Brun was never really trained for /this/ sort of social event.  Society parties?  Certainly.  A ball?  Of course.  But a pushy, inebriated celebratory mob?  Just never came up in the tutelage.  The drink was accepted with as good a nature as he could muster and he watched Gwydion for cues as to just how to deal with this.  His fellow Knight seemed to take it all in stride.  Brun was envious of the ease of that stride, but he did his best.  Trying to hide his discomfort behind his mug of ale.

Until the...lady...began her questioning.  As it was about Euryleia, he began to happily answer.  Then she continued...on a completely different and much more embarrassing tack.  Instead, his answer came somewhat haltingly, "No...  No..  I mean not married...  No.  Maybe one day, but there are no plans....or anything..."  He took another sip to stop himself from continuing to babble.  Lowering his mug, he offered the only question he could think of, "And you?  Married then?"

A drunken older man slurs, "Well, ten-feet tall or no, if y'r Uncle fights like you do and is 'alf the man you are, then I say we join up. Y'two are the only knights we've seen tonight who were willin' to 'ave a drink with us." Gwydion's answers go over well with the rest of the crowd too and this only invites more questions, some of them are rather pointed, "Is the Baron prepared to ally himself with the King? Is that why you're here? If so how's that to be any different than now? The Baron and his family do right by us. Who's to say a King will, especially one who is worlds away?"

"Nope," the woman answers casually to Brun's question. "That's a shame, but I'll see what I can do to change your plans," she says with a wink. "My name's Rose by the way. So, c'mon tell us about that Armour."

The next round of questions caught Gwydion in the middle of a mouthful of whatever it was they'd handed him. He gave a grunt through his nose while he downed what he'd had and passed off the glass.

"Mm. Yeah, I'm here for a few reasons. Important diplomatic talks are at the top of the list, of course, but I'm also here to have a good time and test myself against the rest of the system's knights. Maybe test them against me, too. But I don't know what the Baron's thoughts are, and don't presume to say. I just know... oh that stuff's good." The young knight shot a glance at his empty glass, grinning a little. Another? Maybe that was enough.

"Ahem. I know Uncle John is a good king, and more importantly a good man. No idea how things will change if the Baron signs on with him, though. That's stuff I've never really been able to see too well. I just know that's the plan, and if you'd met my uncle, you'd trust him as much as I do. He's got a... a way about him, y'know? This great combination of honesty and confidence. He tells me humanity can beat the Emergent if we band together, so here I am, out here banding us together. With enough cooperation, we can make the system safe for our families again. One day, the only people us Knights'll have to fight are criminals and tournament opponents. That's the future I'm here for."

[Gonna roll to create a new advantage: The People's Champion!

16:18, Today: Gwydion rolled 0 using 4 Fudge dice with rolls of -1, 1, 0, 0. Chivalry +3.

Total +3. Assuming that's gonna be good enough for an aspect.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Thu 07 Aug 2014.

Brun's brows creased a little as he tried to figure out exactly what she might mean by "change his plans."  It had been a very long time since he felt marriage able and even then it wasn't as thought he was ever going to have much of a choice in the matter.  A family duty after all.  Luckily, she also asked about his Lady and that was a much easier topic, "My Lady.  My Euryleia.  She is completely unique.  Forged together from the best parts I have come across.  She is at all times a work in motion and progress.  Ever changing.  Always full of surprises...."

Gwydion's speech goes over very well with the crowd. He can see in their faces that they believe him and what he says. He's actually gathered a small crowd around him. No sooner than he's finished his speech, another full drink is pressed into his hands and someone calls out a toast, "To the Baron and the King!"

Rose ignores the impromptu speech given by Gwydion, keeping her attention focused solely on Brun, "Unique, is it," she asks in a sultry voice, "It's really funny you say that because I recognize the defense matrix energy shield you've got installed on her. I recognize it because I helped install it on my Brother's armour. He was one of the Baron's men, you know. He was killed by bandits last year. How was it that you came across it, exactly?" By now her tone is deadly serious and not at all the flirty tone she used before.

