Open The Grand Opening! (Open to Anyone!)

[Tallis]

oocSorry for the late arrival! Feel free to shove me to the bottom of the posting order. Punctuality wasn’t Tallis’ forte but he hoped that he would be excused for showing up late since he had brought food. Truth be told, it was actually his mother who had prepared the dish, but the guests needn’t have known that. It was a simple dish by all means, a potato salad. His mother had assumed that many of the dishes offered would be seafood or alcohol and the potatoes would help balance out the flavours of the sea and act as a buffer against the effects of the alcohol. Tallis simply liked the way it tasted and hoped that no one would ask him for a recipe. To find the much spoken-of party, Tallis simply had to follow the sounds of conversation and the smell of food wafting on the air. As he made his way towards the center of the festivities, the smell of food mingled with the distinct aroma of herbs outside what the wooden sign indicated to be, “Leila’s Soothing Salves and Clinic”. Peeking into the shop, Tallis made a mental note to give the store a thorough visit next time. For now, he’d have to ignore his curiosity and make his way into the gathering. It seemed that, since he had arrived late, many of the party-goers were already engaged in conversation with each other. Carrying the over-sized wooden bowl with his potato salad, Tallis awkwardly wound his way through the throng of guests to find a place to set the potato salad at. As he hovered in front of the food table trying to squeeze the bowl into an open space, he was greeted by a beautiful blonde woman in a robin’s egg blue dress. She seemed to be getting a lot of food, perhaps for a partner. Tallis found his gaze trailing after her to find that she had returned to a familiar face. It was Ricky! Something the woman had whispered in his ear had caused his expression to adopt an expression of bemusement. It was obvious that the two were happier than most to be together. He made a mental note to say hi to Ricky at a time where he wasn’t busy entertaining his lady-friend. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was they had going on. Surveying the food, Tallis ladled whatever looked appetizing to him onto a plate and waded his way through the crowd, trying to find a spot where he could observe and listen rather than partake. It wasn’t that he was shy. If anyone noticed him and tried to strike up a conversation, Tallis would willingly oblige. But there was a certain fun in people-watching and discovering the different dynamics between them; the subtle discords and the vibrant harmonies. One could easily pick up on a lot of gossip if they kept an open ear, but how much of it was to be believed was another thing entirely. There was also a lot that could be learned about a person from simply listening and watching the way they spoke. Some people carried themselves with confidence, the centers of attention. Others fought for that attention, trying to gain approval. Some chose to avoid it, content with simply being included. There were a large variety of personalities gathered that evening, and Tallis wondered how things would pan out. As he stood off to the side, casually enjoying the food and observing the guests, Tallis’ eyes were suddenly drawn to the appearance of a woman in a beautiful purple dress. Her auburn hair contrasted vividly with the dress and served to enhance her natural and simple good looks. This had to be Leila, the owner of the shop and hostess of the party. There was a deliberate beauty about her that made her stand out when compared to the other women. As she was directed into another crowd of clamoring guests, Tallis made another mental note to give her his congratulations when she wasn’t quite as busy. She had really done a fantastic job setting up the party.

[Khrassvallen]

Khrassvallen meandered at the back of the group as they were led around to the party. He didn't want to be packed into the tiny cluster and end up accidentally brushing against them. Or worse, get stuck in a conversation. He made a face at the thought. As they passed by one of the shop windows he stopped, letting them move ahead. He approached the glass and peered in, looking at the multitude of plants. It was a quaint store. At least this woman was the useful sort. If there was anything he disliked more than humans it was a useless human. Useful ones got bumped up a little on his respect scale, but not by much. Done snooping, he hurried to catch up to the rest. He had to admit, when they made it around back, that the woman could throw together a charming looking party. She had good taste. For a human. The first thing Khrassvallen did was veer directly to the refreshments table, excitement making him brisk. But that excitement quickly died when he saw what was to offer. What was he expecting? Suckling pig and lamb? His stomach growled unhappily as he sniffed at the foreign food. There was some meat, but not much. Most it was junk that smelled horrid. Is that kelp? he wondered in horror. Reluctantly he fetched a plate and a utensil. Khrassvallen scooped large portions of calamari rings and fried cod onto his dish, enough to feed several large grown men. It would likely make him look increasingly strange, but for him it was normal. Brushing by the large stupid looking human from earlier, he marched to an empty table and loudly sat down, dropping his plate onto the rough wood. A few calamari rings scattered off his plate, but he quickly stabbed them with his fork and shoveled them into his mouth. Khrassvallen smiled as he chewed, already feeling better. He ate far faster than humans even in this body, and so before most of the guests had even gotten a single plate of food he was already done with his oversized portions. It was beside the point that he scooped food into his mouth like a heathen and barely chewed. Khrassvallen licked his greasy lips and belched under his breath, rising to go retrieve a second plate. He stopped without realizing when he caught sight of Leila. She looked far different in her dress. More like a woman. He tilted his head at that peculiar angle he favored when examining others, and stared straight at her cleavage.I should compliment her party. That sounded like something a good guest would do. He moved to where she had just taken a seat. There others seated near her, some men. One of the new arrivals like himself beat him to her, and Khrassvallen caught the last snippet of his introduction. He unceremoniously elbowed by the man, placing himself in front. "Move," he ordered absently before turning his attention to the hostess. "You, woman. Did you make the food? It wasss good. The plant foodss, thossse ssmell horrible. You ssshould throw them out. Can you make more meat?" Khrassvallen looked down at his plate, empty of everything but leftover grease. "I will go fill my plate again."

