![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Dolphin blows a note.
Dolphin floats near Ruby, crooning:
o/` Ambergris, Ambergris
Every morning ya make me
Bleary-eyed, sleep denied
Won't be happy to wake me o/`
Ruby tries to steer herself through the strange environment in half-walk, half-crawling movements from one area to the next. Haggard without the bags under her eyes, a drink forgotten in her hand. She's learned what ambergris is by this point. Helpful morfilod relative of someone having had a chat with her.
Karl was probably very informative on the subject of whale vomit and just how precious a substance it is. Perfume just would not be the same without it.
The latest fun on the dance floor is a bit of line-dancing, Rebma style. Step to the left, wave your left arm up, then undulate-undulate-undulate hop! Now step to the left, wave your right arm up, etc etc etc hop! Merrisol lashes out of the gathering to pull Ruby into it, or at least into conversation range. "Where've you been?" he wonders while stepping and waving.
Dancing with the first eager young lord turned into another with someone else and then another but when Lord Lymon hove into view, Maggie bowed out of the dancing and ducked down to the floor. The line dancing is fun and exuberant, but she needs a break and a drink. Lymon joins the line dancing without even a glance at Maggie so perhaps his attention has shifted to someone else.
Ruby is drawn towards the unified phalanx of ritual dance. She's yet to rid herself of the amount of bling through nimble fingers or fins, but she's gained a little something.. Around her ankle she's somehow managed to acquire a plastic hoop that's biting into her flesh, with five other empty hoops in tight orderly sequence around it. "Aye...Been 'ob-nobbin. I don't know as mooch aboot Rebma as I thought." Ruby zombie-shuffles in time, her six-pack ring fluttering with each step. "Why doo Rebma 'ave so many dolpins...They can't doo nuthin but talk an talk...an talk...They can't make nuthin, or 'old things..." She blinks. "You look loike you enjoyin yerself!"
And there's still one beercan in a plastic hoop. Lucky!
Maggie comes to a floating stop near the others, "So... Anyone want to dance?" Yes, these are her female friends and relatives, but she does not seem bothered by the idea.
Merrisol angles his gaze low when Ruby joins the line and her legs are visible. He doesn't miss a beat, hooking his left hand behind his head to do the torso-ripples. Spin! Then he peers down some more at the unusual ankle bracelets with their unspent can, wavering between saying something about it and just leaving it be. Not familiar enough with beer cans to know that if the thing were to burst now, there could be some serious injuries from Ruby's jet-powered kicks. "Of course. I wasn't at my best the day of, but the concussion faded quickly enough after. I intend to celebrate, before getting back to work." He looks around at the next hop-spin, spotting various Dolphins about the room, so deliberately homogenous that it would be tricky to figure out if it's just one pestering Ruby or all of them taking turns. "They are the Crown's fastest messengers and... well, they do a lot for Rebma... well, for Martin," he admits.
Wow, there are a lot of people to greet and from whom to accept well-wishes. A whole kingdom, feels like. Might even be. The newlyweds have been escorted around some the last few hours so that they could be seen and cheered in the city. It's tough, being so popular. Now though, their return is announced so that dinner can be served.
Ruby turns her eyes on Merrisol, her brow arching at his skills on the dance floor. "Roight...all work can be just awful." She celebrates the Warden's rotation by finishing off the drink in her hand. The squeeze of pressure must have reminded her it's there. Cheeks pulling inward as she gets the last drops from the drink container. "I should 'ope you recovered quick. You been through worse. Still..." Instead of gyrating, she thrusts her arm upward, alternating with the other to balance things out. Lazy dancing. Ruby waves to Maggie and offers a warmer grin. "You two should be courtin-in-time, shouldn't ya? Loike feeesh."
Maggie turns as a cousin on her father's side of the family taps her on the shoulder. With a nod and a grin, she takes his arm and the two bound up to join the line dancing. It is a near thing, for in trying to guage where the dance is in it's progression, she spots Merrisol doing a set of torso-ripples. Her partner, laughingly pokes her in the ribs. Maggie blinks and, blushing, joins the line dance on the side-step, kick kick portion. The spin whirls her hair and cape out, then back in again. As feet are harder to spot, she misses Ruby's ankle adornment entirely. Her partner, brown of hair and laughing of eyes, shuffle shuffles to the rhythm and tries the torso ripple as it comes around again. Maggie arches her head back a bit to give the torso ripples a bit more focus.
Merrisol smiles a little over Ruby's encouraging words. Could almost be called supportive. Following the trajectory of her grin, he sees Maggie and the smile grows. At which point, he misses a step and now he and Ruby are just two misfits in a crowd of undulating chests. "We have been, but the wedding party has duties to circulate as well, make sure everyone's engaged. Involved and having fun," he defines, before Ruby accuses him of match-making. He synchs himself to the movements again, but continues talking. "I do have questions for Sir Aversin still, but looks like the Order recalled them and closed ranks," he frowns. His gaze moves again, seeking Maggie, just as the music is interrupted by the clarions announcing the newlyweds' return, which is greeted by renewed cheers and applause.
