her eyes as she twists back and forth slightly as she hugs her Grantham sister. "Thank you," she murmurs to her at the compliment. Then she releases her and allows her to greet Victor. There is a quiet moment from the woman as she watches the pair interact and then she gently take Ash's hand with a soft squeeze.

As they arrive at the bar and are greeted by a Grantham, Aaryn is relieved as he gives his name and doesn't seem to hold any recognition in his eyes for her, saving her any odd explanations she's had in the past. "Lord Grantham, a pleasure meeting you. I'm Aaryn Reilly." Leaning over slightly, she orders herself a drink, glancing at Thalo to see what his preferences will be while making casual conversation with the Grantham. "It was a lovely wedding, wasn't it? They look great together."

"No, I don't," Devon says in reply to Victor with a slight grin. "That's a secret I get to keep." She then turns toward Ashleigh with a bright smile. There is a genuine affection to the embrace, and she closes her eyes as she twists back and forth slightly as she hugs her Grantham sister. "Thank you," she murmurs to her at the compliment. Then she releases her and allows her to greet Victor. There is a quiet moment from the woman as she watches the pair interact and then she gently take Ash's hand with a soft squeeze. She then looks toward Flint as he wheels himself on up, and she starts to grin a bit. "It isn't such a bad idea, no," she agrees softly before she straightens up a bit as Flint starts to rise out of his seat. She brightens at the sight, stepping forward to immediately embrace him. She closes her eyes a moment, and then she releases him gently.

At the compliment, Thalo just looks uncomfortable, "Uh, thanks." he says and then remembers you are supposed to say nice things back, "You look very pretty yourself." And then they get to the bar to be greeted by Beden, a nod is offered, "Sir Thalo Khorax." he offers, leaving off his commonly used Khournas nickname 'The Wall'. He looks to the bartender, "Whiskey, neat."

Shoulder-leaning into Anabethe's hug, Nitrim takes the first bite of his food and quickly swallows, traping the fork with thumb against the finery of the plate to trade hands and get an arm around her waist for a squeeze. "It's good to be out, Bethe. All of this food, all of these scary people." Nitrim laughs softly as he offers his arm to Reena for a squeeze to her shoulder, acknowledging the throuble she's been going through. The exhaustion on his shoulder fades all-too-quickly into a smile, sending his attention towards Helena. "Lady Helena, as I live and breathe, welcome to Volkan again. I think I was too close to the front of the ceremony that I didn't see you from up there. This is a surprise, truly." He scans their faces. "You all look quite wonderful you should be proud of yourselves."

"It truly was, Miss Reilly." Beden offers a smile, seeming rather sincere. "The Lady Devon deserves every happiness that can come her way. Though I shall miss seeing her, she's as much a sister as I've had." He nods between the two of them, giving an approving look at Sir Thalo's drink selection.

Victor snorts in amusement at Ashleigh's joke, leaning forward to accept the kiss on the cheek, "Just Vic. Or Cueball if you've gotta." Once his hand is free, he runs it back over his shaven head to demonstrate. "And I'm more concerned about her takin' care of me. She's the smart one." Taking another pull of his beer, he looks over to Flint as the other knight arrives, giving Flint a light swat on the shoulder before he hauls himself vertical, "Thanks for takin' care of the mead, Flint." A chuckle rumbles up from his chest, "And I don't think you need to worry too much about the dancing. There ain't gonna be any damn waltzes or shit."

Ashleigh wipes her hand over her face and returns the squeeze, carefully. "We keep saying we're going to get togeher but it seems like something always comes up, Devon. We really…" When Flint stands she falls quiet, perhaps the first time she's seen her uncle on his feet. She falls quiet, resorting to nodding to Victor and givng the groom a quick smile. She's content to just watch as Devon and Flint have their moment.

Noting the uncomfortable look, Aaryn hides the smile and at the return courtesy compliment, she gives him a rueful smile. "Thank you, Thalo." Catching the smile from Beden, she nods, glancing towards the lady in question. "A sister?" An encouragement to extend the explanation if he wishes, though as soon as her own whiskey arrives, she accepts it with a grateful look. "Thank you," she murmurs to the bartender, wrapping her hand immediately around the liquid courage and tipping back a quick swallow.

Helena's smile for Reena is faint and understanding. "If you need a pick-me-up - a legal one - please do not hesitate to see me. Thank you both for the assistance." Just as she is beginning to turn and leave, the doctor stops short at Nitrim's greeting. Her jaw clenches briefly, but she offers the man a cheerful smile that is, in most ways, genuine. "Lord Nitrim, you are too kind, but thank you for the welcome. I was somewhere in the back, but thankfully I still had a chance to see Lady Devon in her beautiful gown. But I will stop prattling and leave you to your family. Again, thank you, my ladies." With a bob of her head, Helena marches away heading for the Grantham table, although halfway there she sees that Flint has moved away to greet the newlyweds. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before deviating from her original destination and heading toward Flint, Ashleigh, Devon and Victor.

There's a bit of a furrowed brow as Beden takes a sip of his drink. He's trying to channel the polite way to go about things, sure that his mother's all seeing eye will note any and all indiscretions for the evening, however minor they may be. "The Lady Devon has been with us since childhood." He decides that statement may be vague, but today is a happy occasion. Even for the Grantham, this is not the time to bring up other matters. He looks between the Thalo and Aaryn. "Are you two friends of the groom then?"

Anabethe goes very still for a moment when Flint stands up with the walker, though she tries to cover it by reaching over to steal something from Nitrim's plate, ducking her chin. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, Reena," she says quietly, changing the subject. "You're not going to be any good to your betrothed when he wakes up if you end up spending six weeks in a bed for exhaustion."

Flint can't exactly hug Devon back, since his arms are doing most of the work keeping him upright, so he kisses her cheek. "Love you, Devon." he says quietly. "Ignis will always be open to you. Maybe you'll get a second home there or something. Hint hint." Months of having to work his arms in the chair has done wonder for stamina, so his arm aren't shaking just yet. "Not a problem, Vic. And good, because I make enough of a mockery of myself when I wasn't in the chair." Breaking away from Devon, he smiles at her before glancing to Ash. "I don't suppose you can help me back into my chair before I embarass myself?"

