Cedar looked down at the woman rather incredulously. While it was true he WAS, IN FACT, looking to one day (perhaps, fate willing) find a nice woman, and hopefully have some children of his own to roll around on the floor rough-housing with, and to show all the wonders of nature to, this woman was clearly old enough to be his father's mother. (and from his perspective, that was old indeed.) Worse, she had a kind of.. Pallor.. about her. Her "interest" clung in the air like the scent of yesterday's cooking, and made him feel more than a bit unsettled. She was bent and thin, and not at all what he found attractive.

He looked timidly over at Doctor Solomon, who's face remained inscrutable behind his mask-- then toward the masculine looking maid-servant, "Olga". Despite being entirely too bossy, Olga was not too terribly bad looking, if a bit plain. Not muscular in the way he found really attractive though, and the personality soured what little she had going for her.

"uhhh... I'm uh.. eight, ma'am." he nervously ventured. Maybe she would be like most humans, and consider him a mere child, and lose interest? "uh haven't made yer... acquaintance. Kin uh ask who you is?"

If he was going to be hounded by a ... very confused... old woman all night, he deserved to know who it was that was chasing him like a hound baying at a fox. Indeed, he *DID* want to be 'desired', but.. Not like this... This was.. No, he did not like it. She was for one thing, almost certainly too old to have children, and secondly, 'entirely too eager'. He had long ago decided that he was *NOT* going to 'compromise' with one-night stands. He wanted what his father and mother had-- A mutually respectful, loving, and somewhat playful relationship that involved interest, (of course), but a great deal of simple pleasure with the other's company, and genuine affection. That was not what this was... This was... "a rutting bitch in heat", but she was far too old to have even that excuse.

He hoped very much that she stayed right where she was, and didn't come any closer.

"Eight..." the old woman murmured as if taken aback by the revelation. But instead of squicked, her grin widens.

"Caitlyn Stritzel at your service, darling!" the woman cooed, and she was sitting restlessly. "I'm a talent finder you see, and my specialty is on the exotic beasts man like you." she giggled

"But worry not, this lady is not here to snatch you out. Fufufu! His Highness has beaten me on that. But If it's alright with you, I will satisfy your curiosity about the talent I need and where they will be needed. I needed guards, for my little garden, my assets, and to protect this little old me..."

He inched closer and caressed Cedar's forearm.

"The rebels are getting bolder you see. Yesterday they trampled on my tulips, all for naught but to kidnap my poor gardener for a meager ransom. They also hurt My Teddy, oh my sweet boy. He is also a smart bear like you. You will meet him soon enough if you change my mind."

Cedar's ears involuntarily flattened and he felt his fur try to rise beneath his clothes. The way this woman was touching him was unwanted. Well.. that wasn't quite it either.

Part of him was intrigued, even .. enticed.. to say he hadn't suffered pangs of impulse to find a mate would be a lie, and this woman was by far the most 'knowledgeably willing' he had ever encountered: part of him screamed to accept, however 'less than ideal' the pairing would have been-- four long years of celibacy raged in his blood like fire-- but the other part of him wanted to rip his arm away from her in disgust and outrage; to topple the table on her and escape in the confusion with his honor and dignity intact.

He was trapped somewhere in the middle, mortified and frozen with the indecision that crippled him when this happened. Her hands continued to caress his arm, and unconsciously, he likened it to having it caught in one of the mammoth steel traps those idiot loggers had put out one year... his father had been furious, and had 'destroyed' every one he could find, entombing them inside the trunks of trees he had guided to grow up through the middle of them, rendering both the trap and the tree useless to those men.

She continued to coo and prattle at him. Something about protecting her assets.
-- He'd rather not.

Then something altogether unexpected, and his reaction to it was not altogether unlike having one of those traps snap shut on him: She had another bearman, not unlike himself, in her 'employ.' (He hoped it didn't mean what he thought it meant.) Moreover, he had been injured.

Feelings he didn't understand, but felt like... compassion, hope, even desperation, erupted down his spine like he had been hit with lightning, Involuntarily, he snatched his arm back from her and boggled in worried confusion. He had never even heard of 'others' that weren't his own blood kin before, and for some reason, this revelation both struck him as 'completely understandable and expected' and as 'world shatteringly profound, meaningful, and urgently deserving his full and undivided attention'. How could it have been that the notion that there clearly and obviously, were more humans like his dad in this world, and that subsequently, there should be more people like himself-- he was not, and should not be alone-- somehow evade him for the full eight years he had been alive!? ---AND ANOTHER *BEAR*, NO LESS!

