There was only so much good staying in one place would do for her. In fact, in the beginning, that was all Ethel had done. She figured she sat within those plains for hours, staring and cursing at the sky until her already gravelly voice grew hoarse and her throat raw. And if there was anything to make an old, grouchy woman leave, it was for the simple fact that she had run out of curse words to spew at whoever might have been listening.

How, however, had she found herself in front of a rowdy inn—one in which sounds of laughter, of song, and where the sweet smell of fermented fruit sat on the wind—she did not know. She could remember briefly walking through some trees…but the rest no longer mattered, now did it?

Instead, she pushed herself (on limbs that cried in protest for the miles she had walked) through the doorway with an ‘oof’ and a grunt before blinking at the very unique crowd that seemed to converge together. An odd assortment of faces, she noted with a quiet calculation, her mouth pursed into a thin line.

But it was the scent of fermented berries—alcoholic, she knew from her younger, more devious ages—that dissuaded her judgment and set her intentions on something much more fun than criticism.

And while being reincarnated in a dog’s body was certainly not her first choice, Ethel would be grateful for the way her nose could guide her instantaneously to where that sweet-smelling fruit existed.

She made her way toward the table, and when her eyes (blurred and half-narrowed) landed on something brown and red, kinda like her dead cat, she pursed her lips and spoke. Haben Sie Beeren? (Hello. You have berries.) She phrased it as a question, but Ethel knew the furry thing in front of her had them. She just could not see them. Zeig mir die Beeren. (Show me the berries.)

There was only one way Ethel would enjoy herself surrounded by such... eccentric-looking faces. It would be the berries and their liquid satisfaction they'd gift her. Besides, the ache in her bones would certainly disappear within an inebriated state, and she had always loved a good party.

As more and more time ticked by, more and more faces arrived. In any other state, it would have set alarm bells blaring in the soldier’s mind. But now? Now it only widened his grin, and he bellowed out a greeting in a pleasant, booming tone.

Willkommen im Howff! Komm rein und mach mit! Wir beißen nicht, naja, schon nicht ganz, aber keine Sorge, solange du keinen Mist baust. (Welcome to the Howff! Come on in and join us! We don’t bite, well, we do, but you should be fine. As long as you don’t fuck up,) he added with a laugh. Iss ein paar Beeren, probier die Häppchen, sei fröhlich! Komm und tanz! (Eat some berries, try the hors d’oeuvres, get merry! Come dance!)

His voice echoed through the inn, loud and warm, a stark contrast to his usual restrained presence. One of the newcomers in particular caught his attention, and before he really realized it, he was dancing his way over in their direction.

Then he heard it.

German.

The sound of it spilling from the old woman’s mouth lit something up inside him, and Sarge barked out a raucous laugh. Lust auf Spaß, Oma? (Lookin’ for a good time, granny?) he called cheerfully. Hier, nimm dir ein paar Beeren! Lass es dir schmecken! (Here, have some berries! Enjoy yourself!)

Without waiting for a response, he swiped a handful from the bar and shoved them toward her, giving an exaggerated waggle of his brows before slipping back out onto the dancefloor, already swept up in the music and the motion once more.

---

Rune searching time!

The mink had been keeping to the shadows, mostly. Too many stupid wolves crawling out of the woodwork for her liking. It wasn’t exactly her favorite crowd, but what could she do? She wasn’t the captain of this sinking ship. That particular image amused her greatly, and a soft titter slipped free before she could stop it.

Deciding she might as well make herself useful, or entertained, she scrambled her way toward the bar. That was when the scent hit her.

Fermented berries.

Strong. Pungent. Almost aggressive in the way they burned her nose. Naturally, the little thief helped herself. She nabbed a few quick as lightning before scurrying back into the safety of the shadows.

She downed them without ceremony, and the effects hit fast, far sharper for her small frame than they were for the larger mammals milling about. A giggle bubbled up as she swayed where she stood, the world already beginning to tilt pleasantly.

Well. That was interesting.

Feeling bold now, she set off again, creeping and slipping wherever she pleased. Behind the bar. Into the downstairs rooms. The pantry. The cellar. No door, nook, or shadow was off-limits to the mink, and she was far too delighted with herself to care.

Tonight was for exploring.

Finally they were having some real fun around here. After the trials and tribulations of the past weeks — hell, months — the chance to cut loose and really unwind was more than welcome.