"Love you too," Devon murmurs to him before she casts him a warmer smile. "I'll come visit… I promise." Then she touches his shoulder to encourage him to sit down, but does give Ash space to do the honors. She glances over toward Vic, offering him a quick and light smile before she turns to face Helena. She brightens. "Doc," she says warmly, stepping forward to greet her. "You look wonderful. I wasn't sure if your lab was going to let you escape." Then she gestures. "You know Victor," she says, knowingly. It is out of the corner of her eye that she spots Beden with Thalo and… is that Thalo's date? Curious… She waves their way gently.

Reena gives Nitrim a weak smile and covers his hand on her shoulder with her own for a brief squeeze. She takes a small sip of her wine and chuffs quietly at Anabethe. "I'm being responsible. He has family that sits with him too, so I'm not always there," she insists. She just hasn't been sleeping well with her future dangling in a precarious position.

"Of course not, Uncle." A hand comes to support Flint's back and she holds onto his arm with the other, Ashleigh doing what she can to help. The process might be a bit more awkward than normal but after a little more effort than she might usually require, Ashleigh should be able to get him seated comfortably and without mishaps. A quick whisper is given to Flint and then she straightens, looking at Helena. "Hello! I…" Pause. "I am sorry but I do not think we've met." Helena is allowed to start the introductions, if she desires.

Victor downs another slug of his beer in the moment where Devon is hugging Flint, looking over toward the group clustered around the foot of the Wall as Devon waves in that direction. He lifts his beer to Thalo in salute, then turns to greet Helena as she approaches, "Hey Doc. You're lookin' less dead-on-your-feet than last time I saw ya." Which is his way of saying 'you look nice.' Or something. There's a reason he had to have a political match made for him. He does, however, have the where-withal to introduce the Orelle and the Grantham, "Sir Ashleigh Grantham, Doc Helena Orelle. Doc, Ashleigh." Okay, sort of the where-withal.

"Holy shit." Nitrim suddenly blurts out in a whisper, a small for Bethe-and-Reena whisper at the sight of Flint getting out of his chair. Stealing his hand back from Reena's arm to steady his plate, his mouth gapes at the sudden reveal, then curls into a broad smile. "Six, good for him. This is - hells - I'm going to have to talk with him about that later." He comments, wiping the smile off of his face as he remembers where he is and that darkness returns with a clearing of his throat. "Reena? Truly, I'm going to be back here for a while, so if you just need someone to talk to or spend time with to get through this I'm here for you. I won't be leaving so much for the time being. I have returned to the Crescent."

"I've known Victor for far too long, but he's a friend none the less." Thalo offers with a smirk, taking a sip from his whiskey. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Devon looking over at them and offers a quick smile and returns the wave with a single gester of his hand, sort of like a finger gun, pew pew.

Helena's steps slow as she sees Flint standing, or, well, holding himself aloft precariously with the aid of a walker. Her heart nearly stops at the sight, but when Ashleigh moves in to assit him back into his chair, Helena exhales slowly and picks up her pace once more. "Lady Devon," she greets warmly, holding out her hands to cradle Devon's elbows while leaning in to kiss her cheek. "My lab will always let me escape. It is Lady Augusta's council who is less willing to allow me free time. Still, I give them the slip on occasion." She offers the new Khournas a wink before looking to Victor. "Sir Victor, of course, and many congratulations to you on this day. And Sir Flint, a delight to see you here today."

With help from Ashleigh, Flint gets himself back into his chair without any toppling over. There's a look of slight pain on his face when he reseats himself, masking it as best as he can. Looks like the spine doesn't remember standing, so it's protesting a little. "I might need a hypo in a bit, but it was worth it." There's a grin up at Ash. "Thanks, Red." But Helena's appearence gets a smile on his face. "Heya, Doc. How you doing? Working hard or hardly working? A delight, eh? Ah, now you're just being nice, I'm a pain in the ass, just as Dev and Ash here. Looking good though."

Green eyes flicker over the groom as Beden asks about him and her expression remains slightly bemused. As Thalo makes his own explanation, Aaryn makes her own hesitant one. "I'm… ah, not really. I've not had the privilege to personally meet either the bride or groom yet." Catching the wave though, she returns it, her expression as friendly as it was for Beden but a trifle more curious.

"Thank you," Reena murmurs to her brother. She looks over to where the happy couple are and she gestures in that direction. "I'm going to go give my congratulations." With that, she slips towards those gathered at the bar.

Anabethe gives Reena a look, but doesn't pursue the topic. Instead, she gives Nitrim's shoulder a squeeze and steps back. "Well, I'm going to get myself a drink," she says. "You want anything, or trying to be good and stick with the food?" she asks her brother.

Ashleigh gives Devon one more kiss on the cheek and Helena's given a wave as well as a smile while Vic and Flint get patted on an arm or a shoulder, whatever is closest. "I should see how my brother is doing so please excuse me." Pivoting with a slight stiffness, she goes to hunt down Beden.

"Lady Augusta certainly has a reputation," Devon remarks with a slow-building grin. Then she glances over her shoulder toward those gathered in the greatroom before her eyes alight on Reena and Nitrim. She glances toward the others before she nods her chin. "If you will excuse me," she says lightly before she starts to step away so she can make her path toward Reena and Nitrim.

Nitrim steps in closer to Anabethe, his eyes trailing Reena's back as she walks off. Lowering his voice to a whisper meant just for her, his lips flatten and he nods in the direction of Devon and Victor. "I think if I'm drinking I'm going to wait until I politely dodge out of here, but I should congratulate them, first. I'll load up on food, though." Nitrim offers, cocking a brow as he makes scant eye contact with her. "I leave a rather punishing wake don't I? It's not every day you get to see lives cha—Devon!" Nitrim's voice picks up as the bride starts to arrive, his lips curling into a new smile as he motions to her, her dress, her jewelry.

