RP:The Witches Ball

Synopsis: The well-known witch sisters, Talyara and Lanara, host their first ever Witches Ball at the Dancing Destrier in Xalious. The Halloween party is a big deal to the witches, as Samhain is equivalent to New Year's Day in their belief system. Many come dressed in elegant costume to celebrate the evening with good food, the live band, and lets not forget the open bar! Kreekitaka decorated the establishment beautifully and also helped several design their costumes. Valrae and Emrith are chosen as the best dressed of the evening and are the recipients of two magical stallions.

Kreekitaka had set this room up about as grandly as one could imagine. The walls had been covered in a dark fabric which glowed softly, giving an illusion of infinite space, as if by stepping into the room, one entered a realm in which the barriers between worlds were no more. Strange shapes made from light flickered briefly and eerily along the walls--spirits, perhaps?--and the ceiling was lit with spinning mobiles, decorated with light as well--again, hauntingly bizarre shapes, some of which almost human and yet... somehow definitely -not-, while others were shapeless things of tentacles and liquid ooze. The Things from Beyond were here to play tonight, it seemed. Green orbs that glowed with shimmering light hung suspended from the ceiling, casting shadows that moved in unpredictable ways. It's true, the Hanging Corpse has an actual skeleton, but there was more than enough peculiar mysticism here tonight to more than match the squick factor of that bar. Kree had been instructed to enter through the kitchen doors and introduce the hostesses--he assumed it was because they thought he was an eloquent speaker--and so he did, wearing a... oh for heaven's sake, Kree, she said you could wear a costume, not a daggum jellyfish! The fashion designer was almost entirely hidden from view behind a mass of translucent tentacles and membrane large enough to cover him. To his credit, he'd somehow rigged up a mechanism to allow the whole thing to undulate slowly like an actual jellyfish. But still. Come on, man. "Men an' wimben," he said, in a voice to which he seemed to be adding extra blurbles on purpose, "wehcomb TAH!oo HHHTHe WibTAH!ches Baohbblblblb." After a pause, during which he burbled a little and waited for any potential applause to die down, he continued: "Yobur hosTAH!essess TAH!onighTAH! abre Yabnarablblb, an' TAH!ayarallbblb. Pblblbyease enjbloy HHHTHe parTAH!ee!" Dang it, Kree. You -had- to do it. You just had to come to the party dressed as a big stupid jellyfish.

Lanara :: Upon nearing the grounds of the Dancing Destrier one would be politely stopped and frisked by three no-nonsense orc security guards. Once removing the party-goers of their weaponry, they would allow them to proceed to the establishment and enjoy the festivities. Upon entering the building, those that are capable of using magic, would find that their attempts would be futile as their spells are silenced for the duration of the Witches Ball. An unspoken agreement is to be accepted between the two witch hostesses and the attendee’s. Those that choose to leave, are free to do so, and as soon as they leave the grounds they will regain use of their magic and have their weapons returned. There will be no weapons or magic performed at the Dancing Destrier, for the length of the ball, as this is a high holiday for the sisters and it will be celebrated with the utmost respect. The hired help is fast to usher any children and animal companions away from their parents, where they are taken downstairs to enjoy face painting and a freak petting zoo, while the adults are left to mingle on the main floor. The enormous ball room is filled with many tables for those that wish to dine, a spacious hardwood floor for dancing, and to the far left there is a live band on a raised stage. Those that are familiar with boy bands, would recognize the world-renowned performers as ‘Marcus And The Demons’ and they are currently playing a heavy rock beat, but will likely play a few slow ballads later in the evening. At the top of the split staircase, all eyes are drawn to the beautiful brunette who begins to descend from the left side and smiles warmly at those that are gathered. Lanara is dressed in a black, strapless, ball gown, with sparkles that shine brightly with movement. The gown hugs her figure tightly and has a slit up to her right thigh, which reveals a shapely leg and black stilettos. A hint of makeup accentuates the natural beauty’s flawless face, her hair hangs in loose curls which end at the middle of her back, and a black domestic cat proudly walks at her heel. Atop Lana’s head is a black pointed hat, with a purple ribbon at the base, and she is carrying a golden-runed broomstick in her right hand. The witch, quite literally, was a witch, at the Witches Ball! But then again… Kreekitaka also was here as a jellyfish! As her heel exits the final step, she passes by the bar where a sign hangs, stating that all drinks were on the house for this evening only, and she moves to the center of the room where a large black cauldron is stationed. A gold index card is plucked from the tiny table beside the cauldron and dipping the quill in the ink, Lana scribbles a private wish before folding the card in half and tossing it into the bubbling pot. Speaking clearly she turns her back to the cauldron and addresses the crowd, "I've made this potion just for you. Come take a chance with my witch's brew. It's made with karma, special and true. It's what you deserve for being you." A smile remains on her lush lips as she tilts her head to the right and peers upstairs, as though waiting for her beloved sister to arrive.

Talyara slowly descends the opposite staircase as her sister, her long fingers clutching at the banister less she topple down the steps in her heels. The normally casual witch is dressed elegantly in the most magnificent gown she has ever worn; truthfully, the empath doesn’t believe she can do this dress justice. The dress is of a pale green hue and shimmers all over as if it were a multifaceted jewel. It has no sleeves and no back, and attaches around the back of the neck. The gown is floor-length, clinging to her feminine curves until it hits her knee, there it features a crinoline slip underneath made of layers of slightly stiffer fabric for the purpose of making the remainder of skirt stand out, expanding as it goes down to the bottom. In certain angles of light, one can see, just for a moment, a green pattern of a trilobite emerge on the chest and vanish again--the maker's mark. The skirt, however, is more than a simple pale green. As Talyara moves, a pattern of light dances around her--literally, in fact. A woman, faceless, stylistically drawn, but beautiful in her simplicity, dances across her skirt. When she's on the left, she cringes and sways side to side, as if avoiding blows, then dashes around behind Talyara, hunched over at first, rising up to full height on her right, and then leaping joyously into the air when she comes around to the front, spinning and lifting her arms, throwing her head back as if in ecstasy before backing towards the left side and continuing the cycle in a loop. It seems as if this particular witch has come dressed as the moon. Talyara’s hair is done simply, hanging in loose curls around her shoulders and cascading down to her mid back. Normally, Taly does everything in her power to keep her flesh covered, but tonight, she wears the scars on her back proudly, a badge of survival. Her eye makeup is minimal, just enough to accentuate her bright, emerald eyes, but her lips are painted boldly red. On her face, she wears a relatively simple masquerade mask made in the same pale green color as her gown, with shifting lines of that make it difficult to tell exactly what emotion the mask is trying to express. As she reaches the bottom of the steps her eyes wander around the tavern. First…well first she spies Kreekitaka who has come dressed as a jellyfish and she’s momentarily stunned. With a quick shakes of her head, she spies the buffet of food is marvelously displayed in various hallowed out gourds and pumpkins that act as serving dishes—cheeses, meats, and breads as well as sweet treats such as pastries, fruits, and cookies. Then her eyes move to a corner where pumpkins of different sizes lay with various knives and scoops ready to be carved with everyone’s most creative designs. Lastly, her focus shifts to the opposite corner where a barrel has been set up full of water and apples of every color float merrily on top, a perfect bobbing station. Taly cannot help the grin that pulls on her lips as she moves towards her sister who stands before the large cast iron cauldron towards the center of the room. A small table is perched just to the side with a plaque which explains the “Wishing Cauldron”: whoever desires may write a wish upon a golden paper, setting it with their intentions, before throwing it into the water and sending it out into the universe. There is a warning written below in smaller font. For those good of heart, the wish has a better chance to come true while those with darkness may want to sit this particular activity out. The cauldron itself seems to be emitting its own light, the vapors from the bubbling water smells of sweet herbs and spices. Taly takes her own golden paper and tosses it in, saying: “I’ve made this potion just for you. Come take a chance with my witch’s brew. It’s made with karma, special and true. It’s what you deserve for being you."

Emrith :: Once upon a time, not so very long ago, an elf met a witch, made a business arrangement, disguised himself as a drow and helped turn the tide of a war. Tonight, the spell-blade in question is attending a ball. Two very different occasions, you might say, but both are tied together in a most peculiar way. Footsteps click on the stairs, and Emrith descends into the enchanted main room of the inn...but something is most definitely off about this scene. Instead of blonde hair, green eyes, hard-boned masculine good looks and the crossed swords which are his trademark, Emrith could, for all appearances, be Lanara's body double. The height is a bit wrong, and the way he moves is still reminiscent of a person trained in the art of swordplay, but almost everything else is flawless. With Talyara's advice and guidance, Emrith has managed to find wardrobe choices which would mimic Lanara's style - in this case, a strapless black ball gown almost identical to the one Lanara herself is wearing, accentuated by high heels - and despite the peculiarity of the clothing, the spell-blade seems comfortable enough in it. His hair and eyes are brown, in mimicry of the woodland witch - a trick of Emrith's small but fairly detailed grasp of illusory magic, no doubt, and brought about earlier in the day, long before the antimagic charm was placed on the Destrier's common room - and one can even see the tattoos Lanara possesses on the skin that is visible. If you are going to do something potentially embarrassing, it is best to throw yourself into it with gusto and laugh along with the rest. Emrith, having taken this advice to heart after his playful spar with Talyara some few days before, quickly makes a tour of the room, saying nothing for the moment, waiting to see what will happen. Silence, it would seem, is his best trick; the man could do nothing about his voice on such short notice, and any speech will immediately destroy the thin illusion he is maintaining. Still, he thinks as he weaves in amongst the guests so far, it is not a bad showing for someone forced to cross-dress after losing a bet.

Raphaline is normally a woman of basic wares: leather, cotton. Tonight though, the half-elf has chosen to shirk her normal guise and come dressed as a phoenix. There are no feathers, no simply sewn together cloth, but gauze like material that has a mixture of red, yellow, gold and orange and shimmers in the light of the room. From her arms, varying lengths of the same material flow, creating almost a wing like shape. In her fiery curls, citrine, amber and topaz sparkle. The bard glances about the room with her emerald eyes, taking in the sight of those there as well as the decorations and fun to be had. Donning her infamous grin, she makes her way around the room, greeting those she knows. First is Kreekitaka, of whom she playfully waves to before turning to the two witches, first approaching Lanara. “You two have created quite the show here.”

Malshaquon soared high above the Xalious village tonight, barely a speck in the night sky as he gazed down upon the village-dwellers. Word of the witches’ ball had reached his ears, and he wished to attend! But no, he did not attend to take part in the contests and dances of the festivities. He was here to make his mark! He was here to show the others what true fear meant! Many would come to know the name of Malshaquon tonight! Muahahaha! The dragon circled above the town square, keenly watching the partygoers mull to and fro into the Dancing Destrier. It would be there that he made his stand. Plots circled and swirled within his mind, and not long after he would descend from his imaginary throne in the sky, vanishing into the forests before sweeping up and over onto the roof of the Dancing Destrier. They will come to know his name, oh –yes-, they will. Trotting his way over to the chimney before hunching on to his hind legs and springing up to it he gazed down into the dark, empty fireplace. This was a problem that had to be fixed. His presence, for now, would be unnoticed, the red proving too… small… to make enough noise or appear as much more than a bird in the sky. Some might even mistake him for a cat up on the roof of the inn. But about his plans he went, oblivious to the antimagic charms settled downstairs.

Insidia moves this way and that with an odd gait, her small frame weaving in and out of revelers. She seems to hop, or rather she rises up on her toes, and then settles back down on her heels. It is really very odd, and it seems as if she is doing so for no reason at all. Her unblinking, expressionless face holds gazes for too long resulting most often with the other turning away first. She seems apart, an observer with no agenda. She doesn't drink nor eat; she just moves this way and that with that odd tip-toe-down-to-heel motion.

Hudson arrives late, via carriage. He arrives with Fairfax, who is in a hot girl little red riding hood costume, the details of which are not in Hudson's author's jurisdiction. Hudson himself is wearing the Hollow equivalent of ADIDAS track pants, a leather jacket, a Cenril team baseball cap, and a white shirt, on which he has written BIG BAD WOLF in felt tipped marker. Minimal effort here. Fairfax is struggling to walk in her... Ugg-style boots, and Hudson helps her. He watches as other party goers are relieved at the door of their babies. Who brings their baby to a party? Who are these people? Maybe no better than him ... who brings a mermaid to a party. He'd laid down several ground rules, chiefly among them: (1) If she needs to pee, she is NOT to do what she does in the ocean, she is to fetch him, and he will find a responsible adult woman to take her to the ladies room like a single dad at the mall with his daughter; (2) She is NOT to tell anyone she's a mermaid, because Racism, she is FOREIGN and a MODEL if anyone asks. Hudson realizes, upon their entry to the gala, that he and his date are grossly underdressed. Fortunately, he doesn't really care, and it is unlikely that she will appreciate this. He locates the bar, and he leads himself and Fairfax through the throngs of women who are exclaiming HEYYYYY!! LOOK AT YOU! OH MY GODDDDD! WOOOO WE'RE HERE! At each other. Clustered around the bar are scores of men, here with women or dateless, in all manner of dress, some just as bad as them, GREAT. Hudson joins the fray immediately, patting a stool for Fairfax to sit among them, preside over their aggressive discussion of sports. He flags down the barkeep. "Wine spritzers only for her," he says, meaning Fairfax, before getting himself a glass of brown liquor. "Remember what we discussed. You... are foreign. Not a mermaid. You are a model. It means you wear clothes, professionally. If you get confused about your back story, find me and I'll make something up." A sports acquaintance approaches, then, and he immediately executes the HEYYYY MATE, back-clap-hug, greeting of men everywhere. Cue a brief awkwardness when the guy draws back, processes that Hudson isn't here with Alvina - it shows in his face - but then he shakes Fairfax's hand. "Right! Fairfax! Nice to meet you finally!" he's shouting, as if he's heard all about her. It's loud; the boy band is making aggressive pop sounds. "We should get some shots going!" he shouts, to the group of men in the immediate vicinity.

