Of People and Pie


 * Snowfall Basin 


 * Located in the north-western quarter of Crown's Refuge, the area known as Snowfall Basin is quite an impressive sight indeed. Delicately balancing nature with culture, Snowfall Basin maintains the Syladris population of the freehold by providing them with a large area that remains suited to needs that have only recently been discovered.


 * Set around the basin itself - a bowl-shaped cold water depression carved into the surface of the bluff that Crown's Refuge sits atop - it is unusual by just how much it differs from the Human residences just towards the east. Open-air pavilions and gazebos provide much of the structures that the Syladris call home, while leather tents scattered between these more permanent structures offer a more suitable means of privacy than the depths of the water should such things be required.


 * A number of deciduous and evergreen species of tree have been planted amidst the area, turning the "Syaldris Quarter" into one small forest around the large stretch of water. Some pavilions stand taller than others, indicative of status within the newly forged cultural identity that the Syladris are attempting to shape, though all that can be seen feature flowing couches and benches that serve to adequately support and provide comfort for such an unusual half-breed race when they're not otherwise coiled around an overhanging branch or lost beneath ripples of icy water.


 * A blanket of fallen leaves and short, lush grasses surround the basin and the various structures and statues that inhabit the area, all contained within a short marble wall that defines the perimeter of this large region of natural beauty and architecture. Paved trails leading towards the east and south lead back to their respective pathways, while the shadow of Tempest Spire looms ever-present towards the southeast.

 The air is just a bit on the "surprisingly warm...-ish" side, bearing no breeze to play with the lone Song Willow planted in the area. But in this peaceful environment is a gathering, for today is the day of Mysra's Party!

The guest population is mostly Syladris, and every one of them has attended clothed, as per Mysra's wishes. Some are gathered around a small fire, chattering excitably - a story circle - while others swim in the basin or chase each other around gleefully. There are humans here, too - a few handfuls of Wildlanders and even a few (somewhat uncomfortable) Freelanders - but the day so far seems to be mostly enjoyed by the Syladris. Not that the humans have been forgotten. There is an oven that has been dragged out here, apparently being used to warm a pile of towels in case any humans decide to go swimming.

Under one of the gazebos is situated a circle of tables, bearing many forms of food. One table has beverages - tea, mostly, but there is some alcohol as well - one has pies (in five flavors!), and the rest are covered with various forms of portable food: handtarts, common cheeses, sliced fruits and vegetables, and the like. In the middle of this gazebo is a chest, on which is situated a parchment reading, "For Later."

Mysra is making her way through the area, from group to group, and meeting everyone she can possibly talk to. The goldscale is in a very good mood, hugging those who will allow her to hug them and making sure people are enjoying themselves. This goal is made obvious when the female hovers around the uncomfortable humans, encouraging them to relax and make friends (and asking them if they'd like her to get them something to eat from the tables). Most of them politely decline, keeping their eyes on the strange snake-people and probably wondering what ever possessed them to come in the first place.

However, there are many people who are familiar with the Syladris. Granted, most of them are those who have lived in the city at one point or another. Sandrim is one of those, and he walks down into the basin, greeting Syladris and human alike.

"Are you sssure you would not like sssome pie?" Mysra asks of a particularly nervous-looking human, the man merely shaking his head and replying with a soft, "I'm fine... thank you..." He looks about ready to bolt, all told, but Mysra finally lets up and moves on to greet other people. There is some time of slithering about, before the goldscale notices the new arrival. "Sssandrim!" Mysra calls out happily, zipping over to give him a big taily hug, "You made it! Hello! Mysssra made very good piesss with the thingsss you got for her! Mysssra isss very happy - look at everyone who came! Come and get sssome food and make sssome new friendsss and play gamesss!"

Sandrim quirks a small smile. "I'll do that," he says. "But, where are all the wildlanders, now? It looks like you got a bunch of Freelanders who've never met a syladris."

"Oh, they have not shown up yet," Mysra replies casually, not seeming worried by the fact, "They will come by later, probably. Mysssra hasss been trying to get the Fassstheld humansss to relaxss, but they are very tenssse." She unravels from Sandrim and points to the small knot of never-met-a-Syladris humans that have gathered together. There /are/ Wildlanders here, and they seem to be blending in nicely with the Syladris. But the knot sticks out like a sore thumb. "Mysssra doesss not know how to help them have fun!"

Sandrim hmms, scratching at his cheek. "Well," he says. "Give me a little time to think about it... Would be helpful if Aes was here. He's good at this."

"Oh, he isss?" Mysra asks, "Mysssra will have to asssk him about it when he comesss... Do you know if hisss nossse isss ssstill bleeding? Mysssra wasss very worried lassst night." A breeze picks up, not much but enough to get some form of ambient music into the background from the Song Willow. It doesn't last, but most of the people near the fragile plant stop what they're doing to marvel at it.

Sandrim gives Mysra a grin, then shrugs. "I'd imagine it has stopped bleeding," he says. "It's not something that lasts too long."

"You are sssure?" the goldscale asks, "There wasss very much blood. Mysssra'sss clothesss ssstill have ssstainsss that ssshe could not get out." She gestures to her halterneck, which does, indeed, still bear traces of blood from when Aes hugged her.

Sandrim nods. "Yes," he says with a slight grin. "I'm absolutely certain. I've had a bloody nose myself, before."

Nodding, the goldscale starts moving for the food housed in a gazebo, "That isss good. Come and get sssome food, Sssandrim! Mysssra and her friendsss from the Golden Dragon made thingsss that you can pick up and take with you to eat. You can join the ssstory cssircle! Or you can play Tag with sssome of Mysssra'sss friendsss over there," she gestures towards the fast-paced game going on further down the Basin, "Or you can sssuggessst a game and Mysssra and sssome of her other friendsss can play with you! That game of tag will involve the piesss Mysssra ssset assside later, and they have promisssed not to involve people who do not want to play. But that isss for later!"

Sandrim quirks a smile. "I think, for now, just something to eat, thank you."

"Okay!" the golden-hued female replies brightly. "What would you like? There are all sssortsss of handtartsss and ssslicssed up fruitsss and vegetablesss and cheesssesss and..." Mysra continues to list the food available in the gazebo, even as she slithers over to it. Meanwhile, that game of Tag has entered into the water and involved the folks who were just swimming there, and the uncomfortable humans get visits from a few of the less-excitable Syladris.

Sandrim grins, walking along with Mysra. "Some cheese would be good," he says. The Syladris nods and picks up the platter of cheeses, holding it up in front of Sandrim. There are a few different types of cheese, but nothing uncommon. "Mysssra made a few kindsss becaussse ssshe did not know what people would want," she remarks passively.

Sandrim laughs and picks up a few wedges, taking a seat. "This'll do. How are things going so far?"

"It isss going well!" Mysra replies brightly, "Everyone wore clothesss, and no one hasss gotten upssset, and many people are very happy! And Rolan'sss wife wasss here and sssaid that he will be around later, ssso Mysssra will get to sssee him! He isss very nicsse, and Mysssra isss hoping to introducsse him to her newer friendsss. Like you!"

Sandrim grins as he eats. "You know," he says, "I still find it amusing that, well, that people didn't show up naked is a highlight."

"Mysssra doesss not want her human friendsss to get uncomfortable," the goldscale replies, "Rolan would be very upssset if people were naked. Mysssra doesss not want Rolan to be upssset, becaussse he isss very nicsse and hasss been Mysssra'sss friend sssincsse ssshe can remember and hasss taught her many thingsss."

Sandrim gives a grin. "Though I think there /are/ humans who wouldn't mind, good idea, yes."

"Oh, there are," Mysra replies, "Mysssra hasss a few human friendsss who do not mind. Like Taran. But ssshe hasss more who ssshe knowsss do mind. Mysssra only got a few complaintsss from her Sssyladrisss friendsss, but they finally agreed, ssso no one ssseemsss to mind being clothed."