Noting his sister's movements and stiffness, the Sergeant Grantham will be aware again of what precisely is going on with the Young Lady. The familiar posture and the just a hint in the eyes. "I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Dates at wedding can be quite the gossip starters." He winks towards Thalo and Aaryn before stepping down the bar. "Ash." He smiles, giving a formal nod, his tone normal and controlled as he pulls her in a close, sideways hug, squeezing for support.

Victor nods to Ashleigh, "Don't let us hold you up. People are supposed to be here to have fun." At least that's his story, and he's sticking to it. He nods to Helena's congratulations, "Thanks," then gestures after Devon. His bride is going that way, so he's supposed to also, for now. Meeting Reena halfway, he opens his arms to enfold her in a hug, his free hand reaching up to cup the back of her head — gently so as to not mess up her hair. "Thanks for bein' here, Ree." The words are a low rumble, and he's not going to make any commentary on why she wouldn't be, or anything like that. Not here, not now. "There's some cigars around here somewhere if you want one."

"Brother mine, I think we ought to get you tested to make sure you don't have overactive pheromone glands or something," Anabethe sighs to Nitrim with a wry curve of a smile, forestalling her trip to the bar in favor of greeting Devon. "Devon, you look lovely," she says with a warm smile. "You almost make up for Vic's ugly mug."

Reena opens her arms to wrap Devon in a gentle embrace as the bride approaches. "You look radiant, Dee." She draws back, holding her at arm's length to look at the newlywed with a gentle smile. "Promise me you'll take care of my cousin? He's my best friend." She squeezes Victor tightly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I bought you a whole case of Forlorn Stogies, best in the Vale."

Gossip starters? Ibrahm Knight brings his doctor to the Quiet Affair wedding? Who is the mystery woman? Oh don't ask her, she doesn't have a clue… Surely not!? "It was a pleasure meeting you." Though there's more wariness in her expression now at the threat of rumors or gossip. As the gathering seems to be at the bar now, she glances towards Thalo, intending to follow his lead since she was mostly in the dark about who was whom.

Having attended the wedding together, Erik and Johana had stopped by briefly to congratulate the couple before offering apologies, then Erik had escorted his wife back to their rooms in Obsidia. The first trimester was hell, apparently.

Ashleigh is more than happy for the one-armed hug as it allows her to look out over the room and keep an eye on their mother who just might be looking out for potential suitors for her and possible betrothed-to-be for Beden. "How are you feeling," she queries, giving Beden a sideward glance when she asks him that.

"He's fairly self-sufficient," Devon says warmly in reply to her taking care of Victor. That's like asking someone to take care of a cactus plant. She hugs Reena in return, and then she breathes out a steady exhale. Then she glances over toward Nitrim, and she offers him a bit of a vague smile. "There's lots of beer at the bar," she says helpfully, perhaps even a touch knowingly.

"Hardly a pain in the ass, I think. Everyone seems quite happy to be around you, Sir Flint," Helena observes as the couple and Ashleigh depart. Being left alone with him, at least for the moment, the doctor glances down to Flint and then gestures behind him to his table. "Shall we go back? I was thinking of getting something to nibble. Would you like anything? I can fetch it, and be back in a flash." She is already half-turned to head to his table, expecting that Flint will follow.

"I'm in a freakin monkey costume, how do you think I am?" Beden mutters to his sister, holding the hug for a few more beats before releasing and giving her a casual hip bump. "See anyone ya like?" He smirks, having similar thoughts to his sister on their mother's ever planning eye. He takes a rather pointed gulp from his glass after the comment. "You probably need something to drink."

Thalo isn't interested in gossip, so he stays near the bar as the Grantham heads away, smirking just a bit, "Lovely." he says quietly and takes another sip from his whiskey, before he pulls out a cigar and lights it up with his combo cutter and lighter. Puff, puff. "Hopefully there's no dancing at this thing." he offers up helpfully

"Ha, well, then that just means you don't know me very well, Doc." Flint remarks easily, giving a slight wave to those heading off. "Maybe they're just tolerating me. Just as well, I'm pretty sure I actually showered today." Then he nods. "Yeah, sure, I could do that. Somebody has to drink all the mead I had brought over here. Maybe I'll even try this Volkan beer the Khourni keep raving about." He wheels after the doctor. "Have you seen Bethe or Nitrim about? I think I lost track of them awhile ago."

Victor laughs softly at Reena's description of her gift, "Well, break those fuckers open whenever you want one. And thanks." He turns his head to press a kiss to Reena's temple, then looses her, turning next to Anabethe to give her the same back-of-the-head-holding hug. It's sort of his thing, even if he has to reach up with his elder cousin. "Bethe. I almost wore my jacket too. Then I figured I should at least try to wear somethin' proper." Even if he's left the jerkin hanging open. "To make up for my ugly mug." And then he's releasing her and reaching over to Nitrim. His male cousin gets the same press of a hand to the back of the head, but his other hand — carefully the one without the beer bottle, smacks the younger man on the back, "'Trim. Thanks for comin' outta your room."

"And a case of Ignis mead for the bride. Whenever you two have a spat, go to your own corners, indulge in my gifts, then come back more mellow," Reena quips with a quirk of a grin.

"Well, you know. Someone told me it was casual," Anabethe says ruefully to Victor, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Look at the good side, I didn't show up in sweats. Don't think the Grantham's would've cared, but I'm guessing the Volens would. Lucky you, you get two sets of in-laws," she grins at her cousin.

"Yeah, I know." Nitrim replies with a bit of bemusement to Devon, casting a sly look over to where the bar is. His eyes narrow playfully and he leans to the side, placing his plate of food down on the table past Anabethe's hip to free his hands and offer the bride and groom a slight bow. "I've been keeping an eye on it since I came in her-" Here, but it doesn't quite finish before he's wrapped and clapped by Victor. "Viiiiiic." Nitrim laughs, knocking his knuckles against the back of the man's head and letting out a loud slap on the man's back. "Thanks for not drawing too much attention to me when I came out of that room. I'll be heading back in after this is done, though."