The serving staff, of course, bursts into a flurry of activity to make sure the last minute preparations are done. Everything that had to wait until they were getting ready to serve. Martin and Miriam aren't hurrying, since now there are more who have arrived and need to be greeted. Miriam leans towards him at one point with a smile, and whispers "Too late to elope, right?" She's obviously kidding. Really, she's been handling it all very well, though she's also looking like sitting and eating would be a very good thing.
"All'n good time, aye?" Ruby raises thumb and rubs it along her bottom lip. "Was a strange ceremony. Was two equals. Course...I guess same went for your union. Still, tha sort 'o uncertainty always makes me anxious. Loike two Cap'ns on one ship." Ruby pretends a shiver and shudder at the thought. "Dunno...I'd stay away from religious sorts unless you tha opal 'o their eye. Get between a bloody god an their flocks an you start loosin limbs." Ruby, like others, turns to watch Martin and Miriam. The increased activity heralding more celebratory moments.
The musicians paused just after the clarion sounded. In brilliant Rebman fashion, they incorporated the sound into a rush of a crescendo of melody that splashed notes hither and thither before sliding slowly out of the line dance's familiar tunes to a softer, more orderly decent toward dinner music.
Amy comes floating by, having been dancing somewhere quite gleefully. Though with the idea of dinner the Queen of Kitezh can easily be lured away from such strenuous dancing as she finds fun. She waves as she spies folks she knows, and makes her way over there, settling down by them with a cheery "Hullo. Great party so far."
Maggie is not facing the entry and does not see Miriam and Martin returning. She is somewhat caught off guard by the clarion, the torso ripple she was doing mared by a jerking around to see what the trouble is. This almost smacks her partner in the face with her hair, but he nimbly ducks beneath the flow and rises. One hand reaches to touch Maggie's which has unconsciously drifted to her hip where her sword should be. Luckily it isn't there. His soft, "Jumpy, eh? Maybe you need a vacation," can almost be heard. She laughs, then shrugs, "Yeah, maybe. After recent adventures... Well, Kerf could probably use the rest as well." As they have been talking, the pair make it back to the floor. He bows and heads off to find his party. She turns to see what she should be doing next. Spotting Amy, Maggie waves, "It is, isn't it?" She does not move yet, however, as she is waiting for Merrisol and Ruby.
Miriam looks around for the most familiar of the faces, as she and Martin are escorted towards the dining area. Once she spots them, there is a wave and smile. Fortunately, those are also the people who will be seated nearby.
"Religion, mirrors, magic, and the Past are entertwined, and if these missions are going to succeed, the holy order has to stop keeping things from us." Merri says, then drops the subject and adds some Morfilod whale-calls, just fancy whistles really, to the general hubbub of approbation. As the gathering fades to various parts to allow dinner furniture to be whisked through the space, he waves to Maggie to let her know they're on their way over. But he stops to toe the metal canister attached to Ruby's ankle. "That sort of shadow material's not long for this world, at least. It's already breaking down, see? Where'd you find it?"
Tables are hurried into place by teams of seals working alongside Rebmans. The tables are floated in a-seal-back, steadied by those with functional hands. They are already set with place settings attached to the tables with magnets. Woven hangings of seaweed blanched of color until they gleam a fine, pure white have then been redyed with blue and silver swirls that outline a crescent moon and Martin's IceDeep insignia. Once in place, the seals swoosh out from beneath them, setting the hangings to fluttering a bit. Soon, there are tables aplenty set in comfortable conversational groupings. The High Table is set just before the dias with places in the center for Martin and Miriam with their entourage spread beside them.
Ruby makes a face. A 'hey watch it' expression before she realizes Merrisol is going for the can of CoralsLite and not trying to sweep her leg. She has been letting her guard down. She looks down to her ankle and jerks her thumb in the general direction of 'everything'. "There was this dolphin.." She hops in Maggie and Amy's direction, her thumb getting temporarily also trapped while trying to peel the resilient hoop from herself. "..Said it would 'elp, but I 'ad tah dance with it a lot first before it would be charged." The canister does look like it's degrading. A little taut. Ruby places it very carefully onto the ground and moves away. "You shouldn't make those sounds. You'll attract wrong kind 'o attention..."
Maggie spots Merrisol's wave, but then does not dare to move far due to the inbound army of floating tables. Even if they are guarded by Rebmans who guide them and thump the tops when they should stop, it is potentially dangerous. Until she remembers that in Rebma, everyone can fly. Kicking off from the floor, she soars up into the mid-reaches. Heading for the table near the dias, she summersaults in the water and lands one toe first, arms outstreatched like a Marvel Comic hero. But /she/ has a cape.