[Philomena]

Nora Shears and her two weaver companions turned to see the new introduction, and Nora immediately recognized her: Mrs Hughes. Mrs Hughes, with the incompetent husband who frittered away the woman's fortune on a cockamamy business scheme. To say that Nora was cruel would be entirely unfair - Nora had no personal pleasure in seeing the suffering of others. It would be more accurate to say that, like all truly talented gossips, Nora had an intense belief in the social order, and in every person's 'place'. Mrs. Hughes had an unusual one, since by rights of birth and family, she should have been higher, but by rights of the merits of how her inheritance was treated, she was a faded star, a 'hanger-on'. Nora struck a careful middle ground - polite, almost deferential, but with that most humiliating of emotions thrown at Mrs Hughes: Pity.

"Mrs Hughes, its delightful to see you, I have seen you so much less at socials in the city." There was the careful doublespeak of social interaction: I miss you and wish I could see you juxtaposed with I'm well aware you've lost your standing and are no longer being invited to some of the great social events of the city. "I hope, at least, your health is well? I think one can suffer anything, if only one has one's health."

The two weavers - who had their social place as well, decidedly lower than Nora, who was solidly bourgeoisie,nodded agreeably. They were simply women, not gossips but simply repeaters of rumors. They took Nora's statements at face value.

Mrs. Hughes inclined her head, just slightly. She was a woman of dignity and grace, and what's more, a player of the same game. Taking this sort of putting-in-place personally would be not only affront to the rules, but categorically unwise. She'd seen women throw hissy fits over perceived slights before - it made the slighted look far more foolish than the slighter. Social interaction was a game, and one played the game by the rules.

"Indeed, Nora." In this, there was the same doublespeak - accepting the other woman's points, but by using her first name, reminding her that Mrs Hughes real position was higher, a position significantly high that at one time, Nora would have been honored to have been addressed by first name, even while constrained to reply with an honorific. Dances within dances. "I hardly recognized you, I have to confess. How is the tailoring? It is good to have some useful work to contribute to the city. I am proud to have a daughter who has learned to serve the people of Zeltiva." A reminder to Nora of her ceiling as a working women, and a offering of alliance, since they were in the same tier of interest, now.

One of the weavers, the wild-cards in the situation simply as a result of their general ignorance of the finer points of the game, blurted out now, "But right 'ere, on the edge 'er town! You mus' be terrified for her safety, Mussy Hughes! Why jus' a season ago, your girly might'er met with Knifer Lefting out 'ere, an' been garroted."

If you'd asked the weaver where she came up with this rather gruesome nickname - for indeed, it had never been used before (and since there was no rumors before this whatsoever that the murderer Lefting had made use of a knife at all, perhaps this was to be expected) - she likely would have had no useful reply. The name had simply bubbled up from the subconscious cloud of thought from whence all rumors birth. It was entirely possible the woman didn't even realize it was her who had generated the name.

The other weaver, lizard eyed and vain of long neck, nodded sagely, keeping said neck as straight as possible, "Its true. Why, I get a chill just thinking of being so close to the wilds of the Zertuskas. What if her Plague Witch 'er just hiding out 'ere somewhere? She come back for blood, she'll hit the little edge-houses, like this 'un first!"

Mrs. Hughes, frowned - in a moment alone, perhaps, she would consider the actual possibility of the threat to her daughter, but in the situation she simply considered the ramifications to her work of reestablishing her own good name. "Nonsense. Leila comes from a good family, with good business sense on her mother's side. I've… no doubt she has taken security precautions."

At this point, the party was interrupted.