"Thank you, Reena," Devon laughs warmly. "It will be put to good use, I'm sure." That causes a glance toward her new husband before she relaxes a bit. There seems to be waves of tension that creep over the Ash Witch now and then, but she manages to always recenter herself. "You should stay in the Crescent for a couple days," she tells her new cousin-in-law. "New Atlantis will be there." As will Kadmus. Then she glances toward Nitrim as he speaks about his inevitable retreat, and a touch of worry settles over her brow, frinkling her forehead densely. "Nitrim… don't do that. It doesn't do you any good."

Helena scoots a chair a little further aside for Flint to wheel himself up to the table, and she removes her small jacket and drapes it over the back of her chair to claim a seat. Flint's question sends her looking about the room again, and she smiles upon spotting the group where she had left them. "They're that way, actually, on the way to the buffet. I met up with them already, but you go ahead and say hello, and I will rustle up some food. Did you say you wanted beer, then?"

"Stop that. You look nice. Besides, Mother would have disowned you if you so much as thought about wearing something less than formal." As it is, Marah disapproved of Ashleigh's dress, stating that it was not eye-catcing enough for someone who is supposed to look good and attract men who'd be willing to ask for a betrothal. At the mention of a drink Ash nods, finding that an agreeable suggestion indeed. "And no, no one here has my eye, I must admit." Not that it's her eye that needs to be caught.

Victor nods to Anabethe, "Yeah. Definitely casual. Except Dee had to go and get all prettied up and throw off the curve." He then snorts at Reena, grinning brightly, "Fuck that. That ain't how you deal with a spat." His dark eyes cut over to Devon, and his lips peel back in a toothy grin. Releasing Nitrim and taking a peek at his beer to make sure it didn't foam over, and then a pull from the bottle when he sees that it hasn't, he nods at Devon's words, adding "Yeah, don't spend too much time in there. It'll make you go blind."

It's only a moment after the Grantham leaves before Aaryn's phone goes off. Checking it, she frowns and grazes her knuckles over Thalo's forearm. "I got a call from a patient, time to go play doctor. I'm sorry for abandoning you. Please give the bride and groom my best wishes though and thank you for asking me along. It's been a… learning experience. I'll see you around, Thalo. Take care." And with that, the citizen doctor makes her way out the same door she came into.

Coming up to the table, Flint puts his lock down on his chair so he doesn't roll out by accident and trips up some waiter or visiter. "Are they?" he leans back, craning his neck to see. "Oh yeah, jeeze Bethe is a giant in those heels. Nah, it's okay, they know where I am, and I'm sure they both have their fair-share of hobknobbing to do. We can chat if you like, Doc. Know you don't get many chances to really do that with what you told me about work an whatnot." He asking about the drink is waved. "Mead, Doc, mead. There's a big difference between mead and beer. You gonna get anything to drink?"

Nitrim gives Devon and Victor a bit of a duck-lipped play-scowl, as if he's about to say oh come on, but he instead raises his arms in defeat and flashes them with that smile he wears when he's making an effort. It looks so genuine to the people who've never seen it before. "Alright, alright, whatever the bride and groom say, this is your day, guys. If you want me out here, I'll be out here I'll just have to…" Nitrim pauses to glance around the room, then back to them. "I'll just have to keep my head down and drink more, then. This is my house after all I should be able to have a f—-" He mouths the word, "Drink."

When the call comes and Aaryn has to go Thalo frowns just a bit and then finishes off his drink, moving over to Victor, "I'm just gonna go make sure my date gets to her patient alright. I'll be back in a bit. You guys go ahead and do all the dancing without me." he smirks just a bit, and then moves for the door.

"Mead, beer, whatever," Helena mutters, flapping a hand dismissively as if to say 'it's all the same crap'. She leans a hip against the table for a moment, watching and waiting to see if the line to the food dwindles. "I think the Young Lady looks rather fetching right now, and heels become her. You men have absolutely no taste for fashion, and that is saying something coming from me. I have to pay people to pick out my clothes." Grinning down at Flint, she snaps her fingers and points toward the buffet. "I'll be right back." It only takes a few minutes to gather food and Flint's mead and her water before she is setting down the haul carefully upon the table. Tucking her dress beneath her, she slides into her seat. "Were you very close to Lady Devon, Sir Flint? I know that even though she was a Volen, practically her entire life was spent with you lot."

"Yeah…" Beden turns and makes a beeline for the bar again, getting some Mead for his sister. The Lord seems to have an awkward feel for his clothes. He downs the rest of his beverage as well, ordering another from the bartender. He eyes the crowd, but who is he sizing up? There's a wary calculation for the concerns of his sister…and perhaps a bit for himself as well. His first goal is to simply do no harm. He returns with the drinks and hands one over to Ashleigh. "Let's hope it's up to your standards." He clinks the glasses together with a smile.

Devon looks mostly satisfied when Nitrim submits to her demands. There's probably some psychological examination that should be done around that wonderful satisfaction. "Thank you, Nitrim." Then she glances over toward Victor as she loops her arm with his. There is something affectionate there, a friendly kind of interaction. The calm ambient music starts to shift into something more akin to that heard in the Warehouse — though it still has a trance-like slowness that doesn't immediate transport the party into a whole new atmosphere. Devon takes a swallow of her mead, casting a glance toward Victor.

"I'm going to get some food, so I can finish this wine without getting all light-headed," Reena notes. She gives Vic a kiss on the cheek before moving to the buffet.

The glass is accepted and sipped from after she clinks it with Beden's, it only being because of the setting and occasion that she doesn't tilt it back and try to drink it all in one fell swoop. "It's very good," she whispers only to then hiccup, the jarring motion slight but still comedic as it causes her to wince in embarrassment. "Sheesh. Oh. Wait. Do you mean the mead or the man when you talk about standards, Brother?"

