Mirth and music burst from the Fairy Tavern - an effusion of noise and laughter so loud, one might wonder how the mundane folk from beyond the Hedge cannot hear it!
The Tavern's round door's have been flung open. The windows have been too. There is no choice in the matter, really, as the party seemingly spills out into the Hedge.
The walls and ceiling have been festooned in greenery taken from the Hedge. Rich baskets of fruit sit in the corner's of the Tavern's tap room and in the glade beyond, a trestle table positively groans with baked treats, fruits, and a greatcauldronbowl of punch. I hope it's punch.
The Tavern is already overwhelmed by Hobs. Satyrs and nymphs and things that might be trees are running amok. They have already claimed the improvised stage and have bought out their own curious instruments, which they are playing with gusto. They have claimed (or bought) a great barrel of fairy mead and are guarding it jealously while they guzzle freely of its contents.
At least Angus, Queen Ingrid's ensorcelled retainer, is trying to bring some order to the collective chaos. He is holding down the bar - barely - against the Goblin hordes bent on drinking the place dry. Gibbering and jeering, laughing and cheering, in defeat, the goblin horde joins the hob's draining the great barrel (and thankfully not endangering the peace any further!)
Almost forgotten in a quiet spot just outside the Tavern's door is another table. This one is laden with kites, candles, and writing materials. Not one of the hobs has gone near it, despite the large card written in fine calligraphy that encourages the reader to stop and give wings to the most Ardant desires.
Queen Ingrid is absent.
For the moment.
Come!
Try the fruit!
Have a drink!
Make your Desires float!
This seasons turn. The Spring Coronation is here!!