Date: Viducia 9th, Allday afternoon ------- Location: St Loomis, Fountain Square, Town Hall Building
The heavy bronze doors of the St. Loomis Town Hall in Fountain Square are once again wide open, and a mix of town guards and Mistwatch stand sentry at the main entrance, watching over a crowd of townsfolk streaming in from further down the street. Clearly some interesting public event is once again afoot.
(Halfah): The single very heavy bronze paneled door that usually guards the main entrance is open, allowing entry onto the modest lobby of the St Loomis town hall. Simple wooden benches sit ranged around the oak-paneled walls of the room, allowing visitors a place to cool their heels while waiting to have their business heard by one of various town functionaries. Far more ornate than the main entrance, large double doors of carved and highly polished mistwood allow entry into the main meeting chamber to the east.
Hallways branch off to south and north, leading deeper into the mysteries of local governance -- but these hallways are guarded by both the town watch today, who maintain an extremely vigilant posture in the face of the many townsfolk passing through the lobby.
As the motley members of this crowd arrive in the main meeting chamber, they begin to take their seats among the many benches that fill the hall, arranged so as to leave space only for a narrow aisle leading up the platform at the far end of the room. The town councilmembers are seated facing one another around their usual table that sits atop that platform, but additional chairs are now occupied by a few individuals wearing the familiar somber uniforms of the Mistwatch -- most notably the commanding presence of a weathered looking older woman with shell-pink eyes, immediately recognizable as the Master of Lamps. Those sharp eyes appear to miss nothing as she watches the flow of people and the steady filling-up of benches, but her demeanor is calm and unhurried, seemingly content to wait for the arrival of as many townsfolk as might want to attend.
(Rhada): A tall ash-blond woman with baby blue eyes stands to the front of the dais, also looking out over the room -- although her attention is divided equally between the people entering and a small but chunky book held in one hand, which she keeps looking down at and making brief notations in with a goose feather quill. In the midst of this she also finds the opportunity to cast frequent glances over at the council table, pursing her mouth in misgiving and disapproval, then giving small twitches of her head that make her long braid sway. Whether this has anything to do with the conspicuous absence of a certain fastidiously mayorial-looking gent can only be a matter of conjecture.
(Otty): A dutiful citizen as always, Otty Smythe has turned up - though, as always, he hasn't dressed up for the occasion. He wears his leather apron, stained and sooty and shiny across the thighs and the pockets from constant hard wear, and looks to have just come from the forge, with a smudge of ash decorating one cheek just above his beard. He patiently shuffles in, quiet but for a few gruffly rumbled friendly greetings to various townsfolk in the crowd as they gently jostle toward seats on the benches. Eventually, he finds a seat of his own, in a middle row but on the outer edge. The benches, though, clearly weren't made for his height, and his knees can't help but be pressed against the back of the seat in front of him. He settles as best he can, gaze turning across the townspeople for a few moments and scanning the room, before focusing on the dais attentively.
(Hester): Hester Corey is rather hard to miss as she ducks and bobs her way through the crowd, since her wild carroty curls bob vividly along with her despite the best efforts of her kerchief to keep them under some modicum of control. Even with the growing press of people in the room it doesn't take long for her to pick out Otty on his bench -- it helps that he stands out like an ancient mistwood among blue oak scrub -- and she quickly elbows a path over to him. She doesn't take a seat there, but does look him up and down with wry amusement in her aqua eyes.
"And I thought I was the only one impious enough to try to cram in an hour or two of work in between services and the meeting," she tells him with a teasing grin. That grin then crimps itself into more of an exasperated frown. "But of course, you've been out an apprentice the last few days, I hear. Not a good time for it. Well, not that there ever is..."
(Velusiyen): Through the open doors slips a much drabber individual than Hester, though dressed in what must be her Allday best: a dark blue dress that is a little too short in sleeves and skirt, and a caramel-colored scarf pulled up to cover the top of her head and her long mousy brown hair. Lucy Mudlark doesn't head down the aisles to find a bench, though, but rather remains standing near the door, unobtrusive and out of the way of the people still filtering in. An expression of eager curiosity paints her features, and she keeps her hands clasped tightly in front of herself as if trying to hold the reins on her excitement.
(Ziyad): Ziyad has taken a seat on a bench closer to the back, his lack of height made more prominent by the way that he's sitting slightly hunched over. The young scholar looks a bit under the weather with shadows under his eyes and a faint pallor to his features, which is further exacerbated by his normally coifed visual being marred by several stray curls of dark hair escaping from his pale, linen turban. He offers a weak smile to the few individuals he recognizes so far when they make it pass his field of vision, but otherwise sits quietly where he is and tries not to draw too much attention. His fingers keep fiddling uncomfortably with various objects on his person, mostly the twisted fulgurite pendant hanging from his neck or the end of a bit of wood sticking from his mizuda, or plucking at the fabric of his clothing.
(Yasin): That missing farrier's apprentice isn't too long behind the bustle of most of the crowd, although when he first arrives, his appearance might be competing with Otty for a lack of dressing up. He pauses just at the threshold of the doorway, not too far from Lucy Mudlark (to whom he offers a and and a friendly-given, if quietly-spoken, "Afternoon, Lucy.") Though rumors abound of the young man's recent injury of less than a week prior, he seems to be in rather fine condition now; his journey unaided. He spends some time fussing about his appearance, making what little improvements he can, but all that really amounts to is donning some leather gloves to cover his soot-stained hands, and setting his woolen tarboosh atop his head.