Victor looks over to Thalo as the big man approaches, nodding at the words, "No worries, man. Thanks for comin' by." The mention of dancing causes him to glance over to Devon, shaking his head in amusement. Looking back to Nitrim, he laughs, "Hey. Do what you like. We're not tyin' you down." And then he drops the last of his beer and sets the bottle on the bar. The music comes up, and Devon gives him that look. Letting a grin split his lips, he accepts the kiss from Reena and looks to his family, "And now, I'm gonna go dance with my wife." Which should be multiple words that no member of his family expected to hear from his lips in their lives.

"There's a -difference-." Flint objects with a laugh. Helena's observation gets him to take another look over at Anabethe, giving her a wave when she looks his way. "Yeah, okay, she does look good. But ah, yeah, I can hear you there. I have about a couple of outfits to wear to nice events, but that's mostly because I have no idea how to really dress well. Not that I don't mind…just…not good at it." Upon returning, the question now gets him to look over at Devon. "I was. Or I am. It's hard, seeing her go, she's been through a lot, and part of me feels like I'm breaking a promise but…well, I just want her looked after, taken care of. She's been through a lot." He shrugs then, feeling as if he says anything more he might get a little emotional over it.

"Have a few drinks, Nitrim," Anabethe urges her brother. "You're home. We're all here with you." She claps a hand to his shoulder, then heads toward the bar herself. "Ash, good to see you here," she calls to Ashleigh. "How've you been? Seems like I haven't seen you in forever."

"Dear Sister…" Beden smirks in mock offense. "I did mean the drink, but apparently -" And then Anabethe has hopped in so he waits again. Simply content to stand next to his sister. He's not here by choice anyways. The gulp he takes from his beverage is probably noticeable.

"You're going to go dance with your wife? Devon look at you, crackin that whip and gettin' results." Nitrim's eyes flash with a more genuine humor as he balls his fist to the breast of his shirt in a salute to the two of them. "You guys go have fun, I'm going to get a drink. Like Anabethe says. Because she's smart." Winking to them, he turns his back on the married couple and takes a few steps away, letting out a relieved sigh as he stalks over to the bar and tries to find something more stiff than a beer. As Bethe calls out to Ashleigh, he looks over and gives her a wave before dropping two ice cubes in a small tumbler. "Today is definitely a bourbon day."

Whoa. Victor just agreed to dance with Devon. In front of other Drakes. It takes a moment for Devon to genuinely beam at the premise. Her pale eyes slide over toward Nitrim. "Please… I am much more of a positive reinforcement." She grins. She leans toward Anabethe long enough to whisper, "I think I'm about to win." She grins toward her new family before she steps up to gently place a hand on Victor's arm. She notices Beden and she winks at her younger brother before she casually sticks out her tongue at him.

Ashleigh grins. "Hey. Yeah, it's been awhile. Been alright here, thanks. Yourself, Bethe?" The gulp is probably heard as well as seen and she casts her sibling a look that rivals that of their mothers when something has her less than pleased. "Do you need to do that," she asks under her breath. Yes, for as much as Ashleigh and Flint might wish for otherwise, the heir is definitely her mother's daughter. Nitrim is seen and given a wave, next. "We should see how he's doing."

Reena fills up a plate and finds a place to sit and eat, nibbling on the offerings of the spread as she quietly people watches for a little bit.

Helena nibbles on the edge of a cookie. As usual, her plate is piled with useless sweets with nary a green thing in sight. "Perhaps instead of considering it a broken promise, Sir Flint, consider it a transferred promise. The duty was yours, but now is no longer, and you conducted yourself admirably the entire way." She flashes the Grantham a smile before taking a bigger bite; it takes her several seconds to chew it and swallow before continuing their conversation. "And forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but she doesn't seem like the kind of woman who wants to be 'taken care of'. From what I have seen, she is quite capable."

There's a definite and visible roll of Beden's eyes. The rebellious younger brother, as always, nods and commits himself to getting drunk through this social gathering with either more deftness or stronger drink on his next trip to the bar. "If we must." He says quietly, already pondering when an acceptable exit might present itself.

"Maybe." Flint considers. A drink is taken from his cup of mead, as if he's trying to relax somehow, as a kind of tension is running through his shoulders. "Just a promise I made to someone important, asked me to look after her. Maybe it's not broken, but it just feels like something I could've done better." Open hands waves it off. "Nah, speak your mind, Doc. And she never has. I can't say I've really interferred in her life or anything, but it was more like just 'making sure she was okay', y'know? Can't really do that so far away. But, maybe you're right. Maybe I just gotta let go and it's just hard to do that. That whole thing about people not really ever being used to change." There's a glance as the dancing starts. He frowns, maybe even a little envious.

"Getting by," Anabethe answers Ashleigh, smile wry. "Hi," she continues, extending a hand toward Beden. "I don't believe we've met. Bethe Khournas. Vic's cousin." Because that's the normal identifier here, right? Groom's cousin, not Khournas heir.

Two cubes in and being followed with wonderful, delicious bourbon, Nitrim spins the cap back onto the bottle and turns with drink in hand to stand beside Anabethe to accept Ashleigh and Beden. With a slight bow from the waist, he lowers his brow and gives the two of them a quiet smile. "Lady Ashleigh, Lord Beden, it's good to see the two of you." He motions to the bar behind him. "Alcohol helps with the burn of formal attire, or so I've heard."

Taking the hand with a wide grin, Beden gives a polite head bow to Anabethe. "Beden Grantham…and Devon's, well, I'll always call her sister." And then his pleasant exchange has added Nitrim. His smile becomes more rigid, but he smirks at the comment and glances towards Ashleigh as if to say 'See? I'm not the only one.' He gives a polite nod. "Lord Nitrim."

Victor flips Nitrim the bird, "Suck it, 'Trim." He turns his arm up to cup the back of Devon's head, leading her out into the little cleared area in front of the sound system. His arm curls in, aiming to bring her around facing him. He leans close, brushing his brow against hers. He starts to move his shoulders and feet to the music, his other arm settling at the small of Devon's back. His movements are fluid and easy, and it's clear that — whatever his reputation may say — he's done this before, probably a lot.