Sandrim nods, looking out to the game of tag. "Hmm. Tag in the water... That's... unfair in favor of the syladris, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Mysra glances over to the game as well and laughs, "Oh, that did not ssstart in the water, but that isss very interesssting." The goldscale cups her hands around her mouth and calls out to those playing the game, "How did you get into the water?!" A redscaled Syladris, who is apparently 'It' right now, calls back, "I do not know, but it isss very much fun! Would you like to join usss?" "What about the humansss? Isss the water warm enough for them?" "They ssseem okay!" Mysra nods and then looks back to Sandrim with a grin, "Tag isss alwaysss unfair to the humansss. Sssyladrisss are fassster than mossst humansss. Asss long asss everyone isss having fun, that isss what mattersss."

Sandrim grins a bit. "Might have to get involved," he says. "See how long it takes for them to catch me."

"You are much fassster than other humansss that Mysssra hasss met," the goldscale remarks brightly, "Mysssra hasss never had that much trouble catching a human before." Mysra stretches out a bit and slithers out of the gazebo slowly, "Mysssra ssstill needsss to catch you fairly. Would you like to join their game or ssstart another one on the ground?"

Sandrim gives Mysra a grin, then starts tugging off his boots and shirt. "Oh, I'm running in after them," he says.

The goldscale smirks, fiddles with her clothes to make sure they'll stay on, and then starts for the Basin. "Okay! Mysssra will join, too, then!" She calls ahead to the group to let them know of the addition to the game.

Sandrim runs off to the basin as fast as he can, and dives in. When he comes to the surface he gasps for breath at the shock of cold.

Mysra slides into the water as well, not seeming to mind the temperature change in the least. The game continues a little ways away for the time being, and the golden-hued female looks to Sandrim with tilt of her head. "It isss not too cold, isss it?"

Sandrim shakes his head. "Not at all!" he says with a laugh, starting to swim for the game.

Not that he needs to swim far. The game's quick pace is not staying in just one portion of the Basin, and soon both Sandrim and Mysra are surrounded by a practical swirl of swimming Syladris (and the handful of wildlanders playing with them). The goldscale is quick to join in the game, and the flow suggests that the red-hued male from before is still "it". He doesn't seem to have a specific target, shifting his direction to dart for whoever happens to be closest. Most of the Wildlanders are keeping at least one scaley person between themselves and the redscale to make up for the disadvantage in speed.

Sandrim grins maniacally, and swims further in, intent to risk it, apparently.

And the movement is not lost on the redscale, who spots Sandrim and grins as well. He makes straight for the new target, arms stretched out in front of him as his tail propels him forward with the speed of... well, of a snake.

Smoothly, Sandrim just rolls out of the way, swirling through the water just right so the snake zips by without touching him. The young man throws his head back and laughs.

Mysra giggles as the redscale zips right past Sandrim. He blinks, surprised, and turns around in the water to try again. Another straight charge, the male trying to keep his eyes on Sandrim for signs of movement.

Sandrim is keeping up just as fast as the redscale, however. Or rather, not quite as fast, but he's certainly good at using the syladris' speed against him as he manages to slip out of the way of the syladris bullet. Winking, he waves after. "Try harder!"

Again, the redscale seems rather surprised at being dodged so easily, but this time he darts back in with a different tactic. Rather than a straight approach, the Syladris makes several random direction changes, sometimes passing right by the human. In one of these passes, though, he makes a wide turn and sweeps around for an immediate third attempt at a tag. Mysra stays back, she and many of the others watching with avid interest.

Not bothering to move at first, Sandrim watches the random direction changes, apparently knowing they aren't going to collide with him. When the real attempt comes, though, he ducks under, going below the attempt!

"Wha..?" the redscale pops up and looks around, confused. "How...?" He blinks a few times, before remembering that Sandrim is not the only target to be had! And so, after three failures, he makes for one of those who had stopped to watch instead, taking advantage of the distraction. The crowd scatters, returning to the swiftly-flowing swirl of tails and torsos, with the wildlanders resuming their positions on the outside. The next target is Mysra, who darts away and is just barely missed.

Sandrim grins and closes his eyes as he flips up to his back, aimlessly backstroking across the pond.

The redscale seems determined to make up for the losses, and after a while longer of chasing her about, he grabs hold of Mysra in a big bear hug. "Mysssra isss 'It'!" he declares happily, "You are 'It'! It isss your turn to chassse now!" The red-hued Syladris joins in the swirling pattern of not-its, while Mysra pauses to consider her options. With a giggle, the goldscale takes in a deep breath and slips under, sliding under the water rather than chasing up above. But for the moment? No one is tagged.

Sandrim laughs a bit and keeps swimming around, watching closely.

The not-its slow in their movements, some completely stopping to try and figure out just where Mysra disappeared to. And Mysra? She's down there for a bit, to be sure, but it hasn't been long enough to worry just yet. The breeze picks up again, chiming the leaves of the Song Willow and playing its hauntingly lovely chords. Beneath the Basin's surface, Mysra slips through the water and makes for Sandrim from underneath!

Sandrim watches everything closely, the ripples of the water, the movement of the currents. He's very aware. And he just closes his eyes and floats on his back with a smile. "Five, four, three..."

Sandrim and Mysra are in the water, where a game of Tag ensues! The goldscale is "It", and under the surface, darting up for Sandrim, who seems disinclined to move in spite of being well aware of the incoming strike.

So -FWOOSH!-, Mysra breaks the surface of the water, clinging happily onto Sandrim. "Mysssra caught you!" she says gleefully, giving the man a tight, over-excited hug, "Sssandrim isss 'It', everyone! Mysssra caught him!" That is one happy female.

Sandrim quirks a grin. "And you'll be it if you don't start running," he says.

Naoi would be almost unrecognizable. The armor is gone and replaced with a dress. The braid left loose, the hair falling free and surpringly curly when untended. Of course, that unnaturally intense stare is still there, and her face is still hard and unpowdered, but it is still a very different woman. She gingerly picks her way down, hestiation shortening strides.

"Oh!" Mysra promptly lets go of Sandrim and joins into the group of not-its, who all go back to their pattern of swiftly swimming in swift Syladris swirls. The wildlanders in the game, who had been keeping the Syladris between themselves and whoever was 'It', seem more willing to join into the middle now that 'It' is a human.

Sandrim grins, and starts tearing through the water for one of the humans - a rather pretty girl with red hair. "Ha!"

Naoi crest down the hill, mingling quietly at the edges, a small slip of a girl shifting across the boundary of the lively affair. With most of the attention focused on other things, she scouts out the situation wth little interaction.

Said redhead slips away from Sandrim with a delighted giggle. "Try harder!" she calls to the mage brightly, winking. Those who have their heads above the water at the time chuckle at this, including Mysra.

Elsewhere in the party, there is a small knot of folks who seem somewhat uncomfortable with their surroundings. All humans, all Imperial Freelanders by the looks of it. They're talking amongst themselves and trying to figure out what ever possessed them to come here in the first place. And over at the story circle, there comes a roar of laughter.

"Oh, I will!" Sandrim calls with a smirk before diving after the woman. "Just hold still."

Naoi swings past the uncomfortable gathering of the Fastheldians, a sympathetic glance offered to them. Still though, she does not linger amongst the crowd of familiar or at least less exotic beings and faces, angling and disappearing briefly into the crowd that forms the Story Circle to listen in to what received such a warm response.

The girl with the fiery hair made a mistake in taunting Sandrim, teasingly flipping and her first few strokes lazy and slow. Of course, a look over her shoulder and surprise is suggested in the widening of her eyes and a startled gasp, kicking forward with a burst of speed but not quite enough to get away should the Mage wish to reach out and 'tag' her.

Sandrim grins, smiles, and lightly tags the girl before he swims away. "Have fun!"

Naoi leaves the crowd, offering a wry glance back, still wandering. She passes the display of food, offering it a curious glance, but refrains from digging into the sweet delights, instead circling around to the edge of the water where a large group is at play. She squints, studying the interaction closely.

The redhead splashes to a stop, sputtering out water, but not with disgust. No, she seems fairly well amused. She spins slowly, looking for a nearby target, before darting after the closest Syladris. Of course, that is almost always a wasted effort.

Sandrim smiles in amusement and just swims up to the edge of the basin, pulling himself up onto the shore. Dripping and shirtless, he walks up to the rest of the party.

Naoi continues to watch absently, a poised and perfect statue.