"How bad were it? --He aright?!" he blurted out before he could even grasp the implications, which barreled down on him like a loaded oxcart full of bricks. This woman was in the BUSINESS of 'finding' other 'beastmen.' How many had she found!? Were they safe? What kinds were they?! How long had she had them?! So many urgent emotions cloying at him at once!

He sucked in a breath to calm himself, and shivered a moment with the effort. He could feel his blood racing, and his heart pounding deafeningly loud in his ears, and fierce in his neck.

Then another thought, slower, but ultimately the most profound.

Was she keeping them willingly?

His thoughts turned to Jorry, now safe at the bakery in Hdur.. where before? When he had treated her, the condition of her body had spoken volumes to him. The broken-ness of her spirit even more so. 'Humans as dogs' he had thought then, and it had sickened him. Now the same thought took an even uglier turn: beastmen... as dogs. ... even a 'puppy mill.'

He about lost his liquor, but fought to keep composure. He would endure this woman until he knew more.

He NEEDED to know more.

Yvonne had been drinking earlier, and the alcohol had yet to fully leave her system. Jazdia's display, however, stoked a different kind of embers within. Tall and gorgeous and just the right amount of playful, stringing her along with unsaid promises. A human's imagination was wild indeed, and the simple lack of refusal emboldened the mercenary to prod for boundaries. After all, whatever's the result, only by not trying would one wallow in regret later.

"Dead gods, ain't that the truth." Yvonne shivered at the thought of a full-blown traditional gown. Mario's dress were already quite a lot easier to wear, but even then it still had multiple layers and more buttons than a set of brigandine. Still, a confident grin quickly bloomed as she spotted where Jazdia's eyes lingered, visibly preening at the return compliment. "Credit to Mario for the dress, and the maids for making me halfway presentable! And... snacks do sounds good, aye."

Her hand twitched, wondering if she should grab Jazdia's... but the elf strode away as she battled the momentary indecision. Smiling wryly to herself, Yvonne could only follow toward the table of snacks and some pre-arranged foodstuff to peruse. Say what she would about snakes dressed in suits and gowns, but the banquets were indeed fancy. Though apparently still not varied enough for her companion, from the way Jazdia requested for other dishes.

"I-" And that was the exact moment someone decided to intrude into their peaceful little bubble. Yvonne's mood took a nosedive as she barely managed to keep a straight face, inwardly cursing at the untimely interruption. It'll happen sooner or later, an inevitability with how Freddy treated her as a guest of honor, but she had truly hoped that it'll be later.

Now, how to get rid of the pest.

"Is it? Been a while since my last, but it's not exactly memorable. Who are you again?" Answered Yvonne with a lazy drawl, a sharp turn to her manner of speech. An idea were forming already - she's not supposed to know Cedar, so if the vaguely familiar couple thought to use him as a conversation starter then that's the fastest way to send them away. That... and maybe with a healthy disregard of decorum too. Just to be safe. "I've only met master Ced earlier today, but need I remind you that he's a bear? He eats and drink as much as ten people. It's like watching someone drink beer with a shot glass." And with that, her attention was directed at the increasingly nervous manservant who witnessed the entire exchange. "Now, I'm feeling a bit peckish. Give me a selection of these stuff, you pick. A ribeye for the main course, rare, with the best cabernet you have ready on the side."

Was that enough barbs? Hopefully so. She glanced at Jazdia, wondering if the elf would add more fuel to the fire or decide that it's too much of a hassle to deal with.

"It's YORK. Adela YORK." She retorted indignantly at Yvonne's backhanded dismissal of her station. York might not be proper nobility, but they could buy and sell Rosenving 5 times over, and this ... WRETCH in a dress damned well knew that!

"She makes a fine point, Adela my dear.." lilted her husband, Thomas. "Master Cedar would have been miles away from their investigation-- and besides, just look at him darling! I dare say, he could likely drink us all under the table!"