Around the low dusty bend of the road, a beautiful two-wheeled gig came, driven by an honest-to-life coachman - a considerable rarity in the city decked in blue livery, with a high hat and high collar, starched beneath a golden cravat. The horse high-stepped in the useless, but pretty way of a well trained dressage. But these were simply the accoutrements of the new guests, of course, something like a very large and complex brooch accompanying their clothing. In the back of the gig, legs crossed, and light-silks fluttering in the breeze, sat Professor Hurston of the Department of History, a man well-known in the city, both for his wealth, and his closeness to the Regents of the university. And by his side, in a dress of layer upon layer upon layer of the fine grey sheer-fabrics imported from Abura, and with a deep, ash-colored scarf around her slender, well-formed neck, sat Emily Hurston, his wife. The scarf at her neck hung back behind her, and fluttered with a light airiness and shimmering effervescent beauty finer and softer than silk itself.

The gig pulled to a stop, and the coachman hopped down, much of the crowd at the party, quite frankly silent and gawking at the display. This was not the rarified company of a West Wing dinner party, many of these people were common, even low in the city. The coachman swung the door open with great ceremony, and stood holding it, his hand stiffly behind his back, his neck ramrod straight. The professor, with a general air of earthy bonhomie, hopped down past the high wheel, and reached a hand up to his wife.

His wife did not stand - she rose. His wife did not step down, she descended. She did not smile politely, she curled her lips with a quiet, almost matronly gentleness upon the people looking at her, calm and grey, with just the slightest, condescending nod of her head. She did not seek the hostess out. That would, in her position, be almost an insult it would imply that the hostess was too much the fool to know that it was good form to present herself to a societal doyenne. If this flit of a girl who had opened a business did not come to Emily Hurston, it would reflect no ill on Emily, who would be remembered by most of society simply as being kind and condescending enough to appear in her beauty at a festival of the city. At a 'pot-luck', at that, the sort of party that, after all just due to its very nature, implied that the hostess did not have the means to throw the party without the assistance of her own guests.

She gestured silently to the coachman, without even looking at him, and he bowed quietly, shut the door behind her, trotted behind the gig, and opened the trunk in the rear, removing from the interior an immaculate sliced side of beef, corned and salted, atop a tray of silver that shimmered with the light and sparkle of the stars them selves. In the center of the tray in a broad bowl of Eypharian cut glass, was a rich mound mound of mustard and horseradish, strong and pungent, and rich with a spice strange, foreign and exciting to the parochial noses of Zeltiva: real, red wine vinegar, and a hint of cardamom, a flavor only a very few experts in the city would likely even be able to recognize and properly name. Just eating beef, real cattle-beef, was rarity enough for most of these people, something they had, maybe, if they were of the upper bourgeois, served at their weddings. Maybe. If they had felt extravagant, and not in nearly such profusion.

Emily herself, took no heed of the beef as it proceeded in the coachman's arms toward the table. Instead she proceeded, quietly through the crowd. People parted to let her pass - her husband, rich, but without that ineffable AIR of richness, proceeded from her side toward the beer barrels, to draw himself, with dignity if not perfection, a quaff. But Emily did no such thing, gliding along in her heavy gown without even the hint of actual footsteps occurring beneath it - a lady, a true lady, need not reveal she had anything so gross and corporeal as legs.

A child broke free from her mother, a ragamuffin boy dressed in a tattered, but mended sunday best-suit for the party, and tumbled forward towards the doyenne. The mother looked on horrified, paralyzed with fear in a humble white linen dress, the scars of a life at sea in the wrinkles of her face.

"Yer a muppy princess, mem! Jus' like stories!"

The boy lisped the words out, staring up at her from his scrubbed but tanned and scratched child's face. The party took a collective intake of breath. The child was an ill-mannered brute, that much was clear. He would be left to his fate.

But Emily smiled, the slow, quiet condescension indeed of the 'muppy princesses' of a Zeltivan child's bedtime stories, and with an ineffable slow grace, even bent, ever so slowly, like a bird nestling in to warm her eggs, to bring her face to the child's level, her great skirts spreading with the grace and whisper of a fog across the ground. She smiled at the child, and spoke ever-so-terribly-gently.

"No, my child, this is Zeltiva. Here we have no princesses, the city fathers are too wise for that." A gentle concern rolled through her face. "You look hungry child. Give this to your mother, tell her you need milk, hmm? Good fatted milk will make you strong and clever, and perhaps you, child, will be a professor someday, hmm? Or a ship's captain."

From her slender finger, then, she slipped a ring - simple, of course. She was not gaudy, like the nouveau riche, the band was simply gold, un-adorned but for a finely worked swan's head wrought into it above the knuckle, and slipped it into the child's hand. Then she leaned her pale, face, her lips painted with the deep, glowing red of foreign paint, and kissed the ragamuffin gently on the cheek, leaving the faintest of red marks where she had done it, and smiling with a quiet grace before standing again.

