2024.01.14: Midwinter's Night Festival

Midwinter's Night Festival
Unseelie Holiday held to mark the beginning of season of Imbolc
IC Date	January 14, 2024
Players	Amberlee, Dasia, Deirdre, Kieran, Malcolm, Miranda, Sark, Stella
Storyteller	Miranda
Location	Barony of the Ebon Watchtower
Spheres	Changeling

The Ebon Watchtower is set up tonight for the Midwinter Festival with torches lining the walls, walkways, stables, and the training field. Banners, flags, the whole nine yards, the flames are bright in this the cold of winter. Kegs are setup by the dozens, the taps are flowing with beer, mead, wine, and whisky. BBQs are going with spits turning filled with whole animals, being taken off and then cut up into more bite sized (for trolls) portions and laid out on large platters onto enormous tables for everyone present to partake of.

The training fields are setup with not only a jumping course for the fae steeds that reside here, but with an archery range and some enormous bows ready for the competitions tonight.

The Baron Tordwil is not hard to find here, as one of the larger Trolls around. His presence is hard to miss as everyone working here defers to the intimidating man. He is welcoming to all coming, and can be seen bashing massive forearms with other Trolls, and even being welcoming to the boggans coming in. "Come one, come all! Let us all celebrate with food, drink, and fire!"

Sark might have arrived a little late after he made a point to have he and Stella hook up with Kieran to arrange things before making their way to the Watchtower. As typical for the blond man, he's not even remotely dressed to party, wearing only a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt, slowing down a little as he finally takes in the sights before slowly turning around to grin at Stella and (potentially Kieran if she came in with them), "Okay, this is bigger than the invitation I got made it sound like. You like?"

Surely there were exuberant embraces and suitcases transferred to Sark's vehicle from the towncar from the airport. After having been in Puget Sound for nearly two months, Stella was delighted to see both Sark and Kieran, but her attire is business-travel attire. She is completely mis-dressed for the occasion on the opposite side of the spectrum from Sarkesian. A pencil skirt and slim blazer belted at the waist, her flyaway hair teased by the breeze. Stella gazes at everything and everyone as if she can't drink it in fast enough. "Are either of you going to compete?" https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/qswAAOSwo89i4Y5F/s-l1200.webp

Miranda is strolling around, checking out the fae steeds as they are all dressed in their saddles and bridles, ready for the show to come later. One after the other, she greets them with a bow of her head, showing respect, before offering a carrot. Soon there is a boggan that walks around with a tray of large mugs of beer, mead, wine, and is offering them to people as they come in, and she takes one filled with mead. "Much appreciated!" With a sip of the large drink, she see Kieran, Sark and Stella arrive and she waves! "Good evening!"

"Wait, fire? Should we be clearing out a safe radius or something?" Malcolm is hanging out with a couple others, trying and failing to use some leftover bones from dinner as makeshift darts.

Kieran on the third hand, arrives with Sark and Stella decked out in the finest Dirt-Bag Rockstar™ attire. Otherwise known as the normal stuff she tends to wear. She's also wearing oddly-smudged lipsti-oh, wait, that's Stella's, isn't it? Yeah, someone went and used her normal method of enchanting the newly-returned assistant. But then, it's been two months, how's that for 'perfect excuse'?

"Compete?" She looks around and spots the tourney field, and laughs a little as she waves to Miranda. "Stella, hon... I've been practicing to shoot at Deirdre since the summer, but not with one of those. I'd just embarrass myself." Then she pauses, and gives a grin, "Why? Do you want me to give you someone to cheer on?"

The Selkie arrives, a long fur coat over her usual uniform. Deirdre's whistling some shanty or other as saunters in. She looks a little tired, but otherwise okay.

Dasia ARRIVES in Winter-Chic, a long coat in Leanhaun-green pulled tight against the chimerical winter winds that are cold despite the proximity to SoCal. Her starlight blue hair is pulled up in fanciful braids, letting her elfin (but not *Sidhe*-elfin*) ears poke out free. Her hands are tucked in the longcoat's pockets, and are totally useless to help her balance in her heeled boots. Then again, she doesn't appear to need their help, either. Tricksy Fae.

Pivoting on a pump that's thankfully not the sort to sink into fields and soil, Stella drops her hand on Sark's arm and gently (tries to - maybe succeeds) catch Kieran by the shoulder so she can catch the VERY redhead's jaw on one side with her palm so she can use her thumb to wipe away said lipstick. "So red," she murmurs quietly while doing that probable activity.

