2012 Summer - 1

They had organised Things. Whoever They were. Nico was starting to get fiendishly curious, but so far she hadn't found a lead on just who kept up the Promenade Hall. She was in two minds about trying to fish for information today. It might ruin a perfectly good party. If other people actually showed up.

At least the weather was brilliant so far, sun and the occasional fair-weather cloud, not too hot. There was enough shade under the trees for those that thought differently, or, even cooler, the hall itself, empty but open towards the garden.

On the lawn right behind the hall, everything was set up for a barbecue. They had provided a swing grill and iceboxes with steaks and sausages, and fish and fowl and foil potatoes, stuffed peppers and mushrooms for a bit more variety, as well as a buffet with salads, different kinds of bread, and drinks all around... Nico had helped herself to a glass of lemonade, but set it down on a table to see about getting the fire going.

Melodic humming and the steps of feet clad in dainty sandals announced the first arrival, who was lugging along a bucket full of ice and a bottle of champagne (of course wrapped in cloth!) in one hand. Argilla cheerfully and, one might say, with quite a lot of grace approached Nico. A straw hat shielded her pale face and tinted glasses of some sort shielded her eyes. A red summer dress that certainly accentuated some bits didn't shield her arms, but she had to have a bolero in her other hand, and a light scarf around her neck.

The first thing she said, upon raising her glasses (her nails were painted carmine), examining the scene with a smile on her freckled face, was, "Well, this does bring back pleasant memories of pleasant days and joyous evenings."

"Ah, hello! Well, we'll see how long it goes today, I guess." Nico gave her a smile and a wave, but kept most of her attention attention on the kindling, so she wouldn't pile up coals so quickly the flames went out.

"Hello indeed." Invading a garden chair and placing the bucket full of ice avec the bottle, Argilla smiled back at Nico and examined her for a while. She took off her straw hat and surveyed the environs. "Oh, hope for the best, my dear. If not, the two of us can gorge ourselves with food and drink -- and I should add, that be more than adequate as far as company and light-hearted enjoyment goes, hm?"

"Oh, yes, plenty," Nico answered, grinning. She was wearing a short-sleeved, red-orange shirt, khaki shorts down until just above her knees, leg hair, and leather sandals. "We can tell tall tales until they get too silly."

"It would be infamous if I told any such thing," Argilla grinned back at Nico, then glanced at the champagne. "Perhaps we ought to be giggly by the time anyone else deigns to present their face? It may help with those tall tales of tremendous -- bah, I shall leave alliteration to my father. How are you?" she asked, grabbing the bottle.

"Step down here. Okay. Four more steps. Now this way." Basaltine led his charge onto the middle of the lawn, expertly steered around a bright ball that lay invitingly on the grass. Maybe later.

The boy holding onto the dog's neck wore knee-length shorts, a shirt and a light open jacket. The brim of a broad, mushroom-grey hat shaded his eyes.

"'Sup, pup! Hello, other beautiful lady!" said Basaltine. Shyness was something that happened to other people. Without further ado, he trotted over to sniff. Hands, that was, and not posteriors.

The boy trailed after him, more cautiously. He had a pretty ten-year-old face - more of it visible under the hat from Nico's angle than from Argilla's - and very silver hair. From the way he felt a few steps, it appeared he couldn't see.

"Hello. Nice day," he said, and waved.

Argilla, first a little confused by the idea of a talking animal, laughed at the hound's comment and sniffing, delighted and utterly unsuspicious. "Why, hello, worthy, handsome and speaking hound, and hello, dear boy," she said, getting up to her feet and, being of the maternal type and very prompt, abandoned the bottle. "It is a nice day. Young sir, might you want a seat?"

Basaltine received an almost amused look full of curiosity.

"Hey Baz," said Nico. She kept the greeting to a light scratch on the top of his head. Couldn't get the guide dog away from the guidee. "And hello. My name's Nico. I don't believe we've met before?"

"Oh, thank you," said the lad, who had turned his face towards Argilla as soon as she laughed. His accent had a musical intonation.

In response to the attention, Basaltine capered and chased his tail for a couple of rotations.

Looking next towards Nico, the boy replied "I don't think so either. I'm Treter-Shaw." The way he said it, it could easily be taken for a first and last name, which it was, in a sense. "Basalt-Suitov invited me here, said I should meet more people."

"Actually, I said you should get out of the woods before you turn into a fairy," said Basaltine. The thought-concept he projected was of a winged woodland spirit, not any... particular idiomatic hononym.

Argilla carefully helped Treter-Shaw into what had recently been her seat, smiling all the way and assessing him, everything about the child. She only chuckled affectionately and waited for her turn to speak. She was not wont to disrupt conversations.

"Well, the parties here can be pretty good for meeting interesting folks," Nico said.

"Most assuredly! Ah! Also, Treter-Shaw and... hound, I am Argilla. What would you like to drink?" asked the ever-so-polite Mrs Auregarde.

"I'm pleased to meet you both. Um, do they have fruit juice?" Treter cocked his head at a faint crackling noise.