OOC: Gwydion that result gives you a success with on free invoke.

Brun nearly chokes on a sip of...whatever the heck this was he was given.  He stared at her over the rim of his glass for a moment, before lowering it down.  The change in her tone, that icy edge, snapped him out of the confusion of moments before.  Straightening, he did his best to meet her gaze with a level eye contact, "I am sorry for the loss of your, no doubt, valiant brother.  I found the defensive matrix amongst many salvaged parts being traded on a station in the Edge."  He paused a moment before adding, gently, "May I know his name?"

While the others mingle with beautiful women and manly men, Meara quite happily sits at a table near the food and nibbles on the little cheese crackers nobility seems so fond of snacking on.  From her position of stuffing food in her mouth so she doesn't have to talk to anyone, she engages one of her favorite hobbies: people watching.  At the moment, she's mostly watching Gwydion, although Brun's also got her attention a bit.

Much to Freyr's delight, Meara is not allowing a single crumb to fall to the floor, nor let anything spill onto her clothing or stick to her face.

Gwydion drinks with the crowd and Meara enjoys her people watching and crackers.

Rose regards Brun with a discerning look trying to determine whether he is telling her the truth or not. There are several tense moments before she says, "His name was Alon." The tension is gone from her voice, "I'm sorry. I just thought...you know as well as I do that many so called Edge Knights aren't much more than bandits. I wondered if you were the same. But I don't think you are. Maybe you can put that Defense Matrix to good use. Allon would have wanted that."

"Alon," Brun offers back with a respectful bow of the head, "Thank you."  He had spoken in truth about where he had found the matrix.  The detail he had chosen to leave out was that he was, and always would be, acutely aware where the parts for sale in such Edge bazaars came from.  He was never able to lie to himself well enough to cover up that truth.  He himself had taken part in some raids, but he had tried to only commit to actions against other Edge factions.  But, lines were always...uncertain on the Edge.  He pushed the reverie away.  Returned himself to the here and now.  He was trying to escape that past, "I and my Lady will do our best to honor that wish.  If...  If it would be alright, I would know more of your brother....and how you and he had designed such a system?"

Rose considers Brun's request and nods. She pauses for a moment before she begins, "Alon was always..."

The party continues on with drinking, merriment, and even reminiscing about the past and those loved ones that have been lost. It continues late into the night, or rather, early in the morning with people arriving and departing all the time.

OOC: This seems like a good place to end the scene and move forward. Is everybody okay with that?

The Second Day of the Tournament begins earlier, and excitement has no waned in the slightest. People still crowd around view screens and eagerly discuss and bet on the days outcomes.

OOC: I'll have the next set up combat threads up soon.

The match between the Edge-Knight Brun and the Venusian Princess Meara has the populace of Callisto Station deeply divided as many root for the handsome Edge-Knight and others root for the spunky Valkyrie. Cheers are accompanied by gasps and cries of anguish as each exchange occurs. Each second seems to be an eternity as men, women, and children are completely captivated by the duel between the two knights. Finally, it ends. There is a stunned silence as technicians and barkeeps, old folks and children, nobles and roustabouts all look at each other. Then they cheer as one.

Like Gwydion before them, Meara and Brun are mobbed as soon as they dismount their  respective Armours. "Huzzah! This is the best tourney in the history of tourneys!" "And its only the second round!" The crowd attempts to sweep Meara and Brun along with them as they continue their festivities.

As she exits her armor, Meara wants nothing more than to grab Freyr and hit the market to shop off some frustration.  However, it seems as if she's not going to be able to get that chance.  Not being the biggest of people (although not being altogether tiny, either), she soon finds herself being quite literally carried off in the crowd.

"Eep!  Hands!  Hands!  Watch where you put your hands!" she meekly protests, her piloting suit showing off her figure quite well and not exactly having much in the way of extra hand holds.  Still, it is the most well-earned victory she's ever had before, and that means something.