(Otty): Otty looks up to find Hester, a wry smile turning his lips behind his beard for just a moment at her words before he glances down at himself, lifting somewhat grubby hands to inspect. "Thought surely you'd be bringing the mules inside with you. Then nobody'd cast a look at me," he retorts amusedly in Ilexi, that half-grin reappearing. He sobers though a moment later, starting to scoot himself down the bench to make room for Hester. "Might have hoped for better, with all the work we did in the mine. He'll be right, but... " he trails off for a moment with a shrug, one hand rising to stroke down his beard thoughtfully. "Mmh," he grunts instead of finishing the sentence, with a nod of agreement. "Suppose we've more work to do."
(Marwa): Another foreigner finds her way into the back of the meeting hall, a dark headscarf having been draped generously over her hair and across her neck as if to repel the worst of the winter cold during the walk over. Marwa pauses briefly by the doorway to assess the state of the still-gathering crowd of townspeople and of the dais at the front. Eventually she glances aside to Yasin and Lucy, who stand not so far away - and while a look of recognition crosses her features, she moves from the entrance without much chance for conversation as others inevitably filter in behind her. She instead begins to make her way down one of the back-most rows of benches toward Ziyad. Despite her best efforts to avoid jostling the knees and shoulders of those already seated, she is forced to utter an apologetic "Excuse me," in accented Ilexi when a hand inadvertently brushes the back of someone seated to the front.
(Velusiyen): "Oi, Smithy!" Lucy's face lights up as she gives that familiar greeting in Ilexi, and though there's still a trace of worry in the crinkle of her brow, it fades as she studies Yasin further. "Guess you must be feelin' better if you're here today. I'm real glad you got to come. Dunno just what the Master of Lamps is gonna say, but it'll be pretty interestin' I bet." She glances across the room towards the platform at its head, then back at the smith. "Gonna stay over here, or try to find some of your friends? There're still some places to sit I guess, but they're runnin' out fast."
(Hester): Hester nods knowingly to Otty, confiding to him, "They brayed something awful to be allowed to come, but I told them they'd just have to wait for me to come back and I'd tell them all the good parts." Dropping her voice a little lower, she adds, "Having some mules in the room would've raised the level of sense in Town Hall quite a bit, you know. Although..." She tilts her gaze towards the council table up on the dais. "It's already gone up quite a bit since it seems like the mayor got lost on the way here." She bites back a snicker, but manages to get a more serious look back on her face then. "Hope Goodman Yessy can get himself back to work soon, for both your sakes."
Her gaze drops briefly to the space her farrier friend has made for her on the bench, but instead of taking a seat she only sighs. "I can't stay, though believe me I'd like to. I've got to go sit up -there- instead." Nose wrinkling, she nods towards the platform again. "If I'd known this kind of thing was going to be involved, I would've thought even harder about taking this whole Auxiliary thing on. Wish me luck!"
And with that the muleteer steps away from Otty and makes her way up the aisle and onto the dais, where she salutes the Master of Lamps with a crisp nod and then sits down in an open chair beside her.
(Demetrius): A small stir comes from outside the doors to the council hall, the sound of people stepping back to make way and nudging their neighbors into an awareness that they ought to do the same. Through that space that opens up like magic -- or like a gap in the Mist, perhaps -- His Grace Prince Demetrius Estevarre comes sailing into the room, his step light and firm and his head held high. He looks resplendent as usual in a lavishly embroidered murrey brocade doublet whose cut seems to accentuate naturally squared shoulders and proud chest, and his lynx fur cloak sweeps out elegantly as he goes, unimpeded for once in the absence of his rapier. Though his deep brown eyes flicker in their usual squint around the room, he doesn't give any sign of recognition to anyone or pause for any greetings, instead making his way up the aisle with an air of imperturbable dignity.
He only stops once he's reached the very front of the room, where he pauses to give a formal nod of acknowledgement to the dais. As his head comes up again, his gaze locks briefly with the pink-eyed woman at the council table, and there's a strangely electric thrill of tension that seems to pass between the two of them, as if a bolt of lightning were about to strike down from the heavens. But this charged look lasts only the shortest of moments before he turns to take a seat that has very clearly been prepared just for him -- a small carved bench set right at the front of the hall, layered nicely with cushions. He sinks gracefully down onto these, crosses one elegantly formed leg over the other, and proceeds to pose there as a perfect paragon of princeliness.
(Yasin): Yasin dips his head to Lucy with a smile. "I'm... feeling better, yes," he murmurs in agreement, a sound of relief in his voice as he says these words. He catches brief sight of Marwa as she passes, giving a dip of his head, though sight of her quickly becomes lost in the crowd as she proceeds inward along with the other townsfolk moving past.
"I didn't want to miss the announcements from the Master of Lamps," he admits to Lucy, "Whatever they might happen to be." He turns to regard the quickly-filling chamber, then winces. "You're right, it IS filling up quickly. I think I'd like to sit... can hear better, from closer. And..." He squints, attempting to make out anyone he recognizes in the crowd. Through the hustle and movement of people, his eyes are drawn to the towering Otty Smythe like a moth to a flame. "...think I see Master Smythe, there. Spot next to him, too."
He dips his head in a polite farewell to Lucy and says, "I'm heading in, but if you'd like a seat, I'm sure we can make room for you." Just after that, he notes the prince's arrival, staring a moment -- and observing that brief, voiceless exchange between him and the Master of Lamps.
(Halfah): The Look between herself and the prince may have been charged, but the effects of it don't seem to trouble the Master of Lamps much, and do little to alter the carefully neutral expression on her face. If anything the small downward twitch of her eyelids makes her look faintly satisfied, or, perhaps, anticipatory... But a blink dismisses even that trace of expression, and then she's simply watching the hall again.