The game continues, even without the mage actively being involved, the sound of laughter and splashing.

Sandrim pads barefoot across the grass, and right up to Naoi with a grin. "Hey there," he greets with a smile.

Naoi gray eyes shift across and away from the party, and to the mage. "Hello there, Master." The Ordinator turns, an eyebrow arching, not warming much but not retreating in case the man wanted something. She certainly doesn't seem to be offering much.

The party's distant hum and occasional thunder of noise is an appropriate background noise for the conversation, the redhead girl squealing in delight as she is tossed into the air by a playful pair of male Syladris. Of course, one of them is now it, but the game is devolving into chaos.

Sandrim crosses his arms over his chest with a grin. "Not wanting to get involved?"

"I am happy watching," Naoi responds with enough sincerity to soften the dull steel of her tone. "Why? Are you tired of getting involved?" She offers a curious glance to the pool, where the red-headed woman is once again tossed high into the sky.

Sandrim grins broadly. "Mm. Just sitting out for the moment," he says. "I'll likely be back out later or something."

Naoi nods, "There is no shame in enjoying yourself. Certainly there is something better for you here then speaking with me. I am not quite as entertaining as a pie eaten, or thrown into one's face, or chasing young girls about in water. I'd even go as far as to say that listening to one of the Syladris singing the latest exploit about the Great Whore Erasia would be more entertaining then... well, what are we talking about?"

Sandrim hmms. "I have no idea," he says. "But now, I want to see you tossed out in the water. That could be fun."

"I'm certainly sure it would be." Naoi, "For the person not getting thrown. It is always funny, not being the victim, is it not?" The gray eyes half-lid in their inspection of the man. "What is it I have done to you mage, but suggest that I am not worthy of your time? Does that anger you so?"

Speaking of getting tossed, the red girl is trying to escape the menance of her newest friends, laughing and redfaced, only to be playfully tackled and sent sliding back into the pool with an audible SPLASH!

Sandrim shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "I just want to see you out and enjoying yourself." He raises an eyebrow. "How did you know I was a mage, by the way? Did I tell you at one point?"

"No, you found me distasteful and cold, and wished to keep yours secret because you feared I was a boogeyman. Or you decided it isn't something suitable for polite conversation. I could wax analytical, but they are honestly just guesses. Nay, a friend of yours happened to spill the beans. Do you honestly think getting picked up by all these handsome half-men and tossed about would be 'enjoyable' for me? What a strange world and concepts you Wildlander keep. It is... refreshing, but so bizarre. Nay, I am happy where I am, unsoaked."

Sandrim smirks a bit. "Not all games are disagreeable," he says. "Who knows, you might even find yourself enjoying your time here."

"Do I look so miserable?" Naoi responds with a quirked eyebrow. "Does it seem I need saving from my deep depression, that I could... use 'some' sun? Come Mage whose name is Unknown to me, do you not have enough girls you could be seducing? You are handsome enough, and you take care of yourself. Shoo along now, and claim your prizes. The energy is high here. I would not blame you. Do not waste such a rare and wonderful opportunity 'saving' me from myself. I honestly do not require it."

Off to the side, a pair of Syladris challenge each other to an eating contest, throwing faces forward and into warm pies, funneling down the food as fast and as messily as they can.

Sandrim rolls his eyes. "Well, not exactly looking at seducing anyone," he says, before extending a hand. "But getting to know people isn't bad. And if you need a name, it's Sandrim."

"Why? Is it not what these parties are about? Companionship?" Naoi responds, looking to the hand and taking it. Her hands, though small, has an impressive grip.

Sandrim quirks a small smile. "About having fun," he says. "Not necessarily getting laid."

"How blunt and crude you are. Seducing is a common term, and not solely meaning to find one to drag to bed." Naoi responds. "You prefer my company over that pretty thing with fire hair? Really? I may began to worry that your Shadow-Touch clouds your mind and makes you dumb. Though... I suppose I am smarter. That must count for something."

Sandrim smirks. "It's more along the lines of, I wonder if I can crack through that icy demeanor. A name, at least?"

"Oh, a challenge, I see. How very flattering for me." Naoi says wryly, "Very well, Mage, I will deal as you have me. You may call me Naoi."

"You know, I believe I also gave you my name," Sandrim says with a wink. "I don't normally answer to Mage."

A pair of Syladris are facing off in a Pie-Eating Contest, face down and funneling the sweet delights with watchers on cheering them on. In the pool, the game has devolved into mass chaos, Syladris zipping about gleefully, an occasional wildlander tossed to the sky and caught before they can violently splash down. Naoi and Sandrim are talking, near the edge of the pool.

"It is only fair then that you can make a little nickname for me as well then." Naoi responds with absent interest, gaze following the HIIIIIGH toss of little ole' fire head. "Quite a toss..."

Looking decidedly cheerful, Zia's moving along the path towards the Basin, headed in from the east. She pauses at the edge of the party, tilting her head to just *look* at all the chaos.

Sandrim gives an amused smile. "Right," he says. "I could, but I think I'd rather just go with the nickname... Naoi. I'm not feeling imaginative today." He's dripping wet and clad only in a pair of trousers.

Mysra exits from the wildness of the Basin, frowning to herself. "Hey!" Mysra calls into the chaos, "Pleassse calm down! You can have fun without being ssso... ssso /rowdy!/ You will ssscare the nervousss humansss! Ssstop throwing people!!!"

"That is your choice to make, Mage." Naoi notes, watching Mysra step into enforce authority and curb back some of the Syladris enthuiasm. Nope, not a smile in sight. "You should read more. It urges spontaneous creativity and expands the vocabulary."

Zia laughs as she hears Mysra's plea for something approaching calm. "Oh, aye," she calls brightly. "I'm absolutely terrified by all this." Grinning, she heads towards a couple of familiar faces--Sandrim's and Naoi's--in time to catch the tail end of conversation. "I might be able to come up with a couple nicknames for her, if you'd like."

Sandrim smiles a bit wryly. "If you want," he says. "Just please, out of common courtesy, could you not call me 'Mage'?" He lets out a soft sigh, before looking to Zia with a more real smile. "Ahh, hey Zia," he greets. "It's more fun than it looks, down there. Let's go join in?"

Naoi gray gaze shifts sharply to Ziavri at that, lips twisting into a frown. "Yes, I would suggest that. Have fun, and... fair enough, Sandrim, I will refrain." She makes a shooing motion, gray eyes once more turning to watch the distant play.

Ziavri might not be bothered, but there is a tight knot of Freelanders who seem to find the spectacle unnerving. Of course, they seem to find the environment in general a bit unnerving, still muttering amongst themselves. None of them /leave/, but the do seem to still be wondering what in the Light's name they're doing there.

Mysra continues to yell at the chaotic play, which is starting to calm if only for the fact that the group is tiring. The goldscale is not happy, moving in to fuss over the few people who flew through the air. "You did not get hurt, did you? That isss a very dangerousss way to play," she remarks, "You ssshould not throw people! You can hurt them and then they will not be happy! Pleassse be calm and have sssomething to eat and join the ssstory cssircle or play a less rowdy game." Once she has finished with that, amber eyes go to the not-used-to-Syladris human group and she exits the water, making to get some food.

Zia tilts her head curiously at Naoi. "Why do I get the feeling I missed something?" Before nodding to Sandrim, and casting a wary glance beyond him in the direction of the throwing. "You look... very wet. What would I be getting myself into if I said 'aye'?"

Sandrim gives Zia an amused grin. "Well, likely, getting yourself very wet. Perhaps a game of tag out in the water."

"You missed little, he wished to see how familiar and warm I could be. He was under the mistaken belief that I have a likable bone in my body. As for their game, with that golden Syladris back, I suspect it will be simple and safe.. fun." Naoi says, scanning the length of the party cooly.

Hanging out on the very fringes of the happy gathering, Blackfox sits on the branch of a tree, back to the trunk as she nibbles on a piece of pie. If anyone saw her slip in to take it, they did not say anything, and in the place of the missing tasty treat sits a bag of wildberries, freshly picked.