Stella listens to Kieran's reply. "Shoot Dierdre? With ... an arrow? You know archery? One of which?" Stella swings around to try to see what Kieran is NOT going to be shooting Dee with. She sees Miranda and does a little bob of a subtle curtsey, just a dip of her head an a bending of the knees an inch or two with one foot briefly behind the other. "Baroness, you look lovely as always." Understatement supreme! And then -- squirrel! (again) -- that troll! Stella steps back from Kieran and tilts to one side, catching herself with a little quick footwork while she stares. Eventually .... EVENTUALLY .... she replies in starts and stops to Kieran, "Cheer ... on ... cheering, hmm? I might be persuaded to cheer." Baaaaaack around to Kee, green eyes settle as Stella tips her head. "What are you going to do that will make me want to cheer. Out of the corner of eye she catches sight of Malcolm. He looks ... familiar, but she can't remember why. It's been far too long since that previous meeting. And it was oblique at best. Deirdre's arrival is noted with a smile and an uptipping of her chin. And then there's Dasia who gets a flat-out stare, per usual.

Sark grins at Stella's question and shakes his head, "Im mostly here to offer support to everyone I know and enjoy the day. I can be a...whatsit...cheerleader! Yes, for Kieran!" He waggles his brows at Kieran's answer and pauses for a moment to stop and lean on the redhead for just a moment, "Im sure we can find something to compete in. Like who can down a pint the fastest!"

When Stella addresses Miranda, he turns all the back away around to offer the Baroness a bow of his head and murmurs at her, "Thank you for inviting us all to attend, both to you and the Baron. Clearly you both put on a wonderful festival..."

As some more people arrive, Malcolm excuses himself from the darts club and wanders over, picking up an apple and offering it to Stella. "Hey, you're right on time. I was told this was supposed to go to 'the fairest', do you know who that is, though?"

Kieran grins as Stella goes to wipe the lipstick from her face. "No, with a pistol! We're gonna shoot that whole commercial thing when she gets the chance to put the distillery plan in place." As the follows the others along, she dips into a curtsey toward the Baron, and another for the Baroness.

Food and drink. Now we're talking. Deirdre goes over to the food and starts to look for what is good. She gets some of this and some of that. And some beer. Midwinter. Deirdre wonders how someone celebrates that. Surely staying home and getting drunk would be the best way?

Tordwil laughs seeing one of the trolls falling over already from a bit too much drink. "See I told you that you couldn't hold yer liquor!" A loud rumbly chuckle from the big man, as he surveys everyone that has arrived. "It is good to see so many come for our celebration. Oh and the Lady Nasrin, I was hoping you would come by. So many of the Seelie court in the County, it is good to see those of a more like mind here." He gives respect to Miranda, "Baroness, do enjoy that mead." He'll be making his rounds, but there is much to do, as he makes the announcement, "Any that wish to try their hand at the flaming arrow competition, be sure to line up by the archery range. We will begin that at the top of the hour!"

Miranda tips her drink to Tordwil, and then approaches Stella, Sark, and Kieran. "Very good to see you all, and Stella, a pleasure as always. We still need to get you that special item! Can we all try to get together before Imbolc to have this planned?" She adds to Stella, "Imbolc is in just a few weeks. In February. In fact, the festival tonight is the start of the road to Imbolc. Has anyone explained the festival to you yet?" She waves to Deidre and Malcolm and Dasia, "Good to see you!" She asks them all, "Is anyone going to attempt the archery competition?"

Sark smiles brightly at Miranda's greeting and nods with a curious glance at Stella, then murmurs in amusement, "I am pretty sure Stella's boss will let her have off whatever time she needs so we can work it all out. I am greatly in Kieran's debt with the way she continues to enchant her so we can attend these events, but I know it is not a 'simple' favor to keep asking of her." When she asks about the archery competition, he pauses to look around, attempting to see who is volunteering.

To Kieran's comment about the duel, he nods quickly and offers, "I am looking forward to watching you two have it out. It has been waiting for a long time now..."

"I thought your --" She lowers her voice to whisper -- "was with someone el-- I don't remember! Is that today? I didn't wear my Hamilton ensemble. How disappointing." And the woman in the pencil skirt does indeed look disappointed. "Am I still your second? I didn't do anything to prepare. I'm a terrible second."