Reena pauses with a fork full of cake halfway to her mouth, to STARE at Cousin Victor DANCING. In front of friends and family. "I think that's a sign of the apocalypse," she murmurs to herself.

<FS3> Victor rolls Dancing: Success.
Victor spends 1 luck points on Reroll.
<FS3> Victor rolls Dancing: Great Success.

They're going to dance, they're going to dance! The murmur passes along through the gathered guests, and Helena looks up in startlement at overhearing a couple behind her remark on how interesting it will be to see if Victor can dance. "Well that's just rude," she grumbles, casting a dark look over her shoulder in the hopes of shaming some of the gossips into silence. Instead of answering Flint, she leans over in her chair and offers him a pat on the arm. Her attention then turns toward the couple and their first official dance as husband and wife.

"Another Grantham, then. Welcome," Anabethe grins to Beden, seeming genuinely pleased. Granthams are like mini-Khourni, after all. "Glad you could make it. We want Devon to feel as much at home here as it seems like you all have made her feel on Ignis, so maybe we can take a few notes from you." And then Victor is dancing, and Anabethe smirks as she turns to watch.

Ashleigh manages to look over Bethe's shoulder in time to see Devon and Vic head to the dance floor, it causing her to sigh wistfully. "They're so lovely… oh, Lord Nitrim. It's good to see you. I see you are doing well. We haven't seen you in awhile. I do hope that everything has been alright." Bethe and Bedem are given a look then, a brow lifted.

The newlywed Khournas turns easily toward her husband, and Devon starts to laugh — though the nose is quickly sobered when the man starts to move with the trance-like music. She slips an arm around his shoulders as their brows remain neatly pressed together. She joins the rhythm, and the ease in which she falls into stride with Victor might even suggest these two aren't unfamiliar with dancing with each other. Her eyes close briefly, and when they open next, her pale irises and darker pupils have gone white and a soft glow of aura moves around her like albino flames.

Nitrim steps aside to brush shoulders with Anabethe, motioning for Beden to help himself to the bar with a salute of the glass of bourbon. He brings the glass to his lips and sips quietly, watching Ashleigh from over the rim as he swallows back the burn. "That's very sweet of you, Lady Ashleigh." He replies to her, the side of his lip twitching and his shoulder rising softly. "I'm a drake. Drakes endure and there isn't anything that I won't," Not can't. "survive. How's Ignis? It's been so damned rainy here it almost reminds me of the ash-falls."

Much like everyone else, Flint is going to shut up, drink his mead and watch the couples first dance. Yeah, he's gripping the armrest of his wheelchair a little tighter than he should. Either it's his back acting up or this is just a confirmation that one of his favorite family members really is gone from Grantham. A bittersweet kind of happiness, so he does his best not to get all choked up.

Noting Anabethe's good mood, Beden seems to smile a bit, watching Devon be sincerely happy. It's been so long. "Lord Victor has already given her the missing piece to her happiness…so I have a feeling she'll find her home her. Family is more than a place though." He seems thoughtful and looks at the dancing couple before looking back at Bethe.

Victor is not a flashy dancer, but he is an incredibly smooth one. The music flows through him, his hips, shoulders, and limbs moving with it and with the newest Khournas. The glow of Devon's aura causes him to chuckle low in his throat, and he leans forward to murmur in her ear. His left hand shifts from the back of her head, ghosting down over shoulders and back. The music thumps onward like a heartbeat, the song running for five or so minutes and then trailing off.

You whisper, "Thought we'd already gone to the glowy-place, Dee." to Devon.

"I could say that if you want to find out how Ignis is then you should come and see us," Ash answers, "but that'd entirely too cheeky. So I will instead answer by saying that everything is fine there, thank you." She looks around before giving Bethe, Beden and Nitrim a quick hug. "I should go and get some food before I do any more drinking." The buffet is where she goes to next with a detour to give Flint a hug.

Reena can't help it. She applauds when the dance ends. Because that's kind of a once in a lifetime display from her favorite cousin.

There are others who start to take to the dance floor so it isn't just the newlyweds. There is a definite invitation to everyone to come join. Devon laughs softly at the murmur to her ear, and she shakes her head a bit as she murmurs back. Then she glances out toward the others and she nods others onto the dance floor as the next song begins. She turns back toward her husband with a smirk. "You'll have a lot of explaining to do," she teases him.

"No, family is people," Anabethe agrees with Beden, a small smile curving as she watches Victor and Devon. "In all their glorious, flawed perfection." She turns, taking two meads from the bartender. "Excuse me, though. A few more people I ought to go and talk to," she says, slipping away to head toward Flint.

The dancing is a delight to watch, but with her plate empty and her congratulations given, there is little left to hold Helena here. She glances to Flint and follows his gaze back to Devon and Victor, and beyond on the periphery she spots Anabethe headed their way. It is as good a time as any to take her leave. "It has been a pleasure to chat with you again, Sir Flint, but I am afraid I have pushed the boundaries of patience and must return to work." She slides out of her seat and shrugs into her little jacket before reaching down to touch the Grantham on his shoulder briefly. "Enjoy the rest of the celebration, and keep in touch." On turning to leave, she flashes Anabethe a smile before ducking out of the festivities.

There's a sigh from Beden as he turns back to the bar, finishing his drink and taking another. The Grantham is pondering moving to the dance floor, but his sister has wandered off to the buffet. He peers to see where his mother is, just in case she's watching. He makes his way to the table by his Uncle, deciding to be polite for a while longer. "Uncle." He nods as he stands by the table.

Turning his head, he hadn't notice Helena getting up. "Hey, you too Doc. This wasn't exactly the best place to really get a chance to talk to someone with all the people and dancing and whatnot going on, but it was good to see you again. Dunno what you got going on, but hey, if you ever need help with any of it, be glad to help. Which isn't saying a whole lot, I know, but the offer's there." A smile is offered to her then. "Take care of yourself. And if you ever need to a moment to get away from work, lemme know. I can always make an appointment under the pretense just to give you a damn break."