Adela made a fussy face at her husband, then harumphed. "I can SEE him just fine, Thomas darling-- That's the problem. You say he could drink us all under the table, I say he could break us all in half."

"Really now, Adela... that's quite likely the reason His Majesty hired him."

The banter was heating up. Not that it was unexpected; people with such self-important attitude was almost a staple in every elite social gathering like this. The kind of people who were always complaining about standards wearing arrogant expressions and making comments that were civil on the surface but sharp enough to wound.

Yvonne didn't seem too interested in entertaining their fashion, and being confronted by such passive dismissal, Jazdia could already see it was slowly drawing their ire.

"It's YORK. Adela YORK." the middle-aged woman retorted indignantly, almost like shouting, then she turned to her husband, spewing more backhanded criticism that strangely was directed at someone far away from them. The way Yvonne glanced at her showed that she didn't seem too pleased to hear them talking.

Jazdia turned to the couple, wearing her faked smile. To her discredit, the couple had their question ignored, and it was only right for her to amend that rudeness.

"Correct Ma'am," she butted in. "I personally share your concern. But pardon me to say that we can do nothing about it and your grievance is misdirected. The verdict of improper consumption of alcohol is not within our domain to judge. That would be to King Fredricus, our graceful host, who seemed to have no problem with our associate's... unobtrusive behavior."

She made a small hand movement that beckoned toward the throne. Slightly venomous as it may, the next words escaped her just like that.

"You two, on the other hand, are clearly the opposite of it. But that being said, I would wholeheartedly suggest both Madam and Sir to share their superior opinions with our King regarding how a banquet should be conducted. I am sure King Fredricus would be thrilled to hear that."

-snip-

Thin tendrils of frost curled then bloomed over the surface of Mrs. York's cup, as she gripped it tightly. The GALL of this elf-woman! To even SUGGEST that she and her Thomas were the 'disruption!'

'Unobtrusive behavior' indeed!

She glanced a look at the bearman, who had re-seated himself at the table, and was abusing what looked like a salad fork to eat his meat, and in a most uncomely manner at that, skewering half the entree on it's stem before stuffing into the side of his downturned face. It was revolting to watch.

"Adela my love, you're upsetting the other guests." Her husband lilted at her. She turned toward him with a furiously stormy expression, but he returned a loving, long-suffering one. That damned man's face could thaw an iceberg with its warmth!

"Second-guessing our host is beyond improper, my dear."

Thomas's voice was a buttery smooth assertion of the obvious that brooked no question, or compromise. "And besides, it looks like he wont be getting a refill any time soon dear, look who's perched on his shoulder."

Adela looked toward Cedar again, and this time saw Caitlyn Stritzel practically groping his forearm, then covered her mouth in demure shock and disgust.

"She didn't waste much time, did she?"

"Lady Stritzel is a loyal subject of his majesty darling... --but don't you at least feel sorry for the poor fellow? Look how bothered he looks..."

It was at just that moment that Cedar yanked his hand away and stared incredulously at the woman seated next to him.

"oh dear... you're right, of course, Thomas Darling...I'm sorry.."

He placed his hand around hers and led her away, murmuring in that buttery baritone of his. "There, there, my love. Come, let us enjoy our hors d'ourves, then have a little dance. That poor fellow will be lucky to escape unscathed tonight; there's nothing to worry about."

She let out a feeble smile, then followed him away, but not before sneaking an angry scowl back at Yvonne.

As the wife and husband retreated back to their seats. Gepard gave her mother a disappointment facial expression.

"I thought we just here for the business and to have fun along with the people here. There are King's guests, you know it could hurt father's plan and reputation due to this attention seek you committed by insulting their being.

Think about afterwards, mother. Our Linceste having a gossips behind her back once she go on the dance floor and also to her schooling because what you had done.

I met that Mr. Cedar along with Linceste yesterday. He was polite and a gentleman." He said to his mother once they had seated, remained his voice lower as it only heard by their family members only. He doesn't have an anger tone and facial but a serious face and neutral tone of voice.

Linceste on the other hand was like a sad princess. She doesn't like to be talk back because of their mother's attention seeking. She love her mother and she appreciate the things she gave it to her but she prefer to be a normal person without a haughty on social level and a racism behavior.

Thomas York embraced his son momentarily, as one would a family member back from war.