Miranda's mention of 'that special item' lights Stella up -- it probably didn't seem as though she could brighten further. She apparently can! "I am at your service, Baroness." Stella nods once, "Kieran has been incredibly generous." A smile back to Kieran. "And I agree with Sarkesian: she shouldn't have to give so much up for me to be here, as profoundly appreciated it has been."

Tordvil's booming laughter and words drags Stella's fractured attention back after a lingering silence as she gazed at Kieran. She watches that for a bit, until Stella's divided, rather frantically squirreling attention settles on Malcolm's approach as he seems to be speaking to her. She offers the sort of smile one offers when one thinks they've met a person but aren't entirely certain. She glances to either side, and then looks back to Mal and her smile grows. "I suppose that would depend on how you define 'fair'. Is it poisoned?" Stella doesn't look entirely certain that such a possibility isn't within the realm of reason. "Is it a Sugarbee apple? Those are my favorite. What's your name? You look so familiar. Deja vu but far better than that." She offers a hand but carefully does not take the apple (yet) as if to shake. "I'm Stella. Do you have a special mirror.... what did you say your name was?"

Midwinter. One of Amberlee's favorites. Has she learned from her mistakes about wearing heavy capes? Well kinda. She just wears less underneath them. Not that anyone would know of course. Amberlee comes breezing in, wearing a thick fur cape that's too big for her, but fits her perfectly somehow, nonetheless. Another 'borrowed' cape from times past.

Deirdre raises her glass of beer to Miranda. "Oh, when it comes to archery, I just watch that. I would probably be more dangerous to myself and everyone around me if I were to try that."

"Malcolm, hello." Has he met Stella before? Who knows, but he has now, at any rate. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's not poisoned," he adds, peering more closely at the apple. "Judging by the smell, it probably is a sugar something."

Kieran smirks, and leans in to mutter to Stella, "If he tries to cart you off to Troy, I swear to Ares, I will launch a thousand ships to bring you back... probably hector the hell out of him for a decade or so, too. Hopefully, though, we won't get lost for another ten years on the way home..." She glances over toward the bows again. "So. *Am* I entering the archery contest? I totally forgot my stork disguise.."

Stella's attention skims to the side to Kieran with a ready half-smile on her lips. Her demeanor overall seems to be somewhere between delighted and giddy with some overwhelm mixed in for good measure. And all of it is tempered with seeing people one cares for after a long absence. "I'm confused. Is this a Snow White or a Helen of Troy scenario?" Her gaze follows Kieran's to the archery area. "Stork disguise?"

Stella abruptly realizes how rude she's being and turns back to Malcolm. "Hello Malcolm-Hello," she teases with a hint of light to her green eyes. "It's absolutely my pleasure. Unless you're poisoning me. Then I rescind my pleasure .... unless it's THAT kind of poison, in which case, who knows?" Stella's hand is still out so she boldly but very lightly touches her first fingertip to it and traces it from stem to base as if it might bite her finger (unless it's pulled out of her reach). "Is this a test or a gift, Malcolm? I had a ... grandfather with that name. He always went by Mal. Which do you prefer?" And that sparkling smile is back on Stella's lips, full bore. Someone give her some mead and slow her down from 78rpm to 33rpm.

The booming voice of Tordwil announces, "Here ye! Here ye! Now is the time for the Flaming Arrow Competition! All that wish to take part, line up here!" He gestures with the log of an arm the musclebound troll has. "The rules are simple. Everyone gets 3 chances to shoot the flaming arrows! Each competitor is aiming for a cauldron in the field here. All those that are able to light their cauldron will have a shoot off to light the tower!" He then gestures to the tower itself. There is a set of torches that if hit, they may light it up all the way around. "Who is willing to step forward and try their hand!"

Deirdre pointedly stays seated, eating her . . . meat of some variety and drinking beer.

There is not a long line, but there are several that are stepping up to try this. A tall thinner troll than Tordwil, a Boggan that is seriously a quarter of his size, a Pooka that looks more like a large jackalope, and then a tall figure dressed in a black cloak, their features hidden from view. There is room for more if any others with to participate.