The influx of townsfolk has lessened to a trickle, and she sits up a little bit straighter as she seems to be judging that the time to begin is drawing near, if not quite yet at hand.
(Velusiyen): "Aw, yeah, you should go, get a good seat with Goodman Smythe." Lucy casts a rather diffident look towards Otty, then gives Yasin a lopsided grin. "Pretty sure you're wide enough to take up that whole space, Smithy. 'S okay, I'm good right here in back. I--" She cuts off as her gaze drifts towards the platform with that small but noticeable straightening-up from the Master of Lamps. "Oh! I think she's gonna start soon." Making a shooing motion, she exclaims quietly, "You'd better get movin'!"
(Yasin): Yasin turns back from watching the Prince and Halfah to laugh (in a voice a little louder than he probably means to) at Lucy's comment about his... width. But there's no disagreement in the young man's expression, and he nods his head a few times. He seems about to reply with some quip upon his lips, but as Lucy cuts off and drifts her gaze towards the platform, he simply says (in a quieter voice), "Oh, you're right, you're right," and lofts a hand towards Lucy in farewell as he hustles his way towards the chamber.
Yasin has to awkwardly push past a few people as he navigates the chamber (and similar to Marwa, there's more than a few instances of "Sorry," and "Excuse me," given in thickly-accented Ilexi), but he eventually finds his way toward Otty. He gives the master smith a nod and a smile and then takes a seat besides, adjusting his tarboosh as he settles down into the bench.
(Indra): Quietly, wrapped in his usual humble trappings, Indra makes his way within - by this point, he had unobtrusively melded into the background of the town such that even a foreigner such as he may well blend in. He isn't so much attempting to remain unseen as to remain beneath notice, and blend in this way. His attention seems almost uniquely focused forward - whatever today's announcement, he wishes to hear it.
(GM): OOC: Indra just rolled grace and street smarts, coming up with 90.
(Sakina): With her cloak wrapped snugly around her, Sakina slip in quietly, stand near Lucy at the back of the hall. She smiles at Lucy, but takes no other notice of anyone else, just watching and listening carefully. The only sign of her concern is her fingers twisting around each other under the edge of her cloak.
(Ziyad): Ziyad glances up and offers Marwa a warm, although tired smile when he spots her approaching. "Sayyida," he murmurs in Sirdabi. "I hope that you're faring well today. We'll hopefully be getting some good news when the meeting starts. With the Hollyberry Carillon singing again, the gap widening and similar positive developments, surely it's a sign of more to come..." His voice cracks mildly and he pauses to clear his throat. While doing so, he notices the exchange of looks between the Master of Lamps and Prince Demetrius, which prompts a slight shake of head from the young scholar.
(Halfah): The Master of Lamps clears her throat lightly, then finally raises her voice to address the crowd assembled below the platform. "Thank you all for coming to Town Hall today," she starts, eyes scanning the gathering as if she could meet each upturned gaze there. Her raised voice is touched lightly by the reediness of age, but strong and carrying for all that, and the excellent acoustics of the council hall seem to help her task considerably.
"It's good to see such a great lot of you gathered here, and I very much hope that most of what I have to say to you today will make you feel it was very much worth your while to spend your afternoon crammed cheek by jowl together on a hard bench, listening to an old woman ramble." Does her gaze shift a little towards His Grace the prince when she says that? Is there the hint of a smirk on her face? Hard to say for sure, especially for those further back in the room.
"Just to lessen the suspense a trifle," she continues, "I'll be speaking about the new Mistwatch Auxiliary unit and their projects, the current state of the Mist, the activities of the Mistwatch itself, and some other very significant plans we have in the works. So I'll just give the last of you a few final moments to settle in, and then we'll begin."
(Demetrius): If he happened to notice any special looks or pointed smirks bestowed in his direction, His Grace the prince gives no sign. He simply stares dispassionately back at the Master of Lamps, arms loosely folded, from his solitary cushioned seat.
(Ighlaf): Lingering behind the rows of seats, Ighlaf is standing against the wall out of the way as they listen while avoiding being crammed on one of the benches.
(Marwa): "It is good to see you at least well enough to attend, sayyid Farhat," Marwa replies alike in a subdued Sirdabi to Ziyad, offering a small and politely concerned smile his way as she takes an unoccupied seat next to him. She loosens her cloak to reveal the familiar deep red of her tunic underneath, the waist bare of its usual sheathed blade. "And I should also hope that you are right."
If any nearby looks are lobbed their way by the exchange of decidedly foreign words, she seems to ignore them. It's not long until the small commotion of the prince's arrival quickly takes precedence, however, and she turns her head (along with seemingly the rest of the hall) to follow his movements to the front platform and observe that Split Second of Significant Tension between His Grace Prince Demetrius Estevarre and the Master of Lamps. She glances back to Ziyad to coincide with the slight shake of his head, as if to silently verify, You saw that also, yes? But after a few moments she simply shifts her attention frontward, sitting quietly straight-backed with her fingers laced carefully upon her lap, and listens to the Master of Lamps' introductory words.
(Otty): The towering smith only looks the more amused at Hester's reply, glancing to the table as though perhaps imagining those mules there. He nods though at her explanation, and gives a bit of a wave-off with one hand, understanding.
Once Hester goes, Otty's attention is pretty firmly fixed forward - that is, until Yasin sits. He turns to give a quick, warm smile and a blunt nod in greeting to the young smith, but foregoes speaking in light of the Master of Lamps' introduction and the impending proper beginning to the gathering. He's a model of good behavior, attentive and still, those sky blue eyes shifting over the figures on the dais. Whether or not he takes anything from those significant looks being exchanged here and there, his rather stoic features don't give much hint.
