Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!


It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a horrible beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

Comments

QUESTIONS

[faithlikeaseed]

Post 'em here!

[nau]

[Lalli is... Not a party person. He wouldn't typically show up to one, but the curious invitation has caught his interest. That and the odd buzzing he feels under his skin, that makes him feel like... He wants? To be around people? Gross. Uncomfortable.

His newly grown, tufted ears are twitching, and while he could enter the maze at the entrance he opts instead to scamper up some of the vines and drop down. His nose leads him towards something sweet smelling, and he practically lights up when he sees there is a stockpile of candies and fruits. (And nuts, but. Candy. Fruit!)

He ignores the blankets for the moment, well used to the cold by now, and settles down with the candy. If he's quite literally stuffing his cheeks, well. Nobody can judge him.

Nor can they judge him for the blank, wide-eyed stare he gives anyone who stumbles across him.]

...Mm.

[So friendly! So personable! His ears twitch and flick, as he just. Stares.]

[wylderrant]

That is quite a lot of candy.

[ Iramaat sounds more amused than anything else. ]

Oughtn't you share a little?

[ She's never met Lalli but that has never stopped her before. ]

[faithlikeaseed]

[It's the sound of concentrated, dedicated munching that eventually draws Myr's attention. Scattered as his attention is tonight, he is trying to be something approximating a good host--and since it sounds like someone's really enjoying the food he's put out, it would behoove him to make sure his guests have enough of it, wouldn't it?

His memory of the particular alcove the sound's coming from is that it's one of the shorter ones. So, while he can't thread his way through the maze at this gargantuan size to talk to whoever-it-is in there, if he just--maybe--aha!

Don't be too surprised at the giant, blindfolded deer poking his nose through the roof, Lalli.]

Need any more of those?

steak × witch × ota

[battlebound]

— poke your head in.

( Steak, admittedly, does not check his Watch often enough, and doesn't see the invitation. what he does see, instead, is a place in the Haven he's known to be abandoned looking decidedly... not.

did someone move in? that's a lot of decoration for something he was pretty sure looked a disused wreck the last time he walked by it.

so, of course, as any curious horned non-faun would do, he walks right on in, checking out the vines, the flowers he can't identify, and the fruits lying around.

they look ripe enough, so he's just going to munch on one while he looks for someone to get the details from.

...ah!!! you there! yes, you. )

What's going on here?

— wildcard.

( want to do something else? hit me up on plurk (isanghae) or Discord (𝚗𝚌𝚕#8071) and we can hash an idea out. )

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat instantly links arms with the newcomer. She's doing quite well, thank you, a little buzzed off of the mead and the energy of the full moon. Besides, he has horns. That... basically makes him a faun, right? Right. ]

I'm not entirely sure, but isn't it fabulous?

[ She is not going to be any help whatsoever. ]

[sneaksweet]

[Juza did come, in an attempt to just be more sociable, because he's generally terrible at it. The only way to get better at things is to try and do them more. Failure is a good teacher.

He wasn't expecting to be interrogated.]

A party?

[The questioning tone doesn't inspire much confidence, but he thinks that's what's going on.]

Iramaat | Faun

[wylderrant]

Well, someone invited her, so she simply had to show up to see what it was all about, didn't she? Iramaat, at least, is very enthusiastic about the whole thing, especially since it's a beautiful full moon, she's a faun, and she's got magic humming away in her veins - besides, her bonded is back and that means life is oh-so-much better. She ought to celebrate, clearly! And what better way to celebrate than to go to a faun party? She spends the first part of her night trying drink and food and generally making a pest of herself to whomever she can find. She's very affectionate, leaning in, violating personal space and generally being over-friendly, no matter who she's speaking to.

Here, won't you enjoy a cup of mead or a bowl of nuts with her? What's the harm?

Later on she be found doggedly plucking away at a lap-harp in a cozy corner, settled amongst a little next of quilts. She's not the most deft player, but it's not horrible. Passable at least. She even invites people to join her in inventing lyrics! Most of the one's she comes up with are a little bawdy, though, so mind your sensitive ears.

Of course, there's the maze. She absolutely needs a partner for that. So someone gets nicked for it. There's a hand on their arm and an excited grin, "Look - do you want to explore? Oh, of course you do! Come on!"

She's rather insistent.

[ ooc: happy to switch to brackets! If none of these little prompts work for you, hit me up or throw something new at me! ]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir hasn't been at the party long, but the energy is infectious. He's friendly and outgoing at the worst of times, and this is anything but that. He can feel the influence of the full moon, stirring up that manic energy and happiness inside him, making all ideas seem brilliant and every thought in his head worth saying aloud.