If she finds herself suddenly placed next to Brun, however, she figures she'll just turn a brilliant shade of red and cease to function altogether for one reason or another.

Brun was unable to offer much more response at the end of the duel.  Polite, but detached.  On the short journey back to the station, he listened, shamed, as Euryleia listed off the damage report.  He longed to begin the work, to heal the scars, but the best he could manage just then was triaging the repairwork.  Being out of the tournament should provide him the time, but funding would be an issue.  He had turned down the volume on the feed from the station, being in no mood to hear the jeers at his loss.  He could only assume that would be the case at any rate.

Once docked, Brun cycled through the dismounting procedure.  He wanted to see the damage outside.  The roaring cheers as his hatch opened surprised him so much that he slipped.  Luckily there were many hands willing to catch him.  Some very eager ( his suit being as form fitting as Meara's and thus lacking in polite handholds.  He made some vain attempt to point of that he lost the match, but no one was listening.  In all the hustle and bustle, he catches of good clear view back to his Lady.  The sight wrenched his heart.  He found himself murmuring apologies.

Which might sound very strange as he is settled back to his feet on a dais next to Meara.  Who might be curious as to why he is apologizing to her.... and why he is referring to her as his lady...

[Bolt
Head: Snapfire Targeting Computer (When you succeed with style on an Armour defense, you may inflict a 2-stress hit on the attacker instead of getting a boost)
Front: Compressed Cryo Tanks (+2 to Blast when creating advantages involving covering fire)
Back: Multi-Phase Emitter Dish (Good Skulking/Average Mark)
Arms: Dual Laser Pistols (Good Blast/Average Zeal)
Legs: Rocket Boots (+2 to Armour to defend vs. Blast attacks)]

Due to a number of factors, mainly involving the quality of the previous day's celebrations and partially from some technical problems, it was decided that the tournament would be continued the next day. No one seemed to mind, least of all the mechanics. The extra time gave everyone a chance to ready themselves for what was coming.

Gwydion's beloved Longsword was back in its rightful condition, though there were still some dents in the shield that would take more time to fix. It was functional, at least. He could see that his opponent's armor was in much better shape. It was hard to tell if it had seen any combat at all. The yellow armor itself had several heraldic symbols on it, and the computer matched them to a number of Saturnine mercantile companies, each owned by Senator Claudius. It wasn't hard to guess why the machine was in such perfect shape. Throw enough money at something and it'll always look pristine. Unfortunately she'd made it this far, meaning Dame Scipii wasn't all show. He'd be sure to keep his guard up. From the look of the armor, it had sharp sensors, a pair of laser pistols, and enhanced thrusters. That meant he'd have to get in close. Plan made, he just needed to put it into action. It was odd, but he felt like he could see his opponent grinning smugly at him through the armour. He shook the feeling and readied himself.

"It's an honor to face you, Dame Scipii."

"Saturn sends its regards, Earth boy. Don't get too cozy after beating the Martian." Not one for pleasantries, then. Her voice came through the comm like hot steel, detached enough to stay professional but eager to chalk up another victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, after a duet of devastating days deciding daring duels, welcome to the semi-finals! These two warriors, separated by no less than three planets, have come together today to find out who will be moving on to the final round. Hailing from Terra herself, nephew to the one and only John Arthur, you've seen him pull victory from the jaws of defeat, Sir Gwydion of Earth! Representing Senator Caius Claudius from the beautiful ringed world of Saturn, this equally lovely pilot has cut her way through impossible opposition, Dame Scipii of Saturn! Knights, DUEL!" The audience exploded with cheers and applause for each of the warriors, and doubled it at the duel's opening.

The moment the fight began, Gwydion's Longsword burst straight for his enemy, gunblade prepared for a quick slash. She didn't move away, which he thought was odd, but instead raised her pistols. One aimed at the gunblade's edge, the other for the robotic hand bearing it. The Longsword's primary weapon missed its mark and immediately lost power. She'd fried the main power conduit that supplied it! A moment later the Bolt armour kicked off Gwydion's shield to open the distance again, and rained down weak pistol shots on his position. The ones that didn't miss outright were blocked easily enough by the shield, and defending gave the Longsword's self-repair pack a chance to reroute power and bring the energy gunblade back online.