"I'm Basaltine," the dog informed the nice lady from the direction of the fire, into which he had been sticking his nose. As if to emphasise the geological side of the nomenclature, his short, straight black coat was glossy, that one incongruous curl on his flank occasionally catching the light. "Also known as Captain Stupendous. Beer's good, thanks."

"I believe they do, in fact, dear. Pomegranate, apple and... let us see.. blackcurrant, is that? Well, do tell me what you prefer, sweet or bitter? Ah, and my apologies," Argilla said, standing up properly to examine Basaltine. "Beer, good Basaltine? Ah..."

She looked around. Well, there was beer, but, in what sort of container ought she serve in? "Dark or light? I hope I shall not have to pour it down your throat."

"Last time there was a bowl, let me check..." Nico walked round to the other side of the table. There was none with the glasses on the table, but below it she found a box with extra glasses, and a suitable bowl. She held it up and said, matter-of-factly, "Yep, they know their guests."

"Oh, something sweet, please, Argilla," said the boy, turning in his chair. A wood warbler had appeared. It perched on the chair-back, preening a wing.

"A bowl is great," Basaltine said. "Yeah, i- they do seem to know their guests. One mixer night I found a whole life-sized knight in armour sculpted from tofu. That was the same occasion a vegetarian dragon just happened to showed up unannounced. Some coincidence, eh?"

Despite her confusion over that Baskerville had 'said', she soon returned with a tall glass not quite full. It held strawberry juice, and Argilla placed it in Treter-Shaw's hands only after she was certain he knew where said glass was. "There you go, dear."

Immediately after that, she produced a bowl of beer.

And stared. A part of her wondered if the hound had read her mind, and, if so -- well, wasn't that interesting?

Nico gave Basaltine's anecdote half a chuckle, and him a curious look. "I'm really starting to wonder how that works." She ambled back to the group.

"Do you know," Argilla said, "I nearly wonder myself."

"The pair of you sound like my person," Basaltine told them, pausing to hoover up some beer. "Boy, that's good stuff. He thinks there's something going on. I say, why turn down free food?"

He had come a long way from the starving waif who hesitated to accept spoiled meat from any apple-cheeked housespouse for fear there was a catch. The blessing of dogs: resilient creatures who live in the present.

Treter thanked the nice lady and appeared delighted with the strawberry juice. "Where do both of you come from? Basalt I know, and I'm from Hafance. We have lots of rain."

While nobody was looking, a yellow wagtail had joined the other little bird perched on Treter's chair-back. They watched each other out of the corner of bright little black eyes, neither wanting the other to be first to conquer the hat brim.

"That is a point," Nico replied to Basaltine. Maybe she should try to talk to Suitov about this, if she could catch him. Some other time. She checked on the fire - yep, still going - and pulled up a chair for herself.

"I get around a lot. Most recently I've been staying in Menurin. Port city, right at a coast. I haven't been there a whole year, but from what I've seen it seems to get more sun than rain."

Argilla smiled politely at the blind boy and considered before saying, "I am from world of Sare, the country of Oyan and the city of Teran, the county of... well, it is far, far away, my home and my family, dear child. But it is along a blue river, my home, and the other home, and the other."

She looked at the hound. "And, good hound, I find myself liking you."

"I like you too!" declared the dog. The beer had nothing to do with this. It took most of a keg of the hard stuff to incapacitate him.

"I live in the region of Applestone, a land of books and orchards. Ostensibly live there, anyway. Mostly we travel all over."

A squirrel was now perching on the foot of Treter, who seemed unperturbed.

"Treter, are the birds and squirrel friends of yours that travelled with you, or friendly locals?" Nico watched the feathery critters.

"Why, but I am glad," said Argilla to Basaltine.

For her part, simply stared at the collections of animals. Abandoning common sense -- or perhaps, just grasping onto it more firmly -- she grinned. Her teeth were very white, very even, and the canines sharp. "Friendly locals or merely friends, am I right, dear boy? I believe we may as well feed them. Perhaps, I hasten to add, we ought to consider them guest as well."

With that said, she curtsied to the animals. It didn't make sense to her, but she had a sneaking suspicion concerning Treter.

The wagtail cocked its head at Argilla but otherwise the little menagerie didn't react. Even to show fear at being near bipeds and a large dog.

Treter leaned down and picked up the squirrel from his shoe. He was not savaged. The creature ran up his arm and chittered a little, just to establish its credentials as an independent, wild sort of chap. The chaffinch chased it back down again.

"It just happens," said the boy. "I could try chasing them off if you wish. It doesn't often stick very long. Or we can feed them if you want them to keep showing up."

"Yes, that works on me," Basaltine said.

"Hah! I hardly mind, on both accounts, Treter-Shaw and hound. Come now, there is too much food for myself to eat, but I do suggest table manners are involved," Argilla chuckled, eyes bright and teeth showing as she smiled. "That is... if you might, mm, be able to communicate this to them."