Skylei arrives alone. Her current living situation is driving her slowly insane; three people are simply not meant to live in a one bed apartment. Skylei, therefore looks for any reason to be ‘out of town’ – and oh, what fortuitous luck – a ball in Xalious that she simply -must- attend. And, what a shame, fugitives (like her ‘house guests’) can’t attend high-profile social functions so she’ll have to attend alone. Alas, how hard it will be to finally get some space and time to herself – even if it does mean attending a ball… filled with people. It’s small payment to be free of her homely imposition. As for her costume - hell, she put on a black dress, which is more of a costume than she’s worn in months. Her arms and legs are liberally decorated in red runic symbols that are supposed to look bloody and, combined with her pale pallor, she looks almost festive. If anyone asks, she’s a necromancer’s sacrifice, or a freshly turned undead, or… nah, she’s got nothing else. Anyway, where’s the bar? Girl gotta do what a girl gotta do, and this girl needs a drink, stat. And it’s all on the house? Dreams do come true. Witches be praised. Sky muscles her way through Hudson’s group of guys to order two vodka based drinks. Both are for her.

Irenic arrived with his date, Valrae, upon a horse drawn carriage as their costumes would have gotten ruined in flight. His grin was surely contagious as he descended from the transport and bowed with the offering of his hand to his date to help her down so they may enter the ball together. His long stride of fancy booted feet were taken shorter for his date’s sake and opens the door for her so she may enter first. His attire was formal, a short sleeved black button up shirt to accent the ink painting its way down his taught biceps and a slate gray vest atop it to contrast the shades against the satin red tie he wore to match his date. Once inside he smoothed his black skinny tailored pants which seem to only elongate his already long legs and he was starting to feel uncomfortable in them already, but he was easily able to ignore the restricting attire as he escorted Valrae through entrance. His costume was that of a pearlescent dragon to match his ivory wings which were enchanted with a glimmer by Valrae to look of dragon wings, the idea of hers was impromptu and clever - even shimmering makeup (also painted on by Valrae) designed as dragon scales decorating the sides of his face and down his neck. Those that have met Irenic before could see his hair had even changed for the occasion with the top left long and the sides cut so close to show the hint of scalp on up to a disconnected fade. The elimination of the majority of his grey hairs made him look nearly ten years younger and the earrings he changed as well to match that of his dates. Once inside, hoping to make a bit of an entrance and bowing slightly while holding up Valrae's hand as if showing off some beautiful artwork. Once he stood up straight once more he would say with little effort to project his low gruff voice, "May I present, Valrae Baines, a witch of Cenril!" Any attention gained anyone could see his fancy garb, proud grin, and elaborate costume was surely outshined by her.

Artia:: The Apothecary moved inside the Dancing Destrier, looking about to see who each person decided to dress up as. Artia, she decided to dress up as a mermaid herself. Seashells covered her large breast from view, and to keep it a little bit more modest she added green lace to be wrapped around her torso. Leaving the front of her belly open to show a painting of a tiny baby mermaid on her swollen belly, being twenty weeks along now it was no excuse to cover up her pregnancy even if she wanted too. As usually the cursed topaz hung between her breasts, something she could not take off until it was cured. Leaving her defenseless, but alas from the wide hips down she wore a sequin blue and purple skirt designed to look like a mermaid tail. Seaweed was mixed along her hair with clips, and in her few braids tiny sea shells were there. Cyan optics sparkles from the blue and green glitter applied along the eyelids and cheeks to add addition scale look. Upon gazing about the room, a worried expression over her face as she looked about the room in hopes Odhranos would be there. With a soft sigh, and a left hand rested on her swollen stomach. Moving through the crowd to make it to a vacant table, looking down at her stomach forcing a smile, she had hopes he would show, if not she would continue her desperate search for him. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots the ‘wishing cauldron’ not being able to help her to walk to it. The smell was sweet herbs and spices; she knew some by just the smells. Deciding to drop a wish, taking a small piece of the paper, writing on the golden paper; folding it before she dropped it in. Offering a wave to Kreekitaka, as it has been too long. The witch sisters would be too busy at the moment, so she would say hello later. Once she made her way to the buffet, loading up her plate as the child inside was hyped at the scent of food. Kicking away he or she went, as she knew not what the sex was yet.

Valrae had taken Irenic's hand eagerly. Her nervousness had grown as they neared until her heart was a steady pounding beat in her ears. As the winged man led her into the beautiful and hauntingly decorated room she almost forgot her anxiety. That was, until Irenic had decided to announce her. The woman had chosen look that she hoped screamed, 'fiery masquerade dragon'. She made a shining image festooned in a vibrant; jewel toned red velvet dress that caressed the curves of her body. The mermaid silhouetted gown had a high neck line, long sleeves, and an open back that started just under the curve of her own. Tiny beads of faceted ruby and citrine scalloped the lower portion of the sleeves, of her skirt and small train, layered all the way to the helm, giving the illusion of small, perfect scales. Whalebone and wire under gossamer cloth of scarlet and glittering gold made narrow, folded wings fixed to her back; they crested over her shoulders and ended in narrow points just under her hips. Metallic pale golden powder, fine as faerie dust, covered the exposed skin of her back and dulled the lacy black filigree lines of the crescent moon tattoo that rested between her crafted dragon wings. The same shimmering powder was used to paint delicate scales of ruby and gold on her forehead, around her temples, high cheek bones and down the side of her throat. The witch had lined her large forest shadow eyes with kohl, the black lines winging out into the scaled pattern dramatically. The overall effect looked similar to a painted masquerade mask. Her lips were stained a bright red. Her honey hued hair was pulled up in an intricate yet almost careless way, with only a few stubborn curls falling to frame the drama of her painted face. Out of the golden waves, a short way behind her temples raised two small pointed scarlet horns, covered in intricately painted swirling veins of gold. She'd adorned herself with gifted earrings of gold and ruby that dangled close to her shoulders and flashed with the whisper of her movement and the matching necklace that blazed with the rise and fall of her breath. Long, sooty lashes shimmering with golden powder fluttered over her painted cheek as she cast her dark eyes to the floor in embarrassment. Unsure of how to conduct herself in such a situation and incredibly self-conscious, she kept a clinging hold on the avian's arm and let him lead her through the crowd she had yet to find the courage to look into.

Sabrina enters the building, alone and discreet among the noise and better dressed guests. It was obvious she did not frequent these sorts of events, though she did her best to dress for the occasion in a floor length gown of sheer black fabrics carefully wrapped to conceal indecency and a cutesy set of black cat ears complete with drawn on whiskers. She scans the scattered crowd to find familiar faces, though the search was rather distracting with all the fancy dress and festivities. She fiddles with the bangle about her wrist; the nerves of being around this many people in such an enclosed place wore heavily on her features.

Fairfax steps down from the carriage after Hudson and almost immediately loses her footing. She claws at his jacket to keep upright, leaving a jagged rip in the leather material, but fortunately, not his skin. She weaves her arm through his and takes a few (more) practice steps in her noticeably heel-less shearling boots, testing the proverbial waters. There’s a shadow on the ground cast by some light and she bumps into Hudson to crab-step around it, unable to tell the thing’s depth but assured there is depth there, if her knowledge of the ocean’s shadows tells her anything. Her little stumble has caused her very bright red hood to fall in her face, and she pushes it up with the back of her hand, smoothing some of her salt-dried hair from her eyes to look around the ballroom as they enter. She sweeps an enigmatic stare over the attendees, glancing at her attire compared to theirs. She is not impressed by Hudson’s selection of this … red hood riding person she is meant to pretend to be and lets him know it by a pretty severe side-eye. It’s just a moment or two later that she’s distracted by a scent, and only another second before she pins it down and turns to Hudson. She’s about to demand he take her to the land walker food when he runs it down for her again. Model. Clothes for a job. Not a mermaid. (This is lost on her because why be anything but a mermaid? But okay, Huds.) She gets onto the stool and smoothes her little red skirt over her legs, spends a few seconds wiggling her toes inside her boots, promptly is distracted by the drink she is given, which she sips, demurely, and appropriately. She flashes a sharp smile at Hudson’s friend and she gives him her hand, fairly delighted he’s buying this whole … thing. “Hudson,” she coos at her companion. “What is your friend going to shoot here?”

Emilia made her way into the party as discreetly as she could, not wanting to really be noticed. Yet she hid behind the costume she wore, keeping her severe loss of weight and other injuries masked. The little Genasi wore a fitted dark green corset with spider silk sewn into the fabric giving it a shimmering effect with a long flowing skirt made of a similar material beneath a series of oversize peacock feathers layered over one another starting small and increasing in size the father away from the waist until they were only flowing from the back, dragging across the floor. It was not something she’d chosen, but had been left mysteriously on her bed with a note reading ‘you are coming’. Beneath the gown the Genasi wore simple soft black leather boots that covered not only the golden anklet about her ankle, but the bandages that were about her left foot and ankle. No sleeves and an open back of the top revealed the scar on the woman’s back, no smooth flesh, but sported with grace to the horrors of the past. Crazed white curls tamed for the evening into two braids that fell past her knees sporting a series of beads, feathers, and gold dust throughout them. Upon her snow white face rested an elegant mask of dark forest green with intricate golden designs painted around the outside of the eyes. To match the woman had painted her lips gold with the help of another. All the fancy sparkle and jazz made to distract friends and others from the sick person she truly was. At least with the anti-magic spell upon the Ball those who knew the Genasi best would not be able to tell her magic was currently missing, yet any who touched the female would quickly find that natural chill she sported as part of her genetics was missing and she was almost humanly warm. Inside, her goal of the night would be to stay out of the spot light, sit as much as possible, and try not to pass out making a scene. Inside she found her way along the back of the gathered crowd, much away from any dancing and kept to the wall, better to be a wall flower tonight.

Lanara smiles warmly as her sister casts her wish into the universe and is about to mingle with the guests, when she spies someone slinking down the stairs, and donning the same attire. Who would have the audacity to mimic the costume of the hostess?! Maintaining her composure, the witch is about to let it slide and return her attention to the party at hand, when the woman turns her head and it’s only then that Lana gasps. Someone didn’t come to the party as a witch. Someone didn’t steal her costume idea. No. Someone came as an imposter of Lanara! The woman tilts her head to the side, a mixture of amusement and confusion evident in her gaze as she merely stands there, her mouth agape. If she were to discover it to be Emrith, it likely wouldn’t end well, as she had been seen hunting the male the past week after his indiscretions with her beloved sibling. So perhaps it’s for the best that Raphaline, dressed as a phoenix, appears before her and Lana finds her smile returning to her pretty face. “Hi! I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m so happy that you came, and I hope you have a wonderful evening. I am Lanara, and the woman in the lovely moon costume over there is my sister, Talyara.” A dainty hand is extended to the elf, and a gentle handshake would follow, before Lana’s attention is captured by the arrival of another witch. Having no prior recollection of a witch from Cenril, the woman wanders over towards Irenic and gives the male a smile, admiring his costume, greatly. “Hello, Fangel. Delighted to see you again! And your date… Valrae, is it? I’m –very- pleased to meet a fellow witch! I’m Lanara, and I hope you both have a wonderful evening. We must get together soon, Valrae, I insist!”

Artia heard Irenic’s voice and shook her head; a smile could not be forced away from her plump ruby lips. It seemed the lands had too many witches now, if she was still even a little dark hearted she would think of changing that. But alas, she was not and had worked extremely hard to turn the darkness within away into light. She refused to go back to the person her husband and she worked so hard for her to be. They say you shouldn’t change for anyone, but yourself. She did, and with his help. She saw an old friend, Valrae on his arm and instantly approved of the couple? That almost didn’t sound right, but either way the Irenic she once loved and almost married was long dead. This Irenic was just her friend now and always as she had found someone else to complete her. Once her cyan eyes spotted Sabrina and if she saw her she would offer a bow instantly to the master healer. Grabbing her plate and drink, she went back to the table she had sat at earlier. Bouncing her foot up and down as she crossed her legs, enjoying the warmth of the meal to settle the child down. Hopefully tonight would not be so bad.

Sargaso heard about this shindig from Huds who promised it would be chock-full of 'hot babes', so there's no way Sarge would extend the invitation to Amy (main squeeze, but not the only). He had to put a costume together on the lowdown and cheap, and took a trip to a thrift store. He had no idea what he would dress up as, but when he found shimmery gray pants - boom: merman. (Anyone with an elementary understanding of Sarge could have told you the merman costume was inevitable, no matter what he found.) Stuff that puppy in a pillowcase so Amy doesn't find it, and done. He enters the costume party now in what may be the laziest get-up of the evening: a white shirt and slightly shimmery gray pants that, if you squint really hard, maybe looks like shark skin. He palms something flat against his thigh, something he picked up at the thrift store for Huds to cheer him up. His best mate has been a real drag ever since the Alvina thing. He sweeps around the gaggle of hot babes near the cauldron (which he avoids), and takes stock of the party's offerings. He ogles Lanara's backside, but doesn't see her face and thus doesn't recognize 'Cinnamon'. He moves on, side-eye ogles Talyara's front side, but never breaks stride. (Note: He has no idea this is their party, he is the definition of a party crasher, and doesn't care.) Next, Raphaline, also hot, yep. Judging by the costume, maybe less fussy, more attainable. Next, Insidia, hard pass. Next, Skylei, hmm. Hot, but maybe doesn't know it. The dress screams 'I don't care' and the red runes scream 'Daddy never loved me.' She gets a star next to the mental catalogue he creates for later (he learned to do this from a PUA flowchart carved into the far stall at The Whaler's Bar). Finally he finds Hudson and some hot girl. "Hey." Bro handshake/fist bump combo. Nod to Fairfax, but no ogling as she's been marked by Huds’ presence. He gets himself a hard drink to catch up, makes small chit chat with Fairfax and Huds. Then, when Fairfax isn't looking, he says to Huds, "Check this out." He turns up his palm to reveal what he snuck in, a card. It's a cardstock envelope with cut outs. Through the cutouts Huds can see a gorgeous face with o-poised wet lips, then a sexy midriff, and finally shapely legs. The cardstock covers the good bits. There's a pull-tab at the bottom. Presumably, if you pull the tab, you pull out the image inside and see the whole babe uncensored. If/When (when, let's be real) Hudson pulls the tab, instead of a nude pin-up he'll see a big, black [beep]. 'You're gay!!!' the card reads. Sarge laughs a full throaty laugh and looks at Hudson expectantly; this joke totally landed. As Fairfax takes in her surroundings and speaks, Sarge gets an uneasy feeling there's something fishy about her. Hmm... Suddenly his stomach drops. Oh sh--. Is she one of Amy's friends? He asks Fairfax, "Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You a friend of Amy's?"

