Fae Courts Hounds & Horns

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The festivities moved along without Nairth. Only passing glances greeted him as he enjoyed a small meal at one of the many tabled procured for the event. It was a far cry from the attention he'd received before, but he held no malice over such exclusion. The most popular of attendees appeared to be those of the Lusce family, a bloodline of the Night Court with whom he'd never found harmony.

Their beliefs were a stark contrast and a difference that would not be reconciled simply. Still, he did silently acknowledge that the land around them did not recoil in fear quite as much as it once had. Perhaps that seed of kindness he'd planted among them some time ago had taken root after all? It would bring him joy to see their relationship with Arethil improve...

"I never liked red. Much too alike to blood and other awful things such as... blood."

A woman's voice found him from his side, as soft and gentle as the sun across the bare flesh of his back. San'Seya's lips pursed lightly in idle thought, bringing his drink back to his lips and replying to the voice without looking at its maker. "Blood is that vessel in which our livelihood is carried." He hummed. "Its beauty lies in its hidden nature, residing beneath the flesh, away from our eyes. That we do not acknowledge its existence until it is spilled tells of how we do not truly appreciate it."

Gently he places his cup upon the table and turns his head to rest his golden eyes upon the yellow-clad Sidhe addressing him. She was new; A stranger boldly approaching him at a gathering such as this usually indicated one who sought something from him, be it power, wisdom, or pleasure.

"I look upon you and see beauty born of blood. I see the pink it brings to your skin, the scarlet of your eyes, and I laud what it brings to life."

Ianthe stared at the pair of sisters as they rushed at her.

A feral smirk curved one corner of her lips as Signe's lie stopped in her throat and the kelpie met Seryn's look with one that simply dared her to say something about the rip up the frilly skirts. A nasty comment was on the tip of her tongue when Signe crouched down and spoke to Wrongtoe instead. At first Ianthe was merely stunned. Most fae were smart enough to know not to bother the red cap. All were smart enough not to talk to the goblin. Certainly not in some High-fae-bullshit version of the language.

Ianthe looked at her companion and then promptly burst out laughing, her arms wrapping around her sides to keep herself from falling to the floor.

"Tuk-ta, nab nim rah-rah, Wrongtoe."

Yes, you look simply precious Wrongtoe!
Solenne grinned widely, casting her crystalline eyes out to the gathered crowd. Odd! There were those that had their hair coloured to match the decor. How she ended up here was not known, and one she would not willingly tell and reveal either. Opportunist at best, she simply needed to quell the tugging boredom that came from being a vagabond between Courts.

"Are you a warrior? You speak of blood with words that put bloodlust to shame." She turned to look at the Duannan, not giving away that she had suspicion of his true identity, continuing to speak as if they were equals. "Or perhaps a poet inspired!"

Playing with a lock of her dark hair, crumbling the autumnal yellowed leaf that had stuck itself between strands, Solenne mused aloud once more. "To me, blood is a product of violence. A price to pay, to sacrifice. I prefer other means..." Secrets. She was a lot more subtle in making that known, preferring to hide behind carefully chosen words before getting comfortable.

Nairth San'Seya
"Goo?" *Is you for real?* Was all Wrongtoe could get out before they were whisked away into Signe's joyous arms.
Being Fae-handled up into the air was horrible for Wrongtoe.
Their arms flailed and mouth opened in snapping frustration.
Trapped in the vice like arms of Signe they clawed and spat like a cat trying to escape but it was useless. This tall and highly eager creature had decided this was happening. Where it any other court, or any other night they would have bitten Signe's face off but even Goblins knew better than to anger the Erlking in his court.
The happy face of Signe was met by wide eyes uncertainty as Wrongtoe managed a smile so feeble it would warrant sympathy from a limp sapling.
"Nammappa gump-gump!" *Put me down!"

Signe Lusce Ianthe
She beamed brightly— all sun-loved freckles and dazzling smile. She knew Wrongtoe was just as excited as she was to be here and to twirl around without someone to cast a disdainful look at them. She could just tell by their yelling that they were excited to see how it could be like to dance in a court that didn’t deem it to be silliness that only children could partake in.