[Leila]

OOCAs per Tallis' request, I've moved him to the back of the post order. It is now Leila, Castor Riley, Bernedette Ferald, Ricky, Khrassvalen, Philomena, then Tallis. Thank you all for respecting the order and being punctual in your replies. Also, this thread is still open to anyone new who joins! You merely have to write yourself in, then you will be added to the end of the post order! Finally, as per a thread member's suggestion, I made a really, really rough layout of the seating chart. Its just a tool to use if you'd like, and it is hidden in the spoiler tag in my very first post. The man named Burnedette approached her and asked her for a seat, and she smiled, and offered him one near Ricky and Telion, and Castor as well. She knew Ricky, would certainly get to know Telion in due time, "So mister Riley, it seems you and Ricky already know each other well. What do you do in our fair city? I've not seen you around before. And yourself mister Ferald?" Waiting on them, Leila noted what Telion was eating. Leila didn't know a lot about pregnancies, but she knew of the food cravings. She made a mental note about the clam chowder, for that was all the blonde had gone after. She wondered if Ricky would notice, for as nice and responsible as he was, he could often be quite dense. Then the foreign man forcibly inserted himself into their presence with a blunt rudeness that could hardly be forgiven quickly. She'd never admit it, but this brought out a part of her that had been strongly influenced by her mother. The cheerful smile quickly faded, now an unamused grim line. "Please treat the guests with the proper respect owed to them. Even a foreigner like yourself should have a rudimentary understanding of politeness and manners. I allowed you in, you will respect what I say. I appreciate the compliment to the food, however, nothing is being thrown out. I am cooking no more today, there are still others arriving though, and maybe you will luck out with them. Until then, mind your manners, eat what is provided, and be grateful about it. This party isn't for me, it is for all of my guests. Now go, enjoy yourself." With that said, Leila's grimace returned to its jovial, unintimidating smile. She was about to apologize to her other guests, when she saw all heads turning towards the road. A small cart had arrived, much to Leila's surprise, for no one else had arrived in such style. Leila watched the high dressed couple appear like gods before mere mortals, her own eyes growing wide. This was wholly unexpected, and she was completely unprepared to receive such noble guests. Leila began to go into panic mode, not knowing how to act. Her manners, her training, her entire upbringing couldn't even come close to getting her ready for these people. Then two hands alighted on her shoulder, unified, yet differing. The one on her left, large and rough, worn from years of work, and belonging to her father. The one on her right, small, feminine, and perfectly manicured, and belonging to her mother, who took a moment to whisper. "Do not worry my child, we will help guide you through this. That is the esteemed Professor Hurston, he teaches History, and his wife, Emily Hurston. They are among the richest people in our fair city, and their whispers are heard by the Regents themselves. You will need to present yourself to them, first to her, then to him. That is the proper order of things. You know your manners, so stick to them fiercely. They will know if you fear them, and if you do not respect them. Just look at the meal they brought, that alone would be able to add on several rooms to your shop. Do not shame our name Leila, we could not survive it. You give her anything she asks for, be it your time, your ear, or the absence of your presence. This moment will make or break our family. And it all relies on you. Now go." Leila began walking toward the woman, her husband, and a small child that had approached them. Her spine straight, her feet moving, trained by years of walking with a book and a full teacup upon her head, courtesy of mother. She was now extraordinarily thankful for the dress her mother had brought for her, for while it paled next to the divine grey, it at least was proper garb for a woman. Her steps small, her stride more of a glide, as she assessed the situation. She saw the woman hand over a token, for to her, that is all it was. But to that boy and his family, it was a life changing gift. Leila had put on her most polite smile, enough to show the pleasure of their arrival, but reserved enough to show she was not a lowborn controlled by their every emotion. The child ran back to his poor, fear stricken mother, and Leila used that opportunity to present herself. "Mrs. Hurston," she then dipped smoothly, gracefully, near perfectly into a curtsy, low enough to show their higher status. Her mother would be proud of that one, but again, book and teacup were the trainers. She then rose, head down, "It is so good that you have taken the time to attend. It is my humble pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard nothing but divine compliments." She then turned, "Doctor Hurston," and repeated the curtsy, and rose, head still down. "I thank you for attending Professor, I know how busy you must be. To find time for such an event, you do me great honor. We are all the wiser at your presence." Leila knew she needed to make herself seem important enough to them for their attention, particularly the wife. Even with her radiant, divine composure, Leila had lived with her mother long enough to know when another was like her. "I am Leila, and I thank you for your generous contribution. It will make a proper centerpiece for today's meals, the perfect addition. I hope my cooking will compliment yours well." Leila's mother knew to wait her turn, arm in arm with her husband, positively beaming as her daughter waded through the social waters with the grace of a natural born. She really wished Leila had a proper husband now, one from a higher circle than her own. But if this all went well, that would be made more difficult, if she found herself elevated in status. And soon the shock of the arrival wore off, and people began to mingle and eat once more. Those who were more socially conscious did not, however, waiting on their turns to receive some face time. But as hostess, Leila knew her place was with them until they felt it time to greet others.