Mysra reaches the gazebo and grabs a handtart, munching on the food quietly for a bit. By the time she finishes it, the goldscale is happy again, and she eyes the chest in the middle with a grin. "Everyone!" she calls out into the party. The nearest few groups turn their attention to her, and she calls again, "EVERYONE! Mysssra hasss a game ssshe wantsss to play!"

That gets a bit more attention, and a ripple of silence slowly works its way through the party. "Thank you," the goldscale says brightly, "Mysssra ssset assside sssomething ssspecssial for thisss game, but if you don't want to play you don't have to." She bends down, then, and opens the "For Later" chest, revealing... more pies! Lots of pies in lots of flavors, all exquisitely made. "Pie Tag! Who wantsss to play with Mysssra?"

Sandrim blinks and looks over to Mysra. "Pie tag?" he asks. "Well... that's new."

Zia laughs, shaking her head at Naoi. "Oh, there must be one or two likeable bones, aye? I like to think I'm not masochistic enough to seek out someone I hate." Turning to Sandrim, she opens her mouth to say something to the effect of 'I'll watch', before Mysra makes her announcement. "Well. I s'pose I'll have to see."

Naoi offes Zia a bland look at that, "You were seeking me out?" Mysra's announcement draws her attention back the Golden Syladris and the chest containing near on every flavor of pies.

Why?

"Pie Tag!" That gets a cheerful note of glee from the Syladris, as some make the obvious connections.

"Yesss, Pie Tag!" Mysra remarks gleefully, "For thossse who do not know it, it isss Tag, but 'It' hasss to ussse a pie to tag people. It can be planted or thrown, but it hasss to hit them in the facsse! Doesss anyone want to be 'It' firssst, or ssshall Mysssra?"

The majority of the population seems content to let Mysra be 'It' first, and those who do not wish to play this game back up a bit to do other things.

Sandrim grins broadly. "I'll play!" he says. "And so will Naoi and Zia," he cheerfully volunteers the two women. Blackfox, unnoticed, gets off scot-free. Apparently, there is a game of pie tag about to begin.

"I have before, haven't--wait," Zia starts to say to Naoi, before--hang on, she's just been volunteered to get covered in pie. She laughs, and sticks out her tongue at Sandrim. "Easy for you to say. You're least likely to get caught." Nevertheless, she takes a tentative step forward, so she can at least see Mysra clearly when she starts running around trying to smack people with pies.

Off to the corners of the basin is a streak of light. Pause, and it is gone behind a syladris. Not that the small bit of white remains in one place for long. Thankfully, the shiver isn't seen at the woods 'Pie Tag.'

Naoi glances to Sandrim's back, not even a trace of humor left. In fact, if she was any more brittle, she'd break into a million pieces. "No one volunteers me, Mage. I have duties to return to, and it is questionable I can be taken seriously with chunks of pastry in my hair." The woman stiffly about-faces and heads for the crest of the hill of the basin.

Pie Tag has been announced, majority gathering near a chest filled with pies. A group of Fastheldians still watch, curious but suspicious, obviously uncomfortable.

Sandrim looks over to Naoi and sighs. "It's a party," he says. "After this? No one will really care, you know. Have a little fun." Zia in turn gets a grin, and Sandrim raises a hand. "I'll be it first, if you need a volunteer!"

"Do not eat thessse piesss," Mysra instructs the crowd firmly, "There are eating piesss on the tablesss. The piesss from the chessst are for Pie Tag only." She lifts the first pie from the chest - a gorgeous apple pie - and looks around at the crowd as she closes the chest. "You want to be 'It' firssst Sssandrim?" she asks happily, "Okay!" And after setting two of her human friends to guard the chest from pie-eaters, she approaches Sandrim and hands off the pie. "Wait until I sssay to ssstart, okay?"


 * That* warrants a decisive step away from Sandrim. A big one. Zia puts a good six feet between them before turning back to Naoi, and shrugging. Her expression seems to say something about making a fool of oneself once in awhile being a mandatory thing.

In all of the fun and merriment - there /is/ an Aes. When he got there, who can say? But.. right now- he's up by the shrine, in fact, half-hidden behind the corner of the gazebo there, coiled in and around the waist-high 'leaning wall' that separates the shelter from the rest of the basin. Curious crimson eyes watch the goings-on, his smile happily wide.

But, at this moment? He's watching Naoi, head tilting - the distance likely making it impossible for him to hear the words being said, but.. after all. Expressions are obvious things.

The streak of light is getting closer, bounding behind reveller after reveller. It's not slowing down, and for those that might notice, it seems to be looking for someone.. back behind a farmer this time.

From that eastern route that the Ordinator looks to escape to winds a very fast-paced Syladris that has yet to make her grand debut to her kindred's party. The Archmage diverts smoothly from the road as it dwindles and slithers fluidly over grass and stone alike, her eyes glowing brightly in the dimming light and fanges beared with an eternal smile at the sounds of excitement that filter into her ears from afar.

Blackfox continues to watch from her perch in a tree on the outskirts of the party, nibbling on some non-pie-tag pastry.

Sandrim grins broadly, holding the pie aloft above his head. "Alright!" he calls. "Better run! Unless you really, really want apple pie to the point you don't mind it being smashed into your face!"

Feeling safer near the pies declared off-limits, Xetheral edges closer to the tables.

Zia dances a few more steps away from Sandrim, in the direction of Blackfox's tree. That seems reasonably distant. And if Blackfox is caught by the shrapnel? Well... Such is the way a Syladris party must go. There she stops, tense as she waits for the 'go' signal.

The bit of light sees what she is after, or at least thinks she does. Dodge. Dodge. Launch, and scrambling paws are trying to make it to Xetheral's shoulder in the most expeditent fashion.

Naoi pauses, eyes falling on Xetheral. She cocks her head, risks a glance back, and then a fond look to the basin. Of course, Xetheral's newest guest is reason to pause, eyes widening somewhat in muted surprise. Then she moves to assist the man, perhaps mistaking the little creature as something hostile.

Haughtily, the shirtless wildman puts his pie-free hand to his hip in a fist. "Mysra!" he calls. "When may I strike down those who run?"

Once that beautifully-made pie is handed off, Mysra slithers away from Sandrim, to join the group who has made it clear they'd like to play. Perhaps unsurprising, the majority of the group is comprised of Syladris. She takes a breath and the group tenses. The goldscale lets them wait... and wait...

"NOW!!!"

At first standing stock-still in surprise, Xetheral tries to retreat first from the mongoose, then from the woman on an intercept course, and then suddenly ducks behind a table, momentarily preoccupied with watching for flying pastry.

Aes watches. And watches. And watches.

And if anyone thought he was just going to watch? Well. They'd have missed the part where the blackscale's mischief wouldn't let him. See? Instead? He's gonna /cheat/.

Doubling back on himself, he comes up with two (not nearly as nice) dripping-blue pies (one has a handful missing, and his nails on his left hand are suspiciously blue-tinted)... and a perfectly innocent smile.

Behind enemy lines? Forward he creeps. Stealthily (knocking over that cookpot there? Totally not him.). Quietly (the little snicker? Not him either).

Unwittingly, Tshepsi makes her way towards the main hub of activity now that a pie has been thrust so visibly into the air. To gravitate towards Sandrim then is the wisest course of action! Led by her stomach, the Syladris glides hungrily between bodies as they flee, her gaze fixated on her truest of loves. "Sssandrim!" She calls, lifting a hand into the air. "Are you going to ssshare or eat it yourssself!?"

Sandrim gives Tshepsi a sweet smile. "Oh, I plan on sharing," he says happily, lowering the pie to walk toward her. "You see, you just have to hold /very/ still."

Safe for the moment from pies, the reality of what is sitting on his shoulder seems to dawn on Xetheral. He slowly turns his head to peer at his guest.

It seems that the dodging isn't over. The mongoose skittering over Xeth's shoulders in an attempt to keep her perch while dodging that of the ordinator. The guilty expression looking someone foreign on the rodent's features. Wait, wrong bald guy!

Zia snickers, skirting quietly around the outer edges of the mayhem as Syladris dart every which way. There's some definite snacking going on, but most is on the fly. Apparently, where Sandrim actually *is* is only a minor element of the best place to run.

Near enough to Sandrim and Tshepsi to watch without being near enough to be noticeable or in the line of fire once some decision concerning the pie has been made, she pauses, shifting her wait to the balls of her feet--just in case--and watching with a small, mischievous smile.