Even Ianthe was laughing in joy as she thought about the two of them dancing. It was rare to see the kelpie laugh without that particular look in her eyes that always made Signe nervous. The look that made Signe wonder if she laughed as well if it meant she’d be getting kicked in the face. Signe noticed from her peripheral that Seryn had left her to get a drink. They would meet up later, she was sure of it.

Wrongtoe was still squirming with excitement. She looked at the sweet little goblin.

That’s a very good cat impersonation.” She said before realizing the look on Wrongtoe’s face. Hm, it seemed less excited now. Surely the goblin wanted to dance with her. Then why such a sad smile? “Oh my, I didn’t realize.” She said, already forgetting (or perhaps not caring) that she would have to speak in Wrongtoe Talk for the goblin to understand her.

You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you? Being so small and all, of course you’d be nervous if I were to drop you.” She gave Wrongtoe a reassuring smile. “But you don’t need to worry. I won’t drop you. Only a fool would drop a cutie like you.”

"To me, blood is a product of violence. A price to pay, to sacrifice. I prefer other means..."

Nairth raised a brow, seemingly amused by the stranger's words. The King was not offended by such an opinion, nor did he inherently disagree with an appraisal such as hers. If anything, it spoke of her experience thus far, of what she'd been through and seen in her time among the trees.

She was no innocent. But then, none of them were anymore.

"Blood is what you make of it. If you think of it only when it's spilled, then naturally it becomes a symbol of violence. I like to think in a less... material fashion." Already this woman had revealed things about herself that spoke of a cunning and wily soul. Not one to be trifled with or trivialized. Even so, he could not help but poke and prod, in some brazen attempt to draw more from her lips. "For not all blood is red and viscous. The water is the blood of earth. Leaves are the blood of the trees, dying and renewing constantly. The air..." Nairth extended his arms, taking a deep breath. "...Is the very blood of our blood. Do you see?"

He did not wait for her to answer, nor did he find it significant whether or not she agreed with his vision. This was not the place for philosophical debate; this was a party and a celebration. As she pondered his words, the Fae King would pour another glass of wine and offer it to her.

"I am a warrior only when I am forced to be, to defend these beliefs I hold true. My place is as King of the Spring Court. You may call me Nairth. Please, do a melodramatic fool the honors of an introduction and a toast?"

At first, Solenne would have declined the offered wine had he not revealed his station to her. Slight alarm flashed in her curious rust hued eyes, looking down at the glass and watched as her hand went to take it from him.

"Never have I toasted with a King before." Solenne revealed, daring to meet his gaze and lifting a brow. Amusement tugged at her lips as she offered her glass for him to clink with. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Nairth, King of the Spring Court."

After their glasses chimed lightly, she would take the smallest sip of her wine before offering her own name, if it were true or not. "I am Solenne."

Nairth San'Seya
After being warned against disturbing the revelry Curcurbita was loath to hassle any of the patrons with his presence.
But he did.
While on his way back from the little stalks room he allowed himself to be distracted by a radiant creature dancing? Was that dancing? With a Goblin of all things.
It was pretty old school if he was honest. He respected it.
In fact he respected it so much that he failed to see the two fae that he was currently walking into.
So it was with a long and ungainly stride that he struck Solenne, whom he did not know and almost made her spill her drink. Just as she was midsentence with none other than the King of Spring himself. Whom he had promptly forgotten existed.
"Oof, oh. Goodness I'm sorry."
His hands, gnarled and thin and clumsy offered exaggerated apology under his words. They hovered over her frame as he scanned the victim of his absent mind for injury or insult.
"You're not hurt are you? I really am so very sorry to disturb you, you see there is this goblin dancing with a woman and I, I let myself get terribly distracted."
His eyes, such as they were slits cut deep into his gourd of a head shaped into concerned arches.

Solenne Nairth San'Seya
"Do you know what my house is quiet for Saang? The sound of my mother encouraging me to take a wife!" Paetr protested with a roll of his eyes.

"So thank you for putting that topic back on the table."

Paetr picked up a goblet of red wine. One of his people rushed forwards, but the High Lord waved him away. He didn't want to look weak in front of Saang and have it checked for poison.

People tried to kill Paetr with a remarkably frequency. It was to their great frustration that he refused to die.

"You know how I love my excesses, but settling down? It would take someone remarkable. Too many women have too many opinions and sound like my advisors or worse... I can wait another few centuries."

