Log:New Alderaan: Knights of the Spring

Alderaan celebrates its freedom and coming spring.

OOC Date: Feb 7, 2022
Location: Droalder Palace, New Alderaan
Participants: New Alderaan, Avlin Teraan NPC, Lars Syrush NPC, Kiko Alde NPC, Bors Thul, Ulani Kalgaav, Nora Frayus, Yari, Aubrei, Rune, Sorin Endesea, Ariel Teral, Aryn Cortess

The location of the Spring Ball is out on the grand veranda of the Droalder Palace. This location provides a wonderous view of the bay, at night, beneath the lunar light of two moons beneath a clear, starry sky.

On the patio, live music eclipses most sounds of nature to include the shoreline below, giving the cool (not cold) surroundings and views of distant yachts (with lights) on the water a soundless existence. Food and alcohol of the highest quality is available with staff roaming in green and gold tunics carrying trays for guests to select from and enjoy. Brazier flames lick quietly at the air, yielding to the occasional breeze carried in off the snowcapped mountains aligning the bay, which also rustled the long green and white banners of the Royal House. Aryn's sigil marked the most predominant banner at the head of the room, an image of old roots marrying new and old families beneath its canopy, the emblem of spring, as Aryn often called it.

With the party under way, dancing and singing begins at one end with a live band roaming the crowd in that proximity to make the music feel more a part of the crowd instead of blasting from one section (https://youtu.be/Lsv7KlVNP5Y)

As this is Rune's first official fancy party, and frankly his first party ever, the young Ysannan apparently misunderstood what it meant to bring 'formal wear'. As such, the Jedi stands out among the other party guests having decided that the right choice of clothing were his nicest robes. Granted, they're clean and presentable, his boots having seen the removal of all mud and debris, but he's still in what one could call 'his work clothes'.

Rune stands quietly to the side, arms laced over his chest, hazel eyes wondering at the grand scale of the affair. The music, the dancing, the food, the drinks, all of it is much more than he would have imagined and far greater than he was prepared for. It is with that measure of trepidation that he snatches a cup from one of the passing staff, the liquid lifted to his lips in an attempt to calm his rampaging nerves. Funny how one can face down the Sith and scores of those meant to do you harm only to find knees quaking at a pleasant and all together not deadly get together.

With Ulani on his arm, his butler droid MISSING, but at least having his Valet, Kuhlai, close at hand - Lord Thul has wended his way into the midst of the crowd to mingle, nod, smile and otherwise be present for such an occasion. Possibly also likely showing off Ulani. But the big grin is in place, his monocle is set before his right eye and his facade of devil-may-care predominantly out while he has left his sister and other relatives in the Thul Clump.

It's very stuffy in that clump.

Also Uypiia might be trying to find him now with a particular withering stare. Because she probably wants him to do things.

Possibly stuff.

But Bors is here to party, and possibly abscond with more than his fair share of horse doovers.

House Frayus, though not strictly known for being staunch allies of House Cortess, is represented amongst the various banners waving in the cool evening wind at this year's Spring Ball. The banner itself is significantly smaller than House Cortess', naturally mirroring the once-proud and still-ancient House's gradual erosion of power. It is a proud thing -- and, like anything else that House Frayus does, it depicts weaponry. Swords and knives in a cross, with old vines weaving through lavish metalwork and blooming into a flower at the pommel of the sword.

Count Corwen Frayus is not known for his wit and charisma, but even here, he and Countess Adni are having what appears to be a pleasant time. The older couple dance to live music, and Adni, Nora's mother, laughs along while her father Corwen twirls her about. Light on her feet, just like her daughter.

Ah, yes. Her daughter.

Lady Nora is sitting at a table with various members and friends of nobility. It is a calculated position, this table. Sons and daughters of Houses with less and more pull than their own. While for most this is a party, for a socialite, this is a business venture.

"You absolutely must tell me where you have had your hair done, darling. Surely it is not by your own hands," Nora is saying to a young daughter of an up-and-coming family hungry for power. Her hair is... well. Let's just say Lady Nora is quite tactful.

"I did do it myself, Lady Frayus! I'm so flattered you think it's pretty!" she says.

Nora smiles. Bit of incisor from behind her brandy snifter. "I had not the slightest idea," she says. The motion of the band and the sound of her mother and father laughing prompt Nora to glance in their direction. A soft smile touches her lips. She's always loved her mother's laughter.

"If you will excuse me. I should thinkkk I would care to try some of that delightful-smelling food," Nora says. A perfect bow of her head. An elegant rise to her feet.

Sorin was an early arrival - so much for the noble tradition of fashionably late - and can be seen mingling with those milling about near food and entertainment. The music surrounds him, literally in this case as the musicians have just shifted position and now regale a new quadrant of that grand patio.

Unusual for the man, a half-tunic cape in the colors of Endesea - that rich green trimmed with teal - is worn over the remainder of his crispy starched formalwear. He represents the ancient heritage of his lineage with more specific adherence to standards of court wear than perhaps any here have seen before.

Bors and Ulani are spotted not a handful of paces further and the Lordling of Endesea shares a broad smile. "My Lord and Lady, a pleasure again. I'm afraid I'm short on fried cakes this time, but in their stead I offer repeated congratulations on your betrothal."

The festivities just a few days prior were a joyous occasion if more casual and lax. But this? This is a true high-end affair. Ulani is dressed in her finest, a long red dress with silver and pale rose-hued accents and her hair in an impossibly complicated up-do of braids and twirls and big ringlets falling about to frame her face. No doubt compliments of Lady Thull herself. No way Ulani could work such magic herself. She moves about the crowds, arm hooked to Bors' as they greet and chat politely with the various upper crust. She's gotten better at these kinds of functions. And the rigorous training in between does wonders, as well.

As they part from the more recent encounter, Ulani's hand touches Bors' arm. "Do you suppose we can take a break from the banter a spell, my Lord--" Formal, official titles for this function all out "--for a bit of dancing. It's been several hours since our last." Though her request may be delayed, the red-headed woman is more than happy to urge a smile towards Sorin's approach. "Lord Endesea, you look absolutely dashing. I would expect nothing less, of course. And thank you very much for your well wishes. I will admit I had been a little apprehensive of our the news would be received by the Court." For obvious reasons.

While the tray-toting staff are floating about the veranda in green and gold, there is one figure with whom they periodically confer who does not quite match the attire. The elegant-in-simplicity of her gown - brown, with green/tan velvet brocade - comes close to the color scheme while still standing apart as not belonging to the royal household. She...is an independent contractor!

Emphasis on independent.

Shooing someone back to the kitchen because one of the peppered moof curds has slid too far off its bedje mushroom cap to be salvageable, Yari hounds after them on the fringes of the merriment, hands doing most of the talking to the server's back, with abbreviated little signs held low at waist level. It's as 'muttering under breath' as the girl could once achieve. Once the victim of her oversight has exited the premises, she circles back, fingers picking at a loose thread on the empire waist of her brocade. Might be, she's the one who made it loose in the first place. Her wide, preoccupied gaze stares through clusters and individuals alike en route to the primary spread of culinary delights, strewn over table amid greenery and decor.