After a few moments, though, of the crowd still buzzing and murmuring and settling, he leans aside just slightly to half-whisper in Ilexi in a bass rumble, "Looking well, lad. Good you've healed so quickly, mmh?"
(Velusiyen): Lucy notices Sakina too as the elder enters, and smiles at her when she comes over to stand nearby. "Goodwoman, glad you could make it," she says, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the slowly quieting murmur of the crowd. "Dunno just what the Master of Lamps is gonna say, but it sounds like it's gonna be pretty interstin', doesn't it?" Then she, too, goes quiet and turns her full attention forward.
(Rhada): Seeming to judge that pretty much everyone has arrived who is going to, and perhaps perceiving that the room is just about full to bursting anyway, the Rhodish-looking woman completes a few final notations in her little book and steps back to take a seat to one side of the council table. She leaves the book open and her quill poised, and gives a small nod of readiness to the Master of Lamps.
(Yasin): Yasin is quiet after he takes his seat, though there's a very subtle jangling of metal that might he heard as he's shifting. In that small moment before the room fully settles, he leans back towards Otty to whisper (in a quieter, less rumbling Ilexi), "Yes." There's a hesitancy there, as though he's debating what to say, but settles on, "Very... fortunate." He quickly adds on, "Put some work in today. Saw that shoe order you had drafted. Got started on it." However, at this moment the crowd's behavior seems to settle further with that nod from Rhada towards the Master of Lamps. So, Yasin quiets down and sets his full attention ahead.
(Ziyad): "Rest helped, and I didn't want to miss whatever announcements and discussions will occur here. It's not often that there is a town meeting. I'd rather not hear things second-handed, especially since there'll likely be some important topics covered," Ziyad murmurs raspily back to Marwa before he also goes silent to listen like the rest of the crowd.
(Halfah): Halfah nods back to the pen-wielding woman, then pushes back her chair to stand. "Right," she says, surveying the crowd and tipping a quick brisk nod to them as well. "I won't waste everyone's time with any more preliminaries; we'll just launch our boats straight out with the tide."
She absently tugs her cape straight and draws herself up, raising her chin as she projects her words out to the room. "First off, the Auxiliary. As you all are aware, we've formed this new unit to work in partnership with the Mistwatch, drawing partly on the Watch's own resources and guidance but setting their goals according to the most immediate needs of the town and county. You've doubtless already seen them at work, and you'll be seeing a great deal more to come."
"Some of its new members," she continues, "are last year's Sojourners to the Mistwatch, who served out their full year faithfully and well and might ordinarily return to their homes -- until the Mist made that impossible. Others are local folks just like you all out there--" She stops to scan the gathering again, a small smile pulling at her mouth. "In fact, I see some of you out there are Auxiliary. Good." She snorts quietly, waving one arm towards someone in the crowd. "No, I'm not going to point all of you out, so you can stop looking like olliwags looking for a hole to duck into."
"However...." The Master of Lamps shifts a sidelong glance towards the table, and the carroty-curled woman seated nearby. ".. I am going to have our new Auxiliary civilian lead stand up, and have a few words with you. Goodwoman Corey?"
(Hester): The redhead's face, already naturally pale, loses a touch more of its color as the Master of Lamps gives that prompt. Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, but when they open again her expression is resigned rather than surprised, and she gives Halfah a tiny nod of acknowledgement before also rising to her feet. As she stares out at the very large crowd her eyes widen, and she has to clear her throat a few times before finally starting. Auxiliary lead she may now be, but clearly public speaking is not her forte.
"Uh.. yes," she begins, not very strongly. "I'm, uh-- you all mostly know me already. Hester Corey; I used to run the courier service between here and Imbryck, and I-- Corey Courier and Carting, you know-- between here and Imbryck, and between all the little villages and farmsteads in... between. Um." The pallor of her face has retreated by this point, replaced by a reddened flush. "Well-- now I'm using those same mules to help haul timbers and stone about for all the different projects we've got going on with the Auxiliary."
Hester appears to feel herself on somewhat more solid ground here, and proceeds with some actual enthusiasm. "Working with the Greyleigh foresters we've got a lot of trees marked to cut for different purposes. We've cut some for the new barracks that will go up just outside the north gate soon -- yeah, I'm sure you've all seen that -- it mostly just looks like a big muddy mess right now, doesn't it?" She laughs somewhat self-consciously. "Well, we just got a few big loads of stone hauled in from the Bentmoor, so soon that'll-- once we've finished the plans, should be pretty soon I hope, uh, we'll be starting to actually put up some buildings. For all the members of the Auxiliary to have real permanent housing, also for some offices and storehouses and... yeah."
She frowns as she seems to try to remember what else she's supposed to be saying. "Um, yeah... oh. The mines. Uh, we've had some bad accidents down in the Rocky Ridge mines--" Hester's gaze darts nervously around the crowd, glancing off Otty, then down to Yasin, before resuming its fixed stare out across the room. "Well, we've also been working together with our folks here who got shipwrecked with the Dolphin, and we've put in a lot of new supports. Still needs more work, but hopefully it-- we'll get it all finished soon. Pretty soon. Uh..." She seems to blank out again, resuming in a somewhat rambling tone, "Some of our folks have been all the way out near Thynck, repairing that old bridge that got washed out with all the rains last winter, and.. um..... Well, there's honestly a lot going on, which I could tell you all about if any of you come ask me after the meeting and I'm not up here being stared at by the whole town."
She pulls a rather wan if good-humored smile, then sits abruptly back down.