Add to that the sounds of music and chatter, all these new people, all these other fauns just like him. He's been wanting to get to know other fauns, recently, but he's still struggling with learning how to make friends in such a big city. His village was so small that everyone just knew one another, their whole lives.

So it's a lovely surprise, when a faun he doesn't know sets a hand on his arm and starts tugging him towards the maze. She seems excited about it, and Reynir can't help being excited in turn. ]

Of course I do!

[ Only a few turns into the maze and they come to a dead end. Is that normal? Reynir's never actually been in a real maze before. ]

Oh! Already?

[stopfen]

[Music wasn't really a hobby Mikasa had been into. It was a rich people thing. Having the time to learn how to play when it couldn't directly earn money. There were too many risks in learning a skill like that where she was from.

But this wasn't home.

And while Mikasa still had no intrest in learning how play. The sound got her attention, drawing her over, little pointed ears waggling. Iramaat, you have an audiance. Because she was looking, small arcs of magic flicking through her eyes. Her colourful wings lowering, legs tensing... she was getting ready, ready for something.]

CW this thread for smut probably. lol

[galdorleod]

It has been two weeks since Howl met Iramaat under the lamp post on the corner, inviting her for a quiet night of drinking following his sudden reappearance in Aefenglom. The previous month's experiences left both of them distant and shaken, and while some time to recover and a new bonding ceremony had done much to soothe their frayed nerves, things aren't right between them yet. Or at least, Howl senses as much, even as he fails to grasp whatever the "right" way things ought to be between them.

This little fete is the perfect opportunity. Taking care not to be spotted by the particular faun, he arrives when the sky begins to tint orange and purple and waits for just the right moment: when she's lounging on a pile of blankets with a lyre, her cheeks looking flushed with several rounds of mead.

A message arrives on her pocketwatch. It's from Howl.

You seem to be enjoying yourself, cariad.

Everett Vaughan | Faun | Ota!

[rollfordiplomacy]

Up for Adoption, spooky edition

[Everett had taken in quite the thrall of city rats. They were scrappy creatures, smart and sweet when he got to know them. Being able to communicate with them made them particularly easy to train! He really had too many for his cottage to comfortable maintain, but turning them out into the city again wasn't very kind.

So, alternative plan! He has several with little collars about, each with a quaintly funny name (Spoon, Pocket, Jingle- or some similarly twee thing). They're doing tricks and fetching items for people. How easily they take commands is up to the individual rat and who is asking, but they're well behaved on the whole. Everett had been sure to shampoo and brush them all out to be impressively shiny and soft to touch.]

Don't be shy! They're perfect pets. If you like any one of them, they'd like to go home with someone new. Tidy little creatures, I haven't done a chore my whole time here. [yes, they do errands around the house, Everett is a faun Cinderella.]

[braidmage]

[ Growing up on a farm, Reynir hadn't ever really thought of rats as potential pets. But when he sees Everett and his gaggle of sleek little rats doing tricks, he feels drawn to come and watch. He's quiet and hangs back at first, but gradually draws close. ]

You made them little collars?

[ From this nearby, the little faces, the small whiskers and bright eyes... they are fairly cute, aren't they? Reynir reaches out, hesitant, looking to Everett for permission before offering up his hand for one of the little things to walk on, if it wishes. ]

steak don't be mean

[battlebound]

( ... the fuck, Everett, the fuck.

Steak is quite clearly not a faun. (actually, right now he's clearly not anything at all.) but despite that, he's somehow wound up wandering in off the street, dragged in by Iramaat, and is now staring at Everett as though he's grown two heads. )

What the hell— Those things carry disease!

( the fuck, Everett. )

lawnchair prompt

[bloodwit]

[ viren is, regrettably(?), uninterested in adopting a new pet - he is interested, however, in generally keeping to himself about someone he knows (a bonded). he sits behind said bonded in ... what must be a chair cobbled together of branches and vines, with a cup of mead at his feet, and an enthralling book titled alchemy, applied: the process of transformation and creation with advanced topics within his lap, thumbing through its pages during the last drags of daylight. ]

[ he'll only distractedly look up on occasion as the faun chats someone up, or the rats put on a particularly lively display; he snorts at silly comments (the peanut gallery, over here), or huffs and rolls his eyes at a few opportune moments, such when someone asks a particularly dumb question of everett. ]

[ that's it, that's the prompt - the epitome of 'come bother me.' ]

Myr Shivana | Faun Menace At Large | OTA!