Malshaquon | After a few pulses of light above the Dancing Destrier, a small, steadily burning branch would fall down the chimney into the inactive fireplace, landing with a light snap as its charring form broke in two. And so the first stage of his plans begins! Archaic chanting begins above, the diminutive dragons voice of a timbre much more characteristic of his larger brethren, if lacking in volume. Malshaquon chanted and chanted, seeking to shape that beautiful, glorious fire into an avatar fitting of his magnificence. The flames of the branch below, however, would not listen. Finding his orders unanswered, the red could not help but growl angrily. This was an offense that would not be tolerated! Slipping his way into the chimney, he slowly clawed his way down the stone. Still within its confines and out of view of the partiers about the inn he spoke, whispered to the flames. His attempts to coo and woo them to his will failed too, before suddenly a blast of bright dragon’s fire would illuminate the fireplace for a brief second before going out with a dull ‘fwoomph!’ The fire had entirely gone out, and if one was close to the fire and listened carefully enough, they would hear the dissatisfied grumbling of the red that hid within.

Talyara is not someone who usually likes crowds so for the time being she keeps close to her older sister, acting as her shadow as she smiles at Raphaline and likewise extends her hand in a greeting. “I’m Taly; it’s a pleasure to meet you, thank you for coming.” Her eyes suddenly follow Lanara’s to the stairs and a mischievous grin tugs on the corners of her lips. She knows -exactly- who came dressed as her beloved sister and admittedly she is quite impressed by his skills. Before she realizes what is happening Lanara is gone, off to introduce herself to another witch, and Taly freezes. Green eyes dart around and she begins to weave her way through the crowd, politely calling out the proper hostess things: “Thank you for coming!” “You look lovely!” “Please enjoy the refreshments!” Until she sidles up next to faux-Lana. “Hey there,” she says in an undertone. “You sure look beautiful tonight,” she adds with a wink.

Skylei :: “So what are you supposed to be?” A random reveler questions Skylei as she classily sups on her two drinks. “I’m an undead!” The half-elf shouts back, with a semi-laugh. This is not met kindly. “You’re an undead? That’s so disrespectful. I can’t believe you would think that dressing that way is an appropriate costume.” There are all the implications of racism without anyone actually saying the word, “Oh Sven, NO!” Sky responds to the accusations, “It’s not like that. I love the undead! My ex-boyfriend is undead and he was totally into this costume – thought it was really cool!” Yikes. Lady glares galore and hate in every glance. Skylei looks for a way to slink off with her drinks in search of a friendly face but instead finds herself caught up in a discussion of why undead face is totally inappropriate in this day and age.

Krice didn't really do parties. Or dressing up. He arrived on his own clad in his usual black attire with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the collar open, his back as almost-always occupied by a sheathed katana. His attention was stolen by the arrival of magic-clad Irenic and Valrae, though lingered past them on Fairfax. It had been a long time since he'd seen the mermaid, and memory told him as -only- a mermaid, so witnessing the woman as she walked among bipeds was... new. The warrior stood near the door, scrutinizing the crowd for familiar faces - for particular reasons. Skylei... He hadn't seen her since she'd been liberated from the Underdark, and something changed in his expression to reflect that. She looked well, and his focus did not linger on her for long. Raphaline... Gazing upon her softened something in his expression too, but also caused it to change to a more thoughtful shadow. The witch sisters. Looking chipper and social as always. Two Lanara’s... one less convincing than the other, to keener eyes. And then Sabrina... After sweeping his focus over the others present, he returned his attention to the dark-haired healer and fiery-maned bard, glancing between them as if struggling to decide which one he wanted to approach. And then Emilia came into view and he arched a brow, his attention following her all the way to the table of her choosing. Quietly, the warrior moved around the flanks of the gathering, his purposeful strides drawing him closer to the 'wallflower'. On his way over, he passed the cat-eared Sabrina and murmured something to her as he went, inviting her to join him.

Raphaline offers her name to Lanara before they part, the witch heading over to friends and the bard doing much the same. She spots a familiar curly haired ice Genasi first, and with a grin approaches her with a, "Emilia you look splendid." And don't think that you got past her Sabrina! She moves to greet the elf, her gaze glancing between the silly boys that have entered, offering a playful wink to Sargaso before sweeping over to nab Sabrina. "And you came too?" She hadn't expected the rather introverted woman to be there. Same goes for Sky, both of which look like they'd rather be somewhere else right now.

Ranok was no party animal. Any sense of wonderment about them was much diminished in the perpetual balls and galas of the High Elves. A man could only take so much formal dancing and fake smiles. The only reason he bothered to show was a gut feeling. Someone important to him had been attacked, for no reason. And Xalious was rife with conflicts. While the two were not connected, what better time to sow chaos? Frankly, he doubted that any one was truly prepared to repel some hostile party crashers. So he took up the responsibility. In what might have been the most overly elaborate costume ever...he was a cowboy. The duster was drawn tight against the chill of the night. There was a suspicious lack of the bulges where weaponry usually went, no hilt that poked the leather up just so, or the usual lumps of various implements of the trade. Naturally, anyone assuming him to be entirely unarmed would be the fool. But he'd made an effort not to be completely so warlike. Leather chaps were on his legs, that could be seen as he moved, and the distinct lack of a particular bone white metal that usually adorned his body. A red bandana was around his neck, and he'd even attached spurs to the doohickeys on his boots. The man had fostered no date himself, but yet was accompanied by a tall, thin companion draped in a thick woolen cloak that trailed enough to bunch on the floor. Hands enshrouded by equally long sleeves, a hood pulled up to its skull, the only visible feature was a blank, perfectly white porcelain mask. And a pair of cow ears fixed atop the hook. There was no spectacular entrance for him, no bolt of lightning from the blue. He was just there, scowling, and looking perfectly the part. His companion offered little in the ways of engagement, smoothly following Ranok at a small distance.

Irenic meanders his way through the crowd while saying to Valrae, "Let's greet the hosts." It seems they were spotted by Lanara first and he nods to her inquiry, "Yes, this is Valrae. Valrae this is Lanara, some birthday girl I met." A short chuckle before he admires Lanara costume, "Clever, what are you?" His smirk would show his playful sarcasm, "You guys really know how to put on a party," he compliments. His mismatched eyes caught the red hair of Artia as he made his way through the crowd to her and explaining to Valrae, "Let's say hello to another witch shall we? Artia." One he arrived at her table he would motion for her to stand up. "Let’s see this costume of yours." Once Artia obliged he would clap softly, "Artia, this is Valrae, Valrae this is Artia… And child." He points to her belly. "In case you two have never met." Once niceties were exchanged he motions to the food area, "Let's go get a couple of drinks shall we?" He draped his arm around Valrae making sure to be careful of her crafted wings as they work their way across the room once more for a drink.

Hudson | The group of dudes expands to include Skylei, welcome addition to help diffuse the sausage party that's happening in this corner, population: dudes, Fairfax, now Skylei. (Evidently Skylei doesn't last very long because she is Offensive.) Vodka shots are happening, Hudson holds out a hand in front of Fairfax - just what he doesn't need, a drunken mermaid - and collects his. Mixing liquors: recipe for awesome. If he doesn't wake in a pile of rhymes-with-sit and piss, he's failed. A wild Sargaso has appeared! "Bro, you made it," says Huds, cue handshake/fist bump. He slides a shot in front of his would-be best man. Shots happen, everyone makes the face. "This is Fairfax," he introduces Sarge to his date, takes possession of this card, which at first appears promising but WOW TAKES A TURN. Hudson responds with a predictable "Ugh MAN NO," he got punked; he leaves the card on the bar. Hopefully Fairfax doesn't collect it and run around showing it to people. (Surely not, right...?) "You are a," expletive deleted, he says to Sarge, and then he's distracted by someone touching him on the shoulder so he doesn't jump into Fairfax's response. Oh, it's some dude from the gym. That's like 99% of dudes Hudson knows, FYI. "Huds," the guy is saying, talking a bit too loudly, and pointing across the room, "Shag marry kill: Lanara, that chick she's talking to, and Artia, this chick over here with the people yelling at her, I think her name is Skylei." Hudson recognizes Valrae nearly chokes on his whiskey, turns white like a sheet, actually. "Son of a," also expletive deleted. "Who is she with?" he wants to know. "You know her?" "Slightly," says Hudson. Then: "Kill Skylei I guess. Who's that guy?" "Really? I would shag Skylei," the guy's dumbfounded, still talking a bit too loud. Hudson gives him a hard look, bro, she's going to overhear and join this inappropriate conversation if you're not careful. "No, but who's that guy?" Hudson wants to know.

Emrith moves to and fro amid the guests. Most of them he does not recognize on sight, but he gives them cordial nods or casual greetings. In deference to the delicate situation surrounding a certain human enchanter, and the fact that knowledge has a way of exploding after passing through a gathering such as this, Emrith does not immediately make a beeline for Talyara, giving her only a passing smile and a flip of his hand as she sidles up next to him. Bending close to her ear in order to whisper something hurried, Emrith quickly makes his way elsewhere in the throng, hoping that his choice of action has not hurt the woman. Having essentially turned away from Talyara's company - for the time being, at least - it is Skylei toward whom Emrith ultimately orients himself, approaching her sidelong and giving her a radiant smile. He is aware of the figure he must present, and is somewhat mortified. "Please don't laugh," he says, and the combination of feminine-looking form and slightly harsh male elven voice might be enough to make any observer do a double-take. "I am Emrith Kohl, and it is good to see you well, Skylei Lucindio. Your ordeal, it would seem, is behind you." There is almost a question in this last statement, and Emrith waits politely to see if she will dignify it with a response.

Fairfax is dealing with a bit of sensory overload. There’s a lot to see at this party — too much to see. Beautiful ladies in beautiful outfits (not mermaid-beautiful, obviously, but really quite lovely for land walkers), some kind of large pot (are they cooking in it? Why are they putting paper inside?), Krice! her katana friend (she waves at him and nearly falls off her stool with the effort), another woman, unclear if undead or not (she waves, making an Effort to be friendly, for Hudson). Sargaso arrests her attention and she flashes a charming grin at him. “No. I am not a friend of Amy’s. I am a model.” She sips from her glass and continues to smile. “You smell like the sea.” She leans forward to inhale Sargaso’s shirt. “I like it.”

Sabrina caught Artia’s bow and offers one in return. There was nothing warm about it; even that movement seemed rather official. She is distracted by the hushed words of Krice and the forward nabbing of Raph-doll who looked particularly beautiful tonight. Both friends drew her to the same direction, so at least there was no burden of choice. As she is being whisked away she lays eyes on Ranok, and a sideways smile over his companion. A wave of adorned wrist was meant to catch his eye, that she did not come here without his protection and an effort to prove a lesson learned. It was more than relieving to find she had come to a place where friendly familiar faces only made it easier to sink into the festivities. It did not change her mind though, that she would rather be anywhere but here. Still, appearances must be made.

Artia stood from her seat, quickly swallowing down the biscuit, her favorite food ever. A simple piece of bread, who would thought it? "Decided to go as a mermaid, as you can tell. Even little one is a mermaid too." She points at the painting of a baby mermaid with a chuckle. Looking to Valrae, "I know the blushing witch easily; we met before I got pregnant or married at the Kelay Tavern. She is a sweet girl, don't ruin her Irenic." She teased him, offering a wink to Valrae. "It is good to see you again, we have much to catch up on it seems." As she sat, she shouted out to the two, "I think I'm head out for the night." It was clear Odhranos wasn't going to show tonight, so she would just rather go back to their cottage in Xalious to sleep. Before she left she went up to the sister witches giving both a tight hug. a tight hug.

Emilia after weaving through the crowd careful not to have her trailing feathers stepped on by those within the crowd. Off to the side out of the way of most of the party goers the Genasi had found a table set aside, perfect. With an exhausted sigh the woman slid herself into a chair and relaxed back, glad so far she’d gone...spoke too soon. A beautiful Phoenix had greeted her with great excitement. Golden lips turned into a most practiced perfected fake smile, “Hello, Raphaline! Why don’t you look most beautiful this evening!” And of course, Krice would find his way to the table, did he had an Emi-dar? Turning her gaze rested those ever bright blue eyes on that of Sabrina. A surprise, but welcome none the less. Both her and Krice would be given a bright golden smile, “You both look lovely.”

Sargaso catches Raphaline's playful wink and winks back without missing a beat just as Fairfax turns to answer his question. First reaction, relief: No Amy snitch in his midst. Second reaction, mild panic. Did Huds' date just flirt with him? In front of Huds? There's a bro-code, and it takes more than an admittedly spectacular pair to get Sargaso to break the code (specifically, it takes a private setting, Fairfax, so, your move). Turning to the game of shag, marry, kill, Sarge, oblivious to the history between Huds and Valrae (sort of, he knows the story but not the babe), chooses Valrae to shag, then waits until Skylei is within hearing range to say, "Marry the undead chick. Skylei her name? Yea, her." Hopefully she heard it. He makes eye contact, feigns embarrassment if she overheard him. Either way, he approaches and says, "People can be real stuck up these days. Undead face." Derisive snort. "What's next? Drowface? I hate political correctness. Like when that kid fell in the rhino enclosure at the zoo and they killed Hurumbe. Everyone got so mad about that, but what were they supposed to do? Watch the kid die?" says the man who a month or so ago wore a 'D**ks out for Hurumbe Shirt'. Still, in this setting he switches teams and scoffs. "I'm Sarge by the way. You need a refill?"