The instant the shots stopped, Gwydion dropped the shield and struck out with a shot from his sword. The long slash went right through a blue-white cloud of ice, splitting it apart to reveal...nothing. That wasn't good. After a moment of scanning the battlefield, Gwydion's cockpit lurched forward as his sensors blared damage reports from the sudden strike! The head had been blasted clean through, leaving his more precise sensors offline!

"You look confused. Didn't watch the vidfeed of my last wins? Sloppy, Earth boy." He still had his standard camera array, and now he'd have to rely on it instead of targeting data. Before she could tear him apart, Gwydion surged forward, presumably away from her, and spun around. A yellow glimmer was there in front of him for the briefest of moments before disappearing again in a burst of speed. Rather than waiting for another blast to finish him off, the young knight moved right into the spot she'd just left and turned in time to see her close in on his former position. Taking the moment, he rushed her and swung his blade just too slow for her to react.

"You're a slippery one..." Once again beginning to turn and try to keep his eyes on the aptly-named Bolt armour, the woman's condescending voice came over the comm again.

"Not that slippery for you, kid. Just better." Did she just...? In the middle of...?

"Gwydion, keep her talking. Follow her voice." The third voice came over a private channel, encrypted to the Longsword. Brun was giving the best help he could without being on the field. Another shot rang out and nicked his armour's leg. Cold laughter followed over the comm. This was not going well. It took a moment to figure out what Brun had meant, but then Gwydion understood.

"I, uh...I have no idea what you're talking about." As more shots started to rain down on him, he started moving and trying to pin down Scipii's location. He had a vague idea of where she was, but with all that fire, he couldn't get in close. The only thing to do was move her, so he sent an energized blade of cutting force at her, and suddenly the pistol fire stopped.

"I'm sure the Lady Iliza has an education in mind for you." It was getting hard to think through the heat on his cheeks, and he was glad only the audio was being transmitted out. Unfortunately, the Bolt armour had disappeared again, no longer leaving a bullet trail to follow. Gwydion stayed still, slowly turning around to try and pick her up again with just his visual and audio sensors.

"You have got quite a mouth on you, Dame Scipii." The words made him wince as soon as they escaped his lips, but he picked up a blip on his sensors as she took the terrible bait.

"You can only imagine. Time to go home, little boy." As her comm cut out, the sound of metal separating metal replaced her voice, and the fight was over. The Longsword's blade had been turned to a reverse grip and thrust straight back, through the Bolt's chest and into the emitter dish on its back. Her attempt to sneak up behind Gwydion was ruined. If he withdrew his weapon, the cockpit would surely be exposed to the hard vacuum it was meant to protect her from.

"Hello there." Now his was the armor you could see the smug grin on.

"How...?" The pilot's shock was as much a pleasure to Gwydion as her survival. He hadn't been sure precisely where her body was, but he'd certainly intended to disable the armour without killing her.

"How's your cockpit? Nevermind, terrible question. Are we still fighting?"

"...I...I yield."

"Thank you, Dame Scipii. You may keep the gunblade until we're safely off the field, of course." With that, he gently helped guide her wounded armour back toward the hangars, relying on her sensors for more precise direction when they got close.

Victory: Sir Gwydion.

Princess Meara vs. Sir Jayson Dennic

By Mimi, Age 7

Mommy and Daddy took me to see the turnament today.  They said a ~*prinsess*~ wood be there and that I shud see how she acts so I can be more liek a propor lady.  I did not leik the fiting very much, but then the prinsess got to fite and Mommy said to watch so I cud see a propor lady.

The furst thing she did was what Daddy sayd was "lost her sheet", and she must have been very upset at losing her sheet because once the other person made fun of her, she jumped on him and started beeting on his head.  She did not even use her soard at first.  Daddy sayd she must have furgoton she had it.

