Xaltwind
Vaunivor
Lugubrious
RPM
Deadline
Stryder BC
Emma
Stratya Durmand
Time: 28th Sola, Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Military Formal, in Caesonian colors
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting
Family Dirk + Crest, worn on the right
Swordbreaker, also worn on the right
Interactions: Torvi @Tae, Matthias @Rodiak, Hafiz @princess, Nadim @JJ Doe
Mentions: Zarai, Callum @Helo, Morrigan
Gideon had, in his gentle way, told her to mind her own business. Stratya had let silence reign in her response. She didn’t really feel like hollering down the table any further, anyway. She could possibly say something about receiving guests with sweet and not sour, but, ah. There was enough shouting going on.
The center table had tempers rising rapidly. She couldn’t hear Roman well. His voice carried, but it was muffled because he was facing away from her. The rest of the conversation told her plenty enough. In particular, Cassius Damian had some very daring things to say.
He swung wildly with his words. Where she had been cautious and poked at Victoria from afar with a lance, this man came in with a great double axe, all wide swings and fury. The person behind him was all he cared about, get out of his way or fall. Admirable, on a certain level, but she couldn’t help but-
The Queen rose to her feet, violence in her stance. This drew all of Stratya’s attention.
”Aw, shite.”
Suddenly, she was ready to spring to her feet, possibly vault the table. There were two empty seats on the other side, plenty of clearance between. She’d prefer the Queen not shed blood, especially not on all this delicious food. If anything, she could humiliate this man in a duel. They didn’t need to escalate things.
Two shouts stunned the argument. First, Duke Lorenzo, then, the Princess. The first threw everyone off, and the second cut the tension. Stratya sighed, relieved and drew her chair back into place, “think I’ll ‘ave tae werrk wit’ ‘err on tha’..” though her eyes were still on Cassius Damian. Hadn’t he gotten on rather well with Callum at Drake’s party? They’d seemed to bond over Cassius’s bastard status, not this scorn and spit he was spouting, now.
It was a curious thing, as well, to watch Cassius’s fury drain away, like it had melted into nothing. There at one moment, simmered down and then lost the next. That was something that took mental training. The broad swings he’d been taking earlier spoke against such discipline. She’d been confident he had enough to not start a fight here, but.. had that earlier disturbance been him, as well? Behind her, among the columns. She hadn’t seen.
And now Charlotte Vikena appears? The Captain’s eyes darted to the king and then looked away again with a grimace. There was that same disgusting manner he’d regarded her with, that she’d tried so hard to ignore. It made her skin crawl. She had to guess he’d ogled every young woman that came before him today.
Lady Zarai had gotten up. Three empty seats across from her, now, and many more all across the hall. Zarai had said something about water, right?.. was that not water, there?
Her eyes shifted back to Lady Charlotte, for just a moment. She seemed impaired, but not.. drunk. No, Stratya had seen plenty of drunk, before. That was not drunk. That was.. something else. It seemed familiar. Disturbingly so. So many oddities tonight. It couldn’t all be coincidence.
Sir Matthias had appeared while Stratya had been otherwise occupied. Zarai and Torvi had greeted him - if you could call what Zarai gave a “greeting” - and now the Caesonian knight turned to find the Varian knight at his freshly adjusted seating - with cakes! Importantly, she turned just in time to catch Lady Morrigan lean toward Prince Callum, and caught the words on her lips.
If Lady Morrigan was also suspicious of him, then that sealed it.
“So many running. A banquet should not feel like a battlefield. And yet…”
A dry chuckle, a brief glance of camaraderie, “tell me ‘bou’ i’.”
Stratya turned her attention to, “Serr Ma’tias, I ‘ope ye’ve ‘ad a fine evenin’.” She eyed his cakes, as two servants came by with a stein of mead, each. One for Torvi, one for the absent Zarai. Stratya glanced at Matthias, “brring i’ rround, would y’ please.” Looking at the servant, she tilted her head indicatively toward the other knight. She fought the urge to just reach across for it. “Perr’aps I c’n interrest ye in a-”
A crash across the banquet table caught her attention. A dog was on the table. She’d heard grumblings about the Alidasht penchant for animals, but this was the first time Stratya had agreed without reservation. That animal should not be in this hall.
What she did not agree with was striking the beast. Her jaw dropped. That creature, clearly a pet, likely had little say in the conditions of its life. It was cared for and wanted for little, she had to assume, but its circumstances were not its own to control. Therefore, it could not be blamed for its behavior. It was up to proper training to teach pets how to behave. The fault did not lie with the pet. That much she knew.
Her jaw tensed as it closed, joints clicking quietly as it unhinged and rehinged in anger, before it settled into place. She drew a slow breath through a scowl as she stood and grabbed the largest bone from her plate, and hissed with a sigh, “excuse me ferr a momen’.”
He’d opened a bottle of fire, thoughts of Zephyr stoking the flame.
“Grrand Vizir Hafiz Kadirr!” As her feet carried her around the High Table, that rage focused into a still blade. Rarely heard fury roared across the hall, “we have laws against tha’ sorr’ of disgusting conduct in our lands. You WILL NAE strrike yours orr any otherr pets within ourr borrders.”
She passed behind the Queen, “and in case I need tae be explicitly clea’ with yourr,” she paused meaningfully, as though choosing a word. She chose none, “self,” spat, like speaking of him disgusted her, “tha’ goes for servants, peasants, commoners, and whatever else you’d fancy calling them, too. Naturally, anyone else. That would be assault.”
She marched toward him, all fury and rage, burning, seething, holding a-... a bone? And then she marched past him, and as she did, the anger seemed to melt. She smiled sweetly and knelt down, holding her her hand out with the bone, “ooh, y' poa, swee' thing. Come, come. Where’s y’ master, ey? We’ll ‘ave tae ‘ave a talk wit’ 'em abou’ all this, at’s ferr trrue.”
A bone, an irresistible dog treat, at a very uncertain moment in this dog’s life. A sweet, gentle voice, from a strong-seeming person. The dog approached her and accepted the bone. The captain received him with many pets and adorations, “oooh, there’s a good boy, yeaaah. Aye, aye, wha’ an ‘andsome lad, too! Did that nasty man,” a pointed glare at the nasty man in question, “hur’ you, y’ swee’ thing. Ooh, you didnae deserve tha’, sweet baaaaby.” She took a look at his collar, for his name. It was in Alidasht.
She stood, and turned, holding her hand out for the doggo to follow her. Her gazed fixed to Hafiz, though she spoke not to him, “come along, puppo. I’ll keep y’ safe ‘til yer maste’ rreterrns.”
The fury was still there, waiting for him to make a mistake. Daring him to.