"Gepard my boy, I understand your objections. You really must forgive your mother, she truly means well. I've heard the same rumors myself. It's been said that such individuals often are plagued with powerful impulses that they have great difficulty suppressing that make it significantly difficult to acclimate or adjust to civilized living. It's not their fault when and if they can't adjust. While one should not really put much stock in salacious tales like that, it's important to understand that there can be some trappings of truth with them. Your mother is just worried, that's all."

"Yes, Gepard darling-- You have no idea how reassuring it is to know you've already met this.. individual.. and found him trustworthy. Perhaps His Majesty's faith in him is not misplaced. Just understand my son, the ability to be civil in small settings might not translate to crowded and .. trying.. conditions like a royal soiree. There's no telling how he might react."

"Adela my love, don't be so harsh on the poor bear. He surely has enough difficulties as it is, trying to live among full humans like he does. He deserves our sympathy and help."

Adela blushed demurely, then took her husband's hand graciously.

"You are absolutely right, my husband. We should send him our heartfelt thanks for assisting our kingdom in its time of need."

"My sentiments exactly, beloved." He turned back to Geppard again. "There, you see Gepard? It's not really as bad as you think it is. People of privilege like ourselves have an obligation to help those less fortunate than ourselves, and given his current company, I can't think of another more deserving of that right now, than our charming hirsute protector over there. I shall have Gaston deliver a bottle of his drink this evening to his room, with our compliments."

"Quite bad I am afraid," she said, huffing. "Poor boy got arrows stuck in his nostril, they did a number on his legs also, and what's above them. Gods... afraid I can't share much with you. It is too gruesome you may lose your appetite. I have done all I can: all pellars, doctors, and herbalists I could find have been summoned to fix my lovely Ted. His recovery also put a lot of burden on my Dear Olga. We employ only a handful of staff, you see."

The bodyguard snorted, not sparing Cedar another glance. "No task is too big, Mistress! You can count on me."

"That's my girl..."

Stritzel smiled, so triumphant and smug her dusted cheeks constricted like dried prunes. The bait has been reeled and Cedar's body language seemed to show that the beast-man was interested to know more. However she was also tacit enough to understand when to halt her advance, to buy her time, there was no need to rush. She retreated her hand, glancing intently at Cedar as she stood up from her chair.

"Be a dear and visit me when you have time, I will introduce you to my Ted." She winked, fidgeting to raise her hand for Cedar to kiss. But then whirled and leave.

He *KNEW* it was a trap. Positively KNEW it. Everything about this woman screamed 'danger' at him, and yet, he could not help but feel very sorry for whatever poor sod she had trapped in her "garden" like that.

Arrows in the nostril. .. It made him cringe. The nose was quite possibly the most sensitive and tender part on a bear. Such an injury there would be beyond painful, and debilitating. Then there was the last bit: What did she mean by "above the legs?" Was he gutshot?

This was almost too much for him, to learn he wasn't alone in the world, and then be told it might not be for much longer. It was CLEARLY bait. CLEARLY. Very powerful, compelling bait. And it hurt. OH, how it hurt.

He needed to learn more, but the primary source had wickedly fluttered away just as unannounced as she had come. Maybe the others knew something, but he had to be discreet. The "Official story" was that they did not know each other prior to this evening.

He sat and contemplated for a moment, how best to "word" his line of inquiry about the mysterious old hag, and this baited hook she had dangled in front of his muzzle.

He loaded his fork with the "Salsify in creme sauce", and stuffed it in his mouth. Clearing his plate, and going for a fresh one would be an almost ideal opportunity to get close to those two to ask such a question, without being too terribly suspicious, he felt. Not too quickly though. If people were watching (and he could feel that they were,) going too soon would be a disaster.

He hated being among this many people.

The Banquet
Written from Silas Delving's perspective

---

Silas Delving looked about uneasily when he, his half-sister, and his Father entered the Royal Palace. The eldest and brightest progeny of well respected Delving clan had a lot of reasons to feel so, but his father, shrewd as ever came to his side, squeezing his shoulder, reassuringly as he led them children into the main hall.

As if The Admiral himself was a frightened child in need of reassurance that everything would be okay.