Sark grins to himself when the call goes out for the Archery competition, muttering to Kieran and Stella, "I am likely to shoot myself in the foot if I try, so Kee, if you go, I promise to cheer loudly for you!" With those words of encouragement given, he offers a small bow of his head to Malcolm and smiles, "Very good to see you again as well. If you both will excuse me, I will get us all some mead..." Provided there are no objections, Sark intends to bounce off to do just that before the 'shooting' starts.

Oh, damn. And Amberlee JUST got her nails done. So she isn't participating tonight. She's here for the booze and the --Dragon!! Amberlee cuts off to one side to approach Sark, giving him a little finger-wave of greeting. She needs a drink too.

Malcolm furrows his brow, doing his best to keep up with Stella's stream of consciousness, as hopeless an endeavor as that may be. "Oh, what's /that/ poison? Sounds like I should get my hands on some. As for your Malcolm, if he wore a brown overcoat, we're actually not related. Common misconception." From there, his attention drifts to Kieran. "Oh, do you have a pair of sunglasses handy? You can improvise one with sunglasses and some feathers, and there are all sorts of birds arounds around the tower to scrounge feathers from."

Miranda giggles after another sip of mead. "Oh my dear captain, if only it was a harpoon throwing contest. I would assume that would be more your speed? Or would it be tossing nets?" She's not that knowledgeable with boats and sailors herself.

Kieran pfffts quietly. "Nah, I'm not gonna improve it. Besides, I forgot my bushy red tail." She winks at Malcolm, then gives Stella a bit of a nudge. "Back in a bit... maybe with a golden arrow or something." And with that, she moves to go and take her place in the archery line. Go go foolish optimism!

Stella tips her gaze up to Sark from the side with a winning smile. "Yes, please. Thank you, Easy." Back to Malcolm. Stream of Consciousness is one of Stella's middle names. There are several. At least it hasn't proven offputting to Malcolm just yet. "Well... I'm not quite sure. There are the more tawdry sorts, but I didn't bring any water with me. But I suspect just about anything is possible. I was hoping that --you'd-- tell --me--, Malllll..... colm." Did she get permission? She gets the browncoat reference though and that gaze sparkles with amusement. "It's just an apple, right? Yes. I like you. I think I remember liking you. If you're offering --?" Stella's outstretched hand turns from handshake to open palm position. "Would you like to share? Or .... oh. Were you being ironic?" She glances to Kieran at Malcolm's advice (sunglasses?) and back to Malcolm, hand still hopefully out, palm up.

Sark grins at Amberlee when she approaches and lowers his voice, "I was going to get a couple of mugs of mead, if you want to help me carry them all back? I only have so many hands..." He winks at that and approaches the drink station, gathering up a few mugs and handing one or two off to Amberlee if she's agreeable to mead wenching with him. Enough for himself and Stella and Malcolm and Kieran and Amberlee, if they can carry them all.

Malcolm arches a brow. Never mind the non-answer, focus on the invitation. "Works for me," he replies to Stella. "Hang on a tick." It only takes him a minute or so to wend his way through the crowd and find an unclaimed knife, setting the apple down and slicing it neatly down the middle. "Well, that scent is more nutmeg than almonds. I think. Is this nutmeg?" he asks, offering Stella the slightly larger half.

"Oh, same," Amberlee says to Sark. "Here. Give me some. I can carry four at at time." She grabs hers, another one, and a third and fourth and lets Sark carry two. Three if he's feeling froggy. . She carries them like.. well, like a waitress might. It's almost like she's done this before. "How have you been?"

The Selkie thinks for a moment. "Harpoon shooting could be a fun contest. I don't know about nets. I am not sure how that would be a competition. But underwater spear-gun shooting could be really fun, too." Deirdre grins. "Yeah, that would be a good contest. Underwater speargun shooting."

As each competitor steps up, they take a bow and an arrow. Tordwil walks along and lights each arrow on fire before he calls for "SILENCE!" The pressure on, each of the archers takes their shot.

The Troll shoots and just lands his arrow so it take a moment and his cauldron lights on fire, although the arrow lands on the ground, having fallen out of the cauldron. Good thing it is dirt underneath.

The Boggan takes one look at the size of the bows provided and the arrows and laughs so hard he falls over. "That there thing is twice me size!!"

The Pooka is not worried! They pick up the bow, and with use of a leg, they settle the bow, take the arrow and AIM! The arrow goes flying and just skims the top of the cauldron, lighting it - but it continues over and onto the ground behind it.