Talyara cants her head to the side in order to catch Emrith’s whisper and she wrinkles her nose slightly—thankfully it goes unseen thanks to her mask. Sighing, Taly shifts her gaze around the room trying to decide where to go next. Lanara was the social one of the family, Taly, not as much. She was going to need alcohol for this…but that meant navigating the bro huddle over at the bar. She could handle that…maybe. Once again, Taly weaves her way towards the crowd, moving in the opposite direction this time before trying to casually push her way through the guys. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Just…trying…to…get…rum…”

Valrae let herself be lead around the room and make the necessary introductions. She even managed to drag her dark eyes away from the floor to give a polite smile and offer, "Hello, nice to meet you too, I'd like that." to Lanara without ever loosening her grip on Irenic. They moved on to say hello to Artia. Because she was a familiar face, a wide smile graced her red painted lips. "We've met," She said, "Nice to see you again,” She was blushing, so Artia's comment made her smile. "Congratulations!" She exclaimed, grinning at her and the smartly painted belly. Her blush returned at her comment for Irenic. She looked away. They moved on again, towards the bar, and distractedly she let her gaze wonder around the crowded establishment. They stopped for a moment to contemplate the curiousness that was a broken slow burning branch in the otherwise unoccupied fireplace. It sputtered and died. Odd. There was some commotion, a heated argument of the appropriateness of 'undead face' and not far from that a group of barely dressed girls squealing about shots. One of them decided she could get a free drink by losing her poorly crafted shell bra but was promptly escorted away from the bar by a stern looking bouncer. She managed to look beyond the bare chested woman and her eyes landed directly on Hudson. Damn. She'd known he'd be here, he sent a note, but that didn't prepare her for seeing him again. Not really. A frown bowed her lips... She managed to look away from him but maybe her grip on Irenic loosed a bit. They pushed through to the bar, unfortunately close to Hudson, and she managed to get a whiskey in her hands. She made short work of it and turned to the avian. "Where to now...?" Meaning: Get me away from here.

Lanara saunters past Sargaso as he gives her derriere a lingering gaze, and she can’t help but sway her hips just slightly more suggestively. She wasn’t trying to flirt with the male, but if he thought he was being suave, she would be sure to give him a worthy enough eyeful, before casting a side glare over her shoulder. The male could look all he wanted, but touching was out of the question. Now if this was a gig like old days, Cinnamon would have happily hopped onto the male’s lap and enjoyed the company. Lana didn’t appear to have a date tonight, and as Marcus and the Demons seem to run out of their excess energy, they slow down the tempo and the screeching vocals become almost soulful. Now, she was slightly embarrassed, as she was the hostess and didn’t have a date. Where was Taly?! That witch always had a date or two, and would likely be on the dance floor the entire evening. A soft sigh escapes her as several couples make their way to the dance floor and fall into each other’s arms, and it’s at this precise moment that Lana makes her way to the bar and catches a glance of Skylei, seemingly talking to herself. A drink is placed into the witch’s appendage as she smiles at the woman and purses her full lips. “I don’t know about the undead… But lycan’s Whew. Those men bring out the beast in me!” A giggle ensues, as she takes a swig of her ale, and nearly chokes as her stunt double appears at their side. Turning her back to the faux-Lana she listens intently, her tapered ear twitching as a male voice emanates from the drag queen, and upon hearing the name ‘Emrith’ roll from those lips, she quite literally spins on her heel. “YOU!” Lana is furious, truly, and her flawless face is turning several shades of crimson. Typical. Taly probably proposed such an absurd costume for the haughty elf! Lana inhales and seems to hold her breath for an eternity, before she finally exhales, finishes her drink, and merely storms off, shaking her head. She would deal with Emrith another day, for tonight was Samhain, and being a witch, her high holiday would be celebrated, not ending in a massacre. As she’s storming across the dance floor, trying not to elbow any swaying bodies, she’s pulled into a tight hug from a fiery haired woman. At first, Lana is about to pull away from the pregnant woman, but then she realizes that it’s Artia, another fellow witch! “So glad you made it! You look lovely, as always.”

Krice caught Fairfax's wave and lifted his left hand to return the gesture with one of his own, a single twitch of two extended fingers - along with something sort of resembling a smirk-smile on his face. With his attention turned there, he peripherally caught something red and magical by the fireplace, but given all the people in-between him and that roof-hole, despite his height over most of them, he couldn't quite make out the details of the incident. The grumpy red dragon was left to grump alone in the chimney shoot whilst the warrior paid attention to his reason for being here in the first place. He slowed briefly as Raphaline walked into his field of vision, approaching Emilia ahead of his little entourage of two. Once they were clear of the crowds, the warrior slowed to a halt beside Emilia and just outside the reach of the fiery-maned bard, his gold-streaked gaze passing over her attire. Before sentimentality could soften his demeanor -further-, the warrior changed direction and spoke to Sabrina with an offhanded, “Nice ears." Thereafter, he returned his focus to the seated Genasi and took a chair to sit between her and the crowd, his voice low enough for only the three girls around him to hear.

Skylei, thankfully misses the discussion about whether she is shaggable, or simply killable because it is at that moment that Lanara’s body double for the night approaches (but screw you, Huds, and not in a good way). Excusing herself from her costume detractors, Skylei’s party-savior introduces themselves as Skylei’s… real savior…? And of course, she laughs. ”You… what?” She snorts and curls her lip, but mostly just accepts it for what it is. Costumes are costumes, right? “Well, Emrith Kohl.” She shakes her head, laughs again at the ludicrously of the situation and finishes the first drink, “You… uh… well, you don’t look like I expected. I’d like to hope you rescued me in a dress like that.” She’s joking. Probably. What now? Thank you’s? This is when Sargaso’s comment that he would choose her to marry drifts over. The ‘undead chick’ gives him a look before turning back to Emrith, “Y’know, I did mean to… send you a letter or,” Skylei flaps her hands, spilling what’s left of drink two on the floor. Damn it, “Something like that once I was back on my feet. I just…” Skylei flushes a little, “Well, I didn’t know what to say.” She looks over to Sargaso. The guys a doofus but he’s the only one sticking up for her. Beggars can’t be choosers. Looking back to Emrith she concludes, “But thank you. I’d be dead without you.” This is not party chat and its killing Skylei’s buzz nearly as much as her undead face run-in. But Sargaso offers drinks and that’s the best way to turn-up her buzz. “I’d love a refill. I’m Skylei, by the way.”

Hudson probably should have provided more direction to his date, such as, maybe don't smell people, that's not appropriate, but Huds is a slacker, and he's also distracted by the unexpected appearance of Valrae, is this woman SERIOUS RIGHT NOW. He feels an itch crawl up his forearm and he makes the hand gesture for further booze, thanks. He realizes he should excuse his date's weird behavior. "Yeah, she does that sometimes, she's foreign, it's an uh, thing they do, where she's from. She just touches people, it's actually kind of inappropriate but somewhat endearing, right?" he puts an arm around Fairfax as he attempts to laugh it off a little clumsily, except a second later he looks in Valrae and Irenic's direction again and wills Valrae to look at him. DUDE NOT COOL. Sarge is going on about how he'd do her, undead face and Hurumbe the rhino. Hudson wants to go have a smoke. "That's Valrae, by the way," says Hudson, nodding in her direction for Sarge's benefit. Evidently he's paying apparently zero attention to anything else. "She's totally that winged guy's beard correct?" he goes on. His new drink hasn't arrived. "Shots, yes? Can alcohol appear in front of me? Thank you. Yes." Growing self-aware, he tries to behave himself. He smiles at Fairfax, as if to reassure her that he's not agitated (right). "It's good, don't worry. Are you good?" Then, to Sarge: "You want me to introduce you to ah... well her name is Lanara but we know her by Cinnamon?"

Kreekitaka seemed to have discovered early on that being a humongous jellyfish is even more inconvenient than being a humongous crab person, and as such had spent almost the entire party just sort of sitting on the sidelines people-watching. There were a couple of places in the top of the jellyfish's bell where he could see out, and he'd been having a grand time so far simply observing everyone. Admittedly, the party was missing a few things--where was the fighting?--but he'd gotten a couple of things in, like waving a tentacle at Artia or others who recognized him, or throwing a wish into the pot. As it happened, however, his lumbering around brought him fairly close to Hudson and his guest and to Fairfax especially the smell of the ocean would be entirely unmistakable. I mean, it's not easy to miss an eight-foot glowing mass of tentacles, either, but whichever catches attention first. Kree's head tilted a little in confusion--where was Alvina, why wasn't she with Hudson? How strange. And so, with a slow implacableness, the table talking sports was slowly approached by Kree.

Irenic nearly felt her shift in unease as his eyes looked down at her to catch her glance away from the crowd of 'brodudes' and he wasn't sure which one was the 'him' they've discussed and he didn't care. He got their drinks and leaned down to whisper something to her very close, but making sure not to undo the wonderful job she did on their costume makeup. She would probably nod and his wingspan outstretched a bit showing off the glamour on his natural wings to look like draconian ones; doing so while motioning to the dance floor would block Hudson and his crew's view of them. Once Valrae felt comfortable enough to move once more he would take her hand in his, kiss the top before pulling her in for the slow dance. Her head surely only coming up to his chest and his hands placed on her waist while her own hands clasp behind his neck. He would place a gentle kiss on the top of her head, hoping to calm her nerve and paying no mind to the rowdy bunch.

Manasa:: The naga left the cabin in the woods, with tail of seven foot nine inches of covered with smooth, iridescent scales. The iridescence, rainbow reflected scale, patterned with ring like blotches that resemble eye spots tail trailing behind her. Circlets covered the crown and wrapped around her forehead as a sign of high rank along the nagas. Numerous jewelry covered the female along her body as well as orange scales with a rainbow glimmer to them. Violet hair pulled up into a tight pony tail, hands rest on hips as sparks of lightning flashed out from underneath her silver stained fingertips. Her attire was of what some consider a bikini top, with many beaded necklaces covering her breast from sight. Thrusting her tail back and forth quickly behind her, moving along the path that leads her to the ball. Copper serpent eyes scanned the building from outside; a smug smirk appeared on her lavender lips. The party was loud and bright. Moving up to the entrance the female froze, forked tongue flickering out between her lips. She saw different people dressed up, coiling her tail up about herself. The long tail soon switched over to a pair of long legs, with the matching scales along her body as a skirt. Shimmering like a rainbow reflecting off of it, even without her tail she stood a tall six foot four. Barefooted she marched on inside, Copper eyes flicking between each person. Stopping at the cauldron she decides its best not to put anything in it. Hands on her hips the female dressed as a belly dancing draconian, moved up to the drinks. Another flicker of her tongue escaped between her lavender lips, smirking as she picked up a drink. Turning around, even with legs she still moved in a manner of sway like a snake. She knew one person here, Turkey boy aka Irenic.

Raphaline gently lays a hand on Emilia's shoulder, her smile growing soft as she responds, "How are you?" Given the last time she had been rather ill, the bard was a bit worried. At the sound of approaching feet, she glances up, her emerald eyes falling first upon Sabrina who receives a raised brow to the ears and then falls upon Krice. He receives a grin, canting her head once more in Emilia’s direction. “She should be allowed at least a little bit of fun though, right?” Each time she moves, her hair sparkles and the cloth wrapped around her form seems to flicker like a flame. “If she feels up to it, maybe she would like to dance. Hm?”

Emrith waves a dismissive hand at Skylei's explanation. "I did not ask for recompense, nor expect any. Enjoy your evening. I simply meant to convey my pleasure that you are well." The vampiric elf is more than aware of the buzz-killing effects of such weighty conversation, and Lanara's appearance nearby makes the situation much worse. He gives both a polite bow, and then glides away, the better to procure some elven...wine which, it must be said; Emrith made sure would be present. Talyara, too, might recognize this vintage, and frankly, in his state of social awkwardness, the spell-blade could use something to ease his mind and body. He takes a glass of the wine, and rather than sipping it as is customary, he downs the thing almost at once. Fire explodes in his stomach, and he reels for a moment; elven wine is no laughing matter, and any who partake as quickly without adequate preparation might find themselves far more intoxicated than they expect. When Emrith next begins to walk, it is with a decidedly careful step. Being tipsy in high heels is a really excellent way to face-plant, and he desperately does not wish to do this. He smiles at anyone who catches his eye, refuses a drink offer made by someone he doesn't know, nicks a piece of cheese off a nearby tray, and generally keeps moving.

Fairfax has lost Sargaso to the undead lady, but there’s too much stimuli to have a sulk about it. She finishes her drink and sets it down. Hudson is shouting and putting his arm around her and she offers him a sharp, sultry smile and walks her fingers up his shirt to his collar (incidentally, obliviously proving his point). Another drink appears in front of her, the same as the last, and she has another sip while Hudson shouts at his friend. The whole party seems rather … loud. Hudson redirects his attention to her and she shouts back to be heard over the din, “Bring me some human food!” She gives his chest a pat and withdraws her hand to glance around the room again. No one here is familiar, but she has a sharp-toothed smile for all, every bit the literal man-eater she is. Her gaze settles on Kreekitaka and she squeals a bit, promptly hops-slash-slides off her stool. Another ocean-dweller! Thank goodness. “Look!” she exclaims to Hudson, because look! How amazing.