I wanted to hear what they were seying, but Mommy covered my ears before I could lern what Prinsess Meyara was seying.  She sounded very angry.  The man with the shiny snake armor must have taken her blankie.

Evenshuly she stoped pounding on his head and started trying to stab him, and the silver snake man keeped trying to shoot at her but it keeped bowncing off her armor or missing bekaws she was so fast.  Daddy sayd she was a crazy beach and Mommy hit him Daddy the head for seying a bad word.  I did not understand which word was bad, but I did not want to ask and get in trubl, so I will ask my teecher at skuul.

The fite ended when Prinsess Meyara choped off the shiny snake mans arm and he gave up.

I want to be a propor lady like Prinsess Meyara when I grow up.

AND THE WINNER IS: PRINCESS MEARA
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Fri 20 Feb 2015.

The Tournament has nearly reached it's conclusion, the field has been reduced to two, Prince Gwydion of Avaluna and Princess Meara of Chonaill. But their showdown must wait, for tonight the Baron had invited all his honored guests to attend a Ball.

The Assembly Hall has been temporarily converted into a ball room. It is decorated beautifully, if not as ornately as the halls of Venusian royalty or as regally as the court at Avaluna. A band of live musicians plays though, at the moment, no one is dancing.

The nobles and knights who have traveled to Callisto station for the tournament are all in attendance, though it is clear than many wish to have nothing to do with each other. The mercurial and cutthroat nature of Jovian politics rarely leaves one with many friends, and certainly none to whom one would expose one's back. At the banquet this state of affairs could be covered up by a clever seating arrangement, but here in an open hall, the divisive nature of the Petty Titans is clear. The guests seem to be enjoying themselves well enough, even if they are in scattered groups.

The Baron and his wife dutifully move from group to group engaging in polite conversation. Currently they are talking to Senator Claudius and his retinue. Dame Scipii is never more than an arm length away from him. Lady Irina is clearly bored out of her mind and the look on her face tells you she wishes she was anywhere but here. Lady Iliza is nowhere to be found.

The young nobleman that was involved in the quarrel at the welcoming banquet stands near the front of the hall. Brun remembers Sir Dennic giving his name as James Hyle. He laughs along with a large group of other guests. Sir Ein Illodo is amongst their number.

Sir L1-4MNT stands against the wall near the band sipping from a wine glass. There is no one within ten feet of him. Perhaps no one has courage enough to speak to the imposing Martian.

Kevan Grouz and Zimon Bell stand at the rear of the hall near the refreshment table chatting with a pair of ladies.

Various other knights and nobles stand in small clumps here and there. If you search for somebody in particular you should be able to find them easily enough.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:58, Sat 31 Jan 2015.

Gwydion has dressed up quite nicely for the ball, and arrived with his small entourage. They're mostly there to make sure he doesn't make a complete fool of himself again by parting too much with the locals, and occasionally keep him moving in the expected directions. Mingling, schmoozing, generally getting in good with as many important people as is possible in the short time available. Also they've decided it best to chaperone him in case he almost gets chances to be alone with Lady Iliza, which is simply not acceptable.

Regardless, the young Knight looks happy enough to be present. Nothing has made him lose any of his pleasant attitude about the whole event, and he confidently walks among those present and gives polite greetings as he passes by. All the while he's keeping his eyes open for any sign of Iliza. One of the servants pointedly clears his throat as a way of pointing out how obvious Gwydion is being, which earns a sheepish smile and a nod. Instead, he decides to make his way over to L1-4MNT, a way which requirs some maneuvering to steer well away from the Saturnine Knight. That last encounter was too long lasting and not long ago enough.

"Sir Liamont! I'd like to say again how grateful I am to have been set against you. Your skill and honor both leave me humbled. It's my hope that I did my people justice in your eyes as well."

Sir L1-4MNT stands free of the wall and faces Gwydion, his full stature brought to bear. He gives Prince Gwydion a deferential nod of the head, "Kind words, Prince Gwydion. I thank you. For my part, I must say that you have impressed me and I am not a man easily impressed. The honor was mine."

