Krawald comes in somewhat late to see a food fight in full flight, but table three, strangely, still empty. With a sight, they take a seat out of the path of the flying breadrolls and adjust their Harlequin’s mask, which sports a long white nose and chequered cheeks. They pour themself a glass of wine and give little tidbits of mushroom to the kitten poking its head out of their white suit.
A Harried Maître D’ glides to Table Three. “Ah, welcome to revels good gentleperson. You’ve received an invitation from Table Eight to join them for a while until your fellow guests arrive at Table Three. Do mind the flying bread rolls.”
Krawald thanks the Maître D’ and walks over to Table Eight, trying not to step into the food that has landed on the floor.
Table Three is empty when Eglantine takes a seat there, a figure in red, dragon-masked and dressed so that their clothes suggest the rest of the dragon’s form. They survey the festive chaos mildly, sipping a glass of wine.
A bandaged raven lands gracefully on the table without disturbing anything on it. The bird looks around before slowly looking over towards Eglantine. It’s eyes look suspiciously into theirs. The raven waits for Eglantine to respond first.
edited by Lord Gazter on 11/2/2016
Eglantine eyes the raven, nods courteously enough to it (knowing that such a bird must have a knowing mind behind the beady eyes), but does not speak. None of the names on the guest list for their table seemed likely to be birds, anyway.
The raven approaches Eglantine cautiously. Its eyes continue to stare into Eglantine’s as it inches towards them.
edited by Lord Gazter on 11/2/2016
“You’re going to tread on my plate,” Eglantine points out, at last. “You’re not my Bran, and there are cats about. I suggest you return to your keeper before you experience any unfortunate accidents.”
The raven whispers something barely audible to Eglantine. The bird does not wait for a response and launches itself off the table. Its loose bandages whipping about it as it flies over towards table eight. The bandaged raven lands on Lord Gazter’s shoulder.
Eglantine doesn’t even bother to see where the raven flies off to; it’s enough that it’s gone. They contemplate being sociable and visiting another table, but decide that no, they’d much rather wait here for their tablemates to turn up. They dip into a pocket and lift out a small book, beginning to read.
No companions? No conversation? That’s all right. The book will be sufficient company for now. It’s not the most social gesture, but isn’t Hallowmas one of those times where the rules are different? You can do all manner of things, when you’re wearing a mask.
Krawald walks over from table eight. “Good evening! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in, otherwise I would have joined you earlier. Krawald, at your service.”
And suddenly, a blustering, skinny fellow comes bumbling through to the table. His excitement has left his Rose Mask crooked. Quickly setting it straight again, Ryan the Friendly says “My goodness, it appears that I am late! I do so apologize to my tablemates!”
No worries, No worries, I had charming company from other alles. So, have you met any interesting people this hallowmas?
Eglantine has put their book away now, and nods cheerfully to the newly-arrived tablemates. “Eglantine Fox, at your service. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much here, beyond a brief infestation of bird.”
"Fantastic! Well, let’s see… Yesterday I met two very friendly people: our host, and another by the name of Warren Zane. Oh, and yet another one was kind enough to nurse me when I was injured; his name was Jimmychiu.
[Also, apologies for my replies coming so late in-between. Gonna try to keep on top of it]
“So! I must ask. What have we all been up to, lately? As for myself, I was recently at the Tomb Colonies… Not because I was dead! Perish the thought! No, I had gone due to… let’s say personal tragedies regarding a dear late brother of mine.”
“We all go there, sooner or later,” Eglantine agrees. “Myself, I have been engaged in - well, if I say business, you’ll have to fill in the significant pause beforehand for yourself.” They laugh. “Make it as ominous or as scandalous a pause as you like in your mind, I shan’t be bothered by either.”
“Oh my, how exciting!” Suddenly, he slaps his own head. "How airheaded of me! I failed to introduce myself! My name is Ryan, though some add the Friendly afterward, much to my delight. My hope here in the Neath is to unearth its many mysteries and perhaps gain a few allies along the way. And may I ask your name Si-- ah, Miss-- ah, yes?
“Eglantine. Or Citizen Fox, if you’re being formal,” they say dryly.