Naoi loses sight of the man, and his... guest, as the crowd pushes and surges past and envelopes her. So, the Mongoose at least avoids her wrath. Of course, she is strong enough to push and shove her way free, breaking out underneath Blackfox's tree. To summarize her feelings, there is a soft snort of exhaled air, taking a moment to get her bearings and get back on course of exiting the Syladris' Bash.

Slowly her loping scales to an awkward pause, Tshepsi tilts her horns in curiosity. Her eyes narrow to scarlet slits as she examines this 'special needs' pie. "Why mussst Tssshepsi be ssstill?" She questions openly, tail tip writhing in eager anticipation. Impatiently, she fingers the feathery decor on her vest. "Isss it ssstill hot?"

Mysra stays back from the human, and blinks. "Tssshepsssi!" she calls brightly, "Hello!" And then she frowns at Sandrim, "Ssshe doesss not know about the game! That isss not fair, Sssandrim!" Amber eyes looks back to Tshepsi and she adds, "Mysssra'sss guessstsss are playing Pie Tag. Sssandrim is 'It'! There are eating piesss on the tablesss in the gazzzebo ssstill!"

Slowly, Sandrim shakes his head, still smiling innocently. "It's because we're playing pie tag," he says. "And when we play pie tag, you get your pie like... this!" He decides he's not playing fair, and pie goes up in an attempt to splatter in the Archmage's face.

Timing is /everything/. Like back in the back, where Aes moves up next to Zia? Where black scales coil around to cut off her retreat? Where, with a bright grin and without preamble... his own pie comes hurtling on a dangerous, side-of-head-aimed course?

Oh. That's just gonna be messy. One way or another.

Blackfox silently pulls her dangling leg up and tucks it underneath herself, hiding a small smile behind her hand as she watches the game unfold.

Emboldened by the mongoose's apparent preoccupation, Xetheral hesitantly tries to pet it on the head.

Ooo, pettings. This can arrest even the most dangerous intentions. Like that of digging sharp little talons into leather. Her head tilted up to the scritches. At least, she's thinking they're going to be scritches.

So much for watching. Zia turns towards the Syladris as Aes appears beside her, opening her mouth for a greeting, and stopping abruptly as she spies the pie in his hand. "Oh Light." A twist, a duck, and the pie smacks neatly into the back of her head. Laughing out some surprised syllable or other, Zia instinctively slaps at the back of her head, coming away with about half of the shattered pie. "*That* has *got* to be cheating," she informs him, before taking a few darting steps closer and pitching her half-a-gooey-piecrust back at him. Why not reuse the ammo, where possible?

Naoi spots Aeseyri's surprise attack, from her isolated spot underneath Blackfox's feet. She frowns, the unpleasant expression deepening. She apparently dares not to return to the chaos, or risk leaving her secure spot, all but trapped at the moment.

Distracted momentarily by the hostess' warning, Tshepsi takes her mortal eyes off the ill-intended, pie-wielding Sandrim and does not catch the initial rearing of the apple-infused gooeyness. The flesh does flinch, as it nears its mark and at last does the soul realize its body's fate. Shadow be damned, the entity is called upon too late and the pie's target is nailed with a very audible mash. Crust flies, juice splatters, but the impact seems to have hit a bit harder than one would think possible - at least to those nearby, the Syladris' face has been wiped from existance. A low, seething hiss is emitted from beneath those layers of dessert and one hand full of talons uplifts to delicately pluck a handful away from where the eyes would be. They reappear then, twin orbs of red, and glare with clear intention at the shirtless culprit. As the rest of her face resurfaces from the netherworld to which it went, she flicks a forked tongue across her encrusted lips and tastes the sweet defeat. "Ssso thisss isss how you tempt fate, Sssandrim...Thisss isss pie tag?" A devilish smile twists her palid lips into beloved cruelty.

The goldscale gasps as Sandrim actually goes through with it, darting forward. "Oh, Mysssra isss sssorry!" she says as Tshepsi is wiping herself off, "Mysssra ssshould have told them not to play with people who are not part of the game! Would you like a towel?" And then she blinks, giving Tshepsi a second look and... pausing. "Tssshepsssi?" she asks. And as she's trying to determine exactly what's going on? That golden tail sweeps out to push at Sandrim and get him back, away from the Archmage, "Are you okay?"

Still ducked under the eating-pies table, Xetheral scratches the mongoose behind the ears. Shaking his head in bemusement, he addresses the creature rhetorically in a voice barely above a whisper: "And this /isn't/ the wildlands?"

Sandrim gives Tshepsi a bright grin, before he starts backing up, and starting to run. "Tshepsi's it!" he calls out to the basin as large, trying to put as much distance between himself and the archmage as fast as possible, laughing. If he's scared, it isn't showing.

The mongoose settles in. Pettings are good. A strange intelligence to the creatures eyes, scanning the party. She shifts a paw, swatting at his cheek in approval.

Aes gets bespattered, by the bit of pie, laughing - and. And then? There's a bit of distraction. He blinks, stops for a moment - and gently touches Zia's shoulder. See, he's got a /second/ pie.

Of course, when Sandrim laughs, it must all be alright, right? So, brightly - still a word unspoken, and with a wide and suddenly sunny grin... he sets his second pie firmly in Zia's hands. With a wink.

Naoi continues watching, brow furrowing in thought.

Zia visibly tenses as she spots the second, twitching in a ducking motion before the pastry lands--in her hands. The eyebrows rise slowly--she's *armed* now--and she mirrors Aes' grin with a sly little one of her own. Right. Gripping her new weapon firmly, she creeps off through the crowd in search of a suitable target.

"Darknesss fallsss, human child," Tshepsi calls forebodingly, smile thickening. A handful of wiped pie is tossed harmlessly at Mysra and she offers the fellow Syladris a little wink. "Your eyesss will fail eventually. Tssshepsi isss patient, ssshe isss." A portion of apple goo is swiped from her other cheek then and swallowed whole. "Ssso it isss my turn to throw a pie?" She inquires, arching a leathery brow. Regally, the Syladri 'climbs' the air to rear just a bit taller and shakes the rest of the pie messily from her horns. Silently, she slithers towards the chest of ammo.

Sandrim isn't the least bit scared, no he isn't. But neither is he going to be foolish. The young mage runs over to.... Xetheral! "Hey there," he says to the balding man, before slipping behind him, to use him as a human shield. And then he looks down at the white mongoose. "And hi there," he says to her. "Nice perch you have. Hope you don't mind, but I need a shield."

Suddenly Xetheral stop scratching the mongoose and gives Sandrim his attention. He squeaks out: "Um... hello...why, why do you need a shield?". He then turns his head to see if anyone else is coming this way.

The critter scurries to her feet, blinking at Sandrim with jeweled green eyes. She's not moving, shield or no. A recipe for diaster in the wake of flinging pies. It's not madness, but it is Pie Tag. Syladris and Human Players alike watch as Tshepsi rises to claim ammunition from the pie chest, splattered with crust and fillings of what was once a beautiful apple pie. Ziavri is likewise splattered too, courtesy of Aes, and now armed as well, sneakily moving about and looking for a target. Blackfox is up on a tree, just watching. Naoi is now moving to escape the madness by leaving the basin, circling around the back slowly. Xenthal, a little white mongoose, and Sandrim are crouched behind a collection of tables that hold the actual eating-pies.

"See the big white syladris," Sandrim asks, gesturing to Tshepsi, who has apple pie face. "Well, she's the archmage, and I threw pie in her face. So, I'm expecting retaliation any time." He smiles. "I'm Sandrim, by the way. "Could I have your names? It's only polite, if I'm going to use you like this."

Taran makes his way to the basin, his Lute over one shoulder and a bounce to his step.

Aes? Aes fades back, laughing softly - watching Zia and Tshepsi in equal measure. At a little bit of distance, he coils primly, reaching down to reclaim that handful of pie spattered across vest-and-chest.. and snack. Happily.

Mysra relaxes some and backs away from Tshepsi, grinning widely, "You can get a pie from the chessst to throw, then! But pleassse do not eat it. The eating-piesss are on the tablesss." The goldscale joins the group of not-its and waits for the archmage to make her move.

