Kevin
Danico Felrantres
Has order finally come? Vallen

Danico jumps to his feet, out of the way of the table, shoved by a pair of careless noblewomen more interested in the care of themselves than watching their surroundings. "Watch it!" The alchemist barks, though not too loud as to attract the ire of anyone not in the immediate vicinity. His eyes meet the noblewoman's own with a scowl as he brushes his suit off, watching the two walk off with a furrowed brow, their awkward gaze shifting away as they make their leave. 

*"Pompous and privileged..."* The thoughts burned in his mind briefly before taking a step back, only to be stopped by a gentle hand. "Oh! My apologies." Snapping out of thought, he motions as the girl begins to talk, taking a moment to find his footing.

"You're not kidding.." He adds with a soft chuckle, straightening his jacket with a tug. He always had a distaste for nobility and their tendency to accept what they're handed and never lifting a finger to do much more. At least, that's how he perceived them. Of all the subjects of his study and things he's researched, the lives of those who live in castles were not among them.

"Saving one's own neck is likely the only reason a lot of people here still live. Given the current state of affairs outside of Taemar, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if any one of these people tossed me to the fangs of sickness if it meant they get to live in their towers for a day longer." Danico's words were sharp and judgemental, though his thoughts come from a place of someone on the outside looking in- though not of jealousy, but rather a stance on his idea that people should work for a good life- work and research is everything he has, after all. 

"But, listen to me ramble." The alchemist continues with a chuckle, fixing the table back into position from its rude and sudden shove. "Danico, I don't believe we've met?"
Michael
Serafina - Magistrate Wisdom to House Terresol
Castle Grunewald, Vallen 
As the man spoke of the plague that had befallen Marin, Serafina took the opportunity to study him. His bright red attire compounded with the beautiful floral embroidery of the jacket gave off an air of importance. Not royalty, but perhaps lower nobility. She chuckled at his mention of being thrown to the plague as if a noble or royal had the power to set the plague upon those who displeased them. Its beauty was that it had no bias on those it embraced. Of course, those in the lower castes were more at risk, but Grissom's hand was guided by fate and those he touched would earn a peaceful respite in the Space Between. 

"And yet, the fangs will only penetrate the skin of those chosen by the hand of fate." She had noticed the change in his tone, words leaving his mouth as a sharpened sword. Unlike many in Marin, Serafina understood the true purpose of the plague: to offer respite to the learned souls who had been unnecessarily suffering or ultimately served the purpose Saris had set out for them. She spent many waking hours praying to Lockaster for their safe passage after death and a short Mourning.

Upon moving to the other side of the table to help move it, tendrils of smoke brushed past her face introducing her to the floral scent of whatever the man was burning inside. Once the table had returned to its position she stood up and studied him more closely, suspicion of herbalism and holistic healing flashing through her mind. The thought was further substantiated by the jade necklace hanging around his neck. "Likely not." She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, white scars on her hand fully visible in the light, "I prefer the library to the crowded throng of a thriving feast." The woman brushed the silk of her dress down as if removing invisible dust before lifting her piercing eyes to meet his own. "Serafina." She replied, stepping aside to let the Grunewald servants through as the feast began. "I must admit, Danico, you've sparked my curiosity." Her eyes held proof of that, sparkling with a thirst for knowledge. "Are you an herbalist? Or perhaps a spice merchant?"
Charles
Belladonna of Taemar
What the fuck is going on at this hell of a castle, Valen.

After having a seat at her assigned place, Bella's chatter with Surany was rudely interrupted by the announcement of the so called king of the castle.

He looked even more decrepit that she had been told. Spilling wine all over himself, how fit for a king, wasn't it? What a waste of a soul, must be a torture to be inhabiting such a *"Man"*.

The public execution of the pig could have been considered barbaric, but Taemar is Taemar. She took the knife she was given and discreetly hid it in her gown; who knew if it would be useful in the future?

