Odina was of course present and welcoming of her nephews arrival, still on the mend from the sickness that had plauged Cambria, but she was beautiful in her green dress. Unfortunately she still needed the aid of a walking stick as her full strength had yet to return. However the sickness was gone, no life had been lost and in reality it showed to some Cambrians that the speed in which Nevermere had aided them was a huge factor.

"We welcome you your Majesty, nephew please come feast and break bread with your people," Odina had been hoping Vekka and Lyra were with her nephews tour but seeing as they had not greeted her perhaps they had duties back home, her eyes searched for them still between the movements of the day.

Wren refused to welcome the party, but instead hung back with her Valkyrie, close enough to intercept an attack but far enough away to feel as though they had nothing to do with it. Had Odina requested something different they would have done so, but as it was, this was as close as she was getting.

Her eyes spanned the company, judging its might. Nevermere had numbers and magic, she couldn’t deny them that. She watched and waited, making a plan in case action was necessary.

Regan stood at Cassian’s shoulder, eyes scanning each and every Cambiran with scrutiny. It wasn’t her job to play diplomat. As far as she was concerned, her job was to treat every Cambrian as if they couldn’t be trusted. That’s how she could best protect Cassian, and so she intended to do so. Besides, her experiences with Cambrians had been sketchy at best, anyway. She hadn’t forgotten the threat in Coheed, and the reality that the Cambrian who’d delivered it could be anywhere. Waiting.

Othello was standing pickled between two witches, one of them being Vesper Delvaux, in fact one might say he had grown oddly smitten with the bossy bitch and it would be true. He stood silent but observant, because Othello Allemeade had enemies here perhaps one he didn't deserve because as he said time and time again he was defending himself. Scallywags despite being scallywags would still do what he did that day to survive, wasn't dying in combat a great honor?

Did they expect him to just die?!

Othello Allemeade may have bent the knee and shackled himself to that cursed collar, but he would never just die...cornered dogs were the most dangerous if the options involved death.

Fuck that!

Fuck that blonde!

Steel gray eyes scanned the crowd, he would remember her face and that haunting wail echoed some times in his dreams. And she remembered him.