Amy returns Maggie's wave, glancing to see where her husband has gotten off to. Amy's husband, not Maggie's. Still, Amy settles lazily, watching as the dinner furniture comes in with some amusement. "It's good to be here and see everyone," Amy adds. "I missed you guys."
"Lately it hasn't been attracting the right sort, either. Lord Karl must have mentioned the wrangling troubles at his ranch.." But Ruby's already high-tailed it to food and safety. Merrisol studies the abandoned constructs of aluminum and plastic a moment longer, then he plucks it off the floor himself and hands it off to a Triton of the Palace Guard to remove. That done, he ducks past obstacles to pull up at the high table, spend a few seconds reconnecting with Maggie, and take his assigned seat.
Amy's husband has been drinking. Hey, usually he's limited to what's in Kitezh. He's also been making them a gift of creating a large amount of mead out of seawater. In containers, of course. It's good to be Viktor.
Miriam watches it all come together, holding Martin's hand. She smiles again at how efficient they all are. Once their table is ready, the pair is escorted and seated. She looks glad to be resting. Sort of.
Seconds later, in the outside corridor, there's a fsst-PAFF sound of minor combustion, and a Triton snarl of unpleasant surprise. Somebodys gonna get tail-smacked, later, for that.
Maggie already knows that one of her favorite points in the evening is that brief moment of reconnection with Merrisol. Taking her seat, Maggie waits for Amy and Marlene to join her there. Amy is given a warm smile, "We've missed you too. We'll need to see about bringing you along on a few jaunts." Her smiling eyes seek Victor, but return to her cousin for a moment. Then she leans toward Miriam, "You look wonderful. Are you having a good time?" The attempted distraction is ruined by that hissing noise and Triton snarl. This time, her hand does not go for a non-existant sword, nor does the try to push Miriam under the table to protect the Princess from some unknown assault. See? She's relaxed...
Arriving a bit late, but not overly so, Vialle and Random take their places at a table near the High Table. They both look refreshed though Random's smile is more rakish than before and Vialle's is warm and easy.
Amy settles into her seat, helped by a charming fellow who then takes his leave to go help the next pretty girl. "That sounds good to me, I'm almost always up for adventure." Well, when she's not overly pregnant at least. "Miriam, you do look absolutely stunning. Congratulations again." Mind you, Amy's gaze has located that errant husband of hers, and she's rather watching him now, a slightly softer expression on her face.
Miriam smiles brightly at Maggie. "Thank you! You do, too! All've you, really." she says. "And I am. It's a little too much for me at times, though. Sitting'n eating will help, I think. Are you all having a good time?" she asks of her friends and new family nearby.
Meanwhile, Viktor returns and finds his wife and the others. He smiles, then takes his seat next to Amy before capturing her hand and kissing it.
Martin occasionally looks smug. But hey, he had sex and is married.
It takes a little time, but finally everyone is settled in their seats. At least, enough of the right people that dinner can be served. Apparently, Miriam didn't realize she was so hungry, along with being a little tired by now. Mostly, she's been drinking because drinks kept appearing in her hand as if by magic. Eating much would have required more effort. She smiles to the others, and says "I'm sure this'll all be wonderful. Th'staff's been preparing for days."
The faint sound of a shimmering tinkle of bells decends from the minstral's gallery. This is the cue for the first course to be brought out. Sea tortoises swim out from the kitchens in a slow and stately parade. They carry huge trays on their backs. These, in turn are stacked with flat-toped crystaline dishes containing individual meat pies. The gravy is a warm, rich brown and the crust is kept crisp and flaky by encasing the entire thing in a sea-weed wrapping. As the tortoises reach their tables, servers dressed in the blue of Ice Deep and the Silvery White of Tir decend from above. Dishes and silverware are placed in front of each of the diners, beginning with Martin, Miriam and their table.
Amy settles into her seat, offering a smile to those who are there before her. She watches the pageantry of the meal serving with a slight smile. "How spectacular," is her murmured comment. "It seems they must have been preparing for weeks, if you ask me. Everything so far has been exquisitely prepared. I am very impressed."
Viktor looks perfectly comfortable with the pageantry as he settles in next to his wife. He nods his agreement with Amy, but isn't very talkative because otherwise his player's head might explode.
Maggie is seated next to Merrisol in some kind of flopped arrangement that mingles the bride's side with the groom's. Which, considering the married couple, is not that unusual, really. Her cape and hair are stirred by the eddies inspired by the tortoises and the servers, but they remain mostly tame. Leaning forward a bit, she watches the parade, then looks up as the servers descend. "That is impressive. I love the bells... I wonder what the instrument is..." But she of little musical ability leaves that in favor of receiving the pie in its delicate wrapping. "That looks good..."