[faithlikeaseed]

i. beginnings (Octeuril 30th - closed to people whose voices Myr recognizes)
"Have you got a moment?"

It's the advent of the full moons and Myr is already looking shaggy and excited when he pops up at your elbow. Maybe it's in DiplomaTea, or maybe he overheard you out in the street somewhere, but there's look of wild determination on his face.

"I need a pair of eyes for something." And Crookytail--the mostly grown wormipede that's always at his side--just can't help with this one. ...Why is she wearing panniers stuffed full of food, anyway?

ii. forest ghost (Octeuril 31st)
Myr has made a terrible mistake.

Not the party; the party's wonderful, and it's a delight to him to hear people finding their way into the bower he'd created for them. He's never thrown a party before and the whole thing had been a mad lark from beginning to end, but it seems to be working and that's all he can ask for. He is not, he knows, being a very good host for it, because--

Because he hadn't imagined he'd end up six feet high at the shoulder in deer-shape when he tried it on in the waking world. Or that it would feel so natural he wouldn't want to shift back. Which is awfully inconvenient because now everything he'd built or borrowed or grown seems horribly fragile and he doesn't want to get too close to it and accidentally wreck what he can't see.

What a conundrum. It's enough that for the first hour of the party you might find him demurely folded up in a clearing on its outskirts, stark as a giant pile of snow among all the vines, his antlered head lifted as he listens to the goings on. Once he's more confident he's not going to blindly squash anything (or anyone) he creeps in on tip-hoof to participate. He's an eager audience to anyone playing music, lurking nearby and scarcely breathing with his ears trained on the musician 'til the song's done. "That's lovely. Is it one from your home?"

Later in the evening, as instinct takes over, things begin to get more interesting. Monsters who smell like predators--or worse, romantic rivals--might find themselves with nearly a ton of white deer in their way, scuffing at the ground with a hoof and shaking vine-festooned antlers. It might be a little alarming if it weren't for the almost puppyish eagerness in his voice: "Want to spar?"

Romantic prospects, on the other hand... Take a more delicate approach, though anything a deer that big tries to do can hardly be termed "delicate". Bless his heart, though, he does try once or twice to sidle up to someone interesting-sounding, making an appealing rumble low in his throat. "Enjoying yourself so far?"

...Though after those attempts it, well, seems a lot more practical to take his much-smaller two-legged form instead. Then he can stake out an alcove of his own, well-supplied with mead and snacks (who is the genius that distributed them everywhere?). "Come help me with this mead!" he calls to any passing footsteps, lifting a cup in good cheer. "I've gone and found too much to finish by myself." Shameless Faun.

iii. year's end (Noveuer 1st and 2nd)
One advantage of having spent the majority of his own party in deer-shape was Myr escaped the night without a hangover. Which meant, come the dawn--well, afternoon--of the next day, he woke with all his faculties and a keen appreciation for the enormous mess he'd made. Groaning to himself, he'd made a trip to his own cottage for a basket--make that several baskets--and a set of garden shears before beginning the laborious task of cleaning up.

Given it's largely his fault, it's not something he's precisely comfortable asking anyone else to help with--though he won't turn down any assistance that offers itself. There's trash to pick up, encroaching vines to trim back, furniture to return, gourds to harvest, and plenty of leftover food and mead to finish off to put the whole place back to rights. Given Myr's erratic sleep schedule, he'll be at it long into the night.

iv. wildcard!

((OOC: Choose your own adventure! Lmk what shape of a Myr you'd like.))

For L

[faithlikeaseed]

[While Myr hadn't been keeping any specific track of most of his invitations, and whether his invitees had actually made it to the party, there is one person he'd been waiting for all day.

And waiting.

And waiting.

It wouldn't have been exact to say the party was entirely for L's sake, because Myr didn't think his Bonded would appreciate being called out as a guest of honor, but...it had been a motivation. There was tension between them that they hadn't yet confronted directly; this particular indirect method seemed an ideal peace offering to Myr's moon-addled sensibilities.

But L didn't come, and as evening wears on toward night, Myr takes it in mind to go hunting for his Bonded.

He knows the detective's somewhere else in the Haven from the trail of their Bond. It isn't far to walk--even shorter for the monstrously long legs he has in deer-shape. His hoofbeats announce his arrival well before he looms out of the wispy evening fog, a huge and ghostlike hulk.

Good thing he's not trying to be stealthy, as he slows to a halt just a few long strides from his wayward Witch.]