Victor nods to Devon, reaching up to cup the back of her head again briefly. "Yeah. I'm gonna get a lot of shit." And it starts coming in immediately from some of the other Drakes hitting the little dance floor. Victor deflects easily enough with clasp on the shoulder and jibes back. Looking back to Devon, he arches an eyebrow, "So. Who's next on the list? And can we get another drink on the way?"

Anabethe nods to Helena as they cross paths, smile flashing at the doctor. "Hey there, Wheels," she says as she comes up alongside Flint, setting one of the meads down on the table in front of him before dropping into a chair next to him with her own. "You know, it's funny, for a minute there I thought I saw your head over the crowd."

Devon has stopped glowing, allowing her aura to recede once more as she breaks out of the dance and prepares to exit the floor. She nods to those she is familiar with as the dancing continues, the music encouraging easy and relaxed motions without the terse, rigidness of courtly dances. She slips an arm around Victor's, and then she laughs. "We can get a drink, but… I should go say hi to Beden… he's probably brooding."

Setting his drink down on the table as he sees Devon coming, Beden positively beams to her. "Perfection embodied." He lunges in for an exuberant hug, even as she's still attached to her new husband, much like he usually gives her. He's almost laughing from the happiness as he pulls back. "You deserve every happiness." The Grantham turns with a smile to Victor. "And I'm ever thankful that you've been able to give it to her." There. More words than he's ever said at a party like this before, even though he means each and every one of them.

"Hey, Bethe." he greets, happy to get another mead as he's just in the process of finishing the one that Helena fetched for him. He's only partially watching the dance as it finishes. "I'd love to, Devon, but that might be a little awkward, unless you wanna sit on my lap and I just roll around a little bit." he calls over before looking back the woman who's joined him. "Nah, you saw correctly. I wasn't going to have Devon hug me in that damn chair again. Not if I could help it, anyways. And not on her wedding day."

Victor nods at Devon, diverting them by the bar to collect another beer for him and let her get another mead if she wants. He pops the top, then wraps his arm around Devon's bare back — screw courtly arm-in-arm. "Lead the way. Don't think I've met Beden yet. That's… uh… Ashleigh's brothers, yeah?" And he lets her direct him toward Beden, letting her greet the man first, then offering out his right hand to shake. "Me too. Glad you could make it."

Devon accepts the embrace with warmth. She squeezes his shoulder gently before she leans back to meet his eyes. "I'm so glad to have my Grantham siblings here," she says honestly. Her nose wrinkles up with a touch of genuine affection. Then she turns away a bit to allow the pair of men to greet one another. Devon takes this time to sip at her mead. "Beden serves in the Ash Legion," she says, helpfully. Soldier amongst soldiers after all.

"Pretty impressive," Anabethe smiles warmly to Flint, leaning back in her own chair and taking a sip of mead. "You keep things up at this rate, you'll be on your feet teaching their kids to walk." And she winks at Victor and Devon at that, because family means making everyone suffer.

"Aw, you ol flatterer." Flint grins, drinking then. "Yeah, and by the time they're in their teens, I might actually be able to run at that point and not trip over my own feet." he adds to that, then. "How're things going for you? I mean, this wasn't so bad, was it? I had to hold back from crying at least once that I can recall." Then he sniffs. "I'm a man, damnit. Watching family get married is a little emotional."

"Nothing bad about this at all," Anabethe agrees, watching the quiet party with a small smile. "Well. Except maybe the vague pall of tragedy from the Volen contingent, but I get the feeling that's…sort of our life these days. And for the next forty years or so. But hey, that's what we're here for, right?"

"Take solace in the moments you have, because you may never have them again." Flint agrees with Bethe's wording about the wedding as a whole. "Yeah, I like this. I think they pulled it off what they were going for. More weddings should be like this. Low-key, casual, decent drink, and not as much emphasis on making sure you don't insult someone's family. Usually Grantham weddings end in at least one drunken brawl, but more out of the fact someone thought they could punch harder than someone else." He pauses, looking her over. "You look damn pretty today. Like the hair. Looks good when it's down."

Victor and Devon speak briefly with Beden, and then drift back over toward Anabethe and Flint, "Alright then, bring it." Because he's expecting to get shit flipped at him by the chief Drake most of all. That doesn't stop him from grinning broadly, however, and taking a slug of his beer.

Devon is drawn away from Beden after another hug, and returns to Flint and Anabethe. She breathes out a sigh as she settles down into a seat to rest her feet, feeling as though she has been on them all day. She offers the pair a smile as she also drink from her mead cup. She says nothing as she lets the Crimson Drakes speak.

"Bring what? Your tutu? Vic, I told you, if you're going to have a tutu, you have to store it yourself," Anabethe grins at her cousin, winking. "I think Reena's using it as a lampshade, though." There's a slight flush at Flint's compliment, and she twirls a piece of hair around her finger without thinking about it.

"What this about a tutu?" Flint blinks, looking between the three. "I mean, I can't streak but Vic can wear a tutu? Isn't that just as bad? Where's the fairness in -that-." A large draw from his cup of mead follows, before falling on Devon. "You look bushed, Dev. Take a load off for a bit. Make your husband rub your feet. Word to the wise," he pauses to look up at Vic, "women -love- that. That's how you get on their good side. They can't really stay mad you."

Victor looks down, shrugs, "Hell, I could pull off a tutu. I could pull off anything I damn well please." He takes another pull of his beer, "I got the knees for it." And then he snorts at Flint, "Why's everyone givin' me advice on what women love, like I need the advice." He scowls down at Devon, arching an eyebrow, "You been talking bad about me?"

"Of course not, Husband," Devon says dryly toward Victor. She takes another swallow of mead before she glances toward Flint once more. "I believe I should be complimented until the end of the System War for my ability to pull together a last minute wedding and reception in a matter of days that is respectable and simplistic." She then leans back further in her chair. "Vic is a good dancer," she finally admits.

"I'd compliment you by offering you a job, Dev, but we already hired you," Anabethe teases the other woman gently, settling back to watch the party as it continues. "Nah, I'm just teasing Vic about his dancing. He'll beg off every time, but you get him drunk enough or twist his arm hard enough, and suddenly it's like he knows what he's doing. Not sure why he's so shy about it."