"My Lord Endesea, bereft of gift or parcel we do give thanks that you would shower such praise again - kindness radiates from your very core and warms for the brightness that you would waste on a scoundreling knave as I." bowing his head, Bors's smile goes super-nova and the motion moves to indicate Ulani,

"Ere my dearest, my betrothed is the one who is most deserving - for mine own sister sweet would say; that the rapscallion of House Thul has been cast about by crimson net and maybe he shall be home more and dock-singing less." the lord leans forward, ever so slightly, in mock conspiracy while raising a hand to block sight of his mouth from Ula, and the Thul Clump, "Sad so, it shant; I am pressed ever by mine own soul to pursue the shanties and see how many times I may rotate even a commuter shuttle before I finally lose control." waggling his brows and the arm around Ula's giving her a squeeze.

"But, I am a prattling cad; Lord Sorin, thou hast faired well in the short time since last meet? Or hath thee been fund caught in tempest of foul fortune?" left brow raising, monocle'd right eye angled to look at Sorin a little closer.

Among the crowd, a few notable faces stand out:

Ser Lars Syrush, the heroic First Sword of Delaya, stands with his young charge, Lady Avlin Teraan, the last and only living heir of House Teraan. Ser Lars wears a formal set of armor, both sword and dirk upon his belt with gloved hands resting casually upon the ornate pommels of both. Sheepishly standing beside him, little eight-year-old Avlin is in a beautiful blue gown trimmed in silver with glittering earrings and a matching necklace fashioned with the sigil of Teraan. Her small hands fidget with the gloves she has pulled onto her arms, and she looks up to Lars often, unsure and a bit timid around the crowd. Her hair is done fashionable, with a ribbon holding up her dark strands, and she opted for no makeup, accentuating the Duchess-to-be's natural beauty, even in youth. Ser Lars is quick to reassure that she's safe, and even offers his hand for her to hold as they venture forward to find food. Her fur-lined cape lightly rustling with each step with the much larger Lord (Ser Lars is 6'4).

Coming down from the Royal section in a midnight blue dress is Lady Kiko of House Alde. Another hero from the battle of Bastion, and the recently announced Regent of Delaya. She wear glittering jewelry of electrum (white gold), with sapphire jewels and make up that bring out her honeyed skin tone. Dark eyes search the Lords and Ladies of the Ball as she steps easily with heels, giving off an air that she came out of the womb wearing them and knew just how to walk! Sassy!

Lady Nora moves through the dance floor with a confidence and familiarity of rhythm. In fact, as she walks, it appears as if she's doing so to the rhythm of the song itself. A sway of her hips, a soft twist of her wrist that lifts her decorated fingertips up and towards her father's tunic. Words are exchanged between Nora and her parents, and they seem cordial enough. Nora fixes that tunic and her mother fusses with her pink hair. There's a little frown on her mother's face, and one can almost see the disappointment on her face.

'But you have such pretty, blonde hair.' Words more easily read on her lips than heard in the air. Nora smiles and delicately brushes those fingers away from her hair. A kiss to her mother's cheek and then a kiss to her father's, and Lady Nora is off once again to make good on her promise. What was she getting? Oh, right.

A drink.

She swirls her brandy snifter with a lazy roll of her list and makes her way over towards where alcohol is being poured. She makes good on that promise of grabbing food by snagging a little hors d'oeuvres as she moves. A tiny, crispy thing that's a burst of savory cheese, sweet syrup, crunchy bread, and something delightfully tart.

On her way, she spies Ser Lars Syrush and the little gloved hands of Avlin Teraan.

Nora's heart melts a little.

Their search for food brings them conveniently close to Lady Frayus. Though a glance and a bow is given to Ser Syrush, it's the little one that has the bulk of Nora's attention. She stoops on her knees a touch to lower her gaze, a warm smile on those ruby red lips.

"Little Avlin Teraan. I must say, you might be the belle of this ball. I am simply obsessed with your ribbon. Would you be terribly offended if I wore something similar to the next?" Nora says, her tone soft, but not condescending.

Yari ends her retreat from the thick of things 'behind' one of the circular tables - the railing side with back to reflective backdrop of Droalder Bay's nocturnal splendor. It is not her debut performance here at Droalder Palace, but something's got her nerves frayed nevertheless. Thrice-cleansed shells are rearranged in their stacks - each stuffed with icindric caviar and a frilly, kelp garnish. Her calloused fingers - CLEAN but not dainty - make short work of the task, touching only the sharp edges of the oyster shell rims, less the expensive contents be tainted. There's probably a more hygeinic way - droids, gloves, droids in gloves - but that's not the Yari way, and does anyone reeeeally notice?

Thank the stars above that Sorin was not only educated between distant university walls, but had been surrounded by all manner of dialect and Basic off-shoot while growing up amidst the great Alderaanian diaspora; that flight from Imperial brutality had exposed the man, before the final settling and re-establishment, to much that was unfamiliar. Speech perhaps least of all.

That is to say, that with a keen ear, and some focus, he /understands Bors/. Perhaps not quite as perfectly as would a protocol droid, but close enough.

His own smile is maintained as he leans in to reciprocate Lord Thul's conspiratorial mien. "I dare say fared well. I've secured contract on one of those essential line items upon any noble script of assets. A yacht. Though it rotates perhaps a touch more slowly than a commuter shuttle." Endesea's rebirth, though slow, appears to be steady. It's pool of retainers is known to have taken on positive growth, and now... a big ship!

He does take a moment to sweep that hazel gaze about, as if in search of someone he'd thought was just behind him.

Lady Ariel Teral was late, but that is because she was traveling from Chandrila for this event. The woman arrives with her little cadre of new guards in tow and they are dressed to look their part in the ball. She herself is dressed in lavendars and creams, the skirts of the dress a bit like a frothy fantasy. She looks a little nervous, but something said by Herol makes her smile as she steps into the ball proper to see just how these things are going and see if there are any faces. She's staying to the outskirts for the moment and watching, her bright green eyes curious to see who has turned up.

The newly minted Dame of House Endesea is a little later than her liege lord. Aubrei of Endesea enters alone, looking out of place and a little anxious. Her emerald eyes dart from figure to figure as she steps just aside of the entryway, her dress of rose hues is off one shoulder in layers of chiffon and embroidered white flowers with their shimmering green leaves. Her hair, usually a chaos of blonde curls is bounded up and pinned in place with little deep mauve roses. Fingers work at the sides of her dress as she brushes downwards in the idle motion of one who is unsteady on her feet.

She side steps for Ariel a little more, giving room for her and her entourage to enter. "M'lady." She says in greeting, dipping into a curtsey that causes her to wobble for a moment or two before rising to a much more stable position.

Finally in her wake she begins to follow after the woman at an acceptable distance. Not part of this certain entrouage she tries to make sure she does not appear attached in that fashion. A few faces are familiar as she makes a quick study of the room, her gaze shifting back and forth in search of someone.

Blush that would normally be tempered by makeup surfaces on the fair face of Avlin when Lady Nora kneels before her to compliment her attire. The emphasis on the ribbon makes the girl's eyes water a bit, a surprise that it was noticed given the fight she had with the Countess Belleau-a-Reyn to include it in her ensemble. "Oh, my.. thank you, Lady Frayus. Your words.. just.." She fans her eyes and bit and blinks wide-eyed, fighting some tears. "Apologies. The ribbon was the last thing my Lady Mother gave me..I just had to wear it tonight."

Avlin offers Lady Nora her hand, departing from her tall guardian, Ser Lars, who eyes Nora respectfully, dipping his head. "My Lady," He offers in smooth tone, "The lunar light agrees with you, too. Not even darkness could contain your beauty."