The black cloaked figure, picks up the bow, and with gloved hands, they raise the bow and arrow. Not even lifting the hood, they shoot. The flaming arrow lands DEAD CENTER PERFECT SHOT.

Tordwil erupts with, "GOOD SHOW! We have some excellent contenders tonight!!"

The clurichaun, on the other hand, manages to avoid shooting herself in the foot... but it's close.

Sark leans over to give Amberlee a chaste kiss on the cheek when she helps out, chirping a soft, "Thank you! Its been a very quiet couple of weeks, though I've met a few more interesting people out and about. Nothing to...I think it goes...'write home about'? Though I found a couple of things at JJ's place that might be worth looking into soon. To at least figure out what story they have behind them, you know?" He's a little more careful on the way back, offering one of his two mugs to Stella, then noting Kieran has headed off to make her attempt, grins at Malcolm to offload one of Amberlee's load and extend it to him instead.

Amberlee smiles at the kiss to her cheek and she laughs. She helps to offload drinks and gives Stella a smile. "Long time," she says. She looks over at the archery contest and nudges Sark. "You should try it. You probably won't actually shoot yourself in the foot."

Stella slowly lowers her hand and watches Malcolm walk away, abruptly realizing that Sark and then Kieran and then Malcolm all stepped away. It's the suit. She looks down at her attire with a minute bit of a glare. Then back up and around at all the goings-on. Bows and arrows and targets, oh my! Tordvil's booming voice startles her visibly and gains her attention in time to realize that Malcolm is back. Nutmeg? Smiling once more at Malcolm, but just a more Stella-typical warm expression (the giddy is wearing off just a little. -- she was gone for a significant amount of time. It's been more jarring than usual), she replies, "At least it's not almonds. That's ... mmm.... cyanide or strychnine or something. Nutmeg is required by all things deeply Real and True to bring nothing but good memories. At least I said so, so that must make it true, hmmm?" The brunette reaches out for the apple half. "Thank you, Mal." She looks up from under her lashes with her head tipped down to look at the apple and sneakily (so sneaky!) check out Malcolm's reaction to her shortening is non-browncoat name. She holds out her half and touches it briefly to Mal's and says, "I think you should make an apple toast. Not the food. A toast. Over our shared apple halves." She does lift her half to smell it to see if she smells nutmeg. "All those mulling spices. It's like you can smell what it 'could' be. That or I have something of an imagination. It's an issue, sometimes. So. Toast?" She looks expectantly at Mal. She whispers to Sark, "Thank you, Sarkesian. Can you hold it for a second? I think Malcolm is going to make a nutmeg toast." She slides her gaze to Amberlee. That's another familiar face. SO familiar, but .... dammit. She smiles a friendly smile and bookmarks asking the woman. Back to Malcolm --again--. Expectant.

"Toast? Without electricity? I think we'll need to wait till the fire gets going." Malcolm, or Mal, or whatever his name is, clambers up on top of a chair and launches into an impromptu tune. "I'll be with you in apple blossom time..." He's also on the lookout for a supply of spare apples. Hopefully no one else was counting on using those as archery targets today.

Deirdre gets another mug of beer. What is that for her so far. Seven or eight?

Tordwil chuckles before motioning the Boggan to roll on out and offering to Kieran, "Hey, you at least gave it a go! Next summer I plan to have more games so you should practice! Come by anytime." With a wave of his giant hand, he says, "The finalists will now each shoot their final arrow to hit the tower and light it up to signal the coming of the Fire Brands! The season of Imbolc is upon us! Let us signal them to head our way!"

Each of the finalist line up with another arrow - all ready to be lit again. This time with a bit of magic, each one glows a different color. Upon his shout, they all aim, and the flaming RED, Green, and Blue flaming arrows FLY through the sky toward the tower. It's not a short distance, but they all make an effort!

The red flaming arrow from the Troll flies and hits the side of the tower.

The Green flaming arrow from the Pooka goes flying and ends up landing in a wagon filled with hay and it lights up like a Christmas tree! The steed near it rears and runs off, and there is a group of trolls that begin the bucket brigade to put out the fire!

The final blue arrow from the black cloaked figure flies true and while some will miss the flaming wagon, it is only because this flame lights the torch on the tower and that sets off a cascade of fire that wraps up and around the tower until a larger cauldron at the top explodes into flames!