Because men, Vic, are dumb." Flint says somewhat sagely. "Speaking from forty years of experience being one. And it's often where we say something wrong, or something we don't mean, or something that we're trying to say, but do it in a way that makes the situation so much worse. Most times, it's better if we just shut up. But massages are our secret weapon. They may -say- they hate it, but after they've calmed down some, it works. You might not be wholly forgiven, but they'll grudgingly admit that they like having you around." With a light chuckle, he grins over at Bethe. "Hey, he should be happy he can dance. The best I can get is a lap dance at this point."

Victor snorts at Devon's dry comment, although he shifts a bit at the use of the word 'husband.' Her commentary on his dancing, and Anabethe's response in turn, cause him to shrug, "Cueball don't dance." He glances around a little, taking another drink of his beer and lowering his voice, "One of the few good things I learned from Carron." That would be his father, who he never refers to as 'his father.' "Create a persona for the soldiers who follow you. One they'll respect in every way. Dancing doesn't fit that persona." And then he clears his throat, shrugging the serious words off, and nods at Flint, "Well, I damn sure know that I say things wrong all the time. One of the bad things I learned from Carron — how to be a dumb asshole. I just generally go with make-up sex though."

"Yes, you hooked me into serving your house early," Devon teases Anabethe before she finishes off her mead. She sweeps up to her feet so she can fetch herself a refill. She pauses long enough to linger for the conversation concerning Carron, the Cueball, and make-up sex. She smirks at the latter. "If you're lucky," she says dryly before she starts to step toward the bar.

"Well, you never struck me as the sort of man who turned down lap dances, Flint," Anabethe drawls, leaning back in her seat and taking another drink. "In fact, if I remember right, the last time I passed through Ignis, there was this lady of the evening who said something…"

"Oh Crone." Flint sticks his hands over his ears. "I don't ever want to hear the words 'Devon' and 'sex' ever again. No…no no no, not thinking about it. Devon doesn't have sex, she just reproduces via mitosis. That has to be it. Yes, that's it." Though it appears he's not totally being serious about the act. "Ash and Dev, two people's sexlives I never -ever- want to hear about. Just as I'm sure they really don't want to hear about mine." Bethe's little story has him raising a brow. "Yes. What exactly who was this lady of the evening? And I haven't gotten lap dance in awhile. I do kind of miss them. MOreso now, these days."

Victor shakes his head at Flint, chuckling low in his chest, "Well she hasn't reproduced yet. But I can promise you it ain't gonna be through mitosis." There's a vague hint of 'whatever the hell that is' to his response, and he holds up his beer bottle to Devon, clinking his titanium ring against it lightly to draw attention to the fact that it's getting rapidly empty. "Hey… no knockin' ladies of the evening." There's a pause, and then, "Besides boots."

"Victor Khournas," Devon says as she returns to the table. "Please stop making my uncle uncomfortable." She then sighs a bit as she sinks back into her seat once more. This is just in time to hear the discussion of brothel girls, and she actually looks momentarily… is that envy? She takes another swallow of her mead.

"Oh, shut up, I'm telling a story here," Anabethe smirks at Flint, nudging the wheel of his chair with one heel. "I mean, I could keep making stuff up, but I probably shouldn't be inappropriate at Vic and Devon's wedding reception. At least since we haven't started a fight yet. So it'd kind of stand out."

Flint's eyes cross a little. "Oh Crone…" he mutters, which results in him taking a heavier swig of mead. "I'm going to need a refill if you people keep talking like that. And hey, there's a lot of stories about me, and I never know which ones are real or made up. But if you're going to make stories up about me, Bethe. Try to make me look awesome. And not in a chair."

Victor takes the new bottle of beer from Devon, setting his empty on a nearby table, "Fine, Devon Khournas. I'm just happy when it's someone besides me being made uncomfortable." He drinks from his new beer, "And you know just fine how much mead we've got, so feel free to have another, and another, and another. Just don't get pulled over for drunk driving." His teeth flash bright as he teases his new wife's 'uncle.'

Devon rolls her shoulders a bit before she takes another swallow of her mead. "You aren't uncomfortable," she retorts to her husband before she relaxes in her seat once more. She breathes out a slow sigh. She glances over toward Anabethe. "I'd love to hear your story, Bethe," she offers wryly to her.

"It's a made up story," Bethe admits with a sigh to Devon. "But it involved all the terrible things Flint tried to convince her to do. With the chair. And straps. And contraptions. And stuff. It wasn't fully formed." She drinks, lips quirking against a broader grin. "I'll just leave it at that, for everyone's sake."

"Lies, she loved every second of it." Flint scoffs, half-hidden by his cup. "She even offered to go again, the second time was on the house. That's how fantastic it was." Then a snort. "She's always looking for reasons to make me look bad. You're such a fantastic friend, Bethe." he drawls at the heir, grinning all the while.

Victor nods his agreement at Devon's words, "You're the only one who puts me there, Dee." At least it's said with a grin. He takes another pull from his beer, and he nods for Anabethe to go on with her story. "Swings. Include swings and handcuffs. And Awakened powers. It'll help the story." The 'complaint' about Bethe's storytelling draws a chuckle, "It's the Khourni way, Flint. Bust each other's chops so no one else can manage it."

Devon laughs. "Alright.. alright… I've decided I don't need to hear anymore." She cups her hands over her ears before she shakes her head. She does smile toward Victor after a moment, and then she finishes off her mead with a simple tip of her chin. She breathes out a deep exhale, slowly sweeping to her feet. "I think… if I may say… I would like to practice mitosis with my new husband." She offers Victor her hand meaningfully.

Victor laughs along with Devon, pointing two fingers at Anabethe, "She started it." And then he's being called on for a command performance, and he hauls himself out of his seat, draining off the remaining two thirds of his third beer and setting the bottle on the table. "If you'll excuse me, I need to…" he stops, looks to Flint, and dips his head in deference to the previous request, "dance with my new wife."

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