"A gargantuan task," Ulani laughs lightheartedly at the idea of being the one to finally reign in the wild-natured Bors Thul. "One I am not sure I am qualified for. Though I do intend to try to quell his urges of spinning our commuter. I'm afraid my tender stomach cannot take it outside of an x-wing." Oh, but Sorin had to go and mention a new toy and Ulani tilts her head gently. "A yacht? Oh, that sounds very pleasant indeed!" She gives Bors a teasing glance. One that says 'don't even dare.' Their funding is already going into a great deal of other things.

"The wedding date has not been set yet. There's a great deal yet to be done with our separate and shared duties," she goes on to explain to Sorin. "Perhaps sometime after we've completed the construction of the Thul estate Gravenheim in the Aberrin Mountains, mm? Oh! What a wonderful house-warming event /that/ will be! Though it would be difficult to rival this view!"

Her cornflower blue eyes scan the crowd, noting Lars and Kiko, as well. And many other faces, too. "Oh, isn't that... mm..." Ulani struggles to remember the little girl's name for a moment. "Ah! Lady Avlin with Ser Lars? I have not seen her since that rainy day on Chandrila when her dog got away."

"Ahhh, a yacht. Much my time grown upon such so soon after birth and birthplace lost. Far to sluggish, lest it could be adjusted with proper speed I would die of old age simply raising to orbit for the wait." polite, yet the distaste for one of those big craft, lacking in speed.

Following Sorin's gaze, curious and trying to spy what is being sought - though the little Lady Avlin being spoken to by Nora garners momentary look, then Ariel's arrival - welcomed with a polite nod if she looks his way. No other familiar faces yet, most others lost in the mix or having never been seen for one reason or another.

"I don't suppose you fly, Lord Sorin? Aldera Squad is looking for able bodied pilots yet?"

Thankfully, after three good stiff swallows of liquor and time for the alcohol to have the desired effect, the feeling of being completely out of his element fades a hair. Though Rune's not certain if any amount of libation would really ease the tension, especially when he looks at his wear in comparison to the rest... he rather resembles a nerf standing among a flock of show birds, the chocolate and blacks of his robes lending a measure of credibility to that analogy.

During his dared glances into the mass of gowns, suits, ornamentation and the like, few faces are spotted as familiar. It's to those faces that warm, hesitant smiles are given before Rune finds his eyes reflexively darting down to examine an imperfection on his robe while his self-hug cinches a mite tighter. A few more minutes of practicing his best wall-flower impression and the Jedi turns to stride farther out onto the patio, finding a quiet spot where he can casually watch the silence of the bay, drink rested on the railing beside him.

Lady Nora's smile doesn't fade when the little one's eyes begin to mist up with tears. She does reach up, however, to delicately brush away any tears that threaten to well up and spill over before they have the chance to do so. "You need not apologize for anything. Not to me," Nora says, and her warm palm lightly cups that child's cheek before dropping away to take that small, gloved hand. She leads little Avlin a few steps away from Ser Lars, who is given a soft dip of Lady Nora's head and a lift of the skirt of her Hapan silk dress.

"The edge of Frayus steel glints most beautifully beneath moonlight, Ser Lars," Nora says with a soft lilt to her words. "If the songs of my childhood are to be believed, that is. You look quite dashing yourself," Nora says. Still grasping Avlin's hand, Nora leans forward to give an oh-so-delicate knock of her fingertips against Ser Lars' armor. "Very sturdy, Ser Lars. Though I -suspect- you will not be dancing with the young Miss tonight. Unless you are more nimble than I give you credit before. Believe it or not, 'twould not be the first time," Nora says. And then she turns to look back at Avlin again. Those knees stoop again and Nora lowers herself to the young girl's level.

"Would you care to dance, mmmh? Or shall we introduce you to some others? I know a few who would love to see your beautiful ribbon," she says.

Sorin catches that look, the one Bors receives from Ulani at the very thought of a large spacegoing addition to the Thul hangar and grins. It was perhaps to Endesea's favor that its hangar, the house flotilla still central to Chandrila, was not yet large. In number, at least. "It shall be pleasant, I hope. And functional, at least to enough of a degree to warrant its continued ownership."

Ulani's noting of young Lady Avlin has Sorin's attention swinging in that direction, and that allows him to spot Aubrei as she makes her way further across the patio. He attempts to make eye contact, though is uncertain for the moment whether he is successful. Bors question draws his attention back around. That smile returns. "I daresay this one would reach attack speed, if it were flown off a cliff. That is a place to start. As to Aldera Squad, a much needed development but I am afraid I am not quite that degree of accomplished. Not as of yet at least."

Aubrei receives another side-long glance, and a briefly raised hand in telegraphing of his location. Again, should she see it.

Ariel gives a look to Aubrei and there is a smile, "Dame Aubrei." she dips her head to her. She recognized the woman from the past. "I apologize if I fall in front of you, I keep stepping on the inside of this skirt." she whispers to the woman with a soft chuckle. Don't tell the others! "I hope that you enjoy yourself this evening." she tells her.

Then her eyes are trailing around the room, noting the faces that she knows and some that she remembers from the battles of Bastion. She gives a smile to Sorin and the others that he is standing with, but her eyes spot another semi-familiar face and she starts to head towards where Rune is standing. Ruh-roh!

Aubrei is lifting onto her toes to try to get a better look. Extravagance and beauty have amazing qualities but one of those qualities is distracting. She can not seem to focus on any one thing until Ariel speaks to her. In that moment she pauses, "Lady Ariel," she recalls quickly, nearly stumbling over the name as she lowers into a curtsey again and then moves forward. "If you would like I can aid you in traversing the patio safely. Where is it that you are going? I am sure I will enjoy myself but...I am not sure I am quite up to snuff in regards to the fashion."

She lingers a moment but pauses as she notes the motion out of the corner of her eye. Sorin. Her chin dips in his direction but given that she had offered her aid she waits to see if Ariel needs anything of her.

Platters of the Icindric Caviar are tidied up (concentric rings lain upon the crushed ice restored), and Yari takes time to flit as unobtrusively as a tall woman with fiery hair and heterochromatic eyes can among the few bodies hovering around the food, checking on the status of other dishes there. The bottoms of guilded warming trays are groped, bare-handed, to test the heat.

Less than a minute later, Yari's completed her revolution around the culinary corner and swings back into the general populace. The gal is once again on the tail of a server, but this time...

"Thanks," as a delicately stemmed flute is plucked from the tray, contents quaffed like cheap ale, and deposited back empty. Another is picked up before the server can make their escape beyond her long-armed reach, and Yari exhales a thin sigh through nostrils, all the way to her own little empty pocket of quiet, a stone's toss along rail from Rune. Breathing room, in the company of one who appears as though he, too, does not quite 'belong'.

"My Lords.. My Ladies.." Comes the projected, posh tone of Aryn Cortess who has taken a spot at the head of the room to address the crowd. Aryn gives the crowd a minute to quiet as lights adjust and braziers dim a bit, giving emphasis to the short blonde wearing a white-green dress. Aryn glitters with jewelry, and she even wears makeup, but it does little to conceal the dark mark over one eye, a scar from her service to the Resistance. Intrigue!