Silas was still unfazed by the gesture, but he followed anyway. Hard to imagine that just mere hours ago he and his father were in fierce arguments. It started with his inquiry about Aaaron, who at least should be given a chance for a military trial so he explain himself instead of being personally punished by him. His father, in turn, blurted that he was a fool and his proposal was equally foolish.

"What do you think would happen if they got Aaron in their custody!?" he shouted. "Our disgrace will be laid bare, our secrets exposed, plans and all. Do you really want to see this family ashamed?!"

"Then stop doing this!" Silas' voice was unusually hoarse as if years sailing the seas had inflamed his larynx. "Stop," he pleaded. "It IS over. The plan is fucked. Fredricus agents have seen through it all, and HH will know in no time."

Jonas Delving snorted, but his voice was no longer as fierce as his resolute countenance. "This plan would have been flawless if my children didn't shrink their duties!"

The statement smarted Silas to his very core, while Jonas sipped his whiskey and glanced out the window. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Silas willed himself to speak.

"I do not want to be a part of this anymore, Father." he shook his head, the words were blunt. He had suffered a blistering retort and wouldn't care if his reply would do the same. He had it coming.

As expected, Jonas didn't take it well, he was visibly flinched. Another silence ensued, and the patriarch stood nonmoving, with his back on his eldest son. His brightest son, his pride and joy. The next words uttered emotionlessly, hiding a raging disappointment Silas was thankful he didn't have to see that.

"Then you are dismissed, Admiral."

The words were hurtful, but at the same time, relieving and he did not regret it.

Yet here they were attending the banquet as a family. Silas wondered if his words were finally getting through. The last debate was not the first, but arguably the fiercest they ever had. Though it lacked any meaningful follow-up, Jonas acted like nothing had ever happened between them. He even went easy with Kirsten, allowing the girl to choose her own preferred style of gown and jewelry.

It all seemed too easy, and that was why Silas quickly banished both thoughts. That his father had changed, or he had to accept that the stubborn oaf shouted at him this afternoon was here to stay. No, tonight he lived at the present time.

"Well..." Silas said as he extended his hand to assist Kirsten in stepping up the last few staircases. "I had almost forgotten what you looked like underneath the house dust you seem to acquire. Turns out, you are quite beautiful."

"Course I am, you dummy!" she pouted, reaching for his hand regardless. Though laced with a dismal undertone, the compliment was as earnest as it gets. Kirsten Delving looked as dashing as he was; from high-heeled shoes that seemed made of pure silver, to her white gown tinged with the soft color of gold that gracefully embrace her tall figure. She looked warm and soft and alive, her pale blonde hair flowing gracefully about her back, and behind simple black-rimmed eyeglasses, her blue eyes were bright with rare joy.

It seemed most of the attendees had arrived, but the banquet had not started yet. Their father had already mingled with his usual crowd; clans from Yager, Baswaiden, and Barlos. Of course, there should be Stritzel among them, but the unnerving old lady was already in her own world away from them.

And there he was King Fredricus, a commanding figure as always. Elegant and poised, resplendent in his heavy, jeweled robe of deep purple and bright gold. Robed almost similarly, the young Prince Alec sat on his thrones with Knight Captain Matilda faithfully accompanying in his sides, armed and in full plates.

It was tasteless. Silas wondered who the man was, but then realized that he was likely to be a reporter on the syndicate's payroll. The speech went on, cheers and toast announced, and everything seemed fine until another disturbance made his heart sink.

With sheer arrogance his father interrupted. Silas observed restlessly, dreadfully. Kirsten, who usually acted indifferently regarding court matters and its politics stood beside him, silenced as well by what seemed to be a deliberate act to irritate Fredricus. The only consolation he felt was he, fortunately, had chosen to not sit at the same table with them.

They must have been feeling very smug now seeing Fredricus tolerate such antics, for the Delving siblings, it almost ruined their evening

Suddenly he felt dizzy. Kirsten approached, naturally confused as he was. "What did.."

"Not now..." discussing their own father's recklessness in public? You bet now was a good time.

"I... I need a drink."

"Oh, I thought you are going to join Father and his friends." said Kirsten, her eyes surveyed the scene. After their father's brazen display, those who usually surround them with small pleasantries had been keeping their distance, but the leerings from youngsters toward his half-sister were still ever-present. Sure, some other gorgeous contenders seem to have stolen the spotlight, but Kirsten was in no way having a shortage of admirers.

