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[color=DDB775]Time:[/color] 6pm
[color=a187be]Location:[/color] The Castle Dining Hall
[color=DDB775]Interaction/Mention:[/color] [@Tpartywithzombi] Violet [@ReusableSword] Roman [@Silverpaw] Wulfric [@FunnyGuy] Alexander/Lorenzo [@Helo] Callum [@Oso] Cassius [@Tae] Mina
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[color=ab274f]“That is as ludicrous an argument as claiming Anastasia's flair for dramatics is a cunning tactic”,[/color] Wulfric countered quietly. 

Alibeth paused mid-sip. Her lashes lowered, then slowly rose as she turned to regard her son fully. Her face was still, but the corner of her mouth drew ever so slightly downward. As Wulfric turned his attention back to the conversation, Alibeth’s eyes drifted quietly across the hall—landing on Kalliope. The woman was not watching them, not focused on the words volleyed like blades across the table. Her eyes were elsewhere.

[color=a187be]“...I see your point. Too genuine to be a mere strategy. ”[/color] She looked once more at Kalliope, something more calculated in her expression now. [color=a187be]“We will need to speak with her about her priorities if we are to keep her employed with us.”[/color]

However, other matters were of more importance. Alibeth’s gaze swept the room with deliberate ease. Yet beneath that surface stillness, her thoughts moved swiftly. She found herself increasingly curious—concerned, even—about what precisely was unfolding with both Ravenwood and Callum. Though she was less familiar with Roman Ravenwood, she could tell from the reactions of those around him that he was acting out of character, and even more noticeably so was [i]Callum[/i]. 

If these were matters of magic, as she was beginning to suspect, then fate had delivered them to her feet at the perfect time. Quietly, strategically, she had positioned trusted witch hunters throughout the dining hall. Camouflaged in silks and smiles, sitting beside dukes and duchesses, they were not here to enjoy the feast. They were watching. Waiting. And her best card had yet to be played. 

As people left the room in droves, she tried to meet the eyes of Torvi. However, she wasn't worried. There was not many places where people could not go in the castle where they would either be heard or seen right now. 

Meanwhile, King Edin was several goblets past respectable and entirely unbothered by the simmering tension in the room. In fact, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Slouched contentedly in his gilded chair, he tore into a hunk of roasted pheasant with the gusto of a man at a tavern brawl rather than a royal banquet.

As chairs scraped and nobles excused themselves one by one—some with urgency, some with tight-lipped tension—Edin barely seemed to notice. Or, rather, he noticed in the most Edin way possible.

[color=DDB775]“Where’s everyone going? ...Even my puppet boy!”[/color] he huffed through a mouthful of meat, leaning over slightly toward Alibeth with a dramatic whisper that wasn’t quiet at all. [color=DDB775]“Did someone say duel by the way? Or is that girl crying again? I love when they cry. It’s so [i]passionate[/i].”[/color]

He blinked blearily at Wulfric. [color=DDB775]“You didn’t scare them off, did you? You do that. You have your mother’s face when you frown—it’s terrifying.”[/color] Alibeth gave no reply, though the sharpness in her sideways glance suggested she had considered stabbing him with her butter knife.

Unbothered, Edin sighed dramatically and stabbed at a pile of candied plums. [color=DDB775]“Ugh. Banquets are no fun when everyone starts having feelings.”[/color] He turned to a servant behind him. [color=DDB775]“Bring me something that bites back. Wine or a woman, surprise me.”[/color][/color]