Merrisol sits at Miriam's right, his back resting solidly into the smooth curves of his chair, with only bits of the ornate scrolls and shells peeking out on the sides. Despite maintaining stationary poise, he keeps his mind active, determinedly so. He's already spent some time scanning and identifying each of the lords and ladies, heads and heirs, who populate the long wavy tables additionally marked with the insignia of their House. Towards the back, some minor noble families share one table between them. He's not completely familiar with everyone, of course, and listens attentively whenever Martin offers a bit of trivia about any given individual. Other than that, he's usually engaged in murmurs to Maggie, on his other side, hands entwined in the bit of space between their armrests. When dinner is officially served, he reluctantly releases Maggie's hand to make proper use of his utensils. "The royal kitchen has been waiting for this evening for years," he glances past Martin to Amy. "But the ingredients, at least, are fresh." He has his logistics contacts still, so he should know.
Miriam watches the parade as well, smiling more both at the show and as they are served. The servers are thanked as their plates are set down, then she laughs at Merrisol's comment. "We didn't mean t'stress them out for so long." she says, then thinks before asking "Are we supposed t'wait for something, before eating? I don't want t'take a bite and then find out there was something first. A prayer or blessing? Is everyone else going t'wait until I start?" Because Martin might be the local royalty, but she's the woman.
Nearby, Merrisol has been pretty much like this since the wedding ceremony ended, having admitted in the guest suite that night to not having been strictly mindful of all parts of the sacrament. He was not quite certain he heard the vows at all. Perhaps that is why he's been fully there and aware at the reception these past few days. The penance of one tormented by guilt?
Amy simply waits, watching Miriam. "I think you get to start us all off, if you want my opinion. But I could be wrong," she says, with a bit of a shrug. "Me, I'm okay either way." A dragon - saying she can wait on food? She must have been snacking.
Nearby, Maggie's hand lingers against his until he disengages. She has been watching him more than anything or anyone else. There is a cataloguing sort of quality to her attention. She has been worried about him since that confession in the guest room, though she filled him in on the missed parts. She mentioned his unusual attitudes, though dismissed them in the next breath as Merrisol feeling more empathetic toward Martin. Still, Maggie is trying to pay more attention than is usual for her.
Once all of the tables have been served, another tinkling bell sounds. The tortoises bow their great heads to the tables and swim back toward the kitchens as the wait staff serves beverages in their sippers. There are wines and wine-coolers to choose from, though not champaigne just yet.
Traditionally, it's the monarch who takes the first swallow. But only after a portion is removed and tasted by the head chef himself. That said however, while the wedding ceremony adhered closely to tradition, Martin wouldn't be where he is today if he didn't buck the Old Ways and do what Martys do to earn the faith of the people, not just once, but again and again. He waves the royal guard with the Clamshell of Tasting away, and invites his bride to offer him a bite from hers while he reciprocates in tandem.
Martin is certainly one of a kind. Miriam is just fine with that. She trusts him and the others entirely to intercept any trouble. They taste one another's, and it's adorable.
Merrisol listens with intense approval for the risks accepted in the name of ruling like a boss. He watches the first shared bites with a quiet smile, settling back again and looking the other way for a moment, at his own bride, sharing that pleasure with her, and no doubt, basking in her own.
Maggie leans forward as Miriam asks about who starts. She does not offer an opinion, however, for traditions differ. Her gaze slips to Martin when he makes his decision and he wins a cousinly grin of approval and affection. She leans back slightly, watching the Chief Chef smile as he takes away the Clamshell of Tasting. It is a warm sort of smile rather than a sinister one. Besides, the alarm would be raised if there was harm in it. Leaning back again after the shared tastes have been accomplished, Maggie looks up to meet Merrisol's gaze. Her smile is warm and quiet, though dimples hidden most of the time peek out. Even though their food is in front of them, she takes Merrisol's hand in hers for a brief squeeze.
There's quite a bit of silence at first, then the collective hum of murmurs between the tables bearing witness. And there can be no question this act will retold through the palace and so forth through the capital, though not all will fully appreciate its significance.
Marchioness Galimau Ygrayne, to the surprise of many, leads the charge in calmly sitting forward to eat the delicious savory pie. Perhaps there is some truth in the rumours she's losing her precious eyesight. Either way, the room's humming transforms into yumming as everyone else gets with the altered programme and digs in.
Miriam watches the reactions to their break with tradition, and seems pleased. Andsnow that they've gotten it all started, Miriam digs in. Yes, she's definitely hungry. "This is *so* good." she says. "Th'kitchen staff's outdoing themselves. We'll have t'do more dancing after this, if it's all this good."
Amy waits until it's safe, amused at how cute Martin and Miriam are. She then tries to figure out her own meal, content to not mimic them, tempting as it is. Though she does give Viktor a look that might melt ice.
Viktor grins broadly at the happy couple, then at his wife. He also watches others, to figure out how to eat it.
Culinary cantrips were definitely involved in creating a crispy seaweed crust and a warm and melty filling that could be broken and scooped by the abalone spoons without creating a filthy cloud of crumbs and gravy in the water. In spite of all measures taken to be Of The People, aristocracy still has it good or better in many key respects.
