'What a party. You seem to be a woman with good tastes, what do you suggest I try first?'

Bold, he was! And the seafaring stranger looked her over like his hunger had already settled on a dish. Lyra batted lashes, boldly assessing him in kind.

Emerald eyes glinted back up to his own, cut sharp. A good eye you 'ave, salt-dog. And a good most other things.

Captain o' tis 'ere Howff, I am. None could give ye better advice. The corner of her lip tugged up in kind. No serving girl or lady of the evening. If he wanted her, he'd have to prove he was worth her time.

She took the berry from beneath his claw, pinched between two of her own, and held it in front of her mouth mischievously, Tell me first, are ye a man 'oo likes a quick fix? Or do ye prefer t'savour yer catch? Lips parted in a slow spread-grin, tongue coiling over the stolen treat to make a show of pulling it back behind her teeth and sucking thoroughly.

The Wisp was walking down the stairs.

Lyra felt her attention snagged away from the handsome stranger to their resident fae, wondering if she'd misunderstood the previous assurance and taken too much for granted. Last thing she needed was a fecking gancanagh courting her...

But apparently the draw was elsewhere.

Under the... floorboards. Lyra's brow furrowed, glancing at her courter briefly before turning full attention to whatever The Wisp was doing. I'll be back t'woo ye in a minute, Dóighiúil (Good-Looking). Sit tight. Lyra waved at him, dropping from the table to weave between jovial forms and get a peek at what the commotion was.

Is there a reason ye be tearing up me dancin' floor in the middle of a damn party, then? She growled. Then caught the flash of blue. Ears pinned flat. What in the bloody 'ell—

Ampoule nodded astutely, listening as his voice managed an explanation for the gathering she, in her opinion, had just crashed. She had also fairly assumed that she would not be turned away, as a nymph was generally a welcome boon to any group of people. Even if they did not know the truth of her being, she often came off as gregarious and open, which were qualities the regular folk held in high regard.

Then, her eyes drifted about the room. Merriment abounded, and music drifted through the rafters. She hadn’t known beasts to be capable of such behavior! It was a joyful occasion, and despite the influence of fermented alcohols, the guy clearly wasn’t all bad. She even managed to appreciate his funny little accent and the way he visibly mulled over their every word.

She grinned, placed another berry upon her tongue, and popped it into her mouth. He mentioned druids, which procured a slightly sideways smile from Ampoule, who had begun to sway. Druids – mystics from a distant, faraway land. How exotic! She must collect one.

Congratulations on your establishment, she celebrated him genuinely, placing a paw to her heart. Most creatures in the world amounted to little more than nothing at the end of their mortal life, and it was admirable that this red-furred beast had an innate desire to create order out of chaos. Interesting events out of dissonant, separate souls.

In a life that never ended, this was the entire meaning of existence.

Something was stirring in the midst of the chaos, noticeable despite the scene’s every effort to distract her. The crowd flowed, leaving Poseidon unattended. Ampoule felt the edges of her intuition awaken. Come, the sea nymph bade Mal, as if he were not a king in his own right, and drifted to her Patron.

They now stood abreast the navy brute (Mal was assumed to be in tow, but perhaps he was not; her attention was wholeheartedly distracted), just beside the happening, and she craned her head to see what the floor could conceal. Then the nymph gasped, a noise taken straight from her heart.

Oh, Olympus! With eyes ablaze, she leapt in a leonine manner to take the place at the side of the women closest, gaping and commenting with gusto, Tha e a’ deàrrsadh! (It glows!) she cried. Iarsma naofa! (A holy relic!) she gushed, the languages awakening on her eager, excited tongue.

Citalá would have been content to hide away in the room Lyra had set up for Maggie. Oh, she’d find just as much joy hearing the ruckus from the trees and searching for mushrooms out in the dark of night.

But Citalá was not impolite. She was a good guest; even if it meant her ears being offended by awfully loud chorus from a boisterous man.

In the shadows she stayed, at the back of the rooms. As she meant to descend stairs, the spotted lady of the house barks out the grey woman clawing at the floorboards. Citalá presses herself against the wall with a scowl, but narrows her eyes at the glimpse of a glow between the teeth of Wisp.

Citalá wishes to have what everyone else is having. Perhaps it would dampen the noise.

Ethel is more than happy to let the music and chatter of the party take her away on the curtails of the fermented berries that had dissolved along her tongue. She is more than happy to yield to the movement in her hips as they sway, and the bob of her head as she finds herself enjoying the commotion around her.

And for the most part, Ethel remained within her own world, ignoring the way the inhabitants of this party are eccentric and odd…and how her tongue wishes to judge each one of them for the way they dance, speak, or exist—but she does not.

Instead, she moves through the crowd with a shake of her hips and a toothy, widening grin.

It is only the scrambling of paws against wood, and the flashing of something blue within her peripherals that ultimately piques the grandmother’s attention and re-routes her ambling paws from the only other German man she had heard of.

Instead, a crowd seems to be gathering around this curious item.

And Ethel is far too nosy to ignore it.

Was ist das? (What is it?) She asked, as suddenly she was beside the cat-colored woman and another of grey, who grasped the pulsing blue item between their teeth. A pale woman exclaims something in another language she cannot understand, beside her, and Ethel pointedly ignores her.

Cat lady, Ethel greets the calico-furred woman, What. Is. That?

Her curiosity simply cannot take it.

What is that blue, glowing thing?

The bard singing on the bar top set his sights upon their companion, and Juniper couldn't help but lean over to their friend with a teasing look.

You've just arrived and already have an admirer, hm? Their voice a low, playful whisper to the star-touched woman at their side. Oakwood eyes dance with mischief, a curved grin settled upon their lips. That was until the empty air on Juniper's other side stole their attention.

Southeast!

Uffern! (Hell!)

In a sudden flurry of movement, Juniper peeled away from her place by the stones (fireplace). First taking a moment to bob upright, bouncing on her hind paws to try and glimpse Southeast over the bustling bodies in the Howff. Cursed with her slight stature, Juniper then lowered to the floor to try and identify the boy's paws. Albeit she did not discern much aside from the floor, spilled fruit, and a gentleman who perhaps needed to step off the floor and into someplace private.

Rising back to their paws, Juniper weaved through the crowd the opposite side of the room. Many gathered around the bar and through the rungs of the balcony's railway, Juniper could spy little faces peering down at the party below. If the druid to failed to find Southeast on the first floor, perhaps they could find him from the balcony.

And, if a moment of mischief could be spared, she might slip the bard Stardust's name. Finding Southeast would, of course, come first.

The air was heavy with an identified sweetness and the smell of ferment fruit. Not to mention the collection of wolf scent of all of the various individuals gathered. Juniper tried not to rely on her nose so much in this space. Ears cupped forward, she stopped a moment to prop herself upright with the bar. Paws pushed against the counter's edge, Juniper glanced to and fro before catching a glimpse of the dusty brown pelt of the boy.

Skirting past the bar goers, Juniper clasped a paw around the boy's shoulder.

Got ya! Playful, Juniper looked the boy over, taking heed of his expression and if any juices stained his lips. While he held their attention, their attuned ears caught wind of something brewing amidst the party,

What. Is. that?

Was something the matter?