Saang had yet to take up a drink - the conversation was far too engaging to split his attention yet. The Commander afforded his companion a moment of curiosity and then allowed that to be overcome by smirking consideration. Yes, he supposed waiting was never a bad option. Why, Saang was several times the younger Paetr's age and he had yet to be saddled by marriage.

Not for lack of his father's trying, of course. The Lusce Patriarch had been aiming for the wayward Princess of the Night Court, but there was a time and a place for making such reaching attempts. It was ever so important to remain in Prince Kana'ti's favor, after all.

"Indeed you can," Saang agreed, leaning in with a salacious eye for his friend, "you would make the most handsome of faelens and faelettes. The world is not yet ready for them."

Then from the corner of his gaze just over Paetr's shoulder should he spy his sister Seryn Lusce on her way toward the refreshments. "Hold that thought Paetr..." The embers of his gaze brightened as if a fire fed new fuel and his lungs leapt with an excitement at seeing her out and about, dressed for the occasion.

"My sweet Seryn!" he swept past Paetr to collect her with dignity, taking up one of her hands to press it warmly between his own and lay a kiss on her cheek. Adoration for his younger sibling billowed from his figure like heat from a campfire, unmistakable to any within range. Each sister treated according to their natures, Seryn was that of demure politeness and tranquility. Outlandish shows of affection suited her not.

"You are a vision my dear, I see mother's taste remains without fault. Come, meet one of my dearest of friends, Lord Paetr. Paetr, my sister Lady Seryn."
"Indeed you can," Saang agreed, leaning in with a salacious eye for his friend, "you would make the most handsome of faelens and faelettes. The world is not yet ready for them."

Paetr grinned with conspiratorial intent, but as Saang finished his sentences, Paetr's gaze drifted to the middle distance. It took his thoughts a few moments to catch up.

"Hold that thought...honestly, one starts to think you're bringing up children to kill off any chance of arousal. You turn up in an outfit like that and then raise the subject of marriage before we even..."

"My sweet Seryn!" he swept past Paetr to collect her with dignity

As a peer, Saang was able to get away with moving on whilst Paetr was mid rant.

Paetr turned on the spot to take in the sight of Saang's sister. He should have remembered the names of all the Lusce family, but for their obsession with such similar names.

Paetr offered a deep bow, swinging his right arm down to his left side. As he came back up his right hand was free, should she offer hers.

"Lady Lusce, you are quite radiant," Paetr said, feeling quite proud of that reference to the family affinity.

"And a remarkable dress I must add. A bit of luck that Saang here didn't press his current feather fetish upon the whole family!

"I can only apologise for how drab my attire is tonight, particularly next to your brother. We have been at war you see, so my advisors insisted we make a point. You are enjoying the evening?"
Seryn was not known for her smile, not like the smiles her sisters or brother could bring to life upon their lips. Her happiness and joy were expressed in her dark green eyes, lips pulled into a smaller, more polite smile that was trained into her as the perfect Lady of the Night Court. To hear the voice of Saang calling to her made her happier than his letters had found her as of late. She squeezed his hands, her eyes and attention all on her brother before he guided her to meet his friend he was previously in conversation with.
"Lady Lusce, you are quite radiant,"

Her eyes widened only slightly before she too lowered herself to a curtsy before Paetr, "A pleasure to meet you, my Lord." She had heard Saang mention him countless times, but this moment was the first time Seryn set her eyes on the Night Court Lord. Was she blushing? Of course she was. To be complimented on the dress twice within the minute gave her the urge to fiddle with the silk skirts, but she met the gaze of each her brother and Lord Paetr.

"Feathers were never suitable for me. I am more of a floral theme to accessories... but I adore how my brother has influenced the fashion of each of his sisters." Saang, in her own eyes, was the perfect Lusce. He was effortless, and growing up Seryn wished to be the same. Along with her obsession with getting her father's approval, she would spend hours on her appearance so that she would too be seen beautiful like her brother.

Seryn now looked into the pale eyes of Lord Paetr, and pursed her lips gently as a fluttering sensation settled in her stomach. Had he been looking at her like that since meeting? He looked handsome as ever, even if he was not dressed with embellishments like some guests in attendance.
"Oh," her cheeks were near crimson now, realising that perhaps she stared a moment longer, "Yes... yes I am enjoying the evening. I am rather curious of the activities scheduled for tonight. And you, Lord Paetr? The company of my brother has lifted your spirits tonight?"