Dolphin floats near Ruby, crooning:
o/` Ambergris, Ambergris
Every morning ya make me
Bleary-eyed, sleep denied
Won't be happy to wake me o/`
Ruby tries to steer herself through the strange environment in half-walk, half-crawling movements from one area to the next. Haggard without the bags under her eyes, a drink forgotten in her hand. She's learned what ambergris is by this point. Helpful morfilod relative of someone having had a chat with her.
Karl was probably very informative on the subject of whale vomit and just how precious a substance it is. Perfume just would not be the same without it.
The latest fun on the dance floor is a bit of line-dancing, Rebma style. Step to the left, wave your left arm up, then undulate-undulate-undulate hop! Now step to the left, wave your right arm up, etc etc etc hop! Merrisol lashes out of the gathering to pull Ruby into it, or at least into conversation range. "Where've you been?" he wonders while stepping and waving.
Dancing with the first eager young lord turned into another with someone else and then another but when Lord Lymon hove into view, Maggie bowed out of the dancing and ducked down to the floor. The line dancing is fun and exuberant, but she needs a break and a drink. Lymon joins the line dancing without even a glance at Maggie so perhaps his attention has shifted to someone else.
Ruby is drawn towards the unified phalanx of ritual dance. She's yet to rid herself of the amount of bling through nimble fingers or fins, but she's gained a little something.. Around her ankle she's somehow managed to acquire a plastic hoop that's biting into her flesh, with five other empty hoops in tight orderly sequence around it. "Aye...Been 'ob-nobbin. I don't know as mooch aboot Rebma as I thought." Ruby zombie-shuffles in time, her six-pack ring fluttering with each step. "Why doo Rebma 'ave so many dolpins...They can't doo nuthin but talk an talk...an talk...They can't make nuthin, or 'old things..." She blinks. "You look loike you enjoyin yerself!"
And there's still one beercan in a plastic hoop. Lucky!
Maggie comes to a floating stop near the others, "So... Anyone want to dance?" Yes, these are her female friends and relatives, but she does not seem bothered by the idea.
Merrisol angles his gaze low when Ruby joins the line and her legs are visible. He doesn't miss a beat, hooking his left hand behind his head to do the torso-ripples. Spin! Then he peers down some more at the unusual ankle bracelets with their unspent can, wavering between saying something about it and just leaving it be. Not familiar enough with beer cans to know that if the thing were to burst now, there could be some serious injuries from Ruby's jet-powered kicks. "Of course. I wasn't at my best the day of, but the concussion faded quickly enough after. I intend to celebrate, before getting back to work." He looks around at the next hop-spin, spotting various Dolphins about the room, so deliberately homogenous that it would be tricky to figure out if it's just one pestering Ruby or all of them taking turns. "They are the Crown's fastest messengers and... well, they do a lot for Rebma... well, for Martin," he admits.
Wow, there are a lot of people to greet and from whom to accept well-wishes. A whole kingdom, feels like. Might even be. The newlyweds have been escorted around some the last few hours so that they could be seen and cheered in the city. It's tough, being so popular. Now though, their return is announced so that dinner can be served.
Ruby turns her eyes on Merrisol, her brow arching at his skills on the dance floor. "Roight...all work can be just awful." She celebrates the Warden's rotation by finishing off the drink in her hand. The squeeze of pressure must have reminded her it's there. Cheeks pulling inward as she gets the last drops from the drink container. "I should 'ope you recovered quick. You been through worse. Still..." Instead of gyrating, she thrusts her arm upward, alternating with the other to balance things out. Lazy dancing. Ruby waves to Maggie and offers a warmer grin. "You two should be courtin-in-time, shouldn't ya? Loike feeesh."
Maggie turns as a cousin on her father's side of the family taps her on the shoulder. With a nod and a grin, she takes his arm and the two bound up to join the line dancing. It is a near thing, for in trying to guage where the dance is in it's progression, she spots Merrisol doing a set of torso-ripples. Her partner, laughingly pokes her in the ribs. Maggie blinks and, blushing, joins the line dance on the side-step, kick kick portion. The spin whirls her hair and cape out, then back in again. As feet are harder to spot, she misses Ruby's ankle adornment entirely. Her partner, brown of hair and laughing of eyes, shuffle shuffles to the rhythm and tries the torso ripple as it comes around again. Maggie arches her head back a bit to give the torso ripples a bit more focus.
Merrisol smiles a little over Ruby's encouraging words. Could almost be called supportive. Following the trajectory of her grin, he sees Maggie and the smile grows. At which point, he misses a step and now he and Ruby are just two misfits in a crowd of undulating chests. "We have been, but the wedding party has duties to circulate as well, make sure everyone's engaged. Involved and having fun," he defines, before Ruby accuses him of match-making. He synchs himself to the movements again, but continues talking. "I do have questions for Sir Aversin still, but looks like the Order recalled them and closed ranks," he frowns. His gaze moves again, seeking Maggie, just as the music is interrupted by the clarions announcing the newlyweds' return, which is greeted by renewed cheers and applause.