In her approach of the "throwing pies" table beneath the gazebo, Tshepsi slithers at a painstaking pace past the "eating pies" table. Row by row of ivory and amber scales sliiiide by the cowering men's faces with a taunting rasp. Pointedly, a portion of tail bends outward from its path in efforts to brush knowingly against the jumble of auras before moving onward and harmlessly away. "Thankyou, Mysssra." Clearing her throat softly, Tshepsi selects a pie from the stack - a personal stain-city favorite of Cherry. She sniffs it once for good measure and cradles it dearly close while her eyes scan the scattered crowd for a target. 'Twas time to have a bit of fun, it was. Masking her inner glee with a face of stone, she lunges out of the gazebo and begins darting aimlessly around, feigning attacks this way and that.

Naoi continues her distant circling around all the excitement, short legs moving with a purpose. Now that she deems it 'safer' she has her eyes firmly on her course, and a little less on the 'in all directions'.

Zia catches Taran from the corner of her eye, and hesitates a second in her stalking of Mysra. Pie in hand. For just an instant, she contemplates the approaching bard, before alighting on the decision that the target is too far to reach easily. Instead, she darts close to Mysra, draws back, and fires.

Recovering his less-squeaky voice, Xetheral manages to say conspiratorially: "I'm, uh, Xetheral. What is she going to do to you, er me, as your shield I mean."

The mongoose... remains silent. That's what they do sometimes. Rather infuriratingly silent in the wake of questions. Her jeweled gaze flickering over to Tshepsi.

"Probably make a rain of pies fly at us," Sandrim says cheerfully. "Maybe light them on fire, but I doubt that." He looks to the mongoose. "Oh, come on. You can tell us who you are too."

The crowd scatters as Tshepsi starts, the lot of them scrambling about in a flurry of tails and legs and torsos. Mysra, though? Well, before she can dodge about, she's pegged in the head with a CHEATERberry pie! "Huh?" the confused goldscale looks around and spots the source. "That isss not fair!" she calls, grinning mischievously and darting for the human woman to try and catch her.

From over Naoi's head, a slender, knotted rope drops, offering a haven in the branches above. Blackfox looks down silently, putting her finger to her lips.

Taran finds a handy tree to lean against, rather near the fringe of the festivities. And just watches, with a little smile. Just for now. Naoi pauses, spotting the rope. She curiously tilts her head back, looking up into the shadows of it's branches and struggling to make out the face of her 'savior'.

False target, false target, TARGET! In vision to her right, a rather small-horned male Syladris with blue scales makes a sneaky effort to get around her and towards the safety of the water. With poise a accuracy true to the nature of her lower half, Tshepsi strikes around and whips her tail's tip from the opposite direction to ensnare that of her prey. The movements to follow are frenzied and laughter is lifted to the clouds as both Syladris wrangle for victory. Tails twist, horns lock, and claws rake - benignly, of course. Gaining the advantage of height, Tshepsi untangles her upper half to arch upwards and slam the pie wielding hand down... Splut.

Aes - just /laughs/. He watches, delightedly, his own coils shifting beneath him... and he drifts, one loop at a time, in the direction of eatable pie. Subtle. Very subtle. The poke he gives one breathless wildlander with a claw to get her to move just a bit? Just /more/ subtle. really.

The /wink/ is /flirting/. Admittedly.

Zia laughs, scampering away towards the ammo chest. She's in front of Mysra, but only just, and it's a just that decreases with size as she slows a fraction to scoop up a pie--no, two--on her way past. Right. Place to hide. Shifting sideways, as far from the chest as she can in the hopes of directing Mysra away from it (or at least, forcing her to go out of her way for her own ammo and still keep on Zia's trail) she starts towards Sandrim and his human and usually-human fort.

Xetheral smiles slightly, the whimsy of the situation finally apparently chipping through his shock. He addresses Sandrim: "Well, if we're going to be drowned in pie filling, no sense in doing it hungry, yes?" Nervously chuckling at his particularly unsuccessful attempt at humor, he reaches above and blindly reaches for an eating-pie from the table above.

"Hurry before they see us," Blackfox hisses softly down.

The critter is on the move again, shifting from shoulder to shoulder. Her little paws too small to hold a pie, and possibly no willing to, if'n she could.

Naoi looks back down to the rope, to her dress, and then the tree. She takes a quick tactical check, of the likely hood of her escaping getting wrapped up into the game. Then she reaches to her belt, takes a small knife, and promptly makes a short skirt of her dress. Stab, rend, tear. The cloth is balled up, wrapped about the right arm, and up she goes. If someone was at the right angle, and looking particularly hard, they may see a glimpse of pale thing before she disappears into the tree with the hunter.

Sandrim grins a bit and reaches up for a pie. "Good idea," he agrees. "We'll get one to share. And you can share it too, Sunkissed, even if you are being so silent."

Blackfox quickly hauls the rope up after her, giving Naoi a hand up into the safety of the branches, a good vantage point well screened by the leaves. "I did not recognize you at first," she says, "It is a shame the dress was ruined."

Mysra cares not about getting pie-ammo, merely zipping after Ziavri as quickly as she can manage. And she's fast, like a... like a striking snake, yeah! It doesn't take much for a Syladris to catch up to a human, so the distance isn't much of a problem. It's actually /cathing/ her that will pose the challenge, and boy does the goldscale try with an enthusiastic lunge!

Taran doesn't bother with finding a tree to hide in. Or hiding. It's a busy party. He just finds a rock with a good view, and takes a seat on it. Watching all the people, the Syladris...the flying pies...like someone being reminded of things.

Cackling wildly, Tshepsi disengages her victim and hastily zips away over the grass. The bested Syladris growls softly but wastes no time in sampling the cherry gore that's been skewered over his right horn. The rest of the mess is piled into his hands and he stalks towards the treeline in search of more elusive prey. Like the casually perched man with his musical instrument. "I am no longer "It"," Tshepsi declares triumphantly, watching Mysra strike at her own target. Mindfully, she scrapes what she can of the remaining pie off her visage and stuffs it into her mouth. Waste not!

Zia eeps! Twists, and with a peculiar little squirming leap manages to dart clear of Mysra's lunge. Not that that's going to do her much good. Not at Syladris speeds. Pressing the faces of the pies together in an attempt to protect them, she tries to take Mysra by surprise by dropping to the ground, rolling sideways, and scrambling to her feet again. True, the crusts on the pies crack mildly, but they hold. Only a little sticky. A little oozing. Now, for where best to head next...

Xetheral gives the mongoose a new appraising look as he tastes the pie... "Huckleberry?...Figures." His shoulders slump a little as he gives a soft chuckle with just a hint of a despairing tone.

"It will be fine, I suppose." Naoi notes with dry amusement, flattening the ragged skirt to a proper length once more. "I will donate the material to a young family I know in Light's Reach. Certainly educational, this. Still though, there is a simple beauty to their interactions with the world. I just do not wish to be a part of it."

The critter dances and leans up on hindpaws. Her little paws wrapped about her pointed nose as though whispering to Xetheral.  he may hear whispered from the small critter. Her whiskers twitching in amusement.

Sandrim grins. "I'd suggest the apple myself," he says, before looking at the mongoose with an oblivious grin.

Blackfox nods in agreement, "It...it is not for me either," she says, reaching up into the branches where a piece of flat wood has been wedged among the boughs to form a tiny table of sorts. She seems exceedingly comfortable on her perch as she passes a tart over to Naoi, "But they asked me to be here."

Mysra lunges right past Ziavri, just narrowly avoiding a crash with one of the food tables. The goldscale turns and looks around, catching sight of the human woman once again, and tries once more to catch her! Time to gather oneself? Pft, that's no fun!

Blinking in surprise at the tiny cold nose on his ear, Xetheral glances from the pie in his hands to the mongoose. "But, it's an eating pie...that's against the rules...".

Aes has managed to get himself an apple pie, from the looks of things - and he shares a handful with two others of his ilk near him; a male and a female chattering on about something that sound suspiciously like a cow.