Sabrina’s cheeks actually flush as she moves to draw a stray strand behind pointed ear. “And you look lovely as well, and tired.” There is a certain look of concern over whether she should be out at all. But she was grown and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Krice’s query was evidence of her point and a side tilt of her head towards his words was practically screaming ‘told ya so.’ He remarks on her ‘elaborate’ accessory to her costume and is rewarded with a sort of nervous laugh that consisted of no more than a light huff and a play at the black kitty fur atop her head. Looking around she wished she opted for the glitter, but glitter had a tendency to stick around for weeks no matter how one washed to be rid of it. Sabrina seems at odds over Raphaline’s offer to dance with Emilia. She supposed in a worst case scenario Raph-doll would at least be able to catch Emi if she stumbled. She lays a hand on Raphaline’s shoulder, an act itself of voluntary touching that was out of character. “Be careful with her.” It was a stern direction, as if the Elfess thought the Genasi would actually break. She would settle into a seat at Emi’s table so she could best observe, should the frail woman decide a dance was in order.

Sargaso refill Skylei's drink and works his way down the PUA list for bagging a babe. (If you're scandalized, don't be, it's not like he's going to marry this chick-har. har.) He's on step 'create lost at first sight'. He laughs at her clumsy pun of being 'dead' without him. Funny! Ok, so she's a smart girl. "Funny, and quick, too." He grins at her privately as Hudson interrupts with his monumentous party drama: the ex. Sort of. Sarge recognizes the name 'Valrae' instantly as he has had the (dis)pleasure of hearing Huds drunkenly slur the name countless times. Usually peppered in with Alvina's name, also slurred and bemoaned. "Oh, yea, that guy is definitely gay." (Sorry, Irenic, we're dealing with a gussied up Neanderthal here). "Yep, shots." Then to Skylei, "You in? We're drinking to turning a new leaf." He looks at Fairfax here, to see if he can get Hudson to focus on the babe of today and not the babes of yesterday. Huds mentions Lanara and unwittingly plays wingman to Sargaso who says, "Oh nah. She seems busy and I was just getting to know Skylei here. Sky, this is Huds. We're both from Cenril. You?" He already knows she's from Cenril. Cenrilian can sniff each other out, but he needs her to talk more to use her words at a dowsing rod, leading him down the correct paths of the PUA flowchart. In a way, a good PUA has mastered the art of listening (selfishly). He leans over the bar to order 4 (Huds, Sarge, Sky, Fairfax) shots of some gnarly smoking bright green theme drink. It's sugary, apparently, so the ladies should like it.

Lanara passes the table where Emilia, Sabrina, and Krice, are gathered and blows the trio a kiss, vowing to return to them later in the evening when things weren’t so hectic. Walking through the crowd of costume-wearers she brushes against Ranok and peers up at him, her chocolate hues sparkling brightly as she offers him a smile. “Konar is doing well. He ended up losing his eye, sadly, but he’s really coming along. Starting to gain weight and such. I’m happy that you came to the ball. Please! Eat! There’s tons of food!” Lana is about to chitchat some more, but at that precise moment she spies Taylor, her shape-shifting feline, acting somewhat strange. The black cat is scampering back and forth in front of the fireplace, with the hair raised on the back of her velvety neck. If the music wasn’t blaring from nearby, one would hear a ferocious meow, followed by a hiss, before the cat quite literally pounces on something crimson inside of the hearth. “Taylor!” Lanara excuses herself from Ranok’s side and meanders through the crowd to see what her feline was up to.

Valrae fully intended on ignoring Hudson's existence. It was too much. She was already overwhelmed by being stuck in such a huge crowd, why further her own discomfort? She wanted to deal with whatever unidentifiable and tumultuous emotions she was bound to have on her own. Though, that was proving difficult because she could practically feel Hudson's gaze on her. Finally, she turned to give him a smile. It wasn't very convincing and probably came off as pained. She was still desperate to get away and Irenic made this easy. His wings fashioned a small, blessed moment of privacy and ended the awkward look she'd held. The witch let out a small sigh and nodded. They moved to the dance floor, with Val throwing a single look over her shoulder, and settled into an easily into a rhythm. She tilted her painted face upward to give Irenic an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I knew he'd be here," She admitted. "I didn't want to ruin the beginning of our night th-" The woman stopped abruptly, her dark eyes eyes going down to the floor in panic at the sudden pull on the train of her dress. "Uh, excuse me," She hissed at the swaying drunken pirate standing on the beaded helm of her dress.

Manasa :: The ha-naga took each person into consideration; she had to remember what Regina said. Naga's do not eat two leggers anymore; have to play nice towards the two leggers. She wasn't sure who was what, as it was a costume party. She wanted to play with lightning, but as soon as she tried for just a few sparks it would not happen. With a frustrated hiss, she turned around to grab another drink after she finished her first one. With the second one free the female moved to lean against a wall, her copper eyes almost seem to reflect the lights at the right times at different angles. Maybe she should go try to dance? It did go with her costume? She had to laugh aloud at her thought, yeah...her dance? What a silly thought.

Emilia glanced at Sabrina with that forced look of ‘I am perfectly fine’ for public appearance plastered on her half masked face. It was with the whisper from Krice that the Genasi was fully sure that Krice had some very secret radar of tracking on her well being better than most people around her. Leaning forward with her elbows on the table she was about to return a whisper when Lanara passed blowing a kiss toward the group. Smile and wave in return toward the witch sister. Looking up at Raphaline she smile and shook her head, “As much as I would love to dance with a beautiful lady tonight, I find that Krice might just be perfect right here. I fear that should I join you I would end up passing out before we finished dancing. I am most dizzy tonight.” Appearances, she came for partly for that. She was after all a leader to the Adventurer’s guild and a ranked member of the Healer’s guild. Plus, she couldn’t miss out on seeing all the costumes and party put on by the witch sisters.

Malshaquon was taking his time, preparing more plots and plans as he idly listened to the partygoers just behind the foot of stone that, all things considered, was probably only aesthetic, the mage-fire likely never producing smoke in the first place. Such a thing was unnecessary anyway. The black char made for a nice aesthetic, but the true beauty was in that wavering, flickering play of color and heat that tore things apart and began them anew, and shaping the world to its will. He would be its messenger by any means necessary, and those just outside would learn to fear him and the fire he carried with him! But how to do so… Some sort of witchery was at work, and the fires would not listen. He would have to make them by any means necessary, so that all could know the might of Malshaquon! Lanara’s first shout at Emrith jolted him from his internal tirade, his claws gripping and scratching against the stone slightly tighter as he braced himself to prevent a fall. He could not give up his controlling advantage. Taylor’s hiss and meow brought him reflexively arching his neck down to look closer… only to receive the black feline in his face as she crawled into the fire and leapt up to snag the little red. “You BEAST!” he indignantly roared, thrashing and flailing with the feline who, by all measures, was of comparable size. Presumably, the two would be left to a wrestle as the mighty Malshaquon had to make this… this… cat, pay for its indecency. Brief jets of fire would blast from his mouth toward the beast away before he leapt out of the fire after her into the room of the inn. “You. Will. PAY!” he roared in a rage against the feline, currently oblivious to the potentially massive pool of spectators in his blind fury.

Ranok was making no effort at being personable. He cut through the crowd like the proverbial shark in this increasingly sea themed ball, doling out naught but frowns. Contrary to others, he'd garnered no gathering of would be friends or acquaintances. This was, after all, not his typical stalking territory. A few might have been scuffles were quickly quelled. A shoulder is barreled into, one of Hudson's more burly looking buddies by his estimations, and what could have become an ugly posturing about disrespect is snuffed with a thunderous expression that the smith had long since perfected. The altercation was thus ended, and they would be slighted man would like as not brag about how he'd faced down the smith and Ranok having backed down. The reality of it all was far beneath Ranok's concern. Sabrina was given a wave back, metal digits undulating, and the ghost of a smile. The room was too noisy as it was, however. He'd make no attempt to shout. Perhaps the attention of his companion, blank mask turning towards her, would be enough. It had otherwise been undivided upon the smith. He wished to inspect the bubbling wish pot, when Lanara came upon him. A flick of his ears at the raised voice that was taken in the noisy environment. This was not exactly comfortable. "A shame." Frankly, he couldn't recall who Konar was, but he was simply choosing the path of least resistance here. "I'm sure he will persevere, now?" And then Lanara was leaving him. A hand is raised to his chin, an idle scratch, and that was that.

Krice heard clicking, smelled the ocean--not from Fairfax--and glanced up from Emilia briefly to scan the crowd again. It didn't take him long to locate the jelly-crab Kreekitaka, with whom he was only vaguely familiar. Clicking-ocean-smelling mystery done away with, he returned his focus to the Genasi - on the way sparing a glance for Lanara blowing a walk-by-kiss to them all. He nodded, greeting her in this simplistic manner, because ultimately he needed to keep his attention on the three women in his company. When Raphaline's gown flickered, he clenched a fist against his right knee - or maybe it was due to her suggestion that Emilia dance. Whatever the case, Krice stared at the icy-haired farm girl and arched a brow at her reply to the dance-invite, but then moved on to say, “I can't stay too much longer, Emi, but I'll help you out if you need it. When you're ready." He still hadn't had a chance to speak to the healers of the group, so he spared them a sideways glance to let them both know that he wanted to.

Irenic was quick in grabbing the drunken pirate up by his collar surely lifting the poor fellow off his feet a bit and saying something to him in a hushed tone, but oddly very calm. The grip was loosened and the drunken pirate stumbled away after apologizing profusely to Valrae, oh, and Irenic gives zero (expletives) on what others think on him at this point - I mean he's a scarred up mismatched eyed slave who is fluent in sarcasm, so… His grin widens once more on Valrae through scarred lips and exposing white, but crooked teeth while pulling her close to him once more, dipping her, and then back to slow dancing, "You were saying?" He held one of her hands in his while the other goes back to her waist leading the dance between them. He would lean down really close once more to whisper while they danced as for the moment it only felt like the two of them.

Skylei thanks Sargaso for the refill before enthusiastically agreeing to the prospects of shots. The half-blood is here to part-ay. Skylei waves a polite ‘hello’ to Huds as he is introduced, though he simply seems to not be in the party mood, so she spares him no more than cursory politeness. And, let’s be real, she’s more interested in Sarge right now… wait, is Skylei Lucindio flirting? Does she even know how to flirt? When she remembers this tomorrow, she’ll blame it on the alcohol and ignore the fact that Sargaso is obviously skilled at playing women – and damn, she’s already getting played. Don’t hate the player, hate the game, right? “No way, I’m from Cenril too! Southside for the last couple of years! Best city in the whole land, amirite!?” Not only can Cenrili sniff each other out, they also share the camaraderie that only comes from living in a crappy city and the belief that said city is incomparable to all others. Skylei chugs the drink that Sargaso had refilled for her because lo and behold, shots have arrived. Turning to the group, Skylei repeats Sarge’s uninspired toast, “To turning over a new leaf!” Clink and drink.

Lanara arrives in time to have Taylor quite literally leap into her arms, claws bared, and hissing in the witch’s face. “Easy, girl…” She coo’s, scratching behind the cats ears, as a small red dragon exits the hearth shouting threats at the poor housecat and her mistress. Lana lowers the cat to the floorboards and instructs the hired help to move her animal companion to be held with the other children and pets of the guests. Once that’s taken care of, she steps nearer to the irate dragon and although she’s amused at the absurdity of something so miniscule making imminent threats upon her guests, she’s a tad bit peeved that her feline’s fur is singed. “You will do –no- such thing, wee little devil. I suggest you go and calm yourself with a drink! Or maybe I can help you carve a pumpkin over there? Do you want to bob for apples? Dine? Dance? Instead of being a party pooper, I suggest you start having fun before I have you removed from the premises!” Her voice was even, her tone somewhat stern, but the look in those dark chocolate eyes would let the half-pint dragon know that she would stand for any nonsense on this special night.

Hudson is not a gussied up Neanderthal, that's Racist; he's just a werewolf. He is probably a very annoying friend to Sargaso right now. He should put some money in the bank and wing the other guy. Yes. "She seems like she's from Cenril, mate, you don't recognize the accent," says Hudson, assuming the sidekick part in this comedy routine. Life isn't so bad; he's literally here with a mermaid, she's a stunner, there's more booze, which he imbibes immediately. Oh, he's starting to feel it. He's all over the place. For reals: he should be less crabby (...pun intended) but things being what they are, he's grateful for the diversion to go fetch food, per Fairfax's request. "Totally amazing," he says to Fairfax, in response to her delight with Kreekitaka. "I will get you that food, excuse me guys," he promises, and then peels away from the group to hit the men's room. He gets in there, in time to witness a man vomiting in a urinal. "Drink water. You're going to be alright, mate," says Hudson, before he leaves. He stops where Emilia and company are clustered, interjecting himself long enough to kiss her on the cheek hello and inform her that she looks like a total babe, this is her most babe effort yet, nice butt. "I'm maybe a little drunk," he says after that, as a disclaimer, and then he waves with a wince and an expression that reads Sorry I Said The Things to everyone else there whom he happens to know, wandering over to where Lanara is. "You look hot, if I didn't have a date I'd suggest we hit the dance floor like teenagers at prom," he tells her, reaching to collect some hors d'oeuvres off of a tray for Fairfax.

Raphaline wouldn't argue with Emilia, she knew her health best. But damn it all, she would attend business but not before having one dance at a party. Sighing, she turns to Krice, her emerald centering on him as she poses her question to him. "Just a short one. Feels like a waste to have come and not." She extends out her right hand, the material dancing around her appendage as she beckons him to indulge her just this once. "Please? Then." She nods towards Sabrina and then towards the door for whatever he needed to talk to them about.

Talyara seems to have successfully navigated the bar, having taking advantage of a shot or rum or two and is that elven wine? Thank you very much, she thinks as she scoops up a glass and very delicately untangles herself from the crowd (red wine, light colored dress, and a clumsy witch are not a good combination). Taly’s head snaps in the direction of the fireplace as she hears Lanara yell; she doesn’t notice -who- is on the receiving end of that but is glad it’s not her. The pumpkin carving station looks fairly empty so that’s where Talyara heads, plopping down in a seat unceremoniously as she happily partakes in the wine (slowly, of course).