(Halfah): The Master of Lamps nods again to Hester as the younger woman sits back down. "Thank you, Goodwoman Corey; that was very informative."
Returning her gaze to the hall, she tells the crowd, "As some of you will remember, Goodwoman Corey was also a Sojourner with the Mistwatch a decade ago, where she demonstrated a true gift for working with animals, a practical, honest, and hardworking nature, and a native talent for planning and organization. Afterward she worked as a farrier under Otty Smythe himself, and in the years since she's only continued to show herself a good friend of town and county. So I think you'll find her an excellent lead for the Auxiliary's projects, and we'll be seeing some great work from the unit with everyone working together."
(the St Loomis rumormill): A murmur of general approval rises from the assembled townsfolk, while a single childish voice somewhere out in the crowd pipes out shrilly, "Yeah, Hester, you show 'em!" This probably doesn't do much to bring down the poor Auxiliary lead's blushes.
(Halfah): Allowing the murmur to subside and full attention to return to her, the Master of Lamps clasps her hands behind her and resumes. "The Mistwatch itself, of course, is furnishing tools and training for the Auxiliary's projects, along with escorts to guard them when their work takes them out to the current margins of County Innithel." There is a hint of grimness when she says those words -- the current margins -- but it's merely an acknowledgement of the unignorable grim reality, and her tone is largely matter-of-fact.
"Besides the force that remains stationed here at Greywood Keep to keep the good folk of this town safe, we have as always been continuing our patrols across the countryside." She shakes her head regretfully as her lips press together for a moment. "We've unfortunately had a few incidents of banditry out along the edges of the Bentmoor -- some isolated attacks on farmsteads and the waylaying of travelers along the footpaths."
Halfah's tone becomes more pleased as she continues. "However we're expecting a significant increase in the efficacy of our patrols that way, now that the Auxiliary has repaired the bridge over the Stirk. And really, to say it was 'repaired' is to understate the extent of the work they put in on that bridge, as it required nearly a full replacement over that very difficult chasm. So," she says, with a dip of her chin to Hester, and a sweep of her gaze across the crowd, possibly picking out other members of the unit there, "you can see they've already been performing truly invaluable work."
She resumes briskly, "Our forces continue to regularly patrol and monitor the perimeter of the Mist, both the recent incursions and the old borderland of the Mist proper. Once again I'm glad to be able to inform you that the newer incursions remain stable, and overall less malignant than the main part of the Mist. For its part, of course, it's been as obnoxious as it usually is." She manages to make the Mist sound like some pesky cow that's gotten into the vegetable garden. "Thankfully we've been able to rescue both people who wandered into the Mist during the last several weeks, and they're currently recovering with their kin and neighbors in Sterbith and Nytt. We've sent a new lantern out to this area to help, and of course we'll continue to keep a close eye on both new and old trouble spots."
(Velusiyen): Lucy follows the Master of Lamp's words raptly, and can't seem to resist whispering to Sakina in Ruvic as an aside, "Aren't the Mistwatch amazing? They do so much to protect everyone here, every day!" Sighing, she murmurs, "I wish I could be like her someday... or even Goodwoman Corey."
(Yasin): Yasin, for his part, aims a small smile and a few head nods of encouragement towards Hester Corey as she's speaking. His expression sobers at the mention of the mining accidents, and for just a moment, he looks down at the floor. His eyes flit back up at the continuation, and he leans forward, rapt, at the description from the Master of Lamps over the various works being described.
(the St Loomis rumormill): Many in the crowd seem to share Lucy Mudlark's opinion, as a small stir of nodding heads and a flickering of proud smiles passes around through the assembled townsfolk. Not all show such obvious approval, but by the time the Master of Lamps pauses nearly everyone in the crowd appears to have pulled themselves up a little straighter, where they sit in their benches or stand crowded against the wall, and a feel of renewed confidence seems to diffuse through the council hall.
(Demetrius): The prince, for his part, has listened through all this with a more or less neutral expression, gaze fixed unwaveringly upon whoever happens to be speaking at the moment. There is nevertheless a hint of tension in his frame as the Master of Lamps reports on all the different accomplishments of the Mistwatch, accompanied by a very subtle tightening of his mouth.
(Halfah): "Now," Halfah announces, voice rising with a crisp positive note, "onto some news that I think you will all find very good news indeed." She allows a smile to cross her face, just a small one, but there's a confidence in it that matches the attitude of the crowd. "We've known for quite some time that in spite of last year's advance of the Mist, there remained a gap in it some ways out to sea. At the time none of us could be sure that this wasn't just a short-lived rift, soon to be filled in and swept away. But we now know that wasn't the case."
Pausing briefly, she sweeps her gaze seriously across the room once again. "Moreover, this gap has not just persisted all these many months... it has grown. Recently." She stops to allow the audible intake of breath, the soft exclamations. "Yes, it's completely true. It's been confirmed by a few different parties now, and I'm in no doubt of the accuracy of their reports. Many of you knew this already too, of course. And many of you have talked among yourselves, and wondered.... Can it be true? Can it really be that St. Hollyberry has heard our prayers and interceded for our salvation? Can it really be through our own efforts that we, working together, believing together, keeping faith together, can have created such a change?"
The room is absolutely silent now, as if everyone in it were collectively holding their breaths, not daring to voice an answer of their own -- until the Master of Lamps speaks again.
"Yes."
Her voice is softer now, but it still rings out across the hush. "Yes, it is true. I'm not the first to tell you this. You've heard it from the Archbiscop. You've heard it from Priest Russax and the bellringers. You've it from His Grace the prince. Last and not least, you've heard it in the sound of the bells themselves -- both those of the Hollyberry Carillon, and the little bells from the Days of Pine and Holly, made through the cooperation of the humble among us and of those who have come to us from afar, and hung all around town by your own good and faithful hands."
