Phyllis
**Provincial Luther De Beaulieu
The Newberry Festival (Night one), Erba.**

Luther had taken it upon himself to grace the Newberry Festival in his family's stead, finding himself deep in the throng of the partygoers. Shitbloods, most of them, and Luther had made sure to keep a magnolia pinned to his lapel at all times for that very reason. His house sigil was a symbol of power, and despite the fact that most of these shitblood partiers were both drunk and masked, Luther used the flower as an anchor for both his patience and his poise. The De Beaulieu son was also not masked or costumed, his clothing instead relatively plain for someone of his status, a deep navy blue top and plain black pants and shoes to match. He refused to be a dandy. 

Eventually, through the throng, Luther came upon the top brass of the nighttime festivities. Despite the fact that Luther had only met Brandon a few times, and nearly all of them within packed social settings, he had never really spoken to the young provincial. Erillia was a hustling and bustling place after all. Luther stood around the roaring bonfire and quietly observed the partygoers, Brandon included, until he felt that the moment was right. Less chatter for a moment, a small parting in the crowd, and Luther was deftly approaching Brandon. He smiled for a moment at the young Welles, quietly inserting himself into the drinking circle and taking a seat.

"Brandon Welles, isn't it? Luther De Beaulieu. Mind if I join you for the night? I'm afraid I'm pretty out of my element here."

Luther easily smiled again, perfectly sober and purposely so. He didn't have a drink in his hand at the moment, and he needed to keep it that way until he finished off his laundry list of tasks given to him by his father. Now to tick one of them off the list.
Douglas
Provincial Brandon Welles
The Newberry Festival (Night one), Erba.

Not for the first time, Provincial Brandon Welles completely blended in with the shitbloods in Araedia. He had some protection in his crew, but clearly not enough because they were all occupied in the spirit of the event. The need for protection was a trait that Brandon simply didn't possess, especially with shitbloods. He had absolutely no fear of them unlike most Provincials. He knew beneath all their disdain and intolerance towards the poorest of the Kingdom, there was fear. The fear of being robbed, killed, and in more extreme circles even eaten. The fear of ending up like them. The fear of them constantly plotting to take what the rich have because who could blame them? The stories he'd heard about them growing up did nothing but develop his curiosity, and by the time he made it to his late teenage years without a single bite taken out of him, he dismissed all that fear and rebranded it ignorance. 

Bran ventured down to the festival with his crew, masked but not costumed. However, by the time they settled in by the fire with their women, drinks, and tall tales that mask ended up somewhere he'd never find it. Brandon arrived drunk, so his guard was completely down when he was approached by Luther. He had a woman on his lap, a blonde, very beautiful and very obviously a fellow Provincial in her brightly colored dress. She was all giggles and smiles, but she pulled her mask over her face when Luther sat down because he reeked of class, wealth, and could possibly blackmail her.

Brandon had been away from Araedia for five years, but he rarely forgot a face. He hardly knew the man, couldn't readily recall his name, but he wouldn't deny the pleasure of his company. When he introduced himself, Brandon nodded along. "Of course, Luther. Good to see you again outside of hallowed halls of whatever precious place we were thrown in together. Please, join us." He laughed when he said he was out of his element, "That is overwhelmingly obvious, but perhaps some wine will get you in the spirit." He reached over to hand him a hammered metal goblet half filled with wine, there was no precious glass in that particular corner of the world.
Phyllis
**Provincial Luther De Beaulieu
The Newberry Festival (Night one), Erba.**

Luther was one of those people who enjoyed weeding. Pruning the dead and dying, the ugly, all of the undesirables in order to leave the remaining pristine. Pure, perhaps, was a better word. Luther was a man concerned primarily with the purity in all things, of keeping bloodlines unsullied and traditions unbroken. It was a theme that Soliel itself exemplified, Phoenix fires cleansing and being reborn from ashes. In this moment, as Luther took a seat, all he could think about was how disgustingly impure Brandon seemed to be. The Welles household did have a bit of a reputation, after all. Perhaps rightfully so. 

As Luther took a seat, he deftly unpinned the magnolia from his lapel and carefully placed it in his lap. He looked over to the woman, his green eyes scanning her up and down for any notable features, but what he was immediately concerned with was the mask. A fellow provincial, in his eyes, was much better off being plain about their presence in a place like this. A mask only made it seem like there was something to hide. Luther would've been delighted to speak with anyone who began to speak ill of him because he was honoring Soliel. He looked into the eyes of the mask of the woman on Brandon's lap, frowned disapprovingly, and then turned to Brandon. 

"Your lap ornament doesn't seem at home in a place like this. If you'd do me a favor, Brandon, I'd appreciate you letting her know we're among friends tonight. Consider it a truce in the game all of our families play, if you will." 

Luther spoke calmly and without any sort of ill will, implied or otherwise. After all, Luther was here as a guest. Joining Brandon's circle as an outsider looking in. As Brandon offered his wine, Luther politely held a hand up. Drinking from a shitblood glass was something, masked or otherwise, Luther refused to stoop down to. If the Welles boy wanted to blend in, so be it. Luther was here to stand out.

"The last time we met, I'd figure it was in the last ball hosted within High Bloom before your ... Departure. I'm glad to see you back. I'll admit I didn't expect to see you here, but I can't say I'm disappointed. What are you doing, now that you're back on the shores of Araedia? In Erba, no less. I'm sure Reyum is elated." 

Luther could only smile as he mentioned Brandon's eldest sibling, imagining just what kind of homecoming it must've been. A decent story, no doubt.