Linden.

ii.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir startles slightly when a voice he doesn't recognize comes from behind him, asking whether the song he'd just played on the pipes is one from home. He hadn't realized that anyone was listening. Of course, when he started playing, he'd been perfectly aware someone might hear him. It's a crowded party, after all. But as he'd played, his eyes had slipped closed, and he'd lost himself in the music enough that he forgot entirely where he was.

He turns around to spot the largest deer he's ever seen, snow white and, judging by the lack of other creatures around, the one who had spoken to him. It's comically obvious as Reynir searches around for anyone else who might have asked the question, and then fixes his eyes on the deer again. ]

Oh, um! Sort of. It's from my world, but not my home in that world, if that makes sense!

[ The tune is one that he's heard Onni play on the kantele before - he'd had all these silly ideas, about teaching himself to play it, offering to accompany him one of these days... but he still wants to get a little better at playing before he tries that. At least, that's the excuse he's been telling himself. ]

I can play you one that's from my country, if you... wanted?

[ He makes the offer shyly, but willingly. ]

i.

[petcromancer]

Hector stops, because he's always willing to do what Myr asks, even when he probably shouldn't.

The deer is shaggy-looking and has a wild energy coming off of him, but he is using his worm as a pack-mule for foods, so it doesn't seem like this request is sinister. Probably no bone-monster murder or knee-capping of rivals. (Although it if was, Hector would still be here.)

"Of course. What do you need?"

ii

[stopfen]

[The fae was abuzz, her wings giving a droning hum as she flitted about. Grabbing fruits, a hedge cushioning her as she bumped into it. Maybe she'd been getting too into it. The music making her move, the energy of the full moons. Her wings were a kalodescop of colours.

...Colours that the faun couldn't see.

Regardless. She turned her head at the voice. A chirp slipping at, antenna flicking... Maybe she really had too much to eat and gotten too tipsy. Because a deer was talking to her, she blinked back at it, a brilliant white deer. The meaning behind it's words completely escaped her as she reached out. A honey and wildberry scented hand patting at the deer's nose.]

Hello?

[Maybe she shouldn't go parties, then she wouldn't get drunk on air. Things seem to get even more weird everytime.]

ii

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat hasn't quite gone full deer herself. She's mostly prancing around in her two-legged form and having a grand old time. Having her bonded back helps, for once thing, and so does the copious amounts of ale she's already imbibed. She does need quite a lot to get a buzz going, after all! She's taken slightly by surprise when Myr saunters up to her - he is very big like this, wow - and flashes a grin, reaching out to pet him between the antlers. ]

I am having a grand time. Is... that you, Myr? Hardly recognized you!

iii.

[outofthebreach]

Brennan was still spending many of his days here exploring and getting acquainted with this new city he was apparently stuck in. So stumbling across a corner that looked like the wilderness had started encroaching on it, as this area had, was a little bit of a surprise. Finding a figure moving through it and looking like they were attempting to clean the place up draws his eyes. And then redirects his feet over closer to investigate - and maybe help. It looked like quite the task for one person.

"Did I miss a party, or did a bunch of flower fairies explode around here?" is his called greeting as he approaches the unfamiliar figure. There's a hint of humor in his voice, but also open curiosity. Honestly, he doesn't even know if flower fairies are a thing, but that seems to mean little in this place.

Hector | Faun | OTA

[petcromancer]

Commentators' Stand

[It's a faun party, so at some point, things are practically guaranteed to devolve into drunken headbutts.

Hector, for one, isn't much for physical confrontations. He's twice-bonded and well-sated, so the urge to fight isn't enough to override his nature just yet.

So here he is, sitting on the sidelines with a cask of wine he dragged over. He'll offer a glass to any fellow spectators.]

Care to make a wager who'll draw blood first?

[Just because he's not participating doesn't mean he won't watch and judge the performance ruthlessly.]

Beep Beep, I'm a Sheep

[One ill-advised snack later, and Hector is suddenly not a faun so much as a full-on sheep. He's not completely feral, but right now, the MOST IMPORTANT thing to him is that someone pet him. Navigating the maze? Trying to sit and enjoy a conversation over a nice drink? Nah, there's a sheep, bumping his head into you, demanding attention.]

Wild Card

[Want a starter for something else? HMU!]

beep beep

[braidmage]

[ Reynir isn't really sure why, out of the crowd of people scattered around, he is the one that this lost sheep has made a beeline for. Maybe it recognizes him as a bit sheep-like about Reynir? Or perhaps it is entirely arbitrary.