Her somber pink-eyed gaze once more sweeps the crowd. "You hear it in your own hearts too, don't you?"
(Yasin): Yasin lets out a small exhalation as Halfah mentions the bells and the Carillon, certainly inaudible to any but those near him. He shifts slightly in his seat on the bench, straightening up and, for the brief moment it passes his way, meeting that pink-eyed gaze.
(the St Loomis rumormill): A soft susurration ripples through the council hall, a low heartfelt chorus of "ayes" accompanied by small nods. Though a few in the crowd still look a little less certain, they are small islands of silence and stillness in the midst of a sea of subtle affirmation.
(Velusiyen): Lucy's eyes positively glow throughout this part of the Master of Lamps' speech, and when that question comes she holds her clasped hands up to her face almost rapturously and nods eagerly, though she remains quiet now.
(Halfah): "So: what does it mean for us now, this providential gap in the Mist?"
The Master of Lamps moves aside from the council table, stepping towards the front of the platform to gaze intensely down the full length of the hall. The crowd stills again and hushes, and seems to fix its attention almost breathlessly upon her.
"It means, " she pronounces solemnly, "quite possibly, the salvation of this town. It hardly needs saying, for we all know it: the life of St. Loomis is commerce. And not just commerce itself, but the full constellation of professions without which trade would be impossible -- shipwrights, sailmakers, coopers, ropemakers, cartographers, sailors, captains, navigators, porters, and a host of others too numerous to list. We need trade to live. And the gap in the Mist gives us, at last, a hope for this."
She draws in a deep breath to ask, "Where will such a gap lead us?" With a shake of her head she answers herself. "We don't know, just yet. But from the direction in which the gap seems to extend, it's quite likely it would lead any ship venturesome enough to sail through it straight across the Adelantean, and to the lands that lie on the other side. These are lands that we have had little contact with -- at least, not until these good folk from the far Adelantean were wrecked upon our own shores."
Her gaze searches the crowd again then, picking out Yasin near the middle with Otty Smythe, Ziyad and Marwa further back, Ighlaf crammed in behind the rows of benches, Sakina near the entry doors beside Lucy Mudlark. "But these have been neighbors and even friends to us for nearly a year now, and in their homeland they are a wealthy people, a trading and sailing people not in all ways so different from us. Altogether they offer great possibilities for connection and trade -- and survival."
(Marwa): There is little else but attentive and still silence from Marwa throughout Hester Corey's good-natured speech and the Master of Lamps' recounting of various events of note on land. It is only when the announcement turns to matters pertaining to the rift in the sea that there is a shift in her posture - a tiny lift of the chin and a small intake of breath, probably neither visible nor audible to anyone but those in her immediate vicinity. Her expression remains politely impassive as various sounds of approval and anticipation rise and fall from various corners of the room, and even as Halfah picks out from the crowd these examples of the wealthy, trading, and sailing peoples from across the Adelantean. She would pull her own eyes from Halfah's passing look then to affix on the prince (or at least what might be seen of him over many rows of heads) for a few observing moments, before eventually dropping her gaze down to her lap and loosening her interlaced fingers, just a little.
(Halfah): There's little else but attentive silence in the room as Halfah takes that small pause, and then her expression grows more serious still. Even so, it's a calm gravity, untouched by any grimness now. "Does such a venture seem perilous? It does. Is its outcome uncertain? It is. But-- it is the best chance we have not just for survival, but for a return to prosperity. And... we already have one among us who has been working furiously hard, day and night, to transform this venture from possibility to reality."
Her gaze shifts downward and to the side, settling upon the prince on his cushioned bench. And she smiles.
"All this being so," she intones decisively, "it is my great honor and pleasure to announce that, as of this Allday, the ninth day of Viducia in this the year seven hundred and ninety-seven of the New Dawn, the Mistwatch is extending its full assistance to His Grace, Prince Demetrius Estevarre, in his endeavor of constructing a ship to sail through the gap in the Mist, and to cross the Adeleantean to Idiri. We will work with the Greyleighs to secure additional timber and other resources necessary for the project, and will lend the labor of the Auxiliary to cut and haul it, and in all other ways necessary and desirable."
With barely a pause for breath she continues on, voice rising still more grandly to declare, "Moreover, I will be personally selecting a contingent of Mistwatch to sail on board this new ship and safeguard it against any possible threats from the Mist, and the ship itself will be equipped with its very own lantern, to light the way and help guide this blessed vessel and all who sail upon it safely to their destination."
(GM): OOC: Demetrius just rolled composure by itself, coming up with 20.
(GM): OOC: Demetrius just rolled composure and dissembling, coming up with 51.
(Ziyad): Ziyad nods along as he listens to the various announcements and the descriptions of hard won successes over the last few months. He sits a little straighter at the mention of the little bells, although there remains a weary cast to both his posture and his drawn features. "It is true. I've seen the gap with my own eyes," he murmurs quietly in heavily-accented Ilexi to a local sitting next to him, bracketing him in with Marwa. He returns to silence almost immediately and while there might be those who will be surprised the Master of Lamps' announcement of the Mistwatch's contributions to the future expedition, Ziyad shows no such emotion and simply smiles with satisfaction.
(Demetrius): A growing tension has been spreading through His Grace's form during the whole of the Master of Lamps' words regarding first the gap in the Mist, and then the ship. His eyebrows draw steadily downward and his clasped fingers tighten where they lace together over his knee, but through it all he remains entirely still.
Until that final declaration from the Mistwatch woman.