She stared at the boy and Basaltine in wonder, even so, then glanced askance at Nico.

"Fear not on my account. I am always well-mannered when I dance and sing on tables," Basaltine told the lady, deadpan.

"They are wild creatures," came the mumbled warning from Treter. "Maybe I'll keep them over here so they won't get into everything, yes?"

Basaltine sat up on his haunches and, by some effort, kept his forepaws off the table even as he inspected the meats provided near the grill. "How d'you like your steak, Nico?"

For once in her life, Argilla looked stunned by what she had just heard.

The flit of more small wings drew Nico's eyes to the other end of the buffet. Beyond bread there were some nibbles, including peanuts and birdseed. She decided to ignore it.

"Well done, Baz," Nico answered. "Is the fire down to embers already?"

And to Treter, "What's the biggest critter that paid you a visit like that?"

Sarina paused before the gate and took a deep breath. As usual, events had conspired to make her late. First that faulty Fashionista Ubberatus spell had backfired and ruined her fabulous new outfit, then her Sense of Misdirection had left her to wander aimlessly in circles for ages looking for the party. She smoothed a hand over her hair to try to tame the errant mop.

"Drat and bother" she muttered, completely out of sorts. She wondered for the millionith time if she should just turn around and head back to the house and forget the whole thing when she caught sight of the buffet table set up inside the garden. "Ohhhhh, maybe I can stay for a little while......."

Argilla raised her head and stared at the newcomer for about a second before leaving all past trams of thought behind. Especially the ones concerning the... dog. "My, welcome!" she said warmly. "I was afraid this would be a small-scale jubilation, so thank you for coming. Tea or something stiffer, my dear?"

Sarina returned Argilla's greeting as she looked around at the other guests. Dog, squirrel, bird ...

"Something stiffer, I think".

Unpertrubed, Argilla flashed a smile and got to it. Again wondering exactly how well the staff knew what was going to be needed, she returned with two bottles: one stout, one bottle of red liquid that professed to being a stiff cherry liquoer -- and two glasses, one tall, one as tall as her finger.

She put the glasses on a little round table, looked at Sarina and decided the cherry liquoer would be better. After all, there were some rather unusual things happening.

Argilla finally realised, again, one minute detail. "Why, my manners... I seem to have forgotten them so many a time. I am Argilla, very pleased to meet you, miss?"

Sarina reached for a glass.

"I'm Sarina."

She took a cautious sip of the drink.

"Manners seem to elude me most days, I have to admit".

Gesturing toward the other table she tried, and failed, to contain her grin.
"is it always so interesting around here?"

"Ah, Sarina, then. Most glad to meet you. As to your question, oh, I would scarcely know. It is the second time I have shown my freckles here," Argilla answered, glancing at Nico whilst hoping the cherry drink was not too sweet to be drunk.

Said runt grinned at Sarina. "Well, sometimes there's dragons or wyverns stealing the food, if you'd count that more interesting. I'm Nico. I think we met at a midwinter party?"

The redhead had to think before answering.
"yeeeesss, I think we have met before."
Her memory was foggy, but wyverns stealing food did tickle something in her mind. She could feel it, jumping up and down in the back ground, waving its arms frantically to be remembered.

With most of her brain still focused on placing when, if ever, she had met Nico, Sarina absently took a sip of the drink she had picked up. It was most likely the sweetest think she had ever ingested. Which, after a second cautious taste, wasn't bad.

Upon hearing Sarina's words, Argilla decided it might be best to listen and observe -- while doing menial work. Granted, not much litter was around, but at least she could look like a busybody.

Some of the porcelain, at least, needed to be rearranged to her liking, after all.

Sarina gave herself a gigantic mental slap to the head when she realised that she had been standing there for some time staring blankly off into space.

She offered Argilla an apologetic little smile, "um, sorry, took a little brain vacation there....I got distracted...happens um, sometimes"

Welll, that was awkward, she thought to herself.

She plastered a big smile on her face, picked up a plate and began peruse the buffet table. "The food looks delightful! I'm famished!"

Surfacing from her own thoughts, Argilla smiled softly at Sarina. "Think nothing of it. I freely admit that there are times when one may well sink into the deep blue of thought. But please," she said with a very persistent warm smile, "do have your fill."

Yet, she wondered... why was there so much cabbage casserole and lingonberries?

The redhead picked her way through the delights presented for consumption on the buffet table, deftly avoiding the cabbage rolls and casseroles. Casseroles frightened her.

She found a lovely table in the shade. Once she was seated, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, appreciating the delicious aromas of the food.
"Aahhh, delightful" There was a soft splat as something her landed in her plate. Her fork froze in music and she cautiously opened one edge to glance at her plate, which now contained a cabbage roll.

Cringing, she glanced around hoping no one else had noticed.

Nico ambled over from the grill, a small steak and bread and salad on a plate. and picked a seat close to Sarina.

"Oh, I hadn't seen those on the table. You like cabbage rolls?" It may have been an inane thing to ask, but you had to start somewhere.