Saang Lusce Paetr
He would not let his gaze falter. Not when he could see her feeling a little warmth under it's weight. Paetr had levelled that gaze upon mortals and almost petrified them.

He was a hunter through to the centre of his being. Perhaps that was why he often enjoyed the company of the cwn, even if they were a lesser order.

Seryn Lusce was in his sights now. Saang was standing beside them. He would never allow his sister to make a foolish and rash decision on this evening.

Paetr looked away, smiling. He imagined the flutter of her pulse as being released from his gaze.

"Seeing Saang always raises my spirits," Paetr replied.

One of Paetr's advisors had started to close on the group. He would not dare interrupt Paetr in socialising, but suddenly their Lord was conversing with an eligible faerie of good standing.

They stuck with their Lord in spite of his attitude, because they believe in the family name. They believed in the institution and in what had been built.

And in preventing Paetr from undoing it all.

"If a lady like yourself is of delicate disposition then..." Paetr started to say, but he saw one of his men shake their head.

No, right, best not to talk about the sex pile in front of Saang and his younger sister.

"It is going to be a long and glorious night," Paetr said. "And much brighter for your attendance."
"Solenne." San'Seya tested the name upon his tongue, before washing it down with a long sip of wine. It didn't appear he'd taken any offense to her ignorance as to who he was; by Fae standards, his rule was still quite a young one, and he still received correspondence seeking Oberon's council at the castle nearly every day. ""The pleasure is mine, Solenne. It is never toil to form a new connection."

The King rose his glass to hers and toasted softly to their meeting. No matter their courts, beliefs, or histories, that two Fae could sit and converse in peace and harmony meant that there was still hope for their kind. It was that lingering hope that Nairth clung to, which got him through each challenging new day.

"Forgive my curiosity, but I'm curious as to where you hail from. You are... Leannan, are you not?" Nairth let an unashamed gaze travel over her, full of every emotion one would expect of a warm blooded King, wrapped within politeness and nobility. As always his fire burned, but he stoked it, controlled it until such passion was needed. "I feel as though--"

Suddenly a shape collided with Solenne's back, causing her wine to displace, some of it flying out over the rim of her glass and splashing against the King's chest. San'Seya flinched, looking down at the colorful trails of liquid now running through the valleys of his torso with deadpan ire.

"Curcurbita..." He sighed, looking up at the gourd-headed fellow he'd brought with him. The strange being had been absent from Fae society for some time, and Nairth preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt because of that. Still, his behavior was a bit odd at times. There was a mystery within that man, one he'd not even begun to unravel. "Enjoying your first festival since returning?"

Solenne smiled mere brief moments before shock caught her by surprise. Her wine flew forward, landing on the flesh of the King and coated her fingers that held the glass that stayed within her grasp. She whirled around, confronting the one that bumped into her with a sheepish smile.
I really am so very sorry to disturb you, you see there is this goblin dancing with a woman and I, I let myself get terribly distracted.

"Curious... oh! You were not telling a fib!" Her pale rust eyes turned to where everyone could see one of the red headed women holding up a goblin and smiling like she was enjoying the activity for the both of them. "I do hope she does not lose any fingers." She mused aloud.

Solenne peeked another glance to the one Nairth called Curcurbita. Strange, she had not seen anyone of his likeness before... was that a costume idea?

"I applaud you for your dedication to a theme. Two friends embracing Autumn! How lovely to see!"

Nairth San'Seya
Now it was Solenne's turn to be ignored.
Upon hearing his own name spoken by the Monarch of Spring he froze, shoulders arching high in embarrassed posture as his head swiveled neatly to look in Nairth's direction.
The urge to prostrate himself was almost over whelming but for the King's insistence to not be so formal at all times with him. Still he gave a short bow and began his apologies anew.
"Your Highness of Freshness, I am truly sorry. I have ruined your visage. Ugh, this is unforgivable."
He promptly retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, a simple but clean rag of grey cloth, and gingerly dabbed at Nairth's now glistening chest.
"Oh, this won't do, not not at all. The price for this shall be big, not small hee hee..."
Again he stopped himself from slipping into verse and rose to his full height which was considerably taller than most.
"Apologies again Lifebringer. I find myself a flutter with all this goings on. I hope I have not offended with my unmannerly nature."
His long arms flew out threatening to bash against the unwary and at last his attention was brought back to Solenne who was speaking to him.
"You, well no I don't lie. Don't think I can actually." He rapped his gourd with a sharp knuckle.
"Against the rules you see and YES we are embracing it. But the credit is not mine, no. This finery is on loan from your most Noble Company. All thanks to him, please."
Curcurbita hated praise of any kind, something about it made him feel flaying himself.