But.. oh dear. It seems he's overheard Xeth's comment, nomming happily. And he fixes the balding man with a curious look. Head tilting, banding on his horns gleaming.

... and he gravely scoops a handful of the confection he carries, and slings it at him. ... and yes. It's eating pie.

Sandrim looks to Xeth, to the mongoose and grins. Then he looks up at the flying pastry and ducks back while he laughs.

The mongoose eyes Xeth with those large, innocently green eyes. The rules may have been lost on the creature. Again she raises up to nose at his ear. . Persistent little buggar.

Naoi holds up a hand to shield herself from Blackfox's offer, "Thank you but.. no, I am not hungry. So, you hide in trees often, Wildlander?"

Zia's halfway to her feet when she spies the Syladris bearing down on her once more. Down she goes, rolling--less gracefully, less swiftly this time, but adequately. Barely. She ends up scarce a foot away from Mysra, rolling to her knees, with the pies progressively squishing. This will not do. "I was going to *save* these," she chastises, and flings one of them at Mysra. At this distance, if she can hit, it will be a fairly firm success. Then, without even waiting to see if it hits or not, she starts to scramble to her feet and away again.

Taran watches for a while longer, settling the Lute across his lap. For a little bit, it seems as if he might sing...but instead he bends over the magnificent instrument, sets fingers to strings, and begins to play.

Beautifully. Brilliantly. All the chasing, darting, laughing...it's all there. No need to dance, nor pause. It's a soundtrack to the party itself, like raising your arm *just* as the thunder booms overhead, following how everyone acts and making music of it.

Hark! Suddenly very distant from the pie-slinging going on around her, Tshepsi crooks an ear towards the sound of the lute. Her expression is nothing if not entranced. Likewise, the male Syladris is briefly caught off guard by the strum of delightful notes and he halts in his tracks, hesitant to hurl a sloppy pie at that beautiful noise. When recovered, he spies another victim and hurtles towards the lake to throw the pie.

Wincing at the unexpected addition to his face, Xetheral look at Sandrim, then at the Mongoose, then at the Huckleberry pastry he holds. A sudden glint of wicked inspiration gleams in his eye as he looks predatorily at the mongoose. But then, seemingly unable to overcome his inhibition, Xetheral instead scoops up a bit of pie and offers it to the furry creature.

Aes? Aes is so busy listening in that moment that he utterly misses the lack of sudden chaos where there should have been in pie tossing by the food pies. He sways for a moment, in time - and then, with a soft laugh? He drifts away, ostensibly under the tree where a certain ordinator so recently vanished. Looking up. Curious.

The mongosse tenses, almost expecting the face full of huckleberry. Instead, presented the finger. She curls her paws to his finger, and laps up the tasty goodness. So much for pie throwing.

Sandrim smiles and stands up. "It appears he's incorruptible," he says to the mongoose. "I'm going to go see about finding my own pie." And thus, he waves and walks away from cover.

"Aye," Blackfox says softly, "It is a good place to watch and not be seen. Safer that way." She slips that tart back into the tree, nodding towards Aeseyri, "He's cheating again, isn't he."

Apparently finding Apple much more to his liking than Huckleberry, Xetheral eats the pie he clears off his face, devouring it with surprising urgency.

For once, Mysra is completely oblivious to Taran's musical stylings. Not that she has any time at the moment. -SPLORT-, more pie is in her face before she can even rise up from another failed lunge, and the Syladris cackles merrily. Rather than chasing after Zia more, the goldscale settles into her coils and wipes the delicious pastry from her face, eating it with a gleeful grin. The chaos around her is forgotten, the Syladris quite content with her pie as she starts to slither out of the gazebo to find a suitable place to rest at.

And then there was Sandrim. Tshepsi snaps free of her reverie and turns her head to stare down the man as he ventures free of his hiding place. She, too, is not so far from the pie chest. Would it be a stand off? Her fingers flex at either side, tail twitching as that predatory gleam brightens in her eye.

Naoi follows Blackfox's gaze down, hard gray eyes studying Aeseyri, "I wouldn't know. Is he one that often cheats?"

The mongoose bobs her head, and offers a final lick before all the pie goodness is licked clean of the wildlander's fingertip. A certain freedom when you're 8 inches tall.

Sandrim is not unaware of Tshepsi, not at all, and he keeps his eyes on her with a calm, confident smile as he approaches the pie chest. After pie, of course. Cherry.

Now that she's on her feet, without Mysra tailing her, Zia grips her remaining, slightly-cracked pie in one hand and drifts towards the edges of the chaos, to catch her breath, to lend an ear to the music. She alights at a spot near the base of The Tree, but not quite close enough as to attract attention. And that pie in her hand is rather like a drawn sword--I won't slash at you if you don't slash at me.

Xetheral smiles kindly at the small creature and, after wiping his hand (the apple flavored one) clean on the grass, scratches her gently behind one ear.

The critter doesn't so no to the scritches. Though full of curiosity, she's all dodging and trying to watch all the syladris at once.

"Aye," Blackfox replies, but with a shy and tender smile, "He does, but that is never the point."

Aes, peering - sees. Legs. And conversation. And with a bright smile, he offers a wink up into the tree, turning to drift away (his tail cheekily nudging at Zia's calves as he goes) - humming. Badly. Along with the current tune eminating from the lute.

He's heading for his tent, in fact - in no great rush.

Taran ....is both paying very careful attention to all that is going on, and not *seeing* much of any of it. Hands move of their own accord, creating the soundtrack, echoing the festive and rambunctious mood, but the player is curiously absent. Hood drawn up, head somewhat bowed, no visible expression or movement beyond the hands upon frets and strings. The Lute plays the player, perhaps, more than the player the Lute, but the results are just as beautiful either way.

Naoi looks to Blackfox, "Cheating, with the right intention, is still cheating. Still though, I am thankful that you lended me an escape from this madness. I see my chance now though, and will not show hestitation." With that, she falls off backwards, flipping gently through the air and landing softly on her feet with the soft whisper of a thud. Of course, she wasn't aware of Ziavri's position there, landing periously close to her.

Tshepsi darts as Sandrim reaches the chest, attempting to commandeer the pie before he takes hold of it.

Sandrim grins, and grabs the pie before Tshepsi can, dashing out of the way and grinning cheekily. "You shall have to try again another time!" he proclaims, before taking a bite from his cherry-filled treat.

Xetheral stands up slowly, careful to not dislodge the Mongoose or, perhaps more accurately, to make sure she need not use her claws to retain her position. He then sits down at the table from under which he emerged and looks for another Apple pie.

Zia's in the process of making a face at the retreating Aes when--snap crack thud. The sounds of someone flipping through foliage and landing on the leaf litter beneath the tree, *right behind her*. Instinct and highly-strung nerves from the evening's chase are enough to overcome the typical thought process Zia would put into her targets, and she whirls... and flings. The remaining pie is launched.

... Into Naoi's face.

Blackfox blinks at the amazing feat of acrobatic prowess, finding herself alone in the tree again, choosing then to just turn and climb higher up into the darkness of the branches above.

The mongoose watches the syladris retreat before settling low on Xeth's shoulders. No claws, she's being good still... and mostly clean of pie.

Tshepsi's fingernails thud into the wooden side, having missed her swiped target. Not to be so easily discouraged, she eyes Sandrim closely and picks up a huckleberry instead. "You're too clean to be in the midssst of pie, Sssandrim," She hisses and lunges after him, pie reared for the throwing.

The happy golden-hued female continues slithering and eating... and now that she's away from the chaos that is her party? She hears... "TARAN!" Mysra exclaims gleefully, zipping over to the bard as he plays. Rather than glomping him and covering him and his lute with pie, Mysra stops short, hands clasped in front of her as she listens, "Hello! How are you? Mysra'sss party hasss turned out to be much better than ssshe hoped!"

In such epic battle, Sandrim was, it seems, somewhat unprepared. Do not stop to eat spoils of war in the middle of battle - this is a good lesson for anybody. The huckleberry pie explodes onto the young man's face, and he just stands there a moment, sugary sauces dripping down his face. "The cherry was better," he says, wiping a bit of huckleberry sauce off his face and tossing the goop half-heartedly at Tshepsi.