Brun weathered the storm of cheering fans as best he could after his bout with.....the princess.  She was lost into the crowds quickly after their moment on the stand.  Likely best.  Surely she was happy to get away from such a one as quickly as possible.  He smiled and thanked those who proclaimed themselves fans; commiserating politely over the loss and agreeing just as politely over what should have happened.  When escape was finally possible, he disappeared and returned to his lady.

Euryleia stood silently in the bay that had become their temporary home.  She was battered, badly in some cases, but overall she remained unbroken.  He found his belt of tools and shoulder the work bag.  He had many amends to make to his lady.  He only hoped he would be able to complete the important ones before the tournament ended and he was officially evicted.

---

In the midst of his repairwork, he forced himself to spare the time to watch Gwydion's bout.  It became quickly apparent that the Saturnine knight was throwing the young Avalunan knight into rash action.  Getting inside his decision loop, one old pirate had told him.  He wasn't used to facing such and Dame Scipii was not about to relent.

Working quickly, Brun spliced wires and rerouted power, bringing Euryleia's comm systems back online.  He did what he could to mask his signal, to cut straight through to Gwydion.  It wouldn't take much.  Just something to anchor him.  A chance to refocus and see through the trickery.

It worked.

A small victory, but it lifted the Edge knight's waterlogged spirits.  At least a little.  Before his patchwork wiring overloaded and plunged the cockpit into silent darkness.  With a sigh, he groped around for his torchlight, "Apologies, my love...  You are right.  I should not get distracted.  Too much to do."

---

Brun had hoped to find some way to skip the ball.  Some polite reason to not have to step into that "melee".  She would be there, of course.  Why shouldn't she?  Victors have little to be ashamed of.  Especially her...  Brun was quickly growing tired of shaking thoughts of Meara out of his head.  He had hoped the work would solve it, but it never quite did.  The work....  There was so much.  He was very good at making do, but that can only ever get you so far.  He needed assistance.  His lady needed it.  More hands.  More tools.  More time.

More money.

All of which, Brun was quickly running out of.  There was a chance, however.  But, it would require him to do the one thing he dreaded right now.  To go to the one place he dared not tread.  The ball.  Brun's father had always taught him that such an event was a means to an end.  Queens and princesses found glory on the field of battle.  Kings and princes shaped those fields on the ballroom floor.  If Brun could negotiate that floor, he might secure a patron for himself and his lady.  It would provide the means to see her truly repaired the once.  To shine as she deserves.  He had already failed her as a warrior.  Perhaps he could still manage some good through his other skills.

But, to do so, Brun would have to face Meara again.  The very thought caused h his practiced confidence to crumble.

There was no other option though.  He would once more don the arms and armament of the social scene.  To match wit and to dance.  Normally, a field he felt comfortable in.  This time though, he felt as though he was stepping back onto the dueling field to stand once more against one with the proven skill to defeat him....

---

Brun arrived with little fanfare.  He had been the ghost of the tournament since his loss, but now he appeared again.  His outfit was the same, but a few skillful alterations of cut and line, a few well chosen accessories, made it seem completely new.  Another skill he was happy to find had not completely rusted away.

He scanned the room quickly, formulating his plan of attack.  Seeking where to begin his battle for a patron.  And, wherever Meara might be.  Just so he didn't stumble on her unawares of course.  From the passing that of a waiter, he secured a glass of wine.  He needed all the help he could get.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"A smack down.  He said horrible things about Mother and now we are going to go buy lots of things until I calm down."

Freyr was at a loss for words.  First, Meara took the most undignified and reckless method of fighting her opponent possible, and then won a decisive victory through sheer... something, and now she wanted to go SHOPPING.  And heaven help her, she was going to indulge her student and ward in some shopping immediately after such a wanton display of rage.  However, Meara was not going to get off entirely scot-free for her performance in the ring of honor.

