Part one (from Social)

Sherwood entered the room just in time to collide with a racing-punchbowl-stealing Ree.
"OOF"
The elf hit the floor with a splash skidding several feet on his seat.

It wasn't quite the entrance he had planned. But on the other hand, he'd always dreamed of being bowled over by a beautiful woman....

The Mutt looked on, a smirk firmly emplaced and fingers firmly enlaced in a hellhound's coat. (They make cute handwarmers.)

Behind hir, some invisible servitors from the land of Eftipy were nailing up a new banner over the gate. The banner was still a work in progress, but at least it was progressing.

This was why the muttly creature's eyes looked sore from all that painstaking digital hair-augmentation. Hir digits were cold because artistic concentration is oblivious to such petty concerns as open windows letting in freezing cold air. (We have no excuse for the shirt, except that Mutt is very silly.)

Ree fell down while the punchbowl flew up and then down, making a terrific mess with the klutz as epicenter. "Sorry!" she called out to Sherwood.

Pasht sauntered in with cigarette in hand. "It really is a party!" she said with evident surprise and pleasure. Then she blew smoke in Ree's face and laughed.

It was not Ree's day. However, her hair had a way off getting into her face and mouth, and now it at least tasted like punch. This was something.

"Oooo dahling" cooed a familiar voice as she stepped delicately over Ree to get into the room, "sloshed already?"

Her stilletto heels tapped delicately as she side-stepped the worst of the moisture on the floor. "Tsk. What a mess. Somebody could get hurt." There was the slightest pause, then she purred, "How delightful."

Yes, Ze Countessa has arrived.

Upon spying puddles, Juia chose a different entrance. These cords were brand new after all and a little too long.

She stood about for a bit, not really knowing what to make of the shenanigans before her.

Eventually, she headed over to Mutt and the shirt.

"I guess both of us chose to ignore that this is a black tie do."

"My dog's wearing a black tie," Mutt protested with wide-eyed innocence. "And, um, asexes are exempt from dress codes, due to an ancient tradition or charter or something."

Hir hand moved, revealing a little white shiny camera beastie. Flash!

"One for the album." The viewfinder artfully displayed Iseea's stiletto heel near the prone form of Sherwood. (The Muttster had been aiming for a group portrait, but never mind...)

"Well, my first choice would have been the spotty dress, but even online I couldn't pull it off."

The fieryshirted critter bethought hirself of making something of the "pull it off" line, but then bethought better of hirself betimes.

"I can fetch a spotty dog if you like," sie bespoke, and threw a grin at Ree. Puns on Spot Fetcher wandered through Mutt's mind, as did the thought that sie was technically both spotty and a dog already. Begorrah!

"Sloshed?" Ree wondered aloud, then smiled. "Sloshed! Completely." Her jeans, once blue, now appeared purple from the punch soaking them.

Pasht bent down, knees into chin, to examine ze Countessa's fascinating footwear. The vampiress wore tall black boots with a Chinese-influenced red dress -- revealing but unkinky attire. "I approve," she told Issy softly. "You have good taste." Speaking of taste, was that a human incapacitated by the punch spill?

Ree gulped and swam away from the door, but a calico kitten happily took her place and began neatly lapping at the punch. "Miu!" it said, and sounded happy.

"Mau," Mutt commented, holding onto the hellhound's collar hard. It gave hir an excuse not to meet anyone's gaze. Shy is Mutt.

Suitov Iceheart picked his way carefully through the wine lake. His footsteps left trails of snaking rime. (This was, on the whole, prettier than trails of slime.)

Oestrogen was thoroughly outweighing testosterone in here. The bonbon managed to show no fear. But he did wonder who the individual with the hellhound was.

Ze Countessa purred at Pasht. "Ooo, thank you dahling. Ze heels make ze woman, don't you agree?"

She stepped nonchalantly on the tail of Sherwood's shirt as he tried to scoot away.

Pasht inclined her head in a subtle nod. "Indeed. Footwear is the pedestal upon which a lady stands -- or one who is unladylike," she added with an uncharacteristic wink.

Ree gave an enthusiastic wave to Mutt, but that may have been a "help-I'm-drowning" signal. It was hard to tell through the sea of punch.

An elf slipped in. His baseball cap (reading Amsdreejt Trucking) didn't quite cover his grass-green hair, but it was a valiant effort. "Oh my," Hirax said as he surveyed the damage, and "Oh my!" as he took in the sight of Pasht and ze Countessa standing over Sherwood.

"How's the punch?" he asked weakly of no-one in particular.

Issea traced a drop of punch as it slid down Sherwood's nose and captured it delicately with her finger. She fixed the newcomer with a stare as she transfered the drop to her mouth. "Ah ze punch, et ess delicious. Would you like a taste?"

Sherwood attempted to squirm free, but the stilletto heel just dug deeper into his shirt.

"Hey! Careful of the duds, sister." He growled, tugging at the shirt. A part of Sherwood's brain, the part the dealt with survival and self-preservation immediately went on full alert and attempted to gag the other part of his brain.

Sarina slipped quietly into the room, side-stepped the Countessa and Pasht and joined Mutt.

"Ah, Mutt," She winked with a smile, "you didn't tell me there was going to be a Dinner Show!"

She waved merrily at Ree.

"My sweet lady," Mutt intoned with a dash of humour, "you didn't ask."

Julia was wishing she were Shirley Manson when a large but not heavy glass bottle fell off a nearby shelf and hit her rather hard on the head.

"Oooowwwwwwww!"

It didn't smash though. It bounced and tinkled across the floor.

"Puh!" called out Bowman in apology from the ledge, and wiggled a primary process.

Sarina yelped in surprise and jumped when the bottle connected with Julia's head.

