Iomhar Vael
The atmosphere at home since the wedding had been distinctly odd. It hadn't been bad for the few weeks Aedan and Meghan had stayed in the castle while work on their new place was being completed, but once his daughter and nephew had moved out? His brothers had gotten...frosty about the whole thing. He didn't think it was about the marriage anymore, but about Meghan herself, not that he understood why. She'd moved on and he'd felt free to try to resume the life he'd put aside. For some reason, his brothers seemed to think that waiting for her to contact him in favor of this sort of thing was a problem. Even Uncle Alec had looked a little disappointed, so...Damien's party served as a WELCOME escape.
He'd opted for an all black ensemble, including a leather kilt that looked like a newer, more "industrial" version of Aedan's, which no self respecting Scot would ever wear, let alone anyone from Starkhaven. Still, HE liked it.
Iomhar popped into the party room, depositing a good bottle from his uncle's distillery, along with a wrapped gift on the table, grabbed a drink, then made his way toward the main event.