"Okay.  Okay, fine.  But please refrain from shouting such words on an open broadcast frequency.  There are children in the audience!  Not to mention nobility from all parts of the system!  Think of how this is going to affect your family's reputation!" she scolded as the two of them moved at a quick pace towards the retail hub of the station.

Unbeknownst to them, but beknownst to us, a little girl was watching them with intense interest.

---

Freyr and Meara walked into the ball having partaken in a great deal of retail therapy, possibly boosting the economy of the station a significant amount all on their own.  Following closely beside Meara was an adorable, excited little girl who looked to be no older than seven years of age.  This little girl was holding on to Meara's rather impressive golden gown in a tiny matching one of her own.  Freyr's gown was much less elaborate, but no less flattering, being in a silvery dress that matched her hair.  All three had elegantly styled hair, although both Meara and Freyr looked like they could move around quite a bit and not lose their hairstyle too much, reflecting their martial attitudes.

Not seen was the massive amounts of purchases made by Meara (and Freyr, although she will not readily admit to it in current company), which they had conveniently placed in their suite.

Meara's first action upon entering was, of course, to do the least ladylike thing possible.  She scooped up the little girl, walked straight over to Irina, and said quite enthusiastically, "Hey, Irina!  Look, I have a fan!  Say hello to Lady Irina, Mimi!"

"Hello, Lady Irina!" the small child named Mimi said obediently and cheerfully.

Freyr rushed after the two of them with the most horrified, apologetic expression of her career yet.  Even though she secretly thought it was hilarious.

Sir L1-4MNT gestures toward Meara's entrance as he and Prince Gwydion talk shop, "Ah, there's your opponent now. She has an...odd manner, but none can deny she is a fierce fighter."

Brun's search for a patron is simply a matter of calling his shot and then taking it. The Ball is rife with Nobles and their retinues. There are many that he doesn't recognize, but a few that he does: Lord Corso Welsey-the patriarch of minor Jovian house from Ganymede. Lord Pryce Duxell- a rival family to House Welsey. Lord and Lady Arbcoeur, stewards of a small station near Thebe.

Stumbling into Meara unawares would be no problem for Brun. Between her shining gold dress, the scene she made with her entrance, and the guest she had brought, Meara effectively broadcast her position.

"Hello, Mimi. It's very nice to meet you," Irina smiles, looking very relieved at the arrival of the Princess, her Handmaiden, and her new companion, "Your dresses are very shiny."

OOC:
Aspects still in Play
Sharp-Dressed Man (Brun, 1 Free Invoke left, IIRC)
Iliza's Favor (Gwydion)
The People's Champion (Gwydion)

Gwydion is, of course, among those who turn to see Meara's entrance. At first he doesn't remember to keep the amusement off his face, and he brings up a fist to laugh into it. Once his eyes open again, he glances to L1-4MNT with a wide smile and nods.

"My cousin. She's certainly different. A breath of fresh air, I think. Most of the nobility tends to be too formal and stuffy. Too much posturing, not enough living. I'm hoping she'll set a good example for them. You don't strike me as the type to be offended by such honesty."

Sir L1-4MNT gives a slight shake of the head, "Oh, I'm not. It's as you say...a breath of fresh air. Though judging from her face, your cousin's Handmaiden may not appreciate it as much. A pity to see such a pretty face so contrite. Perhaps she'll appreciate company and a glass of wine to forget her troubles. If you'll excuse me, Prince Gwydion." Sir L1-4MNT sweeps up a glass from a passing drink tray and makes his way over to Freyr.

Brun, very nearly, chokes on his wine at Meara's entrance.  It is only through keenly honed social reflexes that he manages to avoid it and to avoid any more outward expression than amused surprise.  The truth was she, as usual, stormed into his thoughts as she stormed into the party.  Why did she command so much of his attention?

No.  Focus.  There is work to do.

But maybe that distraction can be used to his advantage.  He spotted Lady Arbcouer stifling a chuckle at the scene and decided to use it to make his opening.  Stepping closer, Brun offered, with a respectful bow of the head, "She certainly knows how to make an entrance doesn't she?" A mild feint, just to test defenses.