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	[u]Weather[/u]: Still cold. The wind remains light, with only the tiniest of gusts giving the occasional diagonal motion to the snowfall. It is true snowfall now rather than flurries, though not what one would consider heavy. Large, slow flakes fall earthward, making for a quiet, rather peaceful night.   
     
	[u]Time[/u]: The night time is the right time. An hour or so past dusk. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: Considering the lovely (if quite cold) night outside and the lanterns hung to light the main thoroughfare, not much obvious has changed across the Rose River Vineyard in the interim. Inside of the Tasting Room, there is likewise a lack of appreciable environmental change, unless one counts the overall feel of the room from a more personal standpoint. There is an almost palpable friction amongst the guests and from obvious sources. However, there is an overtone of general merriment that only a successful harvest and outstanding batch of seasonal icewine can provide out here in Wine Country.  

	The lighting inside is adequate to the needs of even the most mundane of sight, thanks to the dual strike of candles and lamps set up in key, predetermined locations for exactly this reason. The central table is topped liberally with quick and easy things upon which one may munch with one's fingers; cheese, bread, and fruit primarily, though some utensils are provided for the status-conscious. 

	Conversation among the guests is varied and usually kept to themselves as not to interrupt those around them; polite discussions about the quality of wine throughout the years or whispers about whatever notable happenings were afoot within the context of their lives. The more public and/or louder addresses among the guests are taken in stride, as likely as not to be elements of future gossip sessions when in differing company. 

	
[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center] 
[img][/img]
	Laurent was a socially proper enough person to, upon getting himself startled by a suddenly appearing and disappearing Raven (from and back into the thinnest of air, no less), straightened his waistcoat and departed from Victoria's vicinity even as she left to join her plus one elsewhere in the room. His own path took him the short distance back to the table, nearest to the Mosswaters, who have taken the last few minutes to sit back and enjoy the festivities - wine and drama both. At least, Barbal was enjoying the wine and drama, and with a suppressed bout of chuckling reddening his face, at that. Tarace was looking apprehensive. Nervous, even. The less boisterous Halfling was giving Barbal what support he might while sipping upon his glass of wine as if to partly disguise his expression. 

	[color=darkgray][b]"Ey there, Laurent,"[/b][/color] began Barbal. [color=darkgray][b]"Those adventuring types? They ah... mostly don't care about social status. Not unless it get 'em something. Advantage, like. I don't know that you or I got anything they need, Monsieur Laurent."[/b][/color] A quick look around prompted him to follow up with, [color=darkgray][b]"...what I heard, anyhow."[/b][/color] 

	The middle-aged landowner known as Monsieur Laurent maintained his composure enough to sip from his glass and quietly remark, [color=darkgray]"Quite."[/color] The freshness of the upset by the imposing noblelady still possessed a modicum of sting despite his cooler demeanor, and apparently the Halfling that was his peer among this apparently [i]very[/i] mixed group could just tell. The verbal knife twisted a little bit more. 

	Meanwhile, Rens was more than happy to take his share of the accolades, not like he didn't deserve them. As the Master of Wine for the Rose River Vineyard, he was the man with his feet on the ground, overseeing every aspect of the vintages produced from the time the grapes got crushed to the moment the finished product was moved for shipping. Objectively, the two wines sampled this evening were some of the best the region of Avonshire (and possibly the nation) had to offer. The upper-class market for these wines truly belied the moderately overweight, middle-aged craftsman before them, bedecked in what would pass for decent weekend wear for society's wealthier element but for him was obviously tucked away for special occasions, like this one. His thick moustache wiggled beneath his prominent nose as he stood himself up straighter under the glow of his praise from multiple sources. A showing of obviously false modesty reared in the man with, [color=darkgray]"Oh no, it's all too much. I am a mere wine man, it's really all about the good people of Rose River."[/color] And while Rens may have genuinely meant that, he was absolutely eating up the attention. He did make one wistful concession, though.  [color=darkgray]"I am a little worried about this season's Master of Harvest. Toombes was supposed to have been here ages ago... He's missing out."[/color]

	Lizbeth had taken the opportunity of this attention to spirit herself away to the table, whereupon she selected for herself a bread plate and placed a few cubes of cheese, some slices of apple, and surreptitiously poured a glass of the Honigblume for herself. The glass was to her lips by when she glanced to her side, seeing Tarace Mosswater give her a quick wink after being very solidly caught. Tarace smiled and pretended to be oblivious, and Lizbeth took her first sip.

	Cecily, genuinely oblivious to this, tapped upon her glass again. It was time for another segment of the evening, according to her plans. [color=darkgray][i]"If everyone would please direct you attention this way? Thank you. We have new guests to this event, and even though I have given a cursory tour of our fine Winery on their way in, it is customary for a fuller tour, should it be warranted. It is only fitting that, while viewing our casks by date, varietal, and technique, they be allowed the opportunity to sample as they go along. So please, and open to everyone in attendance, let us divide into groups with Master Rens, Lizbeth, and myself. One of us may escort you on a more personalized tour of our facilities and answer any question that does not let our deepest of professional secrets slip."[/i][/color] She moved off to one side to allow for anyone who wished to join her as an option to do so. 

	Lizbeth nearly slammed her ill-gotten glass upon the table as soon as her name was mentioned, seemingly unprepared for this quite so soon. [color=darkgray]"Yes, that would be grand!"[/color] she blurted nervously. [color=darkgray]"Um, I can, um... Yes, right this way, anyone who wants!"[/color] She forced a smile. The Mosswaters, Tarace and Barbal both, tried not to laugh aloud.