In that instant the prince's face darkens thunderously, and he suddenly surges up from his seat on the bench, bursting out, "You have no right! That is MY ship! You cannot--" But somehow he manages to clamp his mouth down on whatever other words were about to come out, and he simply stands there in stiffly furious silence as he stares at Halfah with a look in his eyes that those in the council hall behind him are left only to imagine.
When he speaks again, his voice is at a civilized volume once more, and his tone likewise scrupulously civil. "You do indeed honor my poor project with your unlooked-for offer of assistance." The words might be, like his posture, somewhat stiff, but they are spoken with measured care. "Your confidence in such a voyage can only benefit the endeavour, and help to attract more brave souls to sail upon my vessel." He inclines his head, with the most perfect grace. "I accept the Mistwatch's proposal of aid."
Then he sits back down without another word, compelled to ignore the fact that one of his cushions now graces the floor rather than his bench.
(the St Loomis rumormill): The silence that prevailed in the council hall all through the last portion of the Master of Lamps' speech suddenly breaks, as a great hubbub of excitement suddenly bubbles up and spreads, until everyone in the room seems to be speaking at once. Even the prince's outburst seems unable to stop the excitement that courses through the townsfolk, until the formerly staid atmosphere of the hall has been converted to something more like a noisy market day scene.
(Yasin): It isn't quite a look of surprise on Yasin's face at the beginning of that announcement from the Master of Lamps, but there is a very obvious grin of excitement, his eyes bright, his posture raised and straight as he sits up in his seat. As the announcement reaches the point of assistance to the ship, the young man's almost bubbling with energy, like a flame that had just found purchase on a fresh log in the hearth.
His eyes absolutely dart towards the Prince even before that outburst, and his elated energy seems to sober at the prince's words. But as the excitement in the council hall picks up and the Prince (reluctantly or not) accepts that proclamation, he's back to grinning again, looking around at those nearby. His eyes sweep to include Otty, then he looks about, searching for those others he might recognize crammed amongst the throng of excited individuals in the council hall.
(Otty): The towering smith beside Yasin does not mirror the younger man's - or the rest of the town hall's - excitement, remaining quietly blank, as stoic and difficult to read as ever. He looks about at those nearby, taking in the reactions. When Yasin's eyes find his, he offers a bit of a nod, maybe encouraging, but says nothing, seemingly caught in contemplation of the news.
(GM): OOC: Otty just rolled composure and dissembling, coming up with 53.
(Marwa): Marwa joins the surprised masses with her reaction as she looks up from her hands, but with a faint furrow of her brows rather than a smile as the Master of Lamps announces the Mistwatch's support on this daring venture into the rift. She looks toward Halfah for a long few seconds before turning aside to Ziyad, whose smiling expression also seems to give her another moment of pause. She unlaces her hands entirely and begins to ask him (in Sirdabi, of course), "Sayyid Farhat, did you know of--"
But Demetrius' sudden outburst, buried in the cacophony of excited chatter as it might be, causes her to look sharply away and with a wide-eyed look of shock, mouth slightly ajar from her interrupted question. There goes her veneer of neutrality. She watches the sequence of events unfold in a small island of complete silence until he returns to his seat once more, at which point she looks to Halfah and the council that sits behind both her and the prince, slowly and only partly succeeding in reining in that startled look upon her face. If Yasin manages to spot Ziyad and Marwa in the back rows, that is what he might see.
(Ziyad): "I had some idea..." Ziyad starts to whisper back to Marwa in Sirdabi before Demetrius' raised voice cuts him off. He jerks his head back towards the front of the meeting hall, wincing as much from whiplash as the furious expression he sees on the prince's face. Reddish-gold eyes stay wide and startled for a long moment before the young scholar's gaze shifts to regard Marwa once more. "Oh... He... He wasn't aware...?" he asks his fellow furrener tentatively, not that the answer isn't already on display for those with eyes to see.
(Hester): Hester looks both pleased and proud during these announcements, although at some point she begins rubbing at her lightly furrowed brow as if trying to figure out how exactly she's going to get all this proposed Auxiliary work done. That abrupt outburst by the prince makes her attention snap back into focus on him, though -- eyes widening and mouth dropping open just a bit. She shifts her stare in between him and the Master of Lamps for a moment, then snaps her mouth shut and swiftly redirects her notice elsewhere.
(GM): OOC: Ighlaf just rolled composure and dissembling, coming up with 74.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf observes from the back of the hall, eyebrows flitting up slightly at the outburst. They don't frown or share in the excitement, thoughtfully studying what they can see of the room from where they are standing.
(Halfah): Of all people in the room, the one who does not display the tiniest iota of surprise at the prince's outburst is the Master of Lamps herself. She just looks back at the furious royal, eyebrows mildly raised, with the lightest of smiles playing across her countenance. When at last he composes himself enough to concede his acquiescence to the Mistwatch's offer, the smile tugs itself into a faint smirk as she answers, "Your gracious acceptance honors the Mistwatch. Your Grace."
With that, Halfah then lifts her gaze to regard the full council hall again, nodding briskly. "Well, that's that, then," she says, her raised voice somehow managing to cut through the clamor and pare it down to a mere murmur of voices. "I've run through all the announcements for the day, and I'll not waste any more of your time in ending than in starting. As always, if anyone here has any further questions or matters to discuss, I very much encourage you to send a courier to the Keep, and I'll reply as soon as I'm able. In the meantime, good day and God bless, all of you."