"Well, go ahead then, I'm staying here. At least if Father summons you to his table, I could pretend that I can't hear him."

"How cunning of you! Promise I'll be quick. Not sure I am comfortable leaving my baby sister alone anyway."

"I will be fine."

The smile on Kirsten's face was almost forlorn, and Silas didn't fail to see the irony of his own words.

"I will get you fruit squash or something," he said in a defeated tone. "Hang tight."

Would you look at that, it worked! Most definitely left some beyond bad impression on the York lady, but it's not like Yvonne will be meeting them often after this. Besides, she actually did fail to recognize the couple. Eight years was enough for a lot of unimportant details to blur away after all.

Ignoring the glare, Yvonne spotted how Cedar was caught by the crazy hag from the arena back then - the audacity to even show up here -, inwardly wondering if she should go rescue the bear before deciding that nah, he had it covered... though perhaps, a conversation on how she had all but castrated a fellow man-bear probably should be had sooner than later. But not during the soirre, no. They officially weren't familiar with each other.

"You know my table, yes? Bring it there." Yvonne addressed the manservant, her smile returning as the music took a shift. Right on time. This'll probably be a conversation topic tonight, but who the fuck cares? There were people discreetly eyeing this direction already. The mercenary turned to Jazdia, extending a hand to the elf with a slight bow. "Since we're here and all - may I claim your first dance tonight?"

"Do you hear that my love? They're playing our song." said Thomas York with a naughty smile. Adela York merely greeted it with one of her own, before addressing her son.

"Gepard sweetheart-- You can't dance at home with your sister and I forever. Look at all those lovely young ladies out there, waiting to swoon over you." Her tone was almost a purring coo, but carried a subtle sting that it was time to stop being a young boy, and act like the grown man society expected of him.

"Make your father and I proud darling!--" she said with a smile, as she and Thomas rose from their seats, and moved onto the floor to assume their positions in meter with the music.

---

Solomon rest his elbows on the empty place on the table in front of him. His fingers interlaced forming a bridge under his chin. Since the banquet began, Solomon had not moved from that spot, not even to acquire a plate of food for himself. Yet, he was able to witness so many interactions between the nobility and the rescue party.

“That is intriguing, isn’t it?” said Solomon. He watched patiently as Stritzel got in close, revealing personal secrets to each other. Yet, it wasn’t anything Solomon felt he’d have to intervene. Even so, when Cedar tried to be subtle, he had enough tells to show he was bothered. And it wasn’t just how uncomfortably close Stritzel got to him. Some of her words had left an impression. Solomon could not recall exactly, but some of what Stritzel had said seemed familiar. Though neither of them had come before, she didn’t seem entirely like a stranger. Solomon continued his musing.

“Yet even so, it would probably be better if you let it be. You’ll only bring yourself unpleasantness if you pursue it further.” Solomon knew that his vague words wouldn’t mean anything to Cedar. There before him was a fish enticing enough to risk the trip wire. Solomon couldn’t fault him for it.

“How about I run a little reconnaissance for you?” said Solomon, “you remember my friends among the shadows? I could have one check up on your brother in arms. You are clearly worried. I cannot do much about Stritzel, but I can at least give this Ted a wellness check.”

Linceleste waved on brother with a smile and off to seek out the dance floor. She is heading to Cedar.

Gepard has been on soldiering for so long, he only spend his off on duty to his family. A long years of an experienced of blood, sweat and tears. A nobody who has an rank of a lieutenant that held border line and lost of his men. A soldier who just doing his job for the sake of the country and to protect his family and close people back home. It is been so long since he attended this kind of event, he was just a boy back then. He maintain his posture and started to look for dance party.

Upon looking, he saw the beautiful young woman on the white dress alone on her place. He proceed to approached her with a confident, fearless in the inside against for those watchful eyes.

"My apology, Miss. May I interrupt your loneliness?" Gepard gently greet to spoke to Kirsten. He made a gentle bow to her to greet. A warm smile on her to accompany her loneliness on this soiree.

Cedar nodded discretely, and quietly, but did not look at Solomon again. He was so unnerved he was fearful of his movements.