Sark flashes a brighter grin at Amberlee, "Me? Oh gods no. I DODGE arrows. I don't know the first thing about shooting them. I could /spit/ fire at the target, but I think that would count as cheating..." He offers Stella a bob of his head when she asks him to hold on to her beverage and tilts a curious look at the apple being offered to her by Malcolm, grinning a little at the toast he begins. Of course, his attention is drawn away by the finalistic round of the archery contest, an appreciative 'oooo' escaping him as the tower is set alight with accurate shots.

Kieran laughs, "I probably will, than kyou, my Lord!" She bows, and withdraws from the lists to return to where Stella et all are, on the way passing by where Deirdre and her *third* mead are getting better acquainted, waving to the Selkie as she goes. When she gets back to Stella, she plucks lightly at the other woman's jacket. "Hey... this comfortable, or do you wanna swap it for my leather? I can take your jacket and run it back to the cargo boxes on the bike, if you want..." Then she leans in to whisper something else, as well, before waggling her brows at Stella.

The Selkie waves to Kee. Then Deirdre stumbles off to the side to find a place to throw up.

Malcolm leaves off with the song before he gets more than a couple lines into it, instead hopping down again and calling over to Dierdre. "Hey, don't drink the one that tastes like almonds!" Good thing she found the poisoned drink before anyone got too much of it.

Stella quells-a (get it?) grin at the electricity remark. "There's going to be a fire? I love when there are fires. The big, intentional ones, that is." She watches Malcolm clamber up to his toasting position with her this-is-going-to-be-good expression that couldn't possibly be disappointed. 1941? 1941! Not that she knows that. But there's a --type-- of music. He's either just making something up or it's a real thing. Stella's feeling particularly willing to believe, either way. It's better than advertised. She sniffs at her apple half and has William Tell thoughts that are coincidentally similar to Malcolm's visual search -- to which she is oblivious. She waits to see if there's more. If there is, she's a captive audience. If there isn't, she beams. "Bravo! I think there's a song about Apple Blossom Jeans, too." Not --quite--. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv_5gwVnKbw

She does, however, SEEM to be waiting for Malcolm to initiate the first bite.

But Kieran returns all full of Kee-ness. (And Stella missed it? No. Couldn't be! She was supposed to cheer. Certainly she cheered in there somewhere!) The brunette's belted, sophisticated suit jacket is plucked at! Stella turns her head (risking missing the first crunch timing!) and smiles a slow smile at Kieran. "It's comfortable, but I'd much rather wear your leather. I'd feel far less like an interloper and ... well, other things." What does she feel like?! The whispered words tip Stella's brows way up. "You bring it to me and I just might. Particularly if I drink the possibly poisoned mead that Sark brought back for us." Malcolm found the almonds. Stella tells Sark, "He found the cyanide or arsenic..." She points to Deirdre. "I'd prefer it if the captain didn't die."

Kieran grins broadly, and nods at Stella as she shrugs her way out of her leather jacket. "Well, then gimme your jacket and blouse, and I'll be right back to shamelessly lust after you..."

With Stella occupied with Kee for the moment, and Dee making the smart move and purging before she hits LD50, Malcolm takes some time to get his bearings again. There's that drink that Amberlee dropped off earlier, and there's that half an apple, still asking to be sampled. He samples it. "Hmm, Granny Smith meets Golden Delicious. That shouldn't work, but it does."

Sark snickers at the exchange between the redhead, Malcolm, and Stella and chooses to hang back a little with his own beverage, downing a good portion of it. He finally gives Amberlee another curious look and asks, "You said you were representing the Ice crag freehold, right? I'm sorry if I've forgotten those details..."

Stella apparently is going to do an apple-inspired (maybe it was the melodic toast) strip tease. Except it's not any sort of thing you'd see in a club of a certain caliber. She simply unbelts her suit jacket, undoes the buttons and slips it off, leaving a translucent dove gray silk sleeveless, scooped neck blouse beneath that suggests the bra beneath that is a muted gray tone as well. She hands her jacket over to Kieran and arches a brow as if in query or challenge. Somehow amidst all this, she juggles her apple-half from hand to hand very carefully. A glance over to Malcolm indicates the initial bite has been taken, so she follows suit, neither in a mincing little bite nor in a mouthful. She tips her head and nods. "It's crisp. That's the key prerequisite for a good apple. And sweet but tart." So there she stands, sans jacket, waiting on something from Kieran (it seems) and she says to Malcolm, "I can't help but think such a gesture deserves something in return." She takes another bite of the apple hemisphere (sorta). Another side-glance to Kee and then an appreciate murmur to Sark. "I can set it on the ground between my feet if you don't want to keep holding it, Easy."