Drawing herself fully erect and turning a distant gaze over the heads of crowd, she declares in Ruvic, "Ad usque quaerens veritatis," and crosses her right arm over her chest. Then, crossing the left arm over it in turn, she completes, "Semper vigilans." In Ilexi, she repeats sternly, "Still seeking the truth. Always vigilant." Then she turns back to the council table and begins speaking quietly to the others there.
And that does, indeed, seem to be that.
(Demetrius): For several long moments the prince continues to simply sit and stare fixedly at some point past the Master of Lamps and the council table, jaw clenched and dark eyes smouldering. But eventually, as the crowd in the room begins to shift and jostle and elevate its noise level once again -- and perhaps to dart a few quick glances his way -- he rises to his feet to take his leave. He's stymied, however, by the loss of his cap, which it takes his gaze a little while to discover in its hiding place beneath the bench in back of him, where it must have fled during the brief intense violence of his temper explosion.
(Heward): "Oh! Oh, Your Grace!"
A rustic-sounding baritone from the other side of the aisle of benches makes itself heard over the general commotion, and across the way a stocky and weathered-looking older fellow comes hurrying. He must be dressed in his Allday best too, as his long baggy-sleeved tunic and pointy-toed shoes look as if they must have been quite nice and fashionable some thirty years ago. Arriving near the prince, this curious personage lowers himself into an obsequiously pronounced bow -- and from that low point simply drops the remaining distance down onto hands and knees, and darts out a cane which he deftly fishes beneath the offending bench (and between two very startled people's feet as well).
It's only an instant before the cap is swept out by this oddly skillful effort and taken safely in hand, at which point the man scrambles back to his feet with a laborious grunt and presents the lost bit of finery to the prince, extended upon both hands as if he were offering up a fine dish. Perhaps a bit belatedly, he declares with stiff servility, "Allow me, Your Grace, I am here t' serve."
(Sakina): Sakina has turned toward Lucy during all the excitement caused by the announcement to murmur (in Ruvic) "I'm so glad about the working together and the bells and Saint Hollyberry, but my oh my, that Prince seems really caught off guard about the ship...." I think these next few days may be very busy. " She untangles her fingers, and rubs her hands down her skirt, smoothing it out, though it was already smooth.
(GM): OOC: Sakina just rolled composure by itself, coming up with 69.
(Velusiyen): Lucy looks as startled as anyone (excluding the Master of Lamps), and just nods slowly to Sakina. "Yeah, wow... Dunno what happened there. I guess royal folks are just touchy like that..." Appearing to readily dismiss the unfathomable mysteries of the nobility, she smiles at the elder woman then, gladness mingling with just a trace of sadness in the expression. "Guess maybe all you Dolphins are really gonna get to go home after all!"
(Demetrius): His Grace doesn't even have time to recover from his initial startlement before his cap is there, right before him, being extended so deferentially. He stares at his recovered headgear for a moment, observing the slightly bedraggled and dusty look of its plume, then shifts his gaze past it to the accommodating fellow himself. The prince's eyebrows twitch together to form a tiny furrow between them, and some subtle expression flickers across his face and settles almost pensively in his eyes. After this long pause he finally tells the man quietly, "I see you are as skilled a hand at angling for hats as for fish. Good man, Heward."
Then, setting his cap back on his head, dusty plume and all, he turns quickly and makes his way through the crowd, which parts just as effortlessly as before and closes up again as swiftly as he disappears through the doors.
(Yasin): Yasin's eager expression fades a bit at the mixture of reactions he sees -- Otty's stoicism, though typical, results in him shifting his grin to more of an enthusiastic smile, an excitement that begins to fade perhaps as a slow, somber realization settles in.
He looks towards those others he can spy in the heads of the crowd, noting Marwa and Ziyad. And by the time his gaze finds Ighlaf's expression of thoughtful study, well, his lips have drawn back to neutral, and that shimmering excitement in his eyes has been replaced with a more complicated expression, particularly as he glances back Otty's way, and then spies Lucy over by the entrance.
(Marwa): "Evidently," Marwa murmurs quietly to Ziyad even as her attention remains fixed toward the front of the room, back straightening a little further with focus in those moments.
She manages to pull her countenance the rest of the way into impassivity as she listens to the Master of Lamps adjourn the meeting, smoothing her brows and pressing her lips together into an even line. It is only broken with a sidelong glance of flickered interest when Heward emerges from the crowd and hurries his way down the aisle in rescue of a feathered cap in hiding. She tracks his journey to the front then with her gaze, and the prince's departure shortly thereafter, before she finally ducks her head and sets about readying herself to depart.
(Otty): Though Otty didn't look grim to begin with, he notes Yasin's shift and dredges up a small smile and a shake of his head as though attempting to ward off the younger man's solemnity. "We'll be right," he rumbles quietly. "You've to get home again. Been stuck too long here already. Good for all of us, the town and your people both. Answered prayers, this."
(Yasin): Yasin looks up towards at Otty, and perhaps that small smile does have an effect; he gives a small, subdued smile back, nodding his head. "Yes," he replies, though it is more akin to a whisper between the two of them. "It is excellent news. A contingent, a lantern to brave the mists. We've really got a chance. I, just..." He trails off here, then gives a small shake of his head.
His trailed off thought is not finished, and he offers instead a parting of, "Well. I'll... see you at the yard?" While beginning to rise to his feet.
(the St Loomis rumormill): In the wake of the prince's departure the rest of the crowd also begins to stir, rising to their feet and settling hats back on heads and cloaks around shoulders as they prepare to make their way back out into the winter cold. Tongues still wagging as they go, the people of the town venture forth into the late afternoon sunlight with, perhaps, renewed hope in their hearts -- and certainly fresh news to spread all around St. Loomis.
(GM): OOC: The scene fades to black.