Nairth San'Seya Solenne
Ianthe could barely draw enough air into her lungs to continue laughing. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and she brushed at them, forgetting the make up one of the red headed demons had forced on her. She watched as the goblin was spun about like a screeching banshee before Signe seemed to realise all was not well. She waited for Wrongtoe to be set down but a grin broke across her face as instead the girl cooed at the red cap like one would a small child.

A small child you liked, anyway.

Ianthe glanced about the room for signs of her least favourite Lusce and let out a small breath of relief - Saang would get mad at her if she had to defend herself again. Fortunately the only other red head she spied was the one she wanted to see.

"You should hug them very tightly as you spin, Signe. That way they won't feel as though you'll drop them. They love warm hugs. And kisses. Don't you, Wrongtoe?" The kelpie gave a mischievous wink then slipped away. Walking up to Saang would be too obvious, and the thought of approaching him with Paetr filled her with dread. She was free, yes, but Paetr had the authority to put the bit back between her teeth again. The thought made her stomach bottom out and she veered off entirely from the direction of the refreshments.

She had the uncomfortable sensation of eyes following her as she skirted the dance floor. Ianthe risked a brief glance up to where the Erlking had taken up a position on a skeletal throne. His green eyes crashed into hers making her palms sweaty. It was not just the Night Court high fae she needed to steer clear of. Her silent battle with the King sent her stumbling into another fae.

"Dance with me," she breathed, tearing her gaze from one of death, and dragged the unfortunate soul she'd walked into onto the floor.
Ah, Seryn, always so polite and such lovely company to have. Saang did cherish all his sisters for their own personalities, but at times he wondered if Seryn perhaps held back her true self simply to impress. Her ideas of perfection suited her well within the Night Court where keeping oneself in check as a woman was nigh quintessential to survival, but now as a citizen of the Winter Court he had hoped she might allow herself some freedom of expression.

She and Signe seemed to be finding great difficulty with their new home, but he hoped that having them out to the Autumn Hunt feast would lighten their moods and help them socialize.

"Seeing Saang always raises my spirits," Paetr replied.

Ah, there it was, the stock of appraisal that so rarely fell from Paetr's lips toward another. A dashing smile instantly grew on his face, light hearted warmth suffusing his form and filtering out into the air like a scented candle, "Paetr and I do not get much time together, as divided as the war efforts have become, though I expect I'll be shifting the cavalry to your position in short order. I look forward to commanding beside you once more, my friend."

His gaze drifted back to his sister, smile softening as he squeezed her hand again, "But I suppose that's poor discussion for this event, have you danced yet Seryn?"
Treachery, that's what it was. Abandonment and treachery.
"Woodah ah nabba-nabba-nabba!"
*If you kiss me I shall eat your FEET!"
Not exactly an idle threat, especially from Wrongtoe. They rarely followed through on a threat without someone else to back them up.
Again they put up resistance to their current plight but Singe in her joyousness had strength vastly surpassing their own. So they struggled like a baby in a fit.
Their tiny claws scraped at Singe's arms leaving tiny red marks on her skin.
"Grahab dak buckaka!"
*Put me down!*
As their tiny legs kicked the colourful ribbons of their tattered gown snakes under them like a short rainbow waterfall.

Signe Ianthe
Seryn turned to peer upwards to meet Saang's gaze, her own green tourmaline eyes widening slightly. Dance? She was not terrible at it but she became a blushing mess when paired to dance in closeness with a stranger.

Mother had tried to get her nerves to lessen in the past but Seryn often presented Signe as a dance partner before herself.

