One hand triumphantly raised, the other resting on his hip, the statue of Iverstead truly was something of another time. Evoking ancient cultures which worshipped heroes he had dressed himself in traditional furred warwear, with the twisted pine coronet of a champion on his brow. One foot was resting on the head of an enemy, as if he had defeated them only just then, and he smiled with such pleasure and privilege that the only adjective that Celandine could think of to describe it was:

"Probably not," she admitted to the red-haired young lady who had waltzed up to her. From her tone and the way she had addressed her it was highly likely she thought very similar of the marble pose, and thus wouldn't have Celandine immediately expelled from the Ball.

Fingering the peacock mask she glanced from the statue to her new acquaintance and quickly remembered her manners.

"Greetings," she lowered herself into a perfect Salvaran curtsey. "Our host I am sure is a champion of the many."

Standing back up she smiled graciously. "I was specifically told to bring this mask to this Ball. My patron told me there would be good acquaintances to meet here. Pray, may I ask who you are, lady?"

She bowed her head again, for all the sake of proprietary keeping up the formal words and demanour for now.

"I am Celandine Vaeron."