Emrith :: Elven wine, several clusters of socialization which seem to be working just fine without him and the sight of Talyara make up Emrith's mind. To hell with propriety. He makes his slightly unsteady way over to her, standing close by - but not too close, there's no reason to crowd her - and gazes at her with slightly unfocused eyes. "Did you notice?" he asks, making sure to raise his voice loud enough to be heard. "I got elven wine. Remember, the stuff from...well, that elven wine. And there's a lot of it. Cost me a pretty penny I can tell you. If you want some I can fetch it." He nods to her glass of rum. "Or more of that. Or something to eat?" In his state of mild inebriation, any pretense at social grace is rapidly flying out the window.

Sabrina offers Lana a brief bow, having only met the woman once before but already deciding for the time being she liked her. The Elfess is more than happy to learn Emilia is at very least learning her limits and scoots her chair closer to fiddle with a curl or two that are simply not behaving. “Such a lovely bird you make.” Her words are kind, warm even, and not shared to anyone beyond the frail woman she had grown so fond. Krice’s cryptic words brought an arched brow to Emilia in question. “Something I should know?” Her own sea-green gems trace Raphaline’s glance to the door and with a short nod of agreement the decision to part the noise of the ball to discuss this business was made. Where she meant to spend some words with Ranok before leaving, this had quickly turned into a non-social event. She had already risen from her chair; ready to help Emi to her feet should she feel the need for assistance. Or maybe she would stay, that decision was meant for the Genasi herself.

Kreekitaka had wanted to talk to Hudson about things, but when the man disappeared and he was left talking to his date--well, hey, that actually worked out nicely. Having almost no sense of smell above water, Kree was oblivious to the nature of this being suddenly delighted to meet him, and assumed he was meeting another fan. "Hi," he said, extending a claw out of the mass of tendrils that was his costume to shake with her, using another to push the bell sideways a little so he could poke his head out. "KreekiTAH!ka, as I'm sure you know." Oh dear. We really are going to have to get your ego checked somehow, Kree. "An' you are HHHTHe yoveyee miss...?" To Kree's credit, he wasn't -trying- to break the bro code. He just figured a fan girl ought to be flattered a little so that she continues to buy his products.

Lanara is momentarily amused by a drunken lycan, and she meets Hudson’s gaze, mischief in her eyes. “Oh, yes, we would. We would drink too much, party too hard, love a little, and reject it all way too much in the morning. We don’t want that for us, do we, Huds?” At first, she seems to be jesting, but she also is gently letting her old time drinking buddy know that he has been friend zoned. Sure, she had thought about it and they may have briefly joked about it in the past, but Lana would never cross that boundary with a close friend. This is why she laces her arm through Hudson’s, helps me get a better grip on the plate, and piles food neatly upon it for his date. A chaste kiss is given to the man’s cheek before she pats his back and semi-turns him in the direction of Fairfax, who would receive a polite wave.

Valrae watched in dazed horror as Irenic lifted the drunken pirate off of his feet. The young witch waved away the hurried apology, it was unnecessary, and tried to pat the avian's arm reassuringly. No harm done. It's all right. Things were quickly defused and Valrae found herself back in Irenic's arms. She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled passed her lips when he dipped her. Smiling up at him, she shook her head at his whispered words. It was sweet of him to offer though. She leaned up to give him a quick whisper of a kiss on his scale painted cheek and whisper something in return. Then she led the winged man back the bar, pausing briefly to wave at Kree because she'd met him once and thought it polite. She gave a friendly smile to the woman dressed as red riding hood and turned her attention to shouldering her way closer to the bar. She needs another drink.

Talyara lifts her gaze up to Emrith and smiles, reaching up to tug off the masquerade mask and rest it on the table. She chuckles softly and lifts her wine glass, giving it a little swirl. “I saw, and I already have a glass thank you. As for food, I’m not hungry.” Cue another sip of that strong wine. “Thank you for bringing this, you didn’t need to. But I am thankful you did, truth be told."

Sargaso is, perhaps for the first moment of the night, earnest in his enthusiasm as he agrees that, yes; Cenril is the best city in the world. "Born and raised!" he boasts. He yammers on about the best place for fish, best octopus, best baked goods, best club, etc., alternating between his favorite spots and Skylei's favorite dives. The fact she's a smart chick is doubly confirmed, and he compliments her with some of the old lines (rare to find someone beautiful -and- smart), and some new lines (bet you know all of Cenril's secrets, the historical stuff too; be cool if you showed me one day). The conversation is interrupted in bursts by Hudson's drunken non-sequesters, which Sarge, tipsy but vertical, clumsily turns back into sequesters. He's slightly relieved to watch Hudson go. Good wingman effort, mate, but you're killing the energy here. He chats up Skylei, mostly asking questions and letting her do the talking. Soon, he notices Huds rubbing up on Emilia, and quickly distracts Fairfax by blurting out, "There's someone over there saying hi to you." He points across the crowd away from Hudson to direct the weird hot chick's gaze away from Huds. There's no one, but hopefully Sarge was quick enough to save his bro from landing in hot water. And that's it for Sarge-and-wingman, because Skylei's barely standing straight and she's bouncing from one leg to the other like she needs the ladies’ room. "I'll walk you to the restroom," he says. While Skylei presumably makes a new BFF in the women's bathroom, Sarge takes a quick reconnaissance of the men's. The urinal vomiter is still there, which may be a mood killer, but maybe Skylei's too drunk to notice? Last stall is empty and relatively clean as all men worth their salt know it's the make-out stall at any club or party setting, and therefore off-limits for any other use (hence the urinal vomiting). He ducks back out into the hall to meet Skylei and jerks forward to catch her as if he thought she was going to fall (it doesn't matter if she actually stumbled or not). His arm lingers around her waist and he says, "Hey, you alright?" If she doesn't immediately push away, he holds eye contact for a second, and then goes in slow for the kiss.

Emilia blushed beneath the mask at the compliment from Sabrina about her being a bird; a giggle escaped her lips with such a statement, “I am the word kind of bird.” Her attention was lost in all ways when a drunken manmade way into their little outcast table setting and kissed her cheek before taking off. How strange. Was she starting to see things again? Blinking a few times the Genasi lifted a hand to go to rub her eyes, realized she was wearing a mask, and pretended to adjust it as if it was just irritating her face. Ill as she was the Genasi missed a good deal of details beyond her little group at the party. With a golden smile the tiny woman accepted the hand from Sabrina with that ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you...” look half showing on her face. Then looking toward Krice as a shaking hand used Sabrina for support, “I am most ready to get out of here.”

Emrith smiles down at Talyara, then takes a chair next to her and focuses on the pumpkins. "I'm going to do something a little odd," he confides, then takes up the provided cutting implement and sets to with a will. The elf is used to carving runes, and he uses this skill to great effect. When he is finished, the pumpkin is covered in weird little squiggles, and its face is a twisted, demonic sneer, from which a faint red light seems to glow. Perhaps it's just a trick of light from somewhere. He passes the small pumpkin to Talyara. "What do you think, hmm?" He chuckles to himself. "Don't know if it's my best work, but for a canvas made of fruit-flesh, I think it will do.

Malshaquon posed triumphantly as he chased Taylor away, puffing his wings out in an attempt to match his ego. Serves that beast right to dare insult him in such a way! Examples made, he went to address the rest of the partygoers. “Fear me! For I am-“ whatever monologue he planned on –actually- saying for once was cut off as Lanara walked up and – did she just… did she just call him ‘little!?’ Peeved was perhaps the lightest way to put the mood of the tiny red as he hunched back, tensing, wings defensively slicking back against his body. “I. Am not. ‘Little!” he scornfully roared back at the witch, his voice rising with each word as he took an aggressive step forward, puffing out once again. “I will not play your games! I am the harbinger of your doom! I, Malshaquon, will make you learn what true fear is!” In a fantastic display he let out a roar over the room, blasting a jet of fire into the air; it barely reached over Lanara’s head. Launching back into his tirade his voice rose and rose, “Fear me! For I bring your ends! Soon this world will-“suddenly, as he might have actually been loud enough to be intimidating, his voice cracked, breaking with what sounded like a high squeak. Not this again. “You… YOU!” Suddenly finding himself short of breath and mind, he searched around to see just how many have noticed. However many did… he’d wind up running back to the fireplace anyway unless stopped by someone.

Krice’s attention drifted between the three women, from Emilia's pale face, to Sabrina's quizzical expression, to Raphaline's outstretched hand. Important things needed to be sorted out, but he was hesitant to come out and speak of them. She was dressed up, ready to dance, and ready to party. He didn't want to disappoint her. Hudson's impromptu encounter with Emilia earned the male a sharp look from the warrior. Rude, but seemingly harmless. Instead of escalating the situation, he observed the drunk man's behavior, was particularly watchful of the Genasi's level if discomfort - or not - throughout it, and dismissed the scene once Hudson wandered off to chat up Lanara. As Sabrina stood, the warrior did as well, standing abreast Raphaline--probably what the bro-huddle wanted, but there you go--and observed Emilia's acceptance of the healer's help. Reaching behind him, his right hand sought Raphaline's so that she wasn't left in the lurch, but his attention lingered on the other two women. “Will you be alright to return to Sabrina's home? Raphaline and I will catch up soon." Or did they require an extra pair of hands for the trip over? Trying to appease everyone was difficult.

Irenic nodded to her before he followed his date to the bar, letting her lead him now and his gaze appreciating the view from behind just as much as the view from the front. He nodded to the huge crustacean with impress at his costume. Once his date returned with drinks he would lead her to the wishing cauldron, "Want to give this a try?" He would take her drinks and wait his turn; playfully peering over her shoulder to see what it is as the space between them was pretty much nonexistent. Once she was done he would think for a moment, scribble something on the paper and drop it into the cauldron before taking his drink back and drinking it down. His arm would find its place back around her shoulders as he points to the food, "Shall we?" His grin was kind, "I'll get us some more drinks and you get us some snacks and we will meet back here?" He points to an empty table. He passed Emilia on the way nearly bumping into her group literally, "Hey! Aren't you glad you came?" His chuckle was short as he proceeded to the bar to get drinks once more.

Fairfax takes the shot Sargaso has procured for her, but the diligent barkeeper (expecting a good tip from Hudson) dutifully takes it away from her before too much damage can be done. She returns to her wine spritzer, but then the uyeer is closer and she’s eager to see him, as he should be eager to see her. But instead, he introduces himself like some land walker. She stares at his proffered claw for a moment before shaking it, a bit shell-shocked (ha) and really, pretty overwhelmed by all the things happening at the party. Hudson is gone and now his strange friend is shouting at her. She looks in the direction he indicates, but no one there is admiring her beauty so she turns back again, but this time, Sargaso is gone, retreating toward some other area where a lot of traffic seems to be funneling, and Hudson is still gone. She looks at the crab again, uncertain now. Is he just pretending? No, obviously not … “I’m a model,” she tells him, in the kind of tone that reflects her uncertainty, and not in the confident manner she’d been non-sequitur-ally declaring it all evening.

Hudson is a charming, if presently wasted, distraction from whomever Lanara's screaming at. He sees how she's playing this, and he gives her an enigmatic smile as he watches her pile food on his plate. Good team work, this. "Yeah, of course not," he says to Lanara, assuming a serious posture about all of this. He digs out a napkin from his pocket, purloins a pen from a nearby end table. "OK so. Write me your address on this napkin," he asks her, handing both over. "What? This is a good idea. It's not for tonight; I'm here with a date." He gestures at Fairfax. He is a little messy, right now. Like really messy. Unfortunately he doesn't get further opportunity to press his case for booty call contact info, because Malshaquon is having some sort of Pyrotechnic Moment, and Hudson puts an arm around Lanara for Safety Reasons because that's what you do as Dude Present During A Pyrotechnic Moment. A bag of money appears on his lap and distracted, he mistakes it for an unexpected handsy maneuver by Lanara. "Wooooaah, not here, this is not what I meant," he says, immediately, going wide eyed. In a showing of great athleticism, he drops his arm from around her, goes to move what he assumes is her hand, and comes up clutching a bag of money. "What?"

Talyara :: As Talyara continues to drink the elven wine her cheeks become more and more flushed. She manages to snag a worker who happened to be skirting past and quickly ordered another, drumming her fingers idly on the table as she waited. She vaguely saw flames from across the room, but the pleasant fuzziness of alcohol was beginning to consume her so she didn’t pay it much mind. Her refill of wine comes quickly enough and Taly graciously accepts the vessel, turning her face to Emrith’s completed pumpkin and chuckling. “Well it’s certainly creepy, perfect for the season.” Skylei is charmed by Sargaso and it’s glaringly obvious. And hey, can you blame her? When was the last time a guy showed Skylei any attention? And this guy? He’s totally cute, and he’s listening to her and it’s like he just knows what to say. In her drunken state, Skylei is convinced that Sarge just… gets her., you know? She is, in fact, holding in her pee, just so that she can continue this conversation and, though she wouldn’t admit it, she’s incredibly grateful when he offers to walk her to the ladies’ room. Whilst in there, Skylei does manage to make a new BFF. Some poor girl crying about her boyfriend who won’t stop staring at Lanara’s ass. Sky offers the usual advice; men are the worst – why not become a lesbian? The ladies’ is, inevitably, rammed and so Sky shares a bathroom stall with her new best friend, and then patches up her makeup in a truly horrendous way (hey, she’s drunk) before sending her off to her boyfriend. Skylei is a saint. As she enters back into the party, she’s caught by Sarge (strange, she didn’t think she was falling, but hell – she’s drunk-ish so what does she know. “I-I’m fine” She manages to respond before he kisses her. She’s into it and kisses back.

Raphaline wraps her fingers around the warrior's hand, "Yes, if you do need extra help don't hesitate." Granted, she did want to just drag the warrior off if only for a short moment. She glances first to the elf before turning to Emilia, her brows knitting, questioning the well-being of her friend.