Signe was otherwise occupied, playing with the goblin that often spoke in what Seryn could only call a growl. "No, I have not danced. I would have danced with Signe but she... found a dance partner..." She turned to look to where Signe was, elegant in her brown satin dress and still holding the growling goblin.

"Oh, there is your guest. Saang, did you know she ripped the skirt of her dress? I spent the better part of this week getting it done and she has ripped it." Her lips pouted lightly, and she turned her green gaze to Paetr.

As an offer to include him in the conversation, she provided a small insight for him. "I like to embroider and dabble in fashion. Perfectionist, my sisters would say, but they never complained once they wear what I have made." Ianthe's rip in her dress struck something in Seryn, an unsung anger waiting to be unleashed, but it was not in Seryn's gentle nature.

But Saang had always been the sword to Seryn's fights. She always told him everything.

Saang Lusce
Sometimes Ianthe could be so kind, and Signe was under the impression it was because she just needed to laugh more. The usual scowl and glare that frightened Signe was gone, perhaps not replaced with something quaint and pleasant, but it was an improvement. Signe gave a grateful smile to Ianthe as she walked away, thinking how lucky she was that she was Ianthe’s favorite Lusce. She had to be, after all she hadn’t gotten kicked in the face (yet) and had made Ianthe laugh so hard she was crying tears of joy.

When the high fae’s attention went back on Wrongtoe still scratching and kicking, Signe realized then that perhaps Ianthe wasn’t trying to give her sound advice. She winced, lips turning down into a frown as she eyes furrowed together. The scratches were uncomfortable but would quickly heal for only Wrongtoe to make more. She realized that if she brought the goblin close to her chest then her dress would be ruined with all their fidgeting and clawing.

Ianthe must have meant when in normal clothes, like the sort she liked to wear, that one should hug Wrongtoe. And clearly, she didn’t know about Signe’s affinity. She wouldn’t be able to kiss Wrongtoe, it wouldn’t be fair to the little goblin. Ianthe must have been mistaken and not trying to be mischievous, after all.

Ow.” That scratch had been a particularly nasty one and Signe tried her best not to give Wrongtoe a particularly nasty look. She took a deep breath and then the smile was back. It was just her and Wrongtoe now. And because it was just them, Signe finally noticed the gnome off to the side who was doing pumpkin portraits. “I know what to do to make you trust me, and if I am to toss you up into the air so I can do a gargouillade, you’ll have to trust I’ll catch you.

IMG_7902.jpegStill holding Wrongtoe out far in front of her, Signe glided to the gnome, still doing the impossible by not stepping on any of the leaves on the ground. There was no line—what luck!— and so Signe sat herself down on the tree stump surrounded by large, puffy redcap mushrooms and positioned Wrongtoe so the goblin would be sitting on her lap as if they were a small pet.

The gnome sneezed, rubbing his bulbous nose before scratching at one very round and large ear. His fluffy white eyebrows raised up in question.

Could you do us together? But on a smaller pumpkin? I’d like for my little friend to be able to carry it so they can always remember this night for the rest of their life.” The gnome sneezed again, but this time with a nod of their head, going hopping off their small stool and then going to search for a small enough pumpkin. “Now won’t this be fun, Wrongtoe ?” Signe asked the goblin, still blissfully unaware of their plight.

[art zeobun_ on twitter]
No, this was not going to be fun.
Wrongtoe sat on Signe's lap and looked the pumpkin carver right in the eye. He gestured that they should smile.
Wrongtoe smiled, wider and wider. Opened their mouth up and up until the top of their head leaned back and Wrongtoe could see Signe's beaming face.
She had flinched earlier, shown discomfort when Wrongtoe scratched them. Wrongtoe liked that so they began to gargle noisily, bubbling up spit and phlegm from their thin mucus filled throat. Their tiny body shook and jerked as she began to splutter up rivets of saliva like a gross fountain piece.
Let this be the image captured on the pumpkin and let it be despicable.
Wrongtoe liked despicable things.

Signe Lusce
She had the uncomfortable sensation of eyes following her as she skirted the dance floor. Ianthe risked a brief glance up to where the Erlking had taken up a position on a skeletal throne. His green eyes crashed into hers making her palms sweaty. It was not just the Night Court high fae she needed to steer clear of. Her silent battle with the King sent her stumbling into another fae.

"Dance with me," she breathed, tearing her gaze from one of death, and dragged the unfortunate soul she'd walked into onto the floor.

