Spartan gives the new arrival ( Tyladhras ) a nod as he stands at the buffet and begins filling another plate. "Try the Pheasant." Spartan says as he adds a serving of Mash to his plate.
Spartan gives the new arrival ( Tyladhras ) a nod as he stands at the buffet and begins filling another plate. "Try the Pheasant." Spartan says as he adds a serving of Mash to his plate.
Serreth catches himself before his curiousity raises an eyebrow at the Ogre's incredibly potent mantle. Another high-ranking Summer courtier, he thinks. Summer certainly seems to have a strong presence in Sacramento.
He nods politely at Spartan's suggestion. "Thank you, I think I will. It looks declicious. In fact it all looks delicious." Serreth respectfully lets the high-mantle Ogre take first pick from the buffet before continuing to fill his plate. "My apologies, I don't believe we've met."
Serreth bows very slightly, almost more of a nod, and offers a large, stone hand.
Filling his plate with frankly amazing-looking food, John looks around for someone to strike up a conversation with. Unfortunately, the only person he'd spoken to before was Danny, who was already engaged in conversation with a rather attractive elfin lady. John wasn't the type to interrupt and spoil a guy's chances - even if said guy did look oddly terrified.
On his way to the bar, though, he does recognise someone - a fellow Autumn Courtier he'd seen at the meeting. He shifts his plate to his left hand, and holds out the other in greeting to Aldamoth.( Cameron )
"Don't think I got a chance to talk to you at the meeting. The name's John Lapsley, what's yours?"
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Clare gives him a small smile. "Let's go speak to Juno, then, Choco-puff. We can figure out who to talk to next afterwards." She makes a small half bow gesture, letting him know that she wanted him to lead on.
@Dominyk_Prise
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“Sounds like a plan, besides she near the food, and that’s good enough for me.” he said with a slight nod before offering the green-clad woman his hand.
He walked with her to the Manticoress and the banquet of the Vernal Queen. “Greetings, Lady Juno. How are you today.” He picked up two plates hand handed one to the shorter ogress at his side.
Dusan
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"Food's always welcome." Clare pushes Dominyk's upper arm slightly, indicating for him to step ahead of her, with a roll of green eyes. Some part of her need to pretend this wasn't a date - it'd make things to complex with the deal too - but she still followed him closely enough that her hand could have rested on his forearm, or in his hand if she let it.
She accepts the plate he hands her and studies Juno curiously. 'Lady'? Well, Juno is a girl's name... but that's a guy from what I see. Clare gives Juno a smile and starts picking out food for herself. "Hey. I haven't met you yet - name's Clare Green."
Mal scratched, irritably, at the stubbly patches at the back of her neck with one hand. It had been a matter of some weeks since she'd been able to shave properly, with a fresh razor, in a hot shower, rather than in a truck-stop cubicle with whatever bladed object she had to hand. She'd arrived in town much earlier that morning, but had taken a while to untangle the knot of undercover-directions The Lost seemed to love hiding in plain sight, by the time she'd discovered the Four Seasons (and had a quiet chuckle at the sense of humour that must have settled on that name for a 'public' Freehold-holding) it was already a hive of activity, preparing, no doubt for some event that evening..
It was now some time later, and having spent the intervening period trying to make herself look a tad more respectable, she strolled through the main entrance, demonstrating with a cheerful raise of a hand to the doorman, precisely how many fucks she gave about his disapproving eye towards her ensemble of crumpled button-down shirt that could be charitably described as white-ish, cargo skirt, rough, self-cut hair and split-toed climbing shoes still grubby from the road, despite her best efforts to dust the dirt off.
She paused briefly at the threshold to really take in the whole event from the outside. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air, as much out of habit as anything - even without the truly astounding sense of smell of the wolf, she had become rather accustomed to the idea of actively using all her senses, rather than just the eyes and whatever the rest pick up incidentally along the way. She was pretty certain there were more of the Lost gathered in this one room than had populated the last freehold she'd stopped in in total, and she was sure she wouldn't be the last one in and it usually paid to get a feel for the layout before plunging in headlong. Especially when hunting alone. Hunting? Next you'll start referring to your hands as 'Paws'. Start thinking less like a Wolf and more like a Person and you might make it through this evening without embarassing yourself.
That habit indulged and self admonishment meted out, she immediately made a bee-line for the buffet. She didn't need a hypersensitive nose to tell it smelt *good*, and her stomach felt like it was doing backflips in anticipation. Foraging was all well and good out in the boonies - but the closer you got to civilisation, the slimmer, and less appealing the pickings got. She made a quick sweep of one side of the great trestles, scoping out the proverbial herd, only about half the things that caught her eye even making it as far as her plate, before doubling back on particular points of note until her plate was piled good and high.
Looking, and feeling just a little too pleased with herself, she drifted towards the bar, happy now to drift with the rather thicker crowds than had been arond the food, contentedly picking at her plate as she awaited her turn. Slipping her tiny frame into a narrow gap as it appeared, she perched her plate on the edge of the bar as she looked up into a downpour of sceptecism from the other side. "Do you have any I.D there young lady?" asked a voice that in no way was willing to believe she was twenty-one. Which was fair enough. She wasn't. But she was pretty sure she was a darn sight closer than he'd have been willing to give her credit for.
"Settle down, Skippy." she said, rolling her eyes, "I only wanted a coke."
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The Ivy-wreathed fairest raised an eyebrow at the odd patched girl that ducked under and around the ogress and himself. His bright blue eyes followed her motions as she seemed to move up and down the buffet, in apparent disregard to the others in line.
“Lady Fennel, I hope you don’t mind.” He said as the short beast managed to knock his (thankfully) empty plate from his hands. At least he managed to catch it, “Can you hold this, I’m not exactly feeling generous right now.” He walked towards the retreating back of the patchy girl, his chocolate and cinnamon scent -- that had been comfortably surrounding him at the buffet table -- was starting to spread and reach towards the girl.
“Excuse me.” he said, his voice pitched neutrally, “I believe you owe both Lady Fennel and me an apology.” he said, the tone of a librarian starting to edge into his voice.
Greebs
A door opens and a fairest wearing a french rose dress steps inside the room. Snow flakes swirl gently around Abigail announcing the arrival of yet another Silent Arrow to the Commons. A kind smile is produced by her lips as she glances over those present and recognizes few preciously familiar faces in the crowd of changeling. Do they remember me?
With a graceful stride the fairest makes her way to the bar and orders a glass of pinot grigio from Sam. Once she receives the high stemmed glass she turns around and, with her eyes, explores the room once more. Maybe she’s looking for somebody in particular or maybe she’s curious to see how many new people have joined the freehold. Either way the bright one’s body language is open and she seems ready to start a conversation.
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