Emrith :: "Now you try." He tries to pass Talyara a pumpkin and a knife, and with his other hand attempts to take possession of her wine-glass, the better to borrow a sip. All pretenses at nonfamiliarity between the two are essentially ruined at this point, and Emrith is just foggy enough not to care. His keen elven ears are bombarded with the sounds of brags, shouts, laughter and slurred come-ons, not to mention the band on the stage, and it's all quite a bit to take in. The elf takes a moment to look around at the strangely enchanted room. Big mistake. Being half-drunk whilst staring at such artistry is a recipe for disaster. In the spell-blade's case, disaster comes only in the form of a dizzy spell, which he attempts to alleviate by thunking his head down unceremoniously on Talyara's shoulder. "Sorry," he mutters. "Sorry. Lightheaded." He grins, a vapid little grin. "Less heavy head to carry though, there's that."

Kreekitaka offered waves back to those who recognized him, but kept most of his attention here on Fairfax. She'd gone from delight to confusion rather swiftly. Maybe she'd thought him a person underneath the jebblyfish? Mistaken identity? But no~! For she was, in fact, a model! Perhaps a model looking for work! Brilliant! Unless she wasn't. There was something in her voice--that uncertainty about it--that rose a bit of suspicion, but only a bit. Certain that it was just her confusion but wanting to indulge a bit of humor, he leaned down somewhat conspiratorially and asked, slightly quieter, "Are you -sure-?”

Lanara rests a single hand on her hip, as she rests her weight on one side, the slit in her evening gown showing off a long leg. Tapping the toe of her stiletto against the floorboard, she sizes up the miniature dragon, and though she tries so hard to take him seriously, she bursts into a fit of contagious giggles. “You’re adorable!” She states, mid-laugh, before she literally tosses her luxurious locks over a slender shoulder and leaves Malshaquon standing before the hearth. Lana scans the crowd of those gathered and makes certain to wave to those that she somehow misses earlier, and any late arrivals are immediately shown to the apple bobbing in the corner or the pumpkin carving station on the side of the room. Hudson is still at her side, and he’s holding a quill and a napkin and asking for her address?! Before she knows exactly what he’s asking of her, or not asking, she finds his arm snaked around her figure and then sees him holding a large bag of coins. “What the hell?!” Narrowing her gaze on the large bag of gold, she pokes it with her pointer finger and then lowers her eyes to Hudson’s belt-area. “You were packing all of that?! Appearances can be deceiving!”

Valrae had happily agreed to move to the wishing cauldron. She'd finished her drink before they'd made it so she ended up handing him an empty glass. After a moment of hard, quiet thought, she scrawled something hasty on the pretty paper and dropped it in. Before she could disagree, Irenic had given her the task of attaining food. The dragon painted witch stood alone awkwardly, glancing between the departing figure of Irenic and the Hudson guarded food area. An arch of fire distracted her from her side chick woes and brought her eyes down to where a small -actual- dragon was. Neat! He was so little and angry she couldn't help but smile. Her date hadn't returned, and she still wasn't up to braving the food table, so she skirted around the main goings on of the party and into the ladies room. A group of giggling, drunk girls were helping each other make use of the stalls. Passionate, almost wailing sounds came from the one closest to the wall. Quickly, she checked her scale makeup and ducked back into the party.

Sabrina clutches Emilia close. “Yes, yes, we’ll be fine.” She smiles towards Raphaline, encouraging her to let Krice have come fun before leaving. “You two take your time; it is nothing we can’t handle.” She excuses them completely from the task at hand. She is more than ready to help Emilia to the door, passing by the pumpkin carving and tripping over a random shoe in the middle of the floor. She loses her grip on Emi, accidentally shoving her towards a large barrel of what appears to be water and floaty apples.

Talyara makes a huffing noise and Emrith relieves her of her wine glass. Probably for the best; two shots of rum and already a class of wine in on an empty stomach is not the best of decisions. Still, she takes up the task at hand, selecting a pumpkin and tools. It takes her longer than it probably would, and when she’s done, her circle is more oblong and lines shaky, but it still resembles a pentacle, perfect for Samhain. She leans down and whispers her own spell and the pentacle is illuminated with a blue light that resembles her customary flames. As the spell blade’s head finds comfort on her shoulder she rolls her eyes and takes her glass of wine back. “That’s because you’re drunk,” she teases.

Malshaquon didn’t even have time to launch into another rage at being called ‘adorable,’ as if ‘little’ wasn’t insult enough! With great fury and rage he retreated to the fire, hunching onto his hind legs before pouncing up into the chimney much like Taylor first did, except he didn’t come back down this time, a series of scratching sounds progressing upwards signaling that he was leaving. One day, he would return to show these fools what he could truly do. He would have gotten away with it too, had it not been for that meddling cat.

Emrith sits bolt upright, spoiling the image by almost tipping off the far side of his chair. He levels a mock-indignant glare at Talyara and opens his mouth to speak, but instead of the torrent of words he expects to utter, all he says is, "That dress suits you I think." He looks her up and down, appraising but not leering. "I told you it would make you beautiful. I was right. And I am not drunk, I'll have you know." His indignation had deserted him, but now it appears to have wandered back. "I am merely enjoying this lovely wine. Lovely wine." His voice has the faintest slur to it. "And how did you cast magic in here?" he asks, his voice dropping. "I won't say anything. You can tell me."

Emilia casts a warm smile to both Raphaline and Krice, “Go and dance you two, Sabrina and I will be plenty fine.” As Irenic passes the look he gets from behind that mask is easily read if he looked long enough that she wasn’t glad to be here and hardly able to breathe let alone stand on her own. Turning to depart with Sabrina the Genasi let out white the yelping of being startled as Sabrina tripped and sent the light weight Genasi off toward a barrel of water with floating things. The woman was spun in circles as if to play pin the tail on the donkey game, her feathered gown twirling about her with a shimmer from the lights until she herself tripped over the length and fell with a landing partly into the barrel of water in the corner. If she wasn’t dizzy before, she sure was now. As the ice-woman removed her head there stuck in her teeth was a shiny green apple. Water dripped from her face and the Genasi plopped back onto her rear, panting for breath around the green fruit.

Sargaso deepens the kiss and escorts Skylei, without stopping the make-out sesh, into the men's room where the urinal vomiter is now drinking from the faucet. The vomit has spilled over the side of the urinal and drip drips onto the floor. He expertly skirts around this nasty obstacle course like the professional party-going PUA he is. In the last stall he gets hot and heavy with Skylei, a dominant kisser and nowhere near as drunk as the cool, smart chick. Soon another drunk occupies the stall next to theirs, and the dude drops the foulest deuce. It's a bathroom clearing stench, and Sarge gets Skylei the heck out of there. Back at the bar, another round of ill-advised drinks, nonsense conversation whispered close, and interrupted often with drunken public make outs at the bar. He's got his arms around her and they're getting sloppier. The more sober bar flies box them out, and force the couple-for-the-moment onto the dance floor to dance like teens at prom, as Huds would put it. Skylei's knit dress snags on a neighbor's brooch and comes undone right over her chest. Wardrobe malfunction! Sarge covers her chest and makes a joke about it, then suggests they get out of there. He turns around and leads her out the door, his body as her shield from prying eyes. They don't need to go far. There are plenty of fields in Xalious.

Hudson is so drunk and confused, and Lanara is just staring at his pants... great, what is going on here? He eats some of Fairfax's cake log, its fine. "What can I say, I roll deep," he says, even though he has no idea how this bag of money happened. He puts it in his pocket, and then points at the napkin. "For your consideration, I give good cuddle, so they tell me," he says, talking with his mouth full. Shameless grin. "I'm gonna go back to my date now," he leaves it there, and he touches her back before peeling away, weaving his way back to Fairfax and Kreekitaka, who are apparently negotiating the terms of her employment. Sarge has vanished with Skylei, great; he hopes that Sarge is getting it in or something. Gods know where. "I brought you a feast," he tells Fairfax, sliding back into place and tendering her the plate heaped with cakes and ... steak too, because, why not. "How's business?" he asks Kreekitaka.

Skylei has been called boring before but, alas, tonight, she’s been nothing but. Her dignity is all but gone by the time they reach the end of Sargaso’s charade, and the half-elf is more than happy to get out of the room of people who have now all seen her chest. Skylei’s going to have the hangover of her life tomorrow morning.

Ranok curls a lip. It seemed that the only present danger was from the partiers becoming increasingly drunk. Given that he'd not come to play baby sitter or bouncer, he refrains. The outburst of fire did catch his attention, but as he'd drawn in close enough, he determined that it was a harmless and incredibly small dragon. The description apt or not, but tiny dragons was also not on the list of things that need be watched for. The noise was beginning to grate on him, those sensitive ears inundated with the endless sound of the gathering. It was hardly worth any of it. The evening was officially a waste. Such as it was. Still. No true warrior would sneer at a peaceful evening when one expected blood. Deciding that the room was too stuffy, somehow, he makes the questionable choice to step outside. Fingers undo the buttons of his duster to allow him more breathing room. A glance, at the departing Sabrina and Emilia. He'd hoped they'd be safe enough. A moment of deliberation and a crooked finger and...No. They would have to be safe enough. A moment of selfishness, perhaps. But maybe he'd not come to regret it. Instead, he opted to watch the falling stars from the comet overhead.

Krice didn't do parties. He didn't do dress-up. He didn't do dancing. From the moment he arrived here, his time had been spent with Raphaline and Sabrina and Emilia, his energy put toward the latter. He wasn't here to have fun--nothing in this situation suited the stoic warrior. The Genasi and healer's reassurances did little to actually reassure him that the aforementioned pale girl would be alright, that the dark-haired elf would be able to handle it. Irenic's unexpected greeting-in-passing earned the avian a look, nothing more, before he turned to watch his two friends leave the party. Their mishap caused him to grimace and he squeezed Raphaline's hand before releasing it, gliding through the party to try and mitigate the damages of Sabrina's unfortunate slip. Stupid shoe. As Emilia emerged from the apple-dipping barrel and fell backwards, the warrior slid an arm around the middle of her back and pulled her toward him, catching her out of her fall. Unless she was monumentally clumsy enough to pull him down, too. Solid on his feet, the warrior made sure that the Genasi was fine on hers before he'd relinquish the strength of his hold around her, keeping his arm nearby in case the event had weakened her already ailing body. He hadn't been fast enough to save her from the evil apples, but at least he could keep her off the floor. Brows arched, the warrior regarded Emilia and said, “That almost looked fun."

Talyara cannot help but crack a grin at Emrith’s slurred denial. “Fine, you’re only tipsy then,” she corrects for his benefit, taking a healthy gulp of her own wine glass. His compliment earns him an arched brow. “Oh I see, so I wasn’t beautiful -before- the dress only after. I see how it is.” She feigns the most serious tone she can muster but it’s clear she is merely jesting.

Irenic still had no idea which guy Valrae was talking about but it was clear when he returned to the empty table and her voided attempt to grab food. He went to the buffet by himself and grabbed a random slew of things before Valrae was able to return to the table he pointed out. There he waited a plate of food for her and a plate for him with their drinks. He waved her over once he spotted her once more and a grin was offered while he pulled out the seat next to him and moved it a little closer to his own. He would lean in and return the kiss on the cheek whenever she sat down and got comfortable before snacking some on his food and drinking more of his drink down. "This was a good idea, I am glad you came here with me." He would say when their food disappeared and his arm draped across the back of Valrae's chair.

Fairfax really isn’t sure what to make of this surface-bound uyeer. It definitely isn’t fawning over her beauty, as she is accustomed. It’s definitely a uyeer. Maybe a tainted one? Maybe he’s been captured by the land walkers and made some kind of … pet to them. The question he poses seems to inspire more uncertainty. Is she sure she’s a model? No. No, she’s definitely not sure. She sniffs. “You can ask Hudson for my back story.” She finger-combs some of her hair, pulling it out from her ridiculous red riding hood. “He knows it.” And Hudson arrives in the nick of time (after a long, long time away), bearing food. She smiles at him, then Kreekitaka. “This is Hudssoon. He knows.” While the two presumably figure out her back story together, she picks up the steak and gnaws off a bite. It’s disgusting, naturally, and she delicately extracts it from her sharp teeth and sets it aside because it’s just burned flesh, so gross. She opts for the cake now. It is better.

Emrith :: "Oh no," Emrith murmurs, "you were plenty beautiful beforehand. But you worry that dress won't do you justice, or the other way round. You suit each other. Trust me. I wouldn't lie." He thumps his head back down on Talyara's shoulder, grinning vacantly up at the enchanted ceiling a moment. "Okay," he amends, raising his head with an effort. "Okay. You're right. I'm drunk. But in the morning I'll be sober, and you'll still be beautiful. So don't take what I say now as hollow, please?" There is unaccustomed earnestness in Emrith's voice, as if this admittedly clumsy conversational sally is something into which he has poured more than a rational measure of his heart.

Kreekitaka saw, then. Sharp teeth. That little hiss in her voice. The lack of back story. One thing you can say about Kree is that he is observant and pretty good at putting pieces together. He shifted his attention to Hudson and bowed lightly with a respectful clench of his facial crushers. "Very gooDAH!," he responded, jovially, standing back up to his full height and placing the jellyfish back into place. "I have more HHHTHan jus' HHHTHe one shop now. Here, yemme give you my carDAH!--" A claw opened, tentacles were extended, and Hudson was yanked inside the jellyfish with a single digit of a trifurcated claw pressed to his lips. Hudson was, therefore, rather underneath Kree, but at least he was more secluded now for the purpose of having a more stealthy conversation. "Have you any cyue whaTAH! You’re courTAH!ing?" he asked, trying not to let anyone else hear--unfortunately, there were people nearby and the woman might be listening in, and Kree wasn't very good at being quiet.