"oh my, on my, are you okay?" She asked, as she touched Julia's arm.

She glanced up to see where the projectile had come from. "Goodness, I'm dressed all wrong for this party. It appears that hard hats and Kevlar vests might be more appropriate. Maybe a little spell to caste a protective bubble around myself is what I need.." she wondered aloud.

Sherwood heard this and his face blanched. He had no desire to be pummelled with cabbage should one of her spells go wrong. Iseea chose that moment to shift her weight slightly and the elf ripped his shirt free and rolled to a standing position. Gingerly, he side stepped the two scary ladies and crossed to Ree. He bowed and offered her his hand. "Would the lady like a hand up?"

"Ooh. Hey, I'd love to see that," Mutt said. "Your spellcasting is legendary where I come from."

Suitov stalked over to Bowman and fixed him with an interrogatory gaze. When Suitov got to staring, one felt oneself under a microscope (Bowman, of course, didn't necessitate one).

Sarina smiled a thin little smile and ruffled her hair nervously. Her spellbook, where ever did she leave that thing? "Well, I try..." Which was true, she did try. She just wasn't very good at it.....

Iseea shrugged theatrically at Pasht as the elf scrambled to his feet and slipped away.

"Ah, dahling, my pet elf, he is escaping. How sad." Red lacquered nails tapped against her teeth, "We must find another friend to play with now, must we not? Hmmmmm..." She caste her eyes around the room, raising an eyebrow when she spotted the dark haired one staring at the ledge.

Hirax was dumbstruck. "Umm..." Okay, mostly dumbstruck. He just stood in the doorway, oogling ze Countessa and Pasht, and the irate elf escaping their beautifully-shod feet. "No thank you miss!" Hirax finally cried out as one long syllable. His visable hair may be green, but he blushed as red as the next elf.

Ree gratefully accepted Sherwood's hand up. "Thanks!" she told him. "I'm no lady though. Woman, sure; lady, not so much. Hey, d'ya think this punch will stain my hair? I'd been thinking of going reddish anyway," she mentioned, running her hand through what had been light brown hair and was now a sopping fruit-scented mop.

Pasht caught sight of ze Countessa's nails and promptly began gushing. "Your manicure is stunning, love. May I ask your secret?" Pasht's own nails were smooth with dark red enamel as usual, but it was always good to collect pointers.

The kitten, undisturbed by pinned elves or leashed hellhounds, continued to lap the punch puddle as though she had the room to herself. Mai was like that.

"Oh, I'm ok. You get used to bottles in all sorts of strange places when you're a student."

Julia's mouth twitched slightly.

"And I wouldn't worry about that little thing either." she continued, nodding towards the ledge where Bowman was currently sparkling under Suitov's attentive gaze.

"Puh!" he squealed in glee. What was it? It was looking at him! Oooh! He ran around on his little secondary processes excitedly.

"I tried staring him out, ignoring him and lavishing attention on him. He seems determined to cause a scene wherever he goes. But perhaps a bubble around him would help. It would only have to be small." she said, noticing Sarina's nervous hair ruffling.

Suitov laid aside thoughts of feeding the thing with alcohol... for the moment, that is... and looked to Sarina. "Would you oblige, my dear madam?"

Mutt, just catching up with the conversation, also twitched slightly. This released hir grip on the hellhound's scruff sufficiently that he was able to break free and head for the punch puddle, which he wasted no time doing. His tongue, pink with dark blotches, lolled over the usual array of dental hardware.

"...Ah." Mutt looked away quickly. Wasn't me.

Mai started and squeaked, then made a giant flying leap to wherever the big doggy ain't. The kitten landed on the same ledge as Bowman. She tilted her head at him in a clear indication of Whassit? Must investigate!

The redhead shifted uncomfortably. Her face flushed slightly and she became intensely interested in the flooring under her feet.

"Yes, a protective spell......"

Ruffling her hair to have something to do with her hands she thought and thought. Her mind was blank, and then ... yessss, there had been a spell she learned a long time ago....

She closed her eyes and muttered the spell. There was a small popping noise, followed by another, and another as frilly lace parasols appeared and floated from the ceiling, one for each of them.

Sherwood looked up, just in time to be poked in the eye with a falling parasol. It was all pink lace and ribbons cascaded down the sides. The handle proclaimed "I'm a Princess!"

"I bet that's a handy trick in summer", commented the one who was often caught out on long walks by tempramental British weather, and grabbed the one with black lace and a handle the colour of mulled wine.

Bowman, meanwhile...

"Puh!" Flying leap. Splat atop a floating parasol.

Mutt appeared to have been beaned on the bonce by a lacy confection in grey insect-silk that would have made Weft very covetous.

"Mrph?" Mutt said.

"GRRAR!" the hellhound said, suddenly wreathed in pink frills and very confused, possibly because he had also drunk half a puddle of punch.

"Superb!" exclaimed Suitov, grey eyes alight. "Do you know any others?"

A leopard-print bumbershoot nearly landed on Ree's head. It lightly scraped her forearm before she managed to catch it.

Pasht deftly reached out and clasped a dark red umbrella with an evidently sculpted handle and ruffled edges. It color fit nicely between her red dress and black boots. "Lovely," she proclaimed, "and suitable for shading myself on sunny days. Don't you agree, Miss -- forgive me, I never caught your name. I fear I have several, but generally I am known as Pasht." She looked expectantly at ze Countessa.

Ree eyed the vampiress critically. Pasht's dark skin and slight Spanish accent didn't suggest a Victorian lady, so what was up?

Hirax stared at the falling umbrellas. His brain no longer processed; he just look vacantly in their general direction (which was pretty much "up").