Whatever the reason, he watches it approaching, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. The sheep comes right up beside him and unceremoniously bumps its head against his leg. Reynir tries stepping out of the way - maybe it just wanted to get past him? But, no, the sheep follows after, headbutting him again. There's no aggression in it, demanding as it might be. ]

Hello, you.

[ Reynir is only vaguely aware of full shifting, and it simply doesn't enter into his mind that this sheep might be a faun like himself. He assumes, understandably, that it is a normal, natural sheep that has gotten very lost. And it's hard to deny all the habits built up after a lifetime of looking after the sweet, if somewhat dim animals.

He reaches out, offering a hand out to it, to nibble or headbutt as it sees fit. ]

You lost, huh, little one?

onni hotakainen ❄ faun enabler (witch) ❄ ota

[scowlish]

❄ The Maze

[Onni hadn't exactly been invited to this thing, and he might not have chosen to come if he had been, but Reynir was invited and had wanted him to come along, so he had. Initially, he'd just stayed to himself and watched the goings-on with his arms crossed, but after a few cups of mead and some candies, nuts, and fruits, he's feeling...a little less inclined to lean against a wall and stare and more inclined to try more things.

He's never had the opportunity to try out something like the maze, and the concept of it is kind of silly, but he thinks it's worth a try. Maybe it's an interesting experience that he'd missed out on because they don't have the resources to do something like this in their limited space. Ten minutes into his exploration, he understands exactly why no one had ever tried to make something like this, because it is stupid. He also understands that his sense of direction is nowhere near as good when he doesn't have trees and ruined buildings to navigate by. He could just barrel through the 'walls' of the place, of course, and take a straight path back to the cabin, but he can't bring himself to ruin it for everyone else.

Turning to look around himself, he sighs, rubs at his face and spots movement just past a fluttering sheet hanging off a clothesline. Moving quickly, he turns the corner and spots someone.]

Hey! Do you know the way out of here?

❄ Kantele & Drinking

[Having escaped the maze, Onni decides to check in with Reynir and see how his night has been going so far, and after sharing a couple more cups of mead with his Bondmate, he feels pleasantly buzzy and comfortable in his skin. It's just the way it always is when he feels this way - all he wants is a big glass of water and to sit and play his kantele.

Thankfully, the kantele is hooked on his belt where it almost always is, and so he finds a chair to sit in and settles the instrument in his lap, picking out a few notes and adjusting the tuning before he starts playing a cheerful little tune. The sound of the instrument is like a harp, melodic and pleasant, familiar. It reminds him of home, and so he closes his eyes while he plays and allows himself to get lost in the music. It's pleasant, a little escape that he generally only allows himself when he's buzzed, and he only wishes his sauna was complete so he could go relax in it afterward.

After the song is over, he lifts his head and opens his eyes and notices that someone was watching him. Tilting his head in a greeting, he raises a brow.]

Do you have a request? I can give it a shot if you hum it.

❄ Wildcard

Hit me up with a random starter, or PM me/message me on Discord at coffee #6251 to plot a thing and I can write us a starter! Also I'm more than willing to respond in prose if you prefer that, just tag in however you want!

wildcard babey

[braidmage]

[ Reynir had dragged Onni to this party with him, but once they were there, had left him, saying that he was going to try to meet some other Fauns. It was something they had talked about, the two of them - that it might be helpful for Reynir to know a few more people who are also Fauns themselves, who might offer advice and guidance to him when he needs it. And, to only a slightly lesser extent, so that he can find some sense of a community - something he's been lacking since coming through the mirrors.

It had also been a chance, Reynir thought, to give Onni a break from his frantic, almost manic energy, that had been brought on by the full moon. He deserved that, and a little time to himself to drink and enjoy the music and people.

Reynir checks in, shares drinks with Onni, but he always flits away before very long. But after a few hours pass by, Reynir is drawn back to Onni's side more permanently.

He looks quite a sight, in the bright cold moonlight - his red braid has gotten disheveled and there is a crown of lush, huge, strange flowers on his head, draped carefully around those curling horns. His cheeks are flushed from drinking and his eyes are bright - fever-bright, a little mad with it.

He makes his way to Onni, tipsy and grinning. Reynir comes up from behind him, slipping his arms around Onni's waist and pulling him in close, dipping his head down and kissing him on the neck. It's a public display of affection that goes far, far beyond anything either of them have shared before, but Reynir's head is full of mead and moonlight and he is not as cautious as usual. And if there's just a hint of possessiveness in it, well - he can't exactly help that, either. ]

Dance with