"uh'd be much appr'iciat'd" he finally managed, after a long pause. He had considered adding 'I'll pay whatever you want', but decided that would not be appropriate, in case people were listening.

His people watching had become an occupation of its own, and a forced distraction from his unnerved and nearly unhinged emotional state.

"If yuh can, lets muh know how many dere is tuh."

He sucked a breath, while watching a girl begin crossing toward their table. Gods, another one. He suppressed a shiver. "..An what condition dey in, if'n they is."

The Banquet
Written from Kirsten Delving's perspective

---

Of course, words and promises can only be worth so much. Once her brother was done with getting his beverages, he had himself immediately besieged by giggling ladies and hopeful fathers who sought to curry favor with the family. From this distance, Kirsten could only imagine how painfully diplomatic her brother's words would be when asked about his future soulmate, or if he had one, or be willing to consider any.

It was an amusing sight to see, only for a while.

The maid-in-splendor sighed, making her own way toward the other beverage table. The first table was populated by not-so-unfamiliar people; The blonde elven archer and Yvonne Rosenving, who now seemed to have an argument with York Matriarch. Kirsten decided to steer clear. Though she know Yvonne quite well, the elf was an enigma that raises too many red flags.

At the next table There there was a couple, the man seemed to know her but she didn't recognize any of them.

"Ah, lady Kirsten. What can we do for you on this fine day? Can I get you a drink? I do not believe we’ve met. Allow me to introduce myself. Danny Winston. Nice to meet you."

The man bowed, of course much to his companion's dismay. The lady accompanying him was not that bad herself; a typical coastal beauty with tanned skin and black hair. Kirsten felt bad for her.

"I believe you are mistaken. My name is Ranaria," she said, smiling as she slightly pushed the man aside to ladle a goblet of fruit punch for herself.

The man furrowed."But I saw you..."

"Ranaria Seymore." she insisted, restraining herself to not smirk at the young nobleman's existing companion. "Perhaps you know my cousin, Lady Elana?"

The man's face furrowed in a confused look as he glanced at his partner before smoothing out so he won't embarrass himself. "Ranaria... Elana... Ah yes... I remember her. How about--"

When he returned to her, Kirsten had already treaded away from the couple, heading toward an area usually dedicated as the hall's dance floor. Her gaze traveled over the sea of bright-colored clothing, glossy locks, and garish hats. All are swaying and twirling in harmony following the slow if not relaxing tune.

Her eyes shifted to the corner of the hall and landed on a woman and her two teenage children; a boy and a girl. They were accompanied by what seemed to be a group of wealthier noblemen. The widow of Baron von Kruber sat in the middle, her daughter next to her, and they were flanked by two men. Their eyes gleamed like greedy wolves, and the boy could only watch helplessly as those men groped his mother and sister.

Something inside her clicked. A memory flashed, fully formed though it had been lost to her till just this instant: a young woman scorned and divorced, and had nowhere to go. In the next flash, the woman had been withered, dying in her bed. The door opened, and someone breached in, to help? To weep and regret? It didn't matter anymore.

It was an old nightmare, a frequent nightmare. The music rang, now from a slow tempo to an arpeggio, and with that, she banished the memory and looked away, refusing to draw any conclusion though the outcome was already apparent at the back of her mind. It was easy, as easy as uttering a lie. She gripped the skirt of her satin gown and suddenly found herself wanting to jump in and join the tango, and dance to her heart's content so the pang would go away and be dealt with in another day.

"My apology, Miss. May I interrupt your loneliness?"

The request startled her, and Kirsten immediately searched for the source of that voice. There, she found a blonde man approaching and presenting himself with excessive gracefulness. with bows too deep and arm gestures too broad like performers in a play.

But despite those small misgivings, Kirsten found herself reluctantly impressed by the man's handsomeness. To the point, she would return the effort by adjusting her eyeglasses so they won't magnify the alertness in her eyes. Not a good sighting to see.

"Loneliness?" She chuckled and their eyes met. "That's very bold of you to assume a lady's feeling."

He scanned the room in an orderly manner, starting in the far right corner (from his perspective at least), then panning left, then repeating at incrementally closer margins. His eyes were not his strong suit, and the room was too full of chatter for his ears to really make anything intelligible out of the speech, but his nose was his hidden-asset in this enterprise.