Aelas had been flirting their way into an early departure from the event when they very suddenly found themselves being whisked away by a complete stranger. Shock briefly colored the hound's face as both drink and efforts tumbled from their grasp in a mere matter of seconds. That same shock filtered through a variety of emotions in the moments it took for the kelpie to drag them out onto the dance floor - confusion, bitter rage, sharp aggression, and then finally wilted to curious intrigue.

A kelpie! There weren't many of them around here, which made Ianthe something of an exotic treat. As she turned to face them, the shuck's painted lips split over a fang-bearing smile, their red eyes glinting with a renewed appetite. The impending hunt had nearly the entirety of the sluagh salivating for blood, and with their previous meal now plucked away... their pointed teeth flashed among the glimmer of gold flecking carved cheekbones, crowning a head of wild ebony curls as gilded leaves, and embellishing their tunic of dark green and black.

Their eyes skated up and down their new partner, taking in the slash of cerulean and seafoam that cut through the colors of fall

"Aelas," the hound gestured to themselves in introduction before they took up her hand to sweep into the circle of dance and merriment, sly as a beastly fox, "and who might you be?"
What an interesting laugh you have—“ She looked down and grimaced at the sight before her. Carefully, she lifted Wrongtoe off of her lap and held them over to the side. She looked at the pumpkin carver who seemed to care little about the happenings between a duanann and goblin and was focusing very intensely on the small pumpkin before them.

Little field mice helped the gnome get the right tool and while Signe tried to focus on that: the mice and how cute they were, how they scampered to and fro from the gnome as if the pumpkin carver was a Wylds princess and even a twinge of jealousy that mice didn’t run up to her with tools.

I’m starting to think you’re acting like this on purpose.” Signe said, a slight edge in her voice now. In truth, it wounded her that the goblin didn’t like her. She understood it was afraid of heights, and Signe may have been a taller Lusce sister (poor Seryn and Siobhan) but that wasn’t enough reason to dislike someone, was it?

You don’t like dancing and you don’t like pumpkins.” It couldn’t be because of her, she prayed under her breath before a sigh escaped her and somehow made her want to try again with the goblin. “How about after this, we do something you like to do for fun?

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No sooner had he said the strange fae's name was the gourd-headed man front and center, spouting apologies and dousing his soiled chest as though he were a handmaiden tending to a spill upon the floor. Nairth looked down at the dabbing hand of Curcurbita, and let him finish out of courtesy; He had an unusually strong sense of duty, this one. It often made him wonder what exactly he could have done to earn himself the punishment that he bore.

Only when he finished his cleaning and stood tall once more did the King speak, his gaze unfettered by the incident and the considerable height of his kinsman. "A minor indecency, Curcurbita." He assured him with a quick wave of his hand. "Think of it no further, please."

The last thing he wanted was for the rest of this event to be centered on Curcurbita attempting to make amends for such a small mishap.

Thankfully, Curcurbita seemed to take this in stride and returned his attention to Solenne. The two of them had been having a rather pleasant conversation, but the day was young and there would be plenty of time to revisit the lovely sidhe in the coming hours.

He smiled at Solenne from behind his fellow Spring Fae, offering a shrug of his shoulders before chiming in at the mention of his contribution to Curcurbita's wardrobe. "I couldn't have you wearing rags. No fault of yours, you've been indisposed for so long. I think the outfit suits you well, Curcurbita. Consider it yours, regardless."

Solenne Curcurbita
"I like to embroider and dabble in fashion. Perfectionist, my sisters would say, but they never complained once they wear what I have made."

Whist it might not have been in Seryn's nature to overreact, it was most definitely in Paetr's

"You made her a dress by hand and she has already ripped it?" Paetr asked. "What a fucking travesty."

He seemed to grow taller, like a shadow in the setting sun.

His anger burned like a magical spark. Burning bright, but burning out as quickly as he was distracted. Which was often.

"I imagine you could measure me up and create something quite as fine as what Saang is wearing now," Paetr declared. "I do, in fact, have change planned for later in the evening."

Several, one counted how much time he planned on being completely unclothed through the night.

"Now, if you don't have a dance planned, then you would not judge me for offering the first dance and being the envy of so many Lords?" he asked.