The serving staff, of course, bursts into a flurry of activity to make sure the last minute preparations are done. Everything that had to wait until they were getting ready to serve. Martin and Miriam aren't hurrying, since now there are more who have arrived and need to be greeted. Miriam leans towards him at one point with a smile, and whispers "Too late to elope, right?" She's obviously kidding. Really, she's been handling it all very well, though she's also looking like sitting and eating would be a very good thing.
"All'n good time, aye?" Ruby raises thumb and rubs it along her bottom lip. "Was a strange ceremony. Was two equals. Course...I guess same went for your union. Still, tha sort 'o uncertainty always makes me anxious. Loike two Cap'ns on one ship." Ruby pretends a shiver and shudder at the thought. "Dunno...I'd stay away from religious sorts unless you tha opal 'o their eye. Get between a bloody god an their flocks an you start loosin limbs." Ruby, like others, turns to watch Martin and Miriam. The increased activity heralding more celebratory moments.
The musicians paused just after the clarion sounded. In brilliant Rebman fashion, they incorporated the sound into a rush of a crescendo of melody that splashed notes hither and thither before sliding slowly out of the line dance's familiar tunes to a softer, more orderly decent toward dinner music.
Amy comes floating by, having been dancing somewhere quite gleefully. Though with the idea of dinner the Queen of Kitezh can easily be lured away from such strenuous dancing as she finds fun. She waves as she spies folks she knows, and makes her way over there, settling down by them with a cheery "Hullo. Great party so far."
Maggie is not facing the entry and does not see Miriam and Martin returning. She is somewhat caught off guard by the clarion, the torso ripple she was doing mared by a jerking around to see what the trouble is. This almost smacks her partner in the face with her hair, but he nimbly ducks beneath the flow and rises. One hand reaches to touch Maggie's which has unconsciously drifted to her hip where her sword should be. Luckily it isn't there. His soft, "Jumpy, eh? Maybe you need a vacation," can almost be heard. She laughs, then shrugs, "Yeah, maybe. After recent adventures... Well, Kerf could probably use the rest as well." As they have been talking, the pair make it back to the floor. He bows and heads off to find his party. She turns to see what she should be doing next. Spotting Amy, Maggie waves, "It is, isn't it?" She does not move yet, however, as she is waiting for Merrisol and Ruby.
Miriam looks around for the most familiar of the faces, as she and Martin are escorted towards the dining area. Once she spots them, there is a wave and smile. Fortunately, those are also the people who will be seated nearby.
"Religion, mirrors, magic, and the Past are entertwined, and if these missions are going to succeed, the holy order has to stop keeping things from us." Merri says, then drops the subject and adds some Morfilod whale-calls, just fancy whistles really, to the general hubbub of approbation. As the gathering fades to various parts to allow dinner furniture to be whisked through the space, he waves to Maggie to let her know they're on their way over. But he stops to toe the metal canister attached to Ruby's ankle. "That sort of shadow material's not long for this world, at least. It's already breaking down, see? Where'd you find it?"
Tables are hurried into place by teams of seals working alongside Rebmans. The tables are floated in a-seal-back, steadied by those with functional hands. They are already set with place settings attached to the tables with magnets. Woven hangings of seaweed blanched of color until they gleam a fine, pure white have then been redyed with blue and silver swirls that outline a crescent moon and Martin's IceDeep insignia. Once in place, the seals swoosh out from beneath them, setting the hangings to fluttering a bit. Soon, there are tables aplenty set in comfortable conversational groupings. The High Table is set just before the dias with places in the center for Martin and Miriam with their entourage spread beside them.
Ruby makes a face. A 'hey watch it' expression before she realizes Merrisol is going for the can of CoralsLite and not trying to sweep her leg. She has been letting her guard down. She looks down to her ankle and jerks her thumb in the general direction of 'everything'. "There was this dolphin.." She hops in Maggie and Amy's direction, her thumb getting temporarily also trapped while trying to peel the resilient hoop from herself. "..Said it would 'elp, but I 'ad tah dance with it a lot first before it would be charged." The canister does look like it's degrading. A little taut. Ruby places it very carefully onto the ground and moves away. "You shouldn't make those sounds. You'll attract wrong kind 'o attention..."
Maggie spots Merrisol's wave, but then does not dare to move far due to the inbound army of floating tables. Even if they are guarded by Rebmans who guide them and thump the tops when they should stop, it is potentially dangerous. Until she remembers that in Rebma, everyone can fly. Kicking off from the floor, she soars up into the mid-reaches. Heading for the table near the dias, she summersaults in the water and lands one toe first, arms outstreatched like a Marvel Comic hero. But /she/ has a cape.