Her blue eyes attentively search the crowd gathered, spotting faces out despite being hidden among the hundreds of others. Rune with his drink, and fine robes, looking quite the Jedi in one section. There was Lord Bors, and the soon-to-be-Lady Ulani Thul. Ser Sorin, and the newest Dame of House Endeasea, Dame Aubrei. The Lady Senator Teral and her entourage did not escape Aryn's gaze, nor did Yari and her staff.

There was Lady Kiko, and Ser Lars, too, Lady Nora with Lady Avlin. And there was her Lord Father, Jace, and her Lady Mother, Marian. Aryn smiles easily, "Tonight marks the beginning of Spring. My father says seasons are an apt reminder that the mind goes through phases, each is a reflection of self once we have attuned to them, and each brings with it a new resolution and focus for the time that follows. Spring, for us, marks a new beginning. We look to the glittering skies here tonight and see stars we have not seen for three decades. The stars of /home/. Hope has reignited among our people, and they see this world a beacon for new beginnings."

"I invite you to join me in our tradition of celebrating Alderaanian freedom. It is our freedom that has defined our history for generations. The blood that runs through your veins is the same our ancestors possessed when they defended Aldera from those who meant us harm. It is the same blood the defended our people from our most recent challenge, that invaded /our/ home and threatened our freedom once again. Our enemies did not achieve victory twenty-thousand years ago. They did not achieve victory when they took the very soil our ancestors bled on and defended with their lives to the very end. They did not achieve victory here, in Bastion, either."

"Turn your eyes to the night sky and recall you the memories of Alderaan. How one spark of courage could ignite the fires of hope."

The lights dim, and the music takes on a somber note as people begin to shift toward and look to the sky. There is ample room along the railing of the veranda, space enough for all to rest their hands there and watch, waiting, staring into the darkness for any sign for that spark of hope..

Ser Lars smiles at Nora's play on words and nods. "Be gentle with the Little Lady. I am too sturdy to dance, just so, Lady Avlin is used to twirling me around." THONK.. Avlin hit his thigh plate and giggled. "Ser Lars.. you are so funny. I will be gentle with Lady Nora." When the speech began though, Avlin stood by Nora and held her hand with both of hers. Darkness enveloped them for the time being and she pulled Nora to the side where the railing was to look out over the bay. "What is it you think we will see, my Lady?" Avlin asks, youthful exuberance apparent in her tone and voice.

"As was I when I first joined a squadron," Ulani offers towards Sorin encouragingly. "If you so desire, you could join the ranks and learn amongst some of the best New Alderaan has to offer, I assure you. If I can be taught, anyone can be. Please give it consideration. I know you'd be as capable and fierce a pilot as you are a swordsman on the field."

Aryn's voice works wonders to break into the various conversations scattered all about the patio. And to her behest, Ulani draws her eyes up skywards, her arm tightening just a bit more about Bors' and resting her head upon his shoulder. Nothing else is said as of yet, to not interrupt the proceedings.

That thonk of Avlin's fist against Ser Lars' armored thigh pulls Nora's lips up into a gentle smile. She's always been fond of children, and her heart has broken for this little one so many times. "We shall be gentle with one another, Little Lady. Well-known I might be for my stunning and bold choreography, I shall do my best to contain myself this night," Nora says, laughing as well. But then, the crowd begins to hush. Aryn delivers her speech, and Lady Nora watches with a fond smile on her lips.

Count Corwen's attention fixes upwards as well, though his is a touch more fleeting. When his attention wanes and he attempts to speak over the speech, Nora's mother is there to gently correct with a soft smack of her knuckles against his chest. Corwen grumbles, but complies.

The lights dim low and the crowd is bid to lift their attention towards the skies.

Nora's arm delicately drifts over Avlin's shoulder and pulls her a touch closer in a tender hug at her side. Her head tips up, eyes on the inky black sky above. That soft smile hasn't left her face since the Princess had delivered her speech. Lady Nora was born on Delaya -- she'd never known Alderaan, not as it once was. She has only ever known it as... this. Shattered, but persevering. Rebuilding.

Her attention turns briefly towards where her mother and father are now standing, eyes up towards the sky. Corwen, for his part, looks moved, and Countess Adni is fondly brushing fingertips along his arm.

Lady Nora turns her chin back up skyward again and hugs Avlin a touch tighter.

"Something wonderful, I should think."

Ariel missed the offer of help, but her fried brain registers it a few seconds later, "Oh no, all is alright. You go enjoy yourself." she smiles to the Dame. She then heads towards where Rune was standing again. Though when she gets there Aryn starts to speak so she turns her attention to listen to the Princess. Though the lights dimming causes her a momentary concern, once that is alleviated when Herol reaches out to touch her elbow softly.

While she was an Alderaanian she was still catching up on practices!

The heavy bootsteps of General Cara Dune mark her arrival among the group as the dark-haired, fiery eyed warrior bearing the sigil phoenix of Old Alderaan under her eye comes into view. Watery eyes are thankfully hidden by the veil of darkness as her steps take her to the edge of the veranda to rest one hand upon the railing while the other unhooks a small item from her belt.

Click-CLICK.

She fires it after orienting the barrel toward the bay area, and a sudden orange and red flare light emerges from the Veranda and sails out over the blue see of the Droalder bay, drifting high into the night sky; a lone light.

Suddenly, from other locations along the bay, and the city of Bastion, other flares begin to rise up. Drifting high into the night sky. The flares had been the mark of victorious battle for generations. It indicated the Alderaan endured, and tonight the message was the same.

Alderaan Endures.

(https://youtu.be/SAkcolVxDy0?t=286)

Aubrei gives Ariel a nod of her head, "As you wish, my lady." The Dame dips into another curtsey and finds she still can't quite make it fluid enough to warrant a reward for execution of the move. Instead she starts towards the group of three but is stalled as the Princess speaks. Standing alone in the middle of nothing and nowhere during such an important moment makes her anxiousness grow. A drawn breath sounds as she hurries herself closer towards the island in the group that is Sorin, her smile growing some as she nears though her steps are rather soft, softer in the slippered feet she currently has.

Finally making Sorin's side she lifts her hand in quiet greeting to Bors and Ulani but then turns her eyes upwards when the others do.

As the flare is fired like some sort of beacon in the dark, Aubrei can not help but note the genuine feeling in the air. She glances to Sorin, then Buls, finally to the Princess before her attention shifts to Ulani. She clears her throat and watches the lights fade and fall, marking not just the light but the expressions of those around her - the weight of the moment.

Silenced, for a wonder, by the speech by the Princess. Bors's head inclines to one side when Ulani's touches his shoulder - resting his cheek juuuuust slightly against the stylings his sister has wrought in the lady's hair. His free hand coming to rest on the hand looped in his arm while he stares up at the stars, brows knit and the irrepressible grin that has marked out laugh lines at his eyes and corners of his mouth cuts them deeper. Etched as in sandy marble marred by the small blaster scar at his right temple.

Uypiia and her husband Vanko bracketing Bors and Ulani on one side - their parents; careworn Vix and regal Bayii on the other. The rest of the Thuls drifted to their own clusters while one whole branch of the family stands in unison beneath the stars.

It's a wonder though, that Lord Thul's everrunning gob is quiet, but the motion of the Princess has him immediately moving his one 'free' arm, hand away from Ulani's and searching frantically in his tunic before the grip of such a pistol is put into his periphery by Kuhlai D'Mahn, who puts it into Bors's fingers so that the warrior champion of House Thul can lift his, bowing his head politely to Aubrei before his own flare joins Her Royal Highness's in solidarity.

