Inside 73: Holiday Rush

[Rebonack]

[Arkham Street - Black Goat Woods]

It looks like Braeg has decided to harass the fox.

And they're fauns, Braeg. The female beast-sprites are fauns. The one currently inhabiting her wild pig gives the enchanter a little snort of greeting and bobs her head as he passes.

Real target, though, is that fox.

That fox, truth be told, is thinking. Plotting, really. She has so many irons in the fire it can be hard to keep track of them all sometimes. She had promised herself not to get caught up in plotting tonight; this party was meant to be a distraction from such things. But in spite of that she ended up on the rock pondering dark thoughts. Really, it isn't too much of a shock. She has something of a reputation and many of the other fae find her a tad intimidating. Which she doesn't mind. Not as such. This makes it oh so difficult to socialize when the mood strikes her, however.

When the feindling arrived, well now, that caught her nose.

There's a hint of power to him she found herself unfamiliar with. And if there's anything she covets, it is new and esoteric sources of power. There's a temptation but- No. No, not a chance. She can't do that, she can't just snatch up whatever she likes, whatever strikes her fancy. To go down that dark path is the way of murder and madness. A fox must eat, yes. But she has promised herself a promise that she has yet to break-

-she will only eat those who deserve that fate.

Probably for the best that he's mingling with the party and ignoring her.

Oh.

Now he's coming her way with two helpings of wine.

Of course he is.

The kumiho's ears perk as Braeg speaks.

"Oddities, flattery, and riddles you say?" she replies, grasping the stein with the end of one of her tails, its form like smoke given intent. "The answer is plain; the folk here know what games kumiho play and none wish to fill the role of mouse. I wonder, then, are you unfamiliar with the rules? Or perhaps you believe yourself above them?"

She delicately sips at the wine which should be, quite frankly, impossible with a muzzle.

But the fox accomplishes it none the less.

This is a warning to the enchanter.

Be wary, for I bite.

Meanwhile!

Yes!

...maybe.

Depending on how flexible of a definition of 'goat' you're using, Jaahlyn.

"Isn't it? I heard the drums and came to check it out," the dryad slurs back slightly.

The drums continue to beat along to the stomp of hooves and the crackle of the flames.

"Not sure what we're partying about but it's a great party!" the one of the fauns, who has a distinctly owlish look to her adds. "I'm not sure who started it."

She looks around, as if the party instigator would somehow stand out to her if only she laid eyes on them. "Hey, you aren't a Dreamlander or..." she leans in, those great big round eyes widening a little more. "Or, like, maybe not the same one? Far out!"

That gets the attention of the other fae. They seem curious about where Jaahlyn came from.

Meanwhile!

It turns out that fate is being cruel tonight to Rowan.

Because instead of the faun responding in the affirmative like a helpful person she gives a little squeal of delight and tries to sorta smoosh Rowan's cheeks together with her hands in a display of very touchy affection.

"Oh. My. GAWD! You're a mortal but you just look SO CUTE! You're like a cute little FAUN oh my GAWSH!" the dress-clad raccoonish faun titters, releasing Rowan to run a little circle around him and look from several different angles. Now that he's close she definitely smells like a raccoon that has been getting into people's trash. "Is this magic? It's gotta be, like, magic, right? And-"

She gives a little gasp.

"The Queen! That's the Summer Queen's mantle! Did she, like, send you here? Is she coming? Oh my gawd is she coming do I look pretty enough?" the faun asks, desperately trying to smooth out her hideously wrinkled tacky pink dress.

The faun didn't give Rowan permission to leave.

Tragic.