Autumn Party 04

The tall bowler-hatted and masked figure stood still for many moments, seemingly bemused by the variety of guests. The tiny giant in particular earned a long sideways glance, and her loud yell once again almost knocked him over. He didn't seem very stable at all, honestly.

Eventually he turned back to the group nearest him. "I... My name?" He seemed to be thinking quite hard about it, staring into the distance past her head as he did so. Suddenly he raised a knowing finger to eye level and glanced at Lamia, meeting her gaze. "Bluebell. I'm Bluebell. Nice to meet you, I'm sure." As he said his name, the glazed-over look in his eyes flickered for a second, a hint of something very aware hidden beneath the bumbling.

By the time one could notice and look again, his eyes were back to their cow-like previous appearance, and his tired slump showed no hint of anything other than he had appeared all along.

"That's a kind of flower, isn't it?" Kinta asked.

"Sorry," Azra interrupted, and in turn asked him, "You don't think there's anything dangerous in the greenhouse? It's just that I understood the angel only wanted to have a quick look..."

"There's nothing to worry about; I'm sure our host had the dangerous species removed before guests arrived, or else locked the door."

This guy was good. Lamia, only half-heartedly in character at the best of times, nevertheless appreciated a real performer. Her expression showed it, and she would have spoken if Azra hadn't.

At the blue demon's question, she cocked her head towards the door. "Worth checking, surely? A tiger might've got him."

Or he could be hiding inside ready to hit them with paintballs. Lamia was up for that. She had drunk only two glasses of wine by this point, we note.

The robot took the half-moonlike hat. "Then we had better not burn it outside an appropriately designated hearth zone." The robot offered it back, unsure what else to do with it.

The gryphon was done eating. He groomed himself (or tried to, damn costume), stretched and spotted someone with wine. Although he gave an involuntary twitch when he saw that it was Lamia, the gryphon nonetheless moved on to find drinks.

There was a sound like a waterfall shrugging, and the robot vanished.

The hat fell, and was caught at the last moment by a troll in a nurse's outfit who had been entering at that moment.

"Some party," she said, glancing at the hat and its owner. She winked, sent it spinning towards him at about shoulder height, and went to serve herself some grape juice, patting the dragon in passing.

Nico had just finished pouring and absent-mindedly handed the gryphon a pitcher of juice when he approached, then picked up two full glasses and made a beeline for the big group.

Her companion was lingering near it. She handed him a glass of water, which after a moment he held underhand, fingers around the rim.

Ebani took Lamia's suggestion as cue and made an inviting gesture, and asked her, "Would you allow me to accompany you? It would certainly be worth seeing."

The gryphon, not very quick at allll, looked at the juice and sniffed it a few times. It just wouldn't do. He put the pitcher down and followed his nose to the telltale scent of something with a bit more... kick. Or some, anyway.

He found the decanters of wine and took two glasses just for himself, grinning gleefully inside his costume. Now all he had to do was look a little lost so that nobody got the silly idea that he wanted to share them with some kind of company. The ideas these ground fowls sometimes had...

Since the gryphon had shown no interest in interacting with anything animate thus far, there was little chance Lamia would get that impression.

"Yes, let's," she said to Ebani, pushing the door fully open ahead of them.

"Heeeere, Harpy," the snake monster called sweetly into the tangle of greenstuff.

Azra hesitated with a look at Kinta, who said, "We'll stay back in case there'll be need to check if a tiger got you, won't we, mister Bluebell?" It earned him a mock salute from the blue demon, before she turned to follow the other rescue rangers.

Ebani followed Lamia chuckling, and went to the one path on the left, motioning her to follow.

Mhelarn turned the returned hat over in his hands. If the hat had possessed some sense of balance, this wouldn't have helped its digestion any.

"Does that mean you like me?" he called out to the nurse-troll. Fools rush in where robots fear to..