Alderaan Endures.

Rune had very little time to contemplate the silence of the waters and the view beyond before the Princess was speaking with all faces attuned to her. His drink is once again scooped up, this time lifted, with a small smile, to the tall redhead that claimed a portion of the rail not too far away. A nod of greeting accompanied the gesture before a nervous grin found Ariel as she made her way toward his refuge. Before being able to speak to either, Aryn began her speech the messy haired Padawan shifted his weight to recline against the railing, finally at ease away from the trappings of fanciness that he will more than likely never understand.

His ease is short lived however for when the Princess finished, she directed the crowd to look out at the sky beyond. Soon enough, the bubble of comfort he had found himself popped as the crowd gathered along the side of the patio. What came next was worth the attention when the General made her way among the others and lifted a barrel to the sky. The lone light that erupted into the beyond, lighting the faces of the hundreds of watchers, slowly joined and made brighter by the streams of flares that joined it. It was a solemn moment, one Rune understood well, even if he didn't understand the context for what had come before. The battle, sure... but what was Alderaan of the past was only a story to the young man.

Yari looks up, along with all the other faces, to stare with masked expression at the foreign stars blanketing the sky. It is an emotional, happy day for Alderaanians. For New Alderaanians. As such, she's thrown herself into a frenzy in the kitchen to ensure that guts are kept as smiley as faces. Yari can hope that 30+ years from now, her own people will be again thriving on a planet of their own...even if the stars will not be known to them. Their version of prosperity will take a different form, of course, born of differing and often contrary ideals, but...it will be theirs.

And if the news can be believed, the First Order will no longer steal their children. Burn their homes.

The rest of that second flute - is this sparkling mead?? - is downed with two hard gulps, then stem fidgeted 'round in fingers.

A deep breath in....out....the muscles of Yari's face twitch with signs of animation once more. Composure is an art. She's learning.

And then that flare fires. A noise - startling, but lacking the memory of such sounds from before, it isn't what catches Yari off guard. It's the burst of orange and red that sees the fragile glass slipping from her fingertips. The minute echoes of it, spotting gracefully in arcs across the bay are stared at with the same frozen look of momentary panic that first induced.

But the glass.

Yari's left toe nudges at the biggest of pieces, disappearing them through the rails and into some grassy tufts before her brain can catch up and suggest she do otherwise.

The last time Ulani had seen those beacons, it was during the battle of Bastion. It had been emotional then. Exhausted and relieved and distraught and injured. All coupled together in seeing the night sky light up in that defiant, resiliant light. And seeing it now brings it all back. Though she never knew the Alderaan of old, Ulani feels the energy from those around her welling up within her now. And as a newly-minted citizen of New Alderaan, there is no shortage of pride and happiness there now.

Her hand squeezes Bors' before it retreats to fire his own flare into the sky surrounded by the intermediate members of Thul. Ulani passes a look towards her future in-laws with a big, wide grin. Then to the pair of House Endesea. Finally, she is looking back up at the sky again, wiping the misty tears from her eyes.

The heavy bootsteps of Cara Dune draw Nora's attention for a moment, and she gently urges Little Avlin's attention in the woman's direction. Her embrace is a tender one, keeping the small one at her hip and side with that arm still looped over her shoulder. Fingers occasionally fuss with that hair, though she's careful not to fuss too much. Such care has been given to it, after all. When that flare is held aloft and cuts through the dark with its warm, orange glow, Nora's pupils dilate and her nostrils briefly flare. The motion of that flare through the sky draws her attention towards where her mother and father are now angling their own flares skyward. Bors ignites his shortly before her Father, and soon enough, an additional two are joining the Princess' in the dark.

It's Nora's turn to feel a slight sting in her eyes, but it is a fleeting thing. Her lips briefly thin and she turns her eyes down to the little one beside her. Wide with wonder and awe that only the innocence of youth can provide, Avlin's glassy eyes reflect the warm orange lights that illuminate the dark sky above.

Nora's own eyes briefly lid, before she turns her attention, once more, skyward.

"Alderaan endures," she says softly to the little thing beside her who has lost so much. A gentle squeeze is added to her embrace. "And so shall you, Little One," Nora says.

Avlin clutches Lady Nora a little tighter as well, but remains quiet for the moment.

The Princess draws all attention, Sorin included. As she speaks, memories of Bastion coalesce. They mix with earlier memories, of Alderaanians rescued. Sometimes at cost. Most recently, at cost of the death of the Lord of Endesea, Sorin's father. And yet there was much to celebrate, and those collected here were proof of just that.

Aubrei of Endesea's arrival draws a smile out of Sorin, the young woman having managed to navigate the crowded expanse of that patio wearing not armored boots, or more conventional thick-soled trekking shoes, but slippers. And a dress. Yet there isn't longer than that moment to more fully greet her before the lights dim.

That crack of a flare is a flash upon those below as orange hues play about the bay. The fall of comparative darkness has Sorin looking to Aubrei. A hint of concern plays about the man's face, though as she continues to look up but also about at those nearest, he allows his own gaze to climb skyward and remain there. A hand does meet her own, though, in a soft tap that becomes a simple point of contact. "Alderaan endures," he intones, voice quiet.

A signal - that tap and even as glances are exchanged with those nearest her, she is forced to quickly clear her throat and echo the sentiment - albeit a little late. "Alderaan endures." Its a hushed whisper but enough for those about her to hear. Her eyes trail again, following some unseen path while she shifts her weight back and forth upon her feet. Its a simple motion that has her turning slowly, taking in everyone that is watching. The weight in the room is felt with every breath which gathers into a brush of fingers at her throat and then up at her hair. The dimness makes the points of light all that brighter but all the while they begin to fade.

She tenses.

A breath is exhaled and she holds herself in place. Steady. Attempting to focus.

Ariel stands at the rail, not having invaded Rune's personal bubble given she didn't want to be rude to the Jedi. She turns to watch the bay and the bright orange and twinkling of flame. it's something that's profound in its simplicity. She gives a look to Herol in the dimness and he leans in to whisper something to the Senator before he whispers 'Alderaan endures.' along with the others in the room. Ariel gives a soft smile, whispering her own words as well to no one in particular.

The music begins to pick up a bit more as the flares transform into fireworks. Overhead, the cruiser Bail Organa passes by in slow grace, accompanied by her squadrons of fighters that go by in formation, marked by the blue lights under their ventral hulls with defiant red engine and nacelle glows. The flares heralded the arrival of allies; Alderaanian allies willing to fight. The leader of those forces holsters the flare gun on her side, shifting slightly to look toward the second flare that had followed. Lord Bors is given a solemn nod from Cara Dune, then she steps off in heavy bootfalls again to join the Royal section of the ball.

Sound dampeners begin to initiate to draw off the heavy concussive blasts of the shells that release the fireworks, and the cheers of the Alderaanian people who have gathered down by the port and in the city to watch the palace fireworks and celebrate their own independence.