[Sain Kayun]

I'm not too late, am I? Sain hurriedly rushed down the path in great haste, precariously hanging unto a plateful of somewhat lumpy looking dumplings with his right hand. The dumplings had been much more of a challenge than the inexperienced cook had expected. It had taken several hours of hard toil and sweat to make them (not counting how long it took to trade his herbal wine for some smoked fish from a neighbor for the filling), and Sain only hoped that the dumplings would be at least edible. He had put in a fair number of spices and herbs to make sure of that. Even with the unmistakable smell of food, Sain still had some difficulty finding the place for the potluck, never having been good with finding places Now where is it... aha! The man stood in front of a shop, the sounds of talking and the familiar scent of herbs reaching Sain's senses. This was the spot! Just Sain entered the perimeter, he was greeted by a dark-furred dog, who Sain gingerly petted with his free hand as the dog sniffed him about. Chuckling softly, Sain made his way past the dog to where the potluck was. Coming silently and unnoticed by most of the guests, the man looked around for a place to place his dumplings on the table already packed with food... all worlds better than his poor specimen of dumplings. Carefully inserting the plate into an open spot, Sain looked about at the guests. Despite having lived in Zeltiva for his whole life, he couldn't say he knew even a fraction of its population very well. But today, he was determined to finally get to know some of these people. Sain surveyed the wide array of food on the table, taking little samples of almost every one on the table, including one of the dumplings he made. Looking about the crowd of guests, Sain spotted a young woman with auburn hair seated at the table, and he had to note that she looked stunning in her violet dress, her slender figure clearly coming through. She was most definitely the owner of the shop Leila, Sain guessed, as he took a few steps to take a seat across from the young woman. But Sain quickly turned away, sitting down in a seat several seats away from the woman; he was sure that there were other people that she would want to talk to that haven't taken a seat yet. Taking his seat, Sain smiled at the couple across from him, "Why hello, I don't think we've met yet." he extended his hand politely across the table to the man, who had a large and hardy physique in Sain's eyes, contrasting greatly with the lithe figure of the woman beside him. OOCI apologize for being late too! Bottom of the posting list please!

[Castor Riley]