Many people don't rightly appreciate how sensitive a bear's nose is, compared to say, a dog's. It's better. Much much better. In the wild, they have very large 'home territories', as it requires such to sustain a creature of that size, and metabolic need. This means that in order to say, find a mate, they need to be able to keep tabs on each other with many MILES of distance between them. Moreover, being opportunistic scavengers in addition to hunters, the detection of a fresh corpse, likewise. Cedar could detect the slight difference in intensity of an odor from one nostril to the other, in much the way humans can with hearing, to get distance and range of a sound's source. He could do that too, but he could also do it with his nose. He had just learned a long time ago, that it was "In-discrete" to talk about the many many things people unknowingly communicated to the world when it came to that subject; Everything from where people had been that day from the smells they had picked up in the environment, to who they had been seeing or spending time with, to what they had been doing that day, even what they had eaten for lunch or dinner. That degree of intimate knowledge was "unsettling" and 'worrying' to humans, once they learned he could do that, and he had since learned from a young age that it was "very much not a good idea" to bring it up in polite conversation.

In addition to the 'where', there was also the 'what.' People emit a wide assortment of smells that they are unaware they are emitting. Smells that indicate who is married to who, -- or is sleeping with who-- smells that indicate shock-- smells that indicate mirth-- smells that indicate fear-- confusion, doubt, anger, ... ... arousal..

His nose flared at the unwelcome reek of Caitlyn Stritzel.

He had been discretely 'scanning' the entire party's guest list from where he sat at the table, doing his best to filter out useful tidbits about the party goers despite the pungent odors of the food trying to blanket out the usefulness of that sensory apparatus, when he spotted a boy who's scent jarred a sense of familiarity. He was sure he had smelled....

His unconscious bloomed in a slow-motion spray of the now posthumous Baron von Kruber, as he became a rather fine mist of bloody particles and a deformed corpse after Jazdia's arrow had hit him. The smell of the man had been overwhelming. Why did they smell like him?

Then he remembered the tedious 'breakfast conversation' he had been forced to endure while being tortured with food he did not dare eat any of-- The fox-man Kaito had mentioned something about his having sons.. He must be one of them.

He discretely sucked more air in. There was a 2nd that smelled like the dead fat-man; a girl next to a woman, with both of them surrounded by a small group of well dressed men. He turned his head ever so slightly back and forth, scanning the three of them, noting the differences and similarities. The young girl had to be a previously undisclosed sister. He didn't understand why it was humans seemed to only ever mention sons and not daughters when discussing family affairs, as girls were every bit as important as boys-- in many ways more so, at least in his opinion-- but he chalked up the omission as just another of those absurd human foibles. The woman had to be the mother, as she smelled like both of the others.

He was sure Kaito had mentioned that there were TWO sons.. He wondered which one this was, and why the second was not here...

His attention became absorbed on them-- people that they had stolen their father from. Stolen a mate from. His heart sank, even if the fat-man had been deeply involved in the abduction and illegal incarceration of the prince. These people HAD NOT been at the keep that day, and there was a distinct chance they had nothing whatsoever to do with the goings on there. They could well just be victims, caught in the crossfire, like all the other poor people of Fanghorn that day. He wished he could stop thinking about what happened there.

He looked at the boy's face, and saw that it was dark and sullen. He knew that look; He and his brother had that look often as children when people had been mean to them. It had always been his father that had taken him up in his arms, kissed and hugged him, and told him things would be better one day. It had worked for him, even if it had not worked for his brother...

That insufferable impulse to rush to every sad and weepy child he came across gripped his chest, and he flinched for a moment before he could arrest it. Solomon would have certainly noticed, but he didn't care. He was overcome with an urge to find out the degree of involvement the family had with the goings-on at the keep that day.

There was another table loaded with drinks nearby-- From where he was, he could tell it had various fruit juices out on it-- He might be able to get in earshot discretely if he perused the selection and lingered.

He looked up, and saw the girl continuing her slow approach.

Yes, it was much better than having to deal with another deranged human who was too interested in him, rather than simply refusing to see him like he had come to expect as being 'normal.'

"uh'll leave ya tuhs it 'en. Gunna git 'nodder drink." he said nonchalantly, as he stood and began his leisurely walk to the far drink table.