Aryn's voice returns, "Alderaan endures," She says gently, again. "Princess Leia Organa tasked me with a purpose to unite the old with the new, to light a beacon so bright and full of hope that all our kinsmen can see it; she tasked me with bringing us /home./"

"My task is far from complete. Alderaanians still exist beyond the limits of our star system, suffering but persisting still. It is time for them to return to us, it is time for Alderaan to unite once again. It is time for Spring, our new beginning. Thus,"

"I will be commissioning a new Order of Alderaanian Knights dedicated to the defense of our system, and to serve this purpose until our task is complete. The Knighthood of the Spring will begin anointing Knights to serve Alderaan in all the ways she needs. They will be our sentinels looking to the horizon, guardians of our twilight, and steadfast as winter to join the fray. I am pleased to announce that the First Sword, Ser Lars Syrush has been inducted. I am also pleased to announce, the Dame Champion of House Alde, Lady Kiko has also elected to join. Please join me in celebrating the new Spring, and let us usher in a new age of united purpose and solidarity as we rid our realm of those who would darken our skies with evil by casting it back with our sparks of courage and good deed. -- The night is ours! Thank you all, and please thank Mistress Yari and her staff for the refreshments. Let us begin this party with some music, dance, and drink! Let us be merry!" Aryn claps her hands soundlessly as the braziers come back to life, light finds the party, and the musicians kick up some hearty tune to dance to.

That slow turn, as Aubrei's feet pedal her in that little circle, draws Sorin's attention right back into this more cloistered yet still darkness-tinged moment. There /was/ weight to the room, as unpleasant memories mix with pleasant hopefulness, but also weight right next to the man as the Aubrei, Dame of Endesea, begins to show some familiar signs.

"The light will return," he says, voice quiet, as the growth of that tension begins to radiate. His hand finds hers more fully, his fingers curling around her own. "Breathe."

As the flares transition into fireworks a bit more light is lent those below, as well as the splashes of color that dot the sky in blossoms and bursts. That hand is squeezed, though Sorin's attention is fixed, for the moment, upon the show that unfolds upon the sky.

As with any chant, those not outright saying the words typically feel compelled to mouth along and Rune mutters a quiet 'Alderaan endures.' in kind. Hazel eyes find the cruiser as it lazily drifts through the sky, the squadron given note as they follow the same path. He hadn't expected the fireworks that came next, a quick step back from the rail taken as the first of the shells burst into color.

Rune watches the display with enthusiasm, his lips curling upward in to a soft smile while he absentmindedly returns to the railing. Slowly but surely darkness returns as the last of the spectacle trails what remains of their light toward the ground. Princess Aryn speaks again, tales of a formation of a new Order, and her call for congratulations has him placing his glass on the rail to applaud for those who had joined.

Exhibit made, speech given, and the railing about the earth toned Jedi is left more or less as barren as it was before the crush of the party goers arrived. Still, his regard follows a few of the closest as they disappear and mix back among the socialites, trailing back to dancing, drinks, or the bounty of food prepared. And with a deep sigh Rune centers himself in gentle silence again. The Ysannan takes up his glass with a smile to those that remain, imbibing in the 'keep calm juice' once more.

A blink of surprise when General Dune recognizes him, returning the incline of head to a fellow member of those dwindling few who were born on the homeworld. Applauding gently for those inducted into the Knighthood. Bors's silence persists at the mention of Leia and a small kerchief is lifted to dab at his left eye before a gentle clearing of his throat.

Ulani is looked to and when Bors steps back it's to sweep her into steps timed to that melody washing across the crowd while he draws her into the dancing mass with as much awareness of his surroundings as when screaming through the stars behind the flight controls. Whirling her round to flare out the crimson dress. Palms against palms in a fashion that those of House Thul are all taking up. Clockwise when right cheek is proximity to left then widdershins when the position flips.

There's even a touch of the risque when Thul dancers move 'conspiratorially close' in their movements before pushing away and into the throng again. Never quite touching, besides the palms of hands.

The flares fade over the dark sky of New Alderaan, and Lady Frayus' attention is turning once more towards her father. His eyes have found her now, and an intense gaze has settled on the little one at Nora's side. Nora knows that expression, too. That tight jaw and that furrowed brow. It makes her clutch the young one a touch tighter. Count Corwen's hand slowly lowers that flaregun from the air and tucks it away, but his attention still remains on Lady Avlin, who hasn't yet noticed the weight of the gaze that's fallen onto her.

"You heard Her Grace," Nora says, and stoops her knees again to lower her gaze to Avlin's own. "And I believe you owe me a dance. Shall we?" she asks, but is already leading her away from Ser Lars and towards the floor where a small crowd has gathered and begun to dance.

Lady Avlin giggles softly as Nora spins her, her pretty blonde hair twirling as she goes.

"You're a natural, Lady Avlin," Nora says, and then motions down to her foot to signal for the young one to watch.

"With me, hmm? Step, two three," Nora says, and repeats, "Step two three."

Little Avlin steps as well, repeating after Nora.

"Step, two three. Step, two three," she says.

Count Corwen Frayus' eyes turn up from his drink and to his daughter across the dance floor. His lips pull into a soft frown just as Aldi moves up from behind him to whisper something into his ear. He rises to his feet, flares his cape, and moves to make his exit into the cool, night air.

"You've got it, My Lady. Step, two three!" Nora says, laughing as she gives Avlin another delicate twirl.

Lady Kiko arrives at the quiet Jedi's post to look over Rune with an amused expression on her face. A dainty hand is handed out toward him to take. "I recall your green blade joining Lord Iskender's during the campaign to save Bastion. It was you who prevented the Princess' colors from being soiled by the enemy." Kiko's accented tone is as posh as the other Alderaanians, but she's genuine in her address of Rune. "Would you honor me with a dance, sir?"

Ulani puts a hand to her heart and then claps for those new of the Knighthood. A better start could nary be found for the new order, to be sure, and as the braziers flare up and the music along with it, Ulani is once more wiping some tears from her eyes. "A wonderful--- oh!" Pulled away from the somber and celebratory, Ulani is swept up into the well-timed, sychronized dance. Together she and Bors move amongst and between the throng as naturally as they had walked through it earlier.

Feet move lightly, billowing dress and cape alike in a bloom as they step in unison; palm to palm and matching perfectly. The smile on Ulani's face grows wider by the second, lighting up her features as she maintains eye contact with the Lord Thul she moves along with; somehow sensing those around her without needing to glance to them. Collisions are avoided before they even become a threat and as they spin together, Ulani does pass a dip of her head in Yari's direction. Oh, she can smell that food from here but it will have to wait just a bit longer.

Leia - Yari saw her, once. One of the two oldest soldiers in the Klosslands. It's a memory that seems so very distant now. She had a kind face...

Wiping something wet off her cheek with an annoyed swipe, Yari stoops to a knee - about the time her name rings out - and bows her face toward the ground, hiding best she can in plain sight. Her fingers gingerly pick at the little shards - those she can see winking at her in the shifting light - and she focuses on this task while the merriment drifts away, toward dance floor.

When all is clear, a surreptitious glance fires off to those still occupying the railing. Like...did they see? She isn't always this clumsy, she sw--well, yes. Yes, she is. The flesh under her neckline, creeping up to neck, is flushing warm. Not so hot as to match her hair yet, but...close. At least here comes another Lady, to occupy Rune's attention. Cupping her handfuls of glassy slivers to belly, Yari bows lower and blows a forceful WHOOSH of air from her cheeks to send any dusty remains free and clear of where royal feets might hazard to step. She's seen how these people party...somebody's bound to lose a shoe before the night's over.