Deirdre stumbles back to get one more mug of beer to wash the taste out of her mouth.

The sounds of splashing can be heard, and soon the wagon fire is out (it helps to have trolls and troll sized buckets - aka the size of kegs - to help put it out). Soon with the celebration continuing, Tordwil is looking around and says, "Where is the winner?" But everyone looking around cannot find the black cloaked figure - although a bow has been left behind. There is a note attached which Tordwil pockets for now.

"We shall conclude with the presentation of the Steeds!" At that time his full contingent of fae steeds take to the field. In an amazing pattern they trot around the field and then jump the course set up for them. Each time a steed jumps over the bars, the posts blaze with fire! When the last one finishes, they all line up and then bow down as good or better than the Rockettes!

Tordwil announces, "With that, we conclude our festivities! The drinks will flow until the last person passes out. Any that need a place to rest before returning home may find refuge in the stables or the tower. The tower and torches will remain lit until the Fire-Brands arrive by Imbolc! Just don't burn anything down! Or else!"

Dasia has, of course, been here the whole time! Just a sneaky Elegbara, is all, moving around and trading tales with other wanderers, grabbing treats and sipping drinks, and only glaring a few times behind her mask of a perpetual resting bitch face.

So it's better than normal.

She finally meanders her way back to Sark and Co, a tall thin glass of crystal (as in actual crystal... not glass designed to look that way. Dreamspun Beverage Recepticals, yo," filled to the brim with some greenish drank. And just in time for all the fancy shows to finish for the evening. Of course.

Kieran meets Stella's expectant look with one of her own. "Whut? You want my tank-top, too?" She shrugs, and reaches down with one hand, both jackets draped over the other arm. Squirming her way halfway out of her tank-top, she shifts which arm the jackets are on, then pulls the tank-top off the rest of the way to offer it and her leather jacket over to Stella, standing there in just her bra.

Sark sets his own mug down so that he can applaud at the Steeds as they go through their paces, joining again when they present themselves in a line like the gorgeous animals they are. At the Baron's wish for everyone to enjoy, he calls out loudly, "Thank you, Baron!" Only then scooping his mug back up to drain a good portion of it.

Deirdre decides to leave and heads out.

Stella hands Sark her apple after taking two bites and follows suit (ha): she tugs her delicate silk shell blouse untucked and up and over her head, offering it to Kieran. Fair is fair. A challenge is challenge. She's still wearing her pencil skirt and heels, but she reaches for Kieran's leather jacket and dons it over her bra, but has the temerity to leave it unfastened. People wear --far-- less to clubs every day (maybe not the same people every day -- they might have a problem). She retakes her apple, thanking Sark for holding it and her mead stein (?) ends up settled on the ground between her heeled feet so Sark doesn't have to hold it. "That work for you, Kiki?" She arches a brow, smiles a mysterious bit of a smile at the clurichaun, then flickers a glance over to Dee to make sure she's okay way over there, then catches sight of the much closer Dasia. She blinks a few times. "Is that absinthe? Hello, Dasia."

Kieran laughs, "Like I said... totally hot." She laughs, and bundles up Stella's jacket and blouse, "I'll stash these on the bike and be back quick as I can..."

"... is it?" Dasia inquires, looking at the drink suspiciously. She lifts it closer to give it a little sniff, and shrugs. "It could be," she allows. "How have things been, mysteriously elsewhere?"

Stella kisses in Kieran's direction with a saucy expression, then turns as the redhead walks away to smile pleasantly at Dasia. "Incredibly mysterious." How else do you answer that question,?" And how have things been with you, oh unnerving one?"

Where did Amberlee wander off to? She was actually over there somewhere talking to the Pooka. But now she makes her way back to the larger group, still sipping away at that very large drink

"Things have been here and there, and just about everywhere," Dasia responds, equally vague! She lifts the crystal beverage to carefully sip at the glowing green whatever-it-is. Just a tiny bit. "Don't be a stranger." And her attention turns a bit to others, as one does.

Kieran returns some short while later, once again wearing her tank top. "Aaaand now I can hold her clothing hostage!" She grins to herself as she goes to get one of those really large drinks.