"Anyway", he turned back and eyed the robot,"Where are you from and why are you so very concerned with the enforcement of regulations in an area not yours?"

There was no robot.

Mhelarn shrugged. "Guess he wasn't that concerned."

He often seemed to have that effect on people. He tried not to let it bother him too much.

"Pardon?" asked the nurse, returning with a couple of filled glasses. "Grape juice," she explained, holding one out to Mhelarn, "unless you want to chance the ferment."

She had a roll of bandages in a back pocket, round-ended scissors in another and wore one of those terribly practical upside-down watches. It wasn't how Shaded medics dressed, and the blonde spit curls weren't exactly typical either.

Lamia didn't follow Ebani but rather walked side by side or slightly ahead, brushing away foliage that got too friendly.

Mhelarn shook his head, then grinned and took the cup. He raised it in a toast and lowered the purple level.

"Never understood why they spoiled the taste. Thank you."

"Where do you hie from? You seem a bit fast -fingered for a nurse." Mhelarn tried to find a belt to tuck the hat into.

Hers was an evil smile; at least, the trollmaid's bottom lip never left contact with her upper canines. A guarded smile.

"I normally doctor... other things than people. I could tell you more, but then I'd have to bed you or kill you. I'm from southern Soprone, hence the accent." Truthfully, there was nothing to cause her accent to stand out among the variety of planets and species represented in the room. She pronounced the place name sopp-roan.

"Name's Thiggie. Whatever you've heard, it wasn't me," the nurse concluded. "So how about you? Did you mug a bishop for that hat or what?" She was still friendly, still watchful.

The other two were already out of sight when Azra entered the greenhouse. She stood a moment listening, then started down the one way leading away from the entrance, somewhat right from straight ahead from the door, at a quick walk, trying not to touch anything.

Ebani meanwhile let Lamia go ahead, but said, albeit matter-of-factly rather than worried, "You might want to be a bit more careful, there's no telling what exactly's in here."

In fact, around the next bend a cobweb blocked the path. The strands were thick as pencils, and there was a cocoon that seemed big enough to hold, for example, a house cat.

---

"Bluebell? I knew a troll named Bluebell once," Nico started, rather more loudly than neccessary. "Tiny little guy, for his size big nose, great taste in music."

Daaren joined the same group, but without thinking about it walked around to its other side. It meant no-one was behind his back for the moment.

"Music?" said the gryphon all of a sudden.

"Oh gooood," Lamia replied to Ebani's comment, eyeing the web. "Hey... little miss chreotha or spider, are you coming to play? What do you think it's caught, Eb?"

Mhelarn shook his head.

"Borrowed costume, Thiggie. I'll have to be careful with the grape juice." And the shifting. The idea made him feel a trifle claustrophobic.

He frowned. "I don't have much of a wardrobe. You like clothes, yourself?"

"I couldn't say, and I don't think I have anything that's sharp enough to cut that open to check? Do you?" He extended a finger to a drop on one of the lines of the web, near to the cocoon, and touched it with the tip of a claw (which was part of a glove). When he drew the hand back, the line proved surprisingly elastic, giving a great deal, and still sticking.

The path Azra took led first to a small pond in the centre of the greenhouse and then followed the rivulet that fed it. At some point an attack of very thin, green vines startled her somewhat, but she continued after ripping off most of them and ignoring the remaining tendrils, which continued twisting and wriggling slowly.

---

Nico runed half so she could see the gryphon. "Yes, I said music. You like it?"

"Sure I do," said the gryphon and drained a glass of wine. "You don't?"

---

And elsewhere, in a certain plant, someone was indulging in music currently. The words probably made sense only to him: it was an old song, and he'd never heard it in a language other than that lilting, half-trilling one. He was fast growing bored of half-sitting, half-lying in this pitcher, although he wasn't particularly concerned. A little confused, but not concerned.

It was just too bad about the lyre. Even that was gone now. He only had the clothes now.