Lanara excitedly takes a peek outside and holds up her hand, as though she were telling someone on the other side to wait five minutes, before she motions for the band to cut the music. As the song comes to an end and the dance partners divide, the witch clears her throat and beckons Talyara with her pointer finger and a knowing glance. It was now time to announce the winners of the costume contest! Once her sister had arrived at her side, the brunette speaks loud enough so that all could hear her message clearly. “Thank you all so much for attending our –first- Witches Ball! We hope to make this an annual event, and it means so much that you all are here to celebrate Samhain with us! For those that don’t know, Taly and I come from a distant land that is no more, and was known as Kelvar. It was an elven kingdom, very far away, and we hail from a coven of powerful witches. The craft that we practice on a daily basis is very dear to our hearts, and tonight we thank the Goddess for bestowing us with good friends, a feast, and unforgettable memories. On this night, the veil between the world of the living and the dead is at its thinnest, and that is a cause for celebration. For celebrating the lives of those that have lived and died, before us. So we thank you, for respecting and celebrating our high holiday. Of course we tried to make it fun with little events and a big ball, and we hope to make it different each year! As Hollow is our home, and you all are our family. So without further ado! My sister and I are going to announce the winners of the costume contest. After much deliberation… We chose one best costume winner for a male and one for a female. Here is the prize…” Standing off to the side, the double doors open to the outside and two orc guards appear, reins held in each hand, and a horse in tow. Both horses were stallions, and were pitch black in color, and were it not for the moon shining overhead and the lanterns lining the way, one would mistake them for shadows of the night. The stallions were big boned, with wild eyes, and a dark magical aura was felt by those that were nearest to their side. The horse on the left breathed crimson flames from its nostrils and with each step it took, small sparks of crimson would spark from its hooves, and the horse on the right was its equal counterpart, except azure flames and sparks emanated from its hooves and nostrils. A his and her hell stallion, and the most perfect of presents for the costume contest winners. Lana walks to stand between the horses and holds the reins of each in her palms, and though the stallions don’t harm the witch, they don’t nuzzle her like most animals do in her presence. “These stallions are meant to bond with one… And one alone. The chosen owners of each stallion will form a bond unlike any other, and that bond will be unending. These horses are capable of appearing from the shadows, when beckoned, and will protect you until your dying day. They do not age, and they will not run away or form a bond with any other. I entrust these magnificent beasts to the winners of the contest. Taly… Please reveal the recipients of the stallions.”

Hudson is really feeling the weight of the booze now and wants to skulk over to Valrae and Irenic's table and get real messy. There's the itch on his forearms, oh, it would feel good to have a werewolf Moment, he's been so good, and it’s been such a struggle of late. OK, OK, enough. He has to be a good date. Kreekitaka is talking to him, Huds reaches for a beer - it's not his, but it's his now! - and finds himself pulled into the uyeer's jellyfish costume, like they're two kids playing fort except not quite. Hudson is alarmed; what's this about. Oh, they are having a summit about Fairfax being a mermaid. "Yeah, she's a mermaid; don't tell anyone, people are racist. She wanted to go to a party, so, she's a foreign model, that's the story, I got this, man," says Huds. "Also, I think the gay timer on this meeting has just run, so," he adds, and then he reaches to lift the fabric of the jellyfish costume so he can creep out. "Man talk," he says to Fairfax, who is just eating cake like a boss. That's kinda hot; usually women who look like Fairfax don't go down on the cake like she is. "She could be a model though, seriously," he comments, for Kreekitaka's benefit. "I mean look at her. She has chocolate crumbs.” Hudson also falls silent to listen to the announcement.

Sabrina is full of apologies as she takes up the surrendered Emilia, giving Krice a look of both thanks and ‘sorry.’ She is quick to find the door not long after Ranok, letting Emi keep her apple as she might need it for the trek back to Ara under the light of the passing comet. The unbuttoned cowboy is offered no more than a sincere smile in passing. Whatever she meant to say to him was better left in private. Plus, the already ailing Emi was now soaking wet and the weather was verging on brisk tonight. She misses the announcement entirely.

Emilia did not weight enough to knock the warrior down with herself to the floor. He sure did move fast she thought to herself for just a moment, the world was spinning still. The Genasi was ever grateful for his emi-dar that he had acquired over time. Back on her feet she remained standing with a slight sway watching the room spin slowly in circles. Lifting a blackened hand up she removed the apple from between her lips, “It might have been fun on better health terms, but you should give it a shot and see if you get an apple too.” A small golden smile, however most of that coloring had washed off with the face plant into the water. “Please, one dance with her. I hate to see such a pretty face turn sour if she misses out on the one thing she was hoping for more this night. I’ll be alright, promise....” the rest is cut short before the announcement is made by the witches over some contest she would never know happened as Sabrina swept her off her feet and out into the chill of the night. Time to go home.

Kreekitaka sincerely hoped that Hudson had this, because most mermaids he'd met that bothered to go on land did so to put the laughter in manslaughter. He looked up at the announcement--oh. Oh dear. What-ever- was he going to do with a horse? Why yes, Kree did think it was a foregone conclusion that he'd win one.

Talyara smiles somewhat shyly. Emrith was correct of course, she felt that the dress was simply -too lovely- for the likes of her. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time she was in something so elegant. With the spell blade’s proclamation of her beauty she gives him a -look-, one that clearly implies that “I know you have to say that but thank you for saying it”. Pretty soon, however, Lanara is beckoning and Taly tilts her head back to down the remainder of her wine before placing the empty vessel on the table. “Excuse me,” she murmurs to the spell blade before weaving her way, slightly unsteady, towards her sister whose arm she grasps right away for balance. She bows her head slightly when Lanara gives her little speech about their hometown, about their religion, about their holiday and truly she is touched. Releasing the woodland witch’s arm so that she might go to fetch the prizes her lips tug into a grin. “The winner of our crimson flamed stallion is our best dressed female…Valrae!” Taly pauses her to clap and waits for the remaining applause to subside before continuing. “And the winner of our azure flamed stallion is our best dressed male…Emrith!” Again, Taly falls silent to the applause, allowing Lanara to bring forth the prizes.

Fairfax is glad Hudson is here to straighten out the story to this uyeer because honestly. Once, she brought one a pretty shell none of her sisters had wanted because it had a crack, but when she gave it to a uyeer, he couldn’t stop clicking his claws in excitement and she’d felt she’d done a very good deed. Now this one was some kind of … land walker pet. Maybe she should rescue it. “Hudson—“ She turns to address her date … but her date is missing. She stops eating her cake and looks around in alarm. He was just there! Nothing should make him disappear so suddenly. She’s about to go enlist Krice, Finder of Missing Things, when Hudson reappears from the interior of the crab’s … jellyfish exterior. His explanation leaves quite a bit to be desired, but there is an announcement happening, and two very pretty land horses being displayed just outside the door. In passing, she extends haughtily to Kreekitaka, “Yes, -look- at me.” In the tone of, shame on you for not looking sooner.

Krice was ready to dance with Raphaline, or leave with her and Emilia and Sabrina, but Lanara's announcement drew his attention - furthermore did the appearance of those two brilliant stallions. His gaze lingered, regarding the animals with appreciative interest. As the announcement continued, he was quiet in his interaction with his three friends, a glance given the fiery-maned bard in apology for the missed dance. To Emilia, he said, “Go on. Sabrina's already ahead of you. I'm right behind." His hand left the Genasi's back but hovered nearby, ready to catch her if her legs failed her. The warrior would follow his two friends with Raphaline presumably in tow - but not before she got a look at the announcement at its conclusion.

Emrith climbs to his feet, nearly buckles over the table containing the pumpkin-carving implements, and wobbles drunkenly toward Lanara and Talyara. He has taken almost no notice of the dealings with the woman falling into the apple-bobbing barrel, except that the sudden splash made him giggle. A small sane part of him feels shame at being so intoxicated whilst receiving some sort of prize - he's still not entirely sure on the details - and so he tries to muster a careful, dignified stride as he makes his way toward the pair. "Thank you," he says to them both. "In truth, this was all a bet. You know a wager?" As if this explanation makes some sort of sense. "The azure one? Oh, love, I'm not a judge of horseflesh but that one is beautiful!" He reaches the pair of witches by this point, and nearly staggers into Lanara, nodding a quick apology to her before retreating a pace. He stands next to Talyara instead, taking solace in her physical and emotional nearness both. He says nothing more...which is probably to the good. Every time he opens his mouth, something ridiculous falls out.

Kreekitaka is quite fortunate that he wasn't telepathic, because if he'd heard Fairfax referring to him as a pet out loud, he'd invite both her and her date outside to show them exactly who was what around here. Racism, in some cases, could be justified. Kree had yet to meet a mermaid on land that wasn't out for some kind of misguided blood vengeance. Not being a master of subtlety, it was a little difficult for Kree to simply return to his previous demeanor, but he gave it a shot. "I see you. I beyeev you woulDAH! be quiTAH! usefo TAH!oo my corporation." This might catch her off-guard, if she assumed all he was a pet. He owned a company? He handed a pair of business cards to them both, with his logo and directions to his shops--one in Larket, one in Cenril. "We shoulDAH! speak more frankyee afTAH!er HHHTHe parTAH!ee," he said with a nod, and a particular sort of pointed "I know" look at the woman, before turning his attention back to the horses. Oh, good, he hadn't won one. Wait. He hadn't won?!

Valrae made it over to the table Irenic occupied and gave him another apologetic smile as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He'd gotten the food and drink and she'd uselessly run off the bathroom. "Sorry," She whispered as she situated herself into a chair close to him, mindful of her gossamer wings. She'd seen Ranok on her way back to the table but he'd seemed as intimidating and as occupied as ever so she hadn't greeted him. More of her golden curls had slipped from the pins that had held them atop her head, so she tucked them back behind her ear and glanced about the room. A hush had fallen over the room as their hostesses made an announcement. The Cenril native witch was enthralled by Lanara. She loved hearing stories of other lands, other magical traditions, and hoped when they did meet again she could ask the many questions that were buzzing through her curious mind. They all quieted when they made a show of the stallions. She'd never really been close to a horse before, though she wanted to almost desperately. And they were magical! Her dark eyes were glued to them so much so that it was hard for her to pull them away when she hears her name. What? What had been said? The room was too quiet, eyes were on her, and her heart was pounding. She'd won? She'd won the contest? Breathlessly, the witch stood. She was at a loss for what was supposed to happen next. The man they'd claimed as the other victor moved to accept the stallions, of course, so she followed wide eyed. Valrae let him speak first, because... What? She had no idea. "Ah, thank you!" She finally managed, when it seemed her turn to speak. She was so obviously, painfully dumbfounded and lost.

Lanara smiles warmly as the winners are announced and approaches Emrith first, though she hesitates for a lingering moment before giving the reins to the drunken drag queen. The Lana-imposter was give a blank stare before the witch turns on her heel and escorts the other stallion over to Valrae, who was given a squeal and an awkward half-hug. “Congrats! Treat him well, okay? I’m rather fond of them, and I know that he will be good to you, too. Your costume is truly lovely and I really do hope that we can become great friends. Us witches need to stick together!” Lana then calms down over her excitedness of meeting a fellow witch, and hands the reins to the horse’s rightful owner. Both stallions immediately take to their owners and give a single affectionate nuzzle to the neck of the winners, before being escorted back outside, by the orc guards.

Hudson is forced to remember that Valrae exists thanks to the contest. He drinks from his beer and shoots a nasty look in Irenic's direction, deciding not to cheer because he is Salty in a word. He decides to not watch Valrae collect her prize and beam with joy and look utterly and most definitely heartbreaking adorable. He can practically see it in his mind's eye. His jaw tenses. He is paying attention to Kreekitaka and the business spiel, yes. "Kreekitaka is cool, he KNOWS things," says Hudson, trying to back the uyeer up. He drains the rest of his adopted beer, puts an arm around Fairfax. A little consoling, all the same, to remind him that his date is banging. If a little crazy... "I hope you're having fun," he says, meaning it, but feeling 75% miserable himself.

Talyara laughs openly at Emrith’s explanation of his costume choice. Of course she knew it was a wager, she was the one who set it! Still she gives his arm a little pat before moving to pet his horse. Taly likewise joins Lanara at Valrae’s side and beams at her fellow witch. “You deserve it! Your costume was not only beautiful but creative. I hope you enjoy him!” If she would allow, the empath would give her a quick hug before the horses are ushered out. Moving towards her sister Taly pulls her into a tight embrace. “Happy New Year sister!” She says a bit more boisterously than she would have (blame the elven wine). Samhain was not only a celebration of the final harvest and when the veil was the thinnest, but it was also the witch’s new year.

Emrith looks at the pair of witches as they embrace. The coldness of Lanara's presentation wasn't lost on him, but even in his near-stupor he knows not to push the issue. There will be a thousand tomorrows in which grievances can be addressed, after all. "Thank you," he says. Normally fine with the idea of a speech, Emrith limits himself to these two words, then just stands there awkwardly, thinking to himself a version of "Yes, she should have won." And only realizing after the fact that, while staring at Valrae, he has vocalized this thought aloud.

Fairfax has no idea what a corporation is, but she spares Kreekitaka an indulgent smile anyway. “Yes,” she agrees, without any real conviction. She’s getting tired and her clothes are quite itchy. She leans into Hudson and splays her fingers across his chest. “I’m having a great deal of fun.” There is a lone sprinkle on the corner of her mouth, and some of her teeth are coated in chocolate. “But now I am tired and my human clothes are itchy.” She finishes her second glass of wine spritzer. “But this is good and you may bring me more when you come to visit me next.” She eyes Kreekitaka as she collects her date (by mostly standing next to him and supporting her unsteady land walker legs under her). “Goodbye. I like your, um...” She’s lost the word. “I like that you are pretending to be a jellyfish. They are also quite pretty.”

Lanara returns the embrace to her sibling, though she does pull away far faster than she normally would, and holds Taly’s emerald gaze. “Happy New Year. Be well, sister.” A sad smile, which seems forced, is given to the younger sister, and she merely blinks at Emrith before she turns her back to the couple. The band had tuckered out by now, and as the music died down, most of the guests had also left. The open bar would remain open for a few more hours, and the food would be left out, in case the few remaining guests grew hungry. Lana, herself, made sure to pay all those that were hired to help out for the evening, collected her cat, and retrieved her belongings from the room upstairs. The witch was last seen exiting the tavern with her heels in her hand, as she headed to wherever it was she would retire for the evening.