Seat NumberCastor is sitting in seat 10 Castor noticed Ricky and Telion sitting at the table, and made his way to join them. Bernedette had already taken the seat next to Telion, so Castor went ahead and sat next to him, at the corner of the table, smiling politely. He looked around him a bit, taking in the many different people present at the event. It felt very cosy, despite its rising numbers. The essence of a pot-luck was in the sharing of the food, the mingling of tastes, also representative of the mingling of people. One man stood out among those gathered, by the very fact he was doing nothing to do so; purposefully separate, he seemed to be watching the goings-on of the party with a keen eye. Castor put him out of mind, though, as he smiled politely at Berne and began to sample the varied selection on his plate. First, he tried the calamari. Delicious. He almost didn't hear the lovely Ms Hughes' question, so engrossed was he in savoring its taste; he didn't cook much, so it was rare that he could taste something of such quality. "Please, Ms Hughes, call me Castor, my father was Mr Riley. Ricky and I have already met, though it's only been the one time so far." He looked at Ricky, smirking. He began to explain: "I am a student at the university, so I work as a librarian to cover my expenses. So, a few days before season change, Ricky comes along looking for a book on parenting. Parenting! At the Wright Memorial Library!" he exclaimed, good-humoredly. "I did my best to try and find something suitable and then a friend of his joined us and... Well, the rest of that story is quite entertaining, but one to be shared after a bit of alcohol" he ended, with a chuckle and the hint of a blush. He then, took his first sip of kelp beer. Ever. Suffice it to say, it tasted nothing like beer. He carefully swallowed, trying to not make an obvious grimace. He felt almost ashamed to have brought something so vile to a gathering, but he noticed that quite a few people had helped themselves to it, so at least it was an absurdly popular abomination of taste. He then turned his attention to Berne and would listen intently to anything he might say. The peculiar foreigner's interjection was both unexpected and extremely rude. In one breath, he both praised and insulted the hostess, while his treatment of her guests left much to be desired. Having witnessed a glimpse of it before, Castor was only moderately surprised when Leila unleashed her cold fury on the man. Both polite and scathing, the speech reinforced Castor's earlier impression of her. He wondered in disbelief what kind of uncivilised place the man could possibly be from, as to be unaware of social etiquette to such an extent. The question then turned from incredulous to curious as he pondered it in earnest. He never did notice the man's response to this, if there had been one, for suddenly a hush and palpable vibe of excitement went through the guests. Turning in his chair towards the road, he saw a carriage approaching. Once it had stopped and the coachman opened the door, Castor recognized the new arrivals as Mr and Mrs Hurston. Mr Hurston was one of his professors at the University and he'd met with him on a number of occasions to discuss his history thesis proposal. He wanted to approach him at some point this season to ask him to officially supervise the actual writing of his thesis, now that he'd finished his primary research. Unexpectedly, he saw the opportunity to combine pleasure with business. As for Mrs Hurston, he couldn't say he'd really met her; he only knew her by reputation. Last season, the rumors of her public embarassment by one of the faculty members at a social event had made the rounds of the department, spreading like wildfire. Castor gave little credence to such things, knowing that rumors were hardly ever accurate, or the entirety of the truth to a story. It was hard to imagine a woman with such inherent grace and air of grandiosity to ever be in a situation, where she might feel humiliated. Castor noticed Leila, beginning to panic at the sudden arrival of such esteemed personnages, and Castor was about to offer a kind word and a smile to help calm her, but a woman - whose likeness to Leila was so striking she could only be her mother - came to her side and whispered something that seemed to have given the kind proprietress with the hidden edge the resolve to move forward. Castor watched and silently cheered as she made her introduction - most elegantly, by his own estimation, though he was no fine society connaisseur. He turned to those still at the table with him then "Well, this party suddenly got a lot more serious..." He wondered if the couple were socially conscious, though he had to say he'd be surprised if it were so; Ricky hadn't given him the impression of a man who cares about the games of high society. Still, he hardly knew the man, so it was best not to make assumptions. As the coachman brought over the succulent beef, Castor felt his mouth water. He put forth some effort not to immediately pounce on it and start stuffing himself. It just smelled so good. He considered going to greet the professor and his wife first, but he saw that they were already being crowded by others eager for their attention, and decided to wait until they didn't have quite so large a throng around them. If he were recognized and his presence required, he would respond at once of course, but he felt the likelihood of such an event to be extremely low. Eyeing the beef once more, he resolved to wait until at least one other person had served themselves, before he cut himself a slice of the remainder, spreading some mustard, if any was left, on top and digging in.

[Annalisa Marin]

OOCSorry I'm late, needed to wait for my gnosis approval before coming here. Just put me in the back of the order. Anna hadn't initially planned to go to this pot luck, it had seemed like too much hassle and involved being around too many people. The young wizard was many things, however social bug was not among them. That was actually the reason she was going, well one of the reasons. It occurred to her that she had isolated herself for so long that she was woefully weak in social situations, under prepared, like a fish out of water. This weakness annoyed her, so to prove that she was capable of mingling with her lessers she opted to go. The other reason was sitting comfortably in her right hand as she strode through the crowd of people mingling around her. A wine bottle, it was nothing special outwardly, a common label and relatively inexpensive. It was also going to be one of the instruments of chaos she intended to employ here. Anna intended to give Lord Rhysol his due during this feast. Because there were so many people here today, it would be relatively easy to get away with cursing two or three people. The poor fool who ended up using her bottle of wine was in for quite the nasty curse, though. It contained a curse she had designed that would cause them to lose control of their bowels, it would take some time to take root but it would be devastating. For others, she planned minor curses such as hair loss or random muscle spasms. One thing was for sure this would be quite a party. Anna noted the amount of food arrayed on the table with a great deal of eagerness, being perfectly honest with herself the young professor was famished. She placed the wine bottle down on the table, making a note to keep an eye on it and seated herself near the far end of the table. The wizard made sure to grab some food along the way and munched on it voraciously, unashamed as sweet juices rolled down her cheeks. She had plenty of time to meet and greet with the rest of the people and lay further curses, for now she needed to eat and fill the void in her stomach. Anna filled a cup of water and started biting into her meal with a ferocity that was unbefitting of a distinguished professor. Eating was one of the few times when conduct flew out the preverbal window, manners when eating were something she had grow less to care about as she delved further into magic. Anna still kept her eyes upon her contribution to the potluck, eager to see which fool was unlucky enough to gain her curse.

[Bernedett Ferald]

Bernedett was just about to turn to his seat as Leila asked about his and Castors professions. However, before he could turn, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. As it turned out, their good friend the foreigner had wished to gain the hostesses attention. Apparently he wasn't to concerned about the form in which that attention took.

Bernedet was appalled by his words! "Not only is he treating her guests like insects, but he was even making demands of her as though she were a maid!"