Figures move and suddenly the reassurance at her side is focused on, drawn out of her thoughts Aubrei turns her head to look up at Sorin, giving him a nod. Dancing. They are all dancing and already she is feeling the urge to run for a wall, fingers drawn from the Lord's hand as she shoots him a look. "I can not dance, let us remember this. I am certain Lady Teral would like a partner." Proximity warning! She is too close for possible escape.

She comes about, giving a look at the others now dancing and realizing her safest route is around them and wonders if it is truly safe. The Thul dance catches her attention and she stares. "Oh no...can not do that." Slippered feet are just as dangerous as heavy tread boots on her feet.

"Senator, we should probably make the rounds." Herol states to Ariel in a soft tone. Her head of security was probably just wanting to keep her moving.

Ariel gives a bit of a look to Herol before looking off in the direction of Rune and there's a soft sigh as she doesn't really get the chance to speak with him before there are duties that come rushing back after the dim reprieve. She gives a dip of her head to her security before she heads off to speak with others.

An eyebrow is lifted at Yari's stoop, his head canting barely to the side while he wonders at what she's doing. The curiosity, like his previous comfort, is short lived when Lady Liko arrives, her hand taken lightly with a bowed head in respect. "It was, my Lady. I am pleased to have been able to lend myself to the honorable cause." Rune admits with a crooked smile.

However, just as easily as conversation begins, her request sends a spike of trepidation down his spine. "I uh...." he begins to stammer, frantic eyes snapping to the crowd of party-goers that easily move along with a grace he's certain he doesn't possess. But one doesn't refuse a Lady, he's keen enough to know that about royalty and finery, and with a deep resounding swallow, he accepts. "If you do not mind perhaps dodging more than dancing, I would be delighted." Rune states with as much confidence as can be mustered.

Before they move away, a wide eyed 'What do I do!?' look is given to Ariel as they move by, a blush, bright red against the lights of the dance floor, illumines his nervousness in full display.

The patio transforms, almost immediately, as couples vie with what appear to be outright troupes for space upon the ad-hoc dance floor. Yet it was but a portion of the crowd, not the entirety of those assembled, and Sorin nods - in part for Aubrei's benefit, but as much for his own - towards a temporarily available parting of the seas, so to speak; a pathway to a quiet section of that patio where conversation remains in place.

Yari watches Rune get hauled off to make with the fancy footworks and a ghost of a smile touches her lips. Better him than her! With so many bodies pairing off to twirl about the veranda, the Kijimi cook must embark on a dance of her own to avoid getting underfoot.

The seemingly living thing that is music is heeded - the percussive rhythms and wail of strings - and Yari adopts a one-two-three-step of her own to navigate it, and those it moves, with uncharacteristic grace. By the mercy of some power mightier than she, the lanky lady makes it to her island of food, where the remains of her murdered glass can be shaken off hands into a waste bin discretely tucked under table.

Ariel catches the look from Rune and there's a bit of a look around her, wondering if he was indeed looking at her for the quiet help, 'Let her lead.' she mouths to the man. Then she's being directed by Herol on where to go.

Which sadly takes her towards her grandmother, "Ah, there she is." she gives a little clasp of her hands in front of her. The two men she's standing with give bows to the redhead, but she looks uninterested. "They would love a dance, Senator." Lady Pelia gives a smile to her grandchild.

"I have a headache. If you'll excuse me." she whispers to them as she heads for the exit with Herol leading the way. Thank the gods for Herol.

Truly the Thuls, as they've now clustered again in their cloistered way, make for a curiously dark spot among all the bright regalia of the rest of the Alderaanian houses. Silver-gray with midnight blue - but it may be because of her choice of red that Ulani has been put dead center of their unified steps. The central part of the houses symbol.

Bors himself being one who has difficulty with most tradition, having shifting to walking behind Ula with one hand on her shoulder and the other holding her other wrist aloft. Between spins and steps there's a periodic (AND OH NOT SO VERY PROPER) kiss down wrist to crook of the elbow and back up again.Irrepressible!

"Would Her Highness wish a dance from a humble servant such as myself?" Ser Lars issues, bowing slightly to the short blonde who has begun to kick off her heels (to hide them under the table) simultaneously making her much shorter! "I would be honored to take your arm, my Lord." Gentle steps bring Aryn close to Lars who leads her out to the floor to dance. Aryn cannot contain her laughter as the armored Knight manages to move and keep up with her. Aryn's dress flutters with her motion and she steps carefully to avoid being stepped on too. "Woooo-- hehehehehe! /Ser Lars/!"

"Fear not, my good friend," Kiko bids with a predator-like smile. "Dancing is much like fighting. Mind the footwork, and follow the motions of your partner. Mind your hands, and be a gentleman, and all will go well.-- Here we go.." And.. they're off to a slightly bad start, but Kiko recovers, leading them into the dancing and music, smiling. "Yes, like this..! Now mind your feet!" Kiko giggles, moving Rune's hands to where they should be /on/ her.

"Lady Nora, this is so much fun.. what is this dance called?" Little Lady Avlin asks, her dress swirling when she spins, stepping easily with the guided direction of her current guardian. Her little ribbon flutters behind her as small strands of black hair tickle her fair cheeks, falling out (much like Temira warned her it would!) "Oh, this is much faster, I am trying to keep up!! Hehehehe!" Avlin ends up falling against Nora to rely on her lead, but she laughs really hard!

"Minus the screaming and pain, of course. Though I think this endeavor may be a bit more like fighting than we are both bargaining for." Rune replies as they make their way to the dance floor, flitted looks right and left to those that twirl about. The Padawan tries to study as quickly as he can, attempting to memorize what move comes after which step, what turn happens where, before they're in place and the dance has begun.

There is a bit of stumbling to start, the blush flaring brighter when he feels like all eyes in the Palace are upon him. But soon they're maneuvering much like many of those around them, his embarrassment melting away into the motions and the dance, her guidance accepted with nods and smiles.

He might be too literal in her last request though, the Ysannan's head dropping to stare at his feet for a moment to completely mind their placement. With a chuckle and a light shrug, his attention returns to the Lady, letting go of his nervousness and simply existing in the moment.

Endesea is represented by acts of greeting, casual conversation, and well-wishing. Lord Sorin, Ser Sorin by preference, accompanied by Dame Aubrei, makes the rounds of those clustered around the edges of that expansive patio. At one point the Princess is neared, a bow offered Aryn alongside an easy, "A wonderful night, Your Highness. And a proper remembrance. You keep the light shining brightly."

But as all nights do, this one eventually ends, Lord and Dame departing as they had arrived. Back into the quiet struggle to raise a House, brick by brick, decision by decision. And sometimes, just occasionally, there were flares and fireworks.

Ooooh myyy. With the twirling and the dancing with the other members of Thul -- truly a darker ones in Court -- Ulani does stick out in her deep red dress with the silvery accents. Considering she spends a great deal of her waking hours dancing in some way, shape, or form it is oh-so easy for Ulani to forget where she is at the moment. Moving without thought, following Bors' lead effortlessly with a sea of silks and capes and dresses all against the darken sky.

So it isn't until Bors is about to the nook of her elbow that Ulani suddenly plummets back down into reality and realizes they are surrounded by people. Nobels and Knights and Dames. In the royal palace. Her cheeks flush almost as red as her dress and she laughs a nervous, "Bors. Your sister is going to have words for you if she saw that." A twirl on the ball of her foot, to spin at that point where his lips meet her hand, and she tries to guide him back into something slightly more proper for the occassion.