Amy returns Maggie's wave, glancing to see where her husband has gotten off to. Amy's husband, not Maggie's. Still, Amy settles lazily, watching as the dinner furniture comes in with some amusement. "It's good to be here and see everyone," Amy adds. "I missed you guys."
"Lately it hasn't been attracting the right sort, either. Lord Karl must have mentioned the wrangling troubles at his ranch.." But Ruby's already high-tailed it to food and safety. Merrisol studies the abandoned constructs of aluminum and plastic a moment longer, then he plucks it off the floor himself and hands it off to a Triton of the Palace Guard to remove. That done, he ducks past obstacles to pull up at the high table, spend a few seconds reconnecting with Maggie, and take his assigned seat.
Amy's husband has been drinking. Hey, usually he's limited to what's in Kitezh. He's also been making them a gift of creating a large amount of mead out of seawater. In containers, of course. It's good to be Viktor.
Miriam watches it all come together, holding Martin's hand. She smiles again at how efficient they all are. Once their table is ready, the pair is escorted and seated. She looks glad to be resting. Sort of.
Seconds later, in the outside corridor, there's a fsst-PAFF sound of minor combustion, and a Triton snarl of unpleasant surprise. Somebodys gonna get tail-smacked, later, for that.
Maggie already knows that one of her favorite points in the evening is that brief moment of reconnection with Merrisol. Taking her seat, Maggie waits for Amy and Marlene to join her there. Amy is given a warm smile, "We've missed you too. We'll need to see about bringing you along on a few jaunts." Her smiling eyes seek Victor, but return to her cousin for a moment. Then she leans toward Miriam, "You look wonderful. Are you having a good time?" The attempted distraction is ruined by that hissing noise and Triton snarl. This time, her hand does not go for a non-existant sword, nor does the try to push Miriam under the table to protect the Princess from some unknown assault. See? She's relaxed...
Arriving a bit late, but not overly so, Vialle and Random take their places at a table near the High Table. They both look refreshed though Random's smile is more rakish than before and Vialle's is warm and easy.
Amy settles into her seat, helped by a charming fellow who then takes his leave to go help the next pretty girl. "That sounds good to me, I'm almost always up for adventure." Well, when she's not overly pregnant at least. "Miriam, you do look absolutely stunning. Congratulations again." Mind you, Amy's gaze has located that errant husband of hers, and she's rather watching him now, a slightly softer expression on her face.
Miriam smiles brightly at Maggie. "Thank you! You do, too! All've you, really." she says. "And I am. It's a little too much for me at times, though. Sitting'n eating will help, I think. Are you all having a good time?" she asks of her friends and new family nearby.
Meanwhile, Viktor returns and finds his wife and the others. He smiles, then takes his seat next to Amy before capturing her hand and kissing it.
Martin occasionally looks smug. But hey, he had sex and is married.
It takes a little time, but finally everyone is settled in their seats. At least, enough of the right people that dinner can be served. Apparently, Miriam didn't realize she was so hungry, along with being a little tired by now. Mostly, she's been drinking because drinks kept appearing in her hand as if by magic. Eating much would have required more effort. She smiles to the others, and says "I'm sure this'll all be wonderful. Th'staff's been preparing for days."
The faint sound of a shimmering tinkle of bells decends from the minstral's gallery. This is the cue for the first course to be brought out. Sea tortoises swim out from the kitchens in a slow and stately parade. They carry huge trays on their backs. These, in turn are stacked with flat-toped crystaline dishes containing individual meat pies. The gravy is a warm, rich brown and the crust is kept crisp and flaky by encasing the entire thing in a sea-weed wrapping. As the tortoises reach their tables, servers dressed in the blue of Ice Deep and the Silvery White of Tir decend from above. Dishes and silverware are placed in front of each of the diners, beginning with Martin, Miriam and their table.
Amy settles into her seat, offering a smile to those who are there before her. She watches the pageantry of the meal serving with a slight smile. "How spectacular," is her murmured comment. "It seems they must have been preparing for weeks, if you ask me. Everything so far has been exquisitely prepared. I am very impressed."
Viktor looks perfectly comfortable with the pageantry as he settles in next to his wife. He nods his agreement with Amy, but isn't very talkative because otherwise his player's head might explode.
Maggie is seated next to Merrisol in some kind of flopped arrangement that mingles the bride's side with the groom's. Which, considering the married couple, is not that unusual, really. Her cape and hair are stirred by the eddies inspired by the tortoises and the servers, but they remain mostly tame. Leaning forward a bit, she watches the parade, then looks up as the servers descend. "That is impressive. I love the bells... I wonder what the instrument is..." But she of little musical ability leaves that in favor of receiving the pie in its delicate wrapping. "That looks good..."
Merrisol sits at Miriam's right, his back resting solidly into the smooth curves of his chair, with only bits of the ornate scrolls and shells peeking out on the sides. Despite maintaining stationary poise, he keeps his mind active, determinedly so. He's already spent some time scanning and identifying each of the lords and ladies, heads and heirs, who populate the long wavy tables additionally marked with the insignia of their House. Towards the back, some minor noble families share one table between them. He's not completely familiar with everyone, of course, and listens attentively whenever Martin offers a bit of trivia about any given individual. Other than that, he's usually engaged in murmurs to Maggie, on his other side, hands entwined in the bit of space between their armrests. When dinner is officially served, he reluctantly releases Maggie's hand to make proper use of his utensils. "The royal kitchen has been waiting for this evening for years," he glances past Martin to Amy. "But the ingredients, at least, are fresh." He has his logistics contacts still, so he should know.
Miriam watches the parade as well, smiling more both at the show and as they are served. The servers are thanked as their plates are set down, then she laughs at Merrisol's comment. "We didn't mean t'stress them out for so long." she says, then thinks before asking "Are we supposed t'wait for something, before eating? I don't want t'take a bite and then find out there was something first. A prayer or blessing? Is everyone else going t'wait until I start?" Because Martin might be the local royalty, but she's the woman.
Nearby, Merrisol has been pretty much like this since the wedding ceremony ended, having admitted in the guest suite that night to not having been strictly mindful of all parts of the sacrament. He was not quite certain he heard the vows at all. Perhaps that is why he's been fully there and aware at the reception these past few days. The penance of one tormented by guilt?
Amy simply waits, watching Miriam. "I think you get to start us all off, if you want my opinion. But I could be wrong," she says, with a bit of a shrug. "Me, I'm okay either way." A dragon - saying she can wait on food? She must have been snacking.
Nearby, Maggie's hand lingers against his until he disengages. She has been watching him more than anything or anyone else. There is a cataloguing sort of quality to her attention. She has been worried about him since that confession in the guest room, though she filled him in on the missed parts. She mentioned his unusual attitudes, though dismissed them in the next breath as Merrisol feeling more empathetic toward Martin. Still, Maggie is trying to pay more attention than is usual for her.
Once all of the tables have been served, another tinkling bell sounds. The tortoises bow their great heads to the tables and swim back toward the kitchens as the wait staff serves beverages in their sippers. There are wines and wine-coolers to choose from, though not champaigne just yet.
Traditionally, it's the monarch who takes the first swallow. But only after a portion is removed and tasted by the head chef himself. That said however, while the wedding ceremony adhered closely to tradition, Martin wouldn't be where he is today if he didn't buck the Old Ways and do what Martys do to earn the faith of the people, not just once, but again and again. He waves the royal guard with the Clamshell of Tasting away, and invites his bride to offer him a bite from hers while he reciprocates in tandem.
Martin is certainly one of a kind. Miriam is just fine with that. She trusts him and the others entirely to intercept any trouble. They taste one another's, and it's adorable.
Merrisol listens with intense approval for the risks accepted in the name of ruling like a boss. He watches the first shared bites with a quiet smile, settling back again and looking the other way for a moment, at his own bride, sharing that pleasure with her, and no doubt, basking in her own.
Maggie leans forward as Miriam asks about who starts. She does not offer an opinion, however, for traditions differ. Her gaze slips to Martin when he makes his decision and he wins a cousinly grin of approval and affection. She leans back slightly, watching the Chief Chef smile as he takes away the Clamshell of Tasting. It is a warm sort of smile rather than a sinister one. Besides, the alarm would be raised if there was harm in it. Leaning back again after the shared tastes have been accomplished, Maggie looks up to meet Merrisol's gaze. Her smile is warm and quiet, though dimples hidden most of the time peek out. Even though their food is in front of them, she takes Merrisol's hand in hers for a brief squeeze.
There's quite a bit of silence at first, then the collective hum of murmurs between the tables bearing witness. And there can be no question this act will retold through the palace and so forth through the capital, though not all will fully appreciate its significance.
Marchioness Galimau Ygrayne, to the surprise of many, leads the charge in calmly sitting forward to eat the delicious savory pie. Perhaps there is some truth in the rumours she's losing her precious eyesight. Either way, the room's humming transforms into yumming as everyone else gets with the altered programme and digs in.
Miriam watches the reactions to their break with tradition, and seems pleased. Andsnow that they've gotten it all started, Miriam digs in. Yes, she's definitely hungry. "This is *so* good." she says. "Th'kitchen staff's outdoing themselves. We'll have t'do more dancing after this, if it's all this good."
Amy waits until it's safe, amused at how cute Martin and Miriam are. She then tries to figure out her own meal, content to not mimic them, tempting as it is. Though she does give Viktor a look that might melt ice.
Viktor grins broadly at the happy couple, then at his wife. He also watches others, to figure out how to eat it.
Culinary cantrips were definitely involved in creating a crispy seaweed crust and a warm and melty filling that could be broken and scooped by the abalone spoons without creating a filthy cloud of crumbs and gravy in the water. In spite of all measures taken to be Of The People, aristocracy still has it good or better in many key respects.