The magician's disaster took her by surprise.

"Amateur" She scoffed under her breath as she witnessed the decapitated animal run aroun.

"Of course my Lady" Bella nodded as she heard Surany, and helped her get on top of the table.

Punches and slamming and chaos reigned over the place, situation that greatly amused the sorceress. Until the gown of the lady of the wine got ruined. Oooooh yes, *That* Was about to be amusing.

Bella followed Surany's command and gave her the lute, using this moment to lean towards her.

"I can take that bloody mess off of you, my Lady. If you need so"

Lady Anna Barrmount
The cause of one more trauma, Valen

She had barely taken her assigned seat when the fuckery began. The Lady refused to even look at the knife on front of her, and felt her insides twist when the butchery was announced. The screams of the poor animal clenched her heart.

*"And this are the people I'm supposed to ask for help?"* The thought disheartened her as she flinched at the first bloodshed.

Anna fixed her eyes on the table and tried to ignore the scene, until the decapitation took place.

 The table almost got covered in her bilis when the animal run around without a head. Mortified, she witnessed how the king ended the nightmarish creature's life, her whole body trembling worser than in the harshest winter of the Witherlands. 

She had never been outside of her home before, and judging by what was about to make her puke she would never in her life do it again. 

"We are doomed" She quietly cried out in her seat, trying not to cry.
Joan
Zane Harmattan
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

Zane slipped in the dining room a few minutes before the hog incident had happened, and almost wished he hadn't shown up. Robyn and Nero had gone out for drinks before Zane left for the dinner, and he was beginning to regret not joining them.

The last few minutes almost had him walking out of the castle.

He slipped over to the table that had a placard with his name, grimacing a bit as he saw Angelica's name also at the table.
Lawrence
Kallophon of Milo
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

Kallophon gently opened the door, leaving only a crack for his dark, almond eye to scan the room through. As a man dependent on patronage, he'd developed an acute sense for prestige, and the waft from this room was the strongest one yet. He'd caught word that two of his kinswomen were here: Queen Lane herself, and some prominent courtier. With the narrowness and angle of his view, he couldn't spot them. He couldn't really identify anyone yet, for that matter. The thought of stepping inside in the middle of such a prestigious event filled him with anxiety. He was an actor, however, and anxiety was the perfect fuel for his fire.

He leaned away from the light and grinned madly. This was what he'd left Terresol for, besides refuge the deadly plague. He'd be the only artist in all of Terresol to witness this. The only one to see Marin's most important personalities all gathered in *One room*. It didn't matter that he was late. It didn't matter that he'd mainly been hired to carry around spare strings and additional little instruments. Destiny had brought him here! To serve the grand weave of history, he would ask for no payment.

He pulled down his hideous boar-face mask - complete with real fur and tusks - to conceal his uncontainable excitement, and slipped inside the room. The light illuminated his slender, five-foot-nine-inch form, clothed in a cream-coloured, ankle-length tunic, and a shorter, heavier one over it, which had red woollen embroidery of diamond patterns woven into its white linen base. Under one arm, he carried a traditional Terresolian lyre, complete with a turtle-shell sound chest; he hoped his Queen would recognise him as a kinsman. His other hand carried a heavy leather sack. His curly brown hair bobbed gently behind his mask as he sidled over to Kenmath. "Pardon my tardiness, sir. Where are the other players?"
Kathleen
Valentine Godwin
Questioning her life choices in the middle of chaos, Vallen

The hog was not much of a surprise to Viola. Her family had held a similar tradition on the winter holidays, though on a much much smaller scale. So she found herself sitting at one of the smaller tables, sipping something that she hoped was wine and staring at a soft red spot on the table cloth.

Her mind whizzed through the reasons she was at the council. To present her findings, to maybe gain a benefactor, ~to actually interact with other people~. Was it worth a tedious dinner? A night of dull small talk and pleasant smiles? She could feel herself pull her extravagant hat over her face for a moment and slouched before the small shrill voice of her mother corrected herself in her head.