Gray eyes, sealed close for half a second, blink open and stare hard at Ziavri behind the mask of blueberry and pie crust. Naoi lifts a hand to scoop some of the sweet coagulation of her cheek, looking at it irritably for a second. "Thank you for that."

Zia hesitates a moment, tensing as if half-expecting Naoi to use her Powers of Doom on her. When she's thanked (sarcastically?) for it instead, she grins. "Well. That was an accident, but you probably needed it," she decides cheerfully. "Would you like me to help you clean up?"

Taran - stops playing. Rather abruptly, and blinking. "Oh - hello, Mysra," he says, in a tone rather less audible than his usual. "I came, as I promised. I'm sorry for being so late."

Naoi licks one of her finger, for lack of anything else to do, before throwing the rest of the scoop to the ground. Ziavri's offer is something of a surprise, but after a moment, she'll look to the woman again. "I am capable of it myself, but.... it would seem that you have your own mess to attend. I think I will make my ignoble exit, rather you wish to assist or not." With that, Naoi sweeps forward, moving swiftly enough for the exit and a place to clean the mess that is her hair and face.

Naoi, though, does not go unavenged, and it seems the very trees of the Basin are on her side. From the dark foliage above comes a well aimed cherry pie, heading straight for Ziavri's head.

"Which isss why I wanted it, inssstead," Tshepsi curtly replies, deflecting the gloop with her horn and catching the fallen remains into her palm. It becomes consumed readily, jaws opened wide for the reception - and a yawn. What's this? A Syladris feasted on sweets is fading in energy? It would seem so. Slurping at her fingers decisively, she examines her masterpiece with a smug sort of smile and meanders away.

Zia's about to make some reply to Naoi when--splat. That would be the pie. To some, the red mess on the top of her head combined with the blue on the back might seem quite festive. To Zia... it's a lot of sticky, sugary, mess. But she laughs anyway, turning her face towards the unseen Blackfox and calling up, "I ought to come up there after you."

But she doesn't. With a small sigh, she wipes some of the reddish goop away from her brow before it can drip into her eyes and grins at Naoi. "Aye. I'll accompany you, I think."

Sandrim just grins and shrugs, waving Tshepsi off as he ambles away, toward Taran now, actually. He takes a seat next to the bard, scrapes some huckleberry pie off his face, and holds it up. "HUngry?" he asks, before taking a bite out of his own cherry.

Finishing his apple pie, Xetheral turns to the mongoose and says, nodding to the basin: "I'm going for a drink and to wash up. You coming on staying here? I'll be back either way."

"Mysra did not ssset a time," the Syladris replies, "Ssso you are not late." The goldscale gives Taran a hug since he's not playing, and in spite of her best efforts she still manages to get some pie on the man. At least it's his face and not his clothing. She settles down into her coils, then, and resumes eating the pie filling off of her face. "You are quiet. Isss everything okay?"

A soft laugh echoes from above followed by the soft fluttering down of a clean wash rag.

Naoi doesn't look back, or slow her pace, but she is small enough that Ziavri's longer legs means that it is a pace that isn't too hard to match.

Zia catches the rag, grins up at the unseen Fox, and heads off after Naoi. "I will return this to you," she calls back, apparently unconcerned by the fact that it probably doesn't matter.

The mongoose whispers a final word to Xeth before finally diving back t the ground. White fur once more obscured among the feet while she darts for the trees.

Xetheral gives a start, then takes a deep breath and gives a brief wave towards the trees where the mongoose disappeared. He then walks off towards the basin.

Taran prudently tucks the precious Lute out of pie range, covering it with his cloak, but seems not to mind pie anywhere else. "It's a party day, Mysra. Everything is fine. It's good your party was so successful."

Sandrim lowers his hand, and shrugs, eating the bit of huckleberry pie he's offered Taran himself. "Hmm. Seems to be winding down." reaches the basin and begins washing off pie-residue.

Xetheral reaches the basin and begins washing off pie-residue.

Xetheral strolls back up to the pie tables.

"Mysssra isss very happy," the goldscale remarks, "Many of her friendsss came, and ssshe met new people, and there hasss been much fun and gamesss, and /pie/!" The female continues her process of grooming and eating, snuggling up to the bard a bit, "A very good party."

The mongoose darts through the crowds and in the bard's direction. Dodge and weave, dodge and weave. Only to those who may notice, it is headed back towards the spire. And at the farthest outskirts, shimmers and becomes a retreating form of a woman.

Taran smiles and gives Mysra a light hug. "Well, then. All your wishes were granted." He looks over at Sandrim. "No pie on the Lute," he says. "But it's put away now."

Sandrim gives Taran an amused smile. "Still want some to eat?" he asks, before waving over to Xetheral. "Hey there, Xetheral! Come sit with us!"

Xetheral smiles gratefully at Sandrim and comes to sit by the group.

Mysra nods, "Yesss, they were. Do you know if Eldan came? Mysssra did not sssee him and wasss hoping maybe ssshe jussst missssed him."

Taran shakes his head. "No. Eldan was not in the music. I'm sorry."

Sandrim smiles a bit wryly. "It's... not too surprising he didn't show up," he says. "Didn't expect many nobles, if any." He waves to Xetheral. "And hey there! Felt like braving the syladris today, did you?" he asks the new man with a grin.

Xetheral smiles shyly. "I'd always been curious. I didn't know what to expect, but this wasn't quite it." He smiles more broadly and turns to Mysra: "I take it this was your party...I hope I wasn't intruding by showing up uninvited."

"That isss okay," the goldscale remarks softly, "He might have been busssy." Mysra grins up to Xetheral, "Yesss, thisss wasss Mysssra'sss Party. Everyone wasss invited! Mysssra wanted to meet new friendsss!" She rises up to offer the man a hug, "Thank you for coming! Did you like the party? What isss your name?"

Xetheral accepts the hug after a moment's hesitation. He says softly: "I'll admit I was a bit taken aback at first...my first time in Crown's Refuge and there were flying pies! But yes, I did enjoy myself, and the pies themselves were spectacular."

Xetheral says, "And my name is Xetheral. What was yours?"

Sandrim quirks a smile. "Normally, there aren't so many flying pies," he says. "The syladris is Mysra. Our bard friend here is Taran."

The hug is warm and friendly. The goldscale preens at the compliment, "Thank you! Mysssra made thossse piesss with the help of her friendsss in the Golden Dragon!" Mysra then grins and tilts her head, "Mysssra hasss sssaid her name many timesss now. Usssually people do not asssk for it. Mysssra isss very pleasssed to meet you, Xssetheral."

Taran smiles a small sort of smile, and while Mysra is distracted with her new friend, the bard quietly slips away.

Xetheral smiles. "Are you a professional pastry-chef then?"

Sandrim grins. "She's a cook, at least," he says, before standing up to retrieve his tunic and boots. "I'm going to head on home, take a bath. Take care, now."

"Mysssra isss a cook!" the Syladris replies brightly, "Ssshe cooksss and bakesss many kindsss of foodsss. Mossstly at the Golden Dragon, but they let her cook at the Sssouthern Crossss, too!"

"You're not just a cook...you're an outstanding cook." Xetheral replies.

"Thank you very much," Mysra replies brightly, again preening at the compliment of her cooking ability, "Mysssra hasss a lot of practicsse and hasss alwaysss been told ssshe cooksss very well. You are very nicsse to Mysssra."

Yawning, Xetheral looks around at the remains of the party. "Do you need any help cleaning up?" he asks.

The Syladris looks around as well. The activity has died down, most of the guests having left to get sleep. And those who haven't left are still lingering around the story circle fire and look to be about ready to fall asleep themselves. As for cleanup, there is pie /everywhere/, not to mention tables, an oven (the towels have gone missing, having been used to warm humans who went for a swim), and a chest that still has quite a number of intact pies in it. "It isss very kind of you to asssk, but Mysssra will take care of it in the morning," she says brightly, "Do not worry about cleaning up. Rain will wasssh away the pie, and the oven and tablesss and chessst belong to Aesssio."

Xetheral smiles. "Alright then, I think I shall be on my way. Until we meet again, be well!"

"Take care, Xssetheral!" Mysra says happily, waving at the man, "Mysssra hopesss to sssee you again sssomtime!"