Berries and herbs flowed freely. The bard sang. Newcomers and familiar faces alike danced or sang along in varying states of inebriation.

Not one to be left out of the merrymaking, Mal had already indulged in — two? three? eh, who was counting anyway — cups of pressed 'wine', the last of which he'd seasoned liberally with the druid's herbs after watching Taloka do the same, by the time the party launched into full swing.

It took the edge off. Maybe more than one.

By the time Mal realized one of their guests appeared to be looking for someone, the room was already swaying softly underfoot and his head felt light and pleasantly fuzzy.

Grinning, Mal swayed his way over to Ampoule, and flashed her a welcoming grin.

Lookin' for someone? The hint of a slur smoothed the edges off his words, too, but the welcome warmth and sweet perfume on the air stole what few inhibitions Mal possessed normally. Surely the lovely lady with fur like marble and eyes like — Mal fished around his thoughts for something purple to compare them to that wasn't a bruise, and by the time he settled on it, had already lost track of where he'd started. Hm. Maybe I can help, he added, only a little late. This is my Howff, an' I know most of these dipshits, so uh — if one of them's your dipshit I can probably point you th' right way. Unless you're just here for the entertainment?

Which could mean any number of things or people. Mal didn't specify. Was a little too buzzed to realize he should.

Their ruckus was attracting some attention, it seemed. Camhanaich had been invited, and the word passed on to any itinerant loners. But some of these folk were strangers.

Good! Lyra thought, scarfing down another mouthful of sour fruit and licking blue-stained lips on the swallow. They'd tell the whole world what you could find at the Howff. Which meant custom, and crew, and most importantly — coin. Or this world's equivalent anyway.

Fuck the end of the world, they were going to have a party!

Welcome, all, ye scurvy bastards and bitches! 'Elp yerselves t'a good time! She cheered, greeting most new entries with a gaptooth grin and a wink. Until one particularly caught her eye.

Or her nose, really. Saltbrine and sargassum, as if the ocean itself had come to call. Lyra turned her head to the door, emerald eyes appraising the stranger. Looked young. Walked like a man who knew the deep — nothing young at all about their stance. Curly hair, grey as the morning sea with foamy waves down his back. Gorgeous. Unnatural.

She looked back to Will-o'-Wisp on the stairway, brow cocked in silent asking, You know this guy?

Hasn’t Kirain learned that she shouldn’t be any sort of diplomat? She already knows that she probably did not handle the yearlings joining too well. Now, Kirain encouraged Stardust and Juniper to join the party the new neighbors are having, out of good will. Good. Will.

She agreed, but had no idea what to expect. The woman of stardust ensured a pristine clean coat. She made a nice perfume of lavender and rose, with a touch of wood, one of her favorites. Once Juniper was ready, they both set out to represent Camhanaich.

As they get closer, the sounds of the party start to fill the air. It sounds rather upbeat, but chaotic. Stardust looks to Juniper. ”Well, I guess we gotta see what this is about,” she takes a breath then. The cold air brushed against her night-touched fur as they approached the inn. She looked at the structure with great suspicion, knowing this could not have been made by wolf paws.

Regardless, she pushed forward and stepped in. She stops immediately. The smell hit her first. So many smells. So strong. So unpleasant. Her cyan eyes blink, trying to comprehend what is happening. Noise. Smells. So many others. Her expression was mostly just confused. What had Kirain sent her into? What was she supposed to DO here exactly?

”What the hell…” she murmurs to herself, eyes scanning the area before looking back to Juniper to try and gauge her reaction. She came in just when she heard the encouragement from Lyra, but Stardust had to resist the urge to bust back through the door and go back home.

She’d been tracking after that star-woman. For revenge, or boredom, or whatever. She’d followed her to a bizarre, sagging estate, much more rundown than Maggie’s manor-house in the north. Light and bawdy laughter spills from its windows. Yakone keeps to the dark beyond the frenzy, a shadow with red eyes.

Through a couple crooked slats, she sees bodies pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and tails sweeping from low tables. Someone howls a song off-key and another tackles them for it. It’s chaotic and repulsive and alive in a way that makes her deeply depressed.

And pathetic.

The whole structure sways with laughter— joy keeping it upright. It would be easy, the muradoii thinks, to slip in and pretend she belongs there. She casts another look at the glowing windows, staring at the way light warms the snow like spilled honey. Then she melts back towards the dark.

“Idiots.”

She hates parties.