Suddenly a lady seemed to stand on top of the table and Valentine immediately looked away in fear of being chided for staring up a lady's skirts. Standing, and now realising the chaos of the room, she held a hand out,"Ma'am would you kindly step down from the table?"

It had been so long since Viola had played Valentine that she almost had forgotten to deepen her voice. She looked to the dark haired lady beside the other for help.
Robert
Kenmath Vaughn
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

"A paticularly springy morsel for you, my good sir," Kenmath said, pushing his finger deep into the Bog Bread that he placed on Anna Barrmount's plate. The divot in the bread sprung back up instantly as soon as he removed his scraggly finger. He grinned at her with his three teeth when he was addressed from behind. 

"Tardiness is the burden of the beast. Once must always consider how time has a consequence, and in this case, you deserve redemption," Kenmath lectured, wagging his finger at the late musician. "The other players are but over there, playing on time and in time for a long time," He said, jutting his chin to the side where the skinny musicians droned on. He grasped the seat of the man's pants and pulled him toward the trio. "Play with them, good lad."

The string trio looked up at Kallophon as he was dragged toward them. Imogen, the one woman in the group, dropped out of the trio and blew her cigarette smoke in his face. Her inkly black hair was chopped to her chin and every puff she took from her cigarette seemed to make her cheeks look even more gaunt than before.

"You're late," She said, her voice just above a whisper, as though she was always breathless. Her dark, kohl lined eyes passed over his boar mask. "You look hideous." She picked her instrument back up and continued to play.
Charles
Lady Anna Barrmount
Grunewald Castle, Valen

The young lady shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking at the bread on her plate. Were all nobles from outside of the Iron Plaines this... This *Nasty*?

She pushed the bread aside, her stomach not even wanting to eat anymore after the show and the unpleasant gesture of the man.
Sarah
Arin Cragton
Still confused at the fuckfest, Taemar

Arin picked at the clothes that attacked his neck, pulling the collar so he could breath. He quickly stopped as he felt faces turn towards him, and he quietly turned and looked for his name. He walked amongst the tables, ignoring noises of disgust as he walked past. He finally found his name seated in the far corner of the room, and made his way to sit down. 

He looked at the woman beside him, and his eye twitched as he tried to figure out who she was. He shrugged slightly and smiled softly at the obviously terrified woman. He watched people as they mulled over their food, offering baseless rumors as facts as they spoke amongst themselves. He frowned and poked at the food on his plate, but the bread seemed to taunt him with an unholy grin. He fought the urge to dispose of the food and chose to take a small bite, tearing a bit off of the edge and lifting the fork to his mouth. He looked up and watched the man stick his finger into the woman's food and Arin gagged, dropping the fork. His face turned bright red and he grabbed the fork and muttered a quiet apology. 

"I'm so sorry." He said softly.
Lawrence
Kallophon of Milo
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

She's only trying to get a rise out of you, Kallophon told himself, maintain your composure. He was about to apologise through the little nostrils in his mask's long snout, but then decided to hush himself, in favour of getting to work. He laid down the sack, and within a minute, he'd apportioned spare strings and small alternative instruments to each of the musicians, laid out on three squares of furred leather. He put his hand through his lyre's strap, and fished a tuning key out of the sack, stepping aside from the trio to quietly tune his instrument one last time. He'd try to join in when the next tune began. Kallophon lowered his ear to hear the demands of each of the ten strings, allowing him to discreetly survey the room through two black-rimmed eyeholes.
Charles
Lady Anna Barrmount
Grunewald Castle, Valen

The clinking of metal against the floor distracted her from the disgust, bringing her back from her thoughts.

She looked at the man sitting beside her and smiled through the dry mud and dirt that covered her. At least he didn't exude the murder-y vibe...

"Don't be silly, it's just a fork"