Lady Nora and Lady Avlin continue their little dance, though the young thing's attention does wander to those around her. She spies Bors and Ulani being a touch scandalous and quickly looks away towards where Lady Kiko makes herself and Rune look good on the dance floor. She giggles sweetly, and finally turns her attention towards where Aryn and Ser Lars have begun to dance as well. All smiles on that sweet face. Lady Nora can't quite help but feel a small pang in her heart as well.

"I am not certain I have ever seen a dance quite like this! You are an artist, my dear. I should think we will call this dance the Lady Avlin," she says. The young girl's giggles make Nora laugh as well, and she briefly turns to look up for her mother and father in the crowd. But Count Corwen is nowhere to be seen, and Countess Adni has left as well. Nora pays no real heed to it, however. Avlin's laughter's got the bulk of her attention now.

"Oh, your ribbon," Nora says, briefly pausing to tuck it back into place. A soft touch to the top of her head sees it tucked neatly away, and then it's Nora's turn to glance towards Bors and Ulani's direction.

"Oh my," Nora says with a laugh.

"What are they doing?" Avlin asks.

"Mmmmhh, what two who are to bed wed tend to do," Nora responds.

"It looks weird," Avlin says.

"It does look very word, yes," Nora agrees, physically incapable of not smiling.

• SHLORP*

With bodies occupied in physical activity, there's little activity in the food zone, and not much for Yari to do. The cakes and sorbets and sweets will soon be out from kitchen to replace the savory delectables still occupying table, and once that's finished...

Yari casts a long look to the sparkling bay. She and the off-the-beaten-path beach are long overdue a reunion. But until then...

• Munch*

A strip of roasted gornt is pulled off the bone by her teeth, fingers clutching either end like it might run from her. Dinner and a show. Her eyes keep fixed on the dancers for as long as her jaw keeps chewing. Which might be awhile. Girl can eat.

"There he is," Bids Kiko, grinning at Rune. Her arms rest on his shoulders, hands and fingers touching behind his head in a lazy manner of swaying now. Kiko is slightly shorter than Rune, so when she looks at him she has to look /up/ slightly. "It is not so difficult, now is it? We will make you a proper dancer yet! Now.. lead me through a slow spin-- take my hand, gentle like.." She offers her hand and looks back to Rune.

Glad for the reprieve from a possible dancing frackus, Aubrei is content to make the rounds with the rest of the Endesea group, watching the dancers more than her fair share of the time. She nearly bumps into SOrin's back a couple of times due to her distraction. Occasionally she copes movements in a bare facsimile of the real motions. Her head tilts and she hears the call out to the Princess from the Lord and Heir, bringing Aubrei about quickly as her hands are poised palms out. They drop instinctively to her side as she awaits her turn to give her thanks, offering the Princess a deep curtsey that has grown in stability now that she has executed it for the fifth time this evening.

Slight waves are sent to the Thul nobles and Ariel as well. Others are further away and she smiles at those she meets eyes with but like the rest of Endesea she takes slipping away, smoothing her rose adorned dress and humming the tune of the song still playing as they depart.

Nerves forgotten, there's nothing but a smile that lies plastered on his lips. "Not as hard as I would have thought." Rune replies, shifting away from her as he gently grasps her hand. He's not certain what he was afraid of, these motions do have an eas.... and then his overzealousness gets the better of him and he spins her very much like one might want to spin a top to keep it on pointe.

Thankfully for the pair of them Lady Kiko is able to recover gracefully and slow his manic attempt at dancing into a gentle spin. The blush springs readily to his face, the embarrassment apparently waiting just in the wings, and the Jedi mouths a small, 'Sorry...' to her with a light shrug.

"Nothing to apologize for, sir," Kiko says, fixing her hair that came loose from the velocity of the spin. She's a little woozy, but she meets back with Rune again, perhaps leaning on him a few moments to recover her senses and dance on, a bit more. "Now for the finale.. you have to ease me into a slow dip, then draw me back up. -- Hand on my back for support.. and here we go.. do not drop me!"

"She might, it's true - but that's for later and not for now." One last peck to the back of Ulani's hand before they are sweeping among the clannish family who are whirling around them. In honesty, Vakon and Uypiia - while quite picturesque - still have those risque near touches in their steps and spins. The entire House seeming to have a close melding between intimacy and conspiratorial airs.

Aubrei's wave is met with a sequential return of others while the knot of black, silver, deep blue and ruby red.

On approach, headed for Nora and Avlin - to absorb them into their grouping; because they must and when Bors keeps Ula moving through all of this orchestrated mayhem, Bors gives her a sparkle finger wave in passing.

Rune nods, fighting back some of the flush that shows his misstep to the masses. She has her time to recover, the dance slowing as it nears the end of the song. Those hazel orbs of his flash around quickly to perhaps garner a bit of the positioning for such a move and finds a few folk preparing to do just as she asks. But, in his desire to capture their stance perfectly, he combines some unwieldly measure of the two and bends her back awkwardly.

The Padawan doesn't drop her, but raises her up a bit quicker than he would have liked, his posture and stance not allowing the Lady to stay lowered gracefully for long. Back on her feet, she's met with a wide and crooked smile from the beaming Jedi, "That was delightful, my Lady. And quite a bit less screaming and hurt than I would have assumed I would cause at the start."

Oh no. Bors and Ulaani are closing in. Lady Avlin and Lady Frayus are giggling in their attempts to weave through the crowd to avoid their approach. "They're coming!" Avlin squeals, ducking her head under Nora's arms as the two continue their highly improvised dance routine. It's all in vain, of course, and soon enough Lord Thuul is sparkle waving his way past the giggling pair while Nora gives Little Avlin another twirl, hands above her head.

"And just where is your sister, Lord Thuul?" Nora asks cryptically, peeking about the place as if to pantomime a search. Avlin laughs and continues twirling on her own, her dark black hair and beautiful ribbon cutting through the cool night air as she goes.

Flustered. Yes, that's the word for it. Poor Ulani is flustered and has lost her step, lost the rhythm of the music. Thankfully, as ever, Bors is there to get her back onto the beat enough to salvage the dance that carries them over towards Nora and Avlin. "Hello," she offers in a bit of breathless delight. Both from dance and from other things that has a colour in her cheeks. "Lovely night, wouldn't you say, my Ladies?" Then she's off again, spinning back into the throng.

"Give yourself some credit, master Rune. In time, you will be leading /me/." Kiko stands up on the tips of her toes to press a gentle kiss to his red cheek, then falls back to her heels gracefully, managing an alluring smile as she slowly left his grasp and gradually looked away, hips swaying as she sashayed back toward the drinks!

With a hand lightly touching where her lips brushed his skin, Rune watches the Lady Kiko while she makes her way toward the drinks. After a light nudge from one of those still dancing, the Padawan remembers himself and makes an apology to the pair, moving as quickly as his boots can carry him from the floor.

Fading back into the crowd, as much as a Jedi can with their incognito fashion sense, Rune hangs to the sides once more. Watching and laughing, more at ease with the grand affair than when the night began. Bit by bit the evening winds down and, after finishing his abandoned drink, the young man clears his throat and makes for the exit, a nod and smile to those as he disappears for the night.