Berne was about to say something himself, but he was beaten to the punch by Leila. He was not at all suprised by her expression. No, what suprised him was her forcefulness. She really laid into him, and she even made Berne thankful that he had been able to quiet this sleeping bear earlier, when he was its target.

The man dismissed himself, and went to make do with what was already there. Castor continued with the earlier conversation, and he actually heard that he was working at the Library at the University. Bernedett had been planning to get a job there himself, and even apply for a class or two as well. After Castor was finished, he was about to begin his own story. However, he noticed that everyones eyes where on the front gate now.

A carriage had just pulled up, and Berne couldn't beleive who had gotten out... Mr. and Mrs. Hurston! He had never formally met him, but he had seen him before while studying under his master. He hadn't expected such people to even bother with a party. While it was fun, and the food was excellent, High Class people tended to have impossibly High standards.

As Leila left the table to greet these new guests, Berne was not at all offended. He understood the importence of making an impression. From what he could tell, she had proformed well. The look on the faces of her parents made that evident.

As everyone began to reseat themselves, Berne noticed that someone else had entered as well. he wasn't to sure who she was, but it didn't matter. She had a look about her that he didn't like. But it wasn't his concern. It wasn't his party, and there for, he would alow Leila to handle it if anything went wrong; but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep an eye out.

Bernedett addressed the others around him, intending to make conversation until the original one continued."So,"he said"how about we continue getting to know each other while our hostess is busy? Castor, we have already met, but Mr. and Mrs. Maze, I don't beleive we have been introduced."

[Paragon]

Among the talk and drink, another guest slipped into the yard. Ripples of gasps could be heard, as many turned to realise Maria Satterthwite had entered the opening event, seated in a well crafted wheelchair. She smiled delicately. Even in her debilitating condition, her dark hair was alive in beautiful ringlets, and her eyes shone with the blue of Mathews Bay. She was a Zeltivan girl, even amongst the frivolity of her post. Everyone knew it, and it had garnered some respect too. At her side stood a tall and well built man. He had a chiselled face, handsome if it weren't so weathered. The guests would whisper. There had been rumours of Maria's partner from the Sailor's Guild. Maria coughed, positioning her wheelchair where everyone could see her. A silence quickly descended as conversations were curtailed. No matter what their opinion was, the Lord of Council could still command silence. "Good day to you all, fine citizens. Miss Hughes. I must congratulate you and wish you the best for the future. It is wonderful to see new businesses flourishing in the city. While I came here for the opening, I realise I have a captive audience. This might be a good opportunity for me to make an important announcement." The whispers began anew. There had been other rumours - darker ones. Maria's disability had plunged her into a depression of sorts. Many had spoken of the contingency of her post. She had been withdrawn and insular, and Zeltiva often faced so many internal crises - it needed a visible and strong leader. "I will be resigning from my post as Lord of Council on the 75th of this season. I share this news with great sadness," she paused, and the man accompanying her placed a hand on her shoulder, "but with great hope for Zeltiva's future also. A fresh face may be what this city needs. For the Lord of Council has always been the central prong of the Zeltivan trident, and even though I may have taken a back seat before, I am sure a new candidate would be enthused to aid in this city's progress and future. Candidates should submit their applications to the Office, and there will be more details soon." She swallowed, pausing as if to let everyone take the news in. "I must thank you all, fair citizens. It is through all of you that Zeltiva has survived the many tribulations of the past few seasons. I know that we will grow and grow. Enjoy this event, everyone. And congratulations once again Leila." She turned in her wheelchair, heading to a table. Speech finished, the crowd began to talk once again. And talk they did. OOCPlease note the position will *probably* not be open to players, but there will be an element of interaction for every Zeltivan player in deciding the next Lord of Council. Also, guests have permission to self moderate Maria for the rest of the thread for simple conversation. I'll be keeping an eye - anything more than conversation you don't have permission for.

[Ricky Maze]

Castor happened to share a bit about how the expectant father had been looking to do research for parenting. Ricky's face grew a little red from blushing, which left Telion to giggle a little as she listened. He was actually quite pleased to see her loosening up a bit, she deserved to get out more often then she did and he would definitely prod her to do so much more often. The way the foreign stranger had to just cut in for his own voice to be heard, it nearly upset Ricky to the point where his face grew a few shades of red. He wanted to stand straight up and straighten out his act, but he could feel Tel's hand grip his left forearm to keep him on a leash. Thankfully Leila had the proper attitude to hopefully fix his ill mannered act. A triumphant grin filled his face as he heard his friend scold the man for being a poor guest, and he hoped that it would teach him a better lesson in the end. Just when he thought the chance to get Leila's attention a coach had arrived with guests of higher authority, Telion had to remind Ricky just who the couple were when they brought their own fine contribution. A meal fit for a king no less, Ricky was impressed with their presence gracing the potluck.

"That's professor Hurston and his wife, a he's a very wealthy history." She pointed out in a soft voice, Ricky's eyebrows raised in surprise at the sound that. He hadn't expected someone with such high standing to attend a party, but then social gatherings was what the wealthy were all about nowadays. Ricky watched as Leila went to greet them, a little disappointment in his face as he had to wait a little longer just to receive any sign that Leila knew he had something to say. "Just be patient Ricky, she'll come around and we can tell her then."

"I'm gettin' worried that she won't have the time really, plus I'm gettin' to excited to just hold it in." He mused as he looked back to Telion, she had taken her spoon and scooped up a decent amount of her food. She had used proper table manners too when she indulged in the food, enjoying its flavor before scooping another bite. Ricky figured if they were to wait, he might as well dig in too. While admittedly he didn't show the same amount of table manners as Tel by shoveling foos with his fork, he did have enough to show that he was a proper guest of the table. More people seemed to be joining the party though as a new arrival seemed to greet them, his brown hair and soft spoken features a friendly welcome compared to the rather rude guest from earlier. Ricky left his fork on his plate for a moment as he took the mans hand, his mouth still full of the kelp and cod Telion had stacked for him. He nodded with a small smile to avoid showing the food in his mouth, and Telion then gave him a look as she proceeded to hit his shoulder. "Manners Ricky!" He pointed to his jaw to show her he was still chewing, innocently enough, and she just rolled her eyes and proceeded to great the man who'd brought the dumplings. "This is my boyfriend Ricky, and I'm Telion. A pleasure to meet you sir." She would shake his hand after Ricky shook, and look to see an amused grin on his face as he finally swallowed his food.

Leila seemed be finding her seat and when she did Ricky gave a wave to hopefully notify her that he had something he wanted to share, a bright grin on his face as he looked waited to be recognized again. Yet his attention was then dragged away by the stranger who had been cut off earlier, a relaxed expression on his face as he responded to the man. "We haven't been introduced just yet, no doubt ye heard our names but a moment ago. Might we've yours now?" He mused as Telion sighed, a faceplant into her hand as a shameful grin came upon her face. Clearly she didn't expect his table manners to be so... low. Either that or he was just to much of a guy to consider them. Just then it happened once again, another important guest had arrived to the party by the looks of it. "Doh C'mon!!!" He roared in the reaches of his mind as he thought Leila would never have the time to interact with them. Yet when he saw just who it was that had come to attended the party, his expression changed to awe as he stood out of his chair. A proper bow to Lady Maria as she had made her presence known, he had hoped that she would remember him from the winter ball last season. Although he hadn't interacted with her directly, he still stood proudly as a protector of the city. He was but a simple Wave Guard with great respect for her, and after his respective bow he took his seat once more to return to his food. Telion actually looked surprised that he could show some form of proper respect when he knew how to, though she still believed he needed much work on proper table manners.

The news that she decided to retire astonished him but not quite as much as he'd originally believe, probably because her disability from the plague wearing her down. He wanted to be able to do more, to shoe her that while he couldn't protect Zeltiva from the plague that haunted him he would still keep it safe. Safe from any threats that made their presence known in their home, for she was a fair and proper lady he held with high regard. "Do you have something to tell her?"

"Huh?" He looked to Telion confused.

"You just looked like you had something to say, so I figured I'd ask." She guessed with a shrug and small grin, another decent scoop of clam chowder.

"I honestly wouldn't know what t'say really, 'sides Leila's the one who I'm dyin' to speak to right now." He looked to Leila to watch her further, hopefull that the chance to finally speak would come soon. He just wanted to shout it out for the whole party to hear, announce it to her like the ssurprise the two had originally planned. Yet while he kept those screaming thoughts contained with a relaxed posture, his humble nature only focused on the people around him as he would just continue to wait further. He and Telion were here for more then just the news they had to share with Leila after all, why not actually enjoy the pot luck while they waited.

Among one of the other tables a stranger would sit next to Tallis, his plate evenly filled with kelp fritters, clam chowder, and cod fillets. He was rather tall and well built like a sturdy sailor, his a bit face weathered and worn with age, short brown hair on his head and face with a few spots of grey, deep blue eyes that matched Ricky's, and a vertical scar that covered his right eye. If Tallis paid close attention, he would see that this man's general direction was where Leila, Ricky, Telion, Bernedett, and Castor sat. When the man would glance to see if Tallis had stared, he would give a friendly nod with an unchanged expression.

"Ricky's words.", "Ricky's thoughts.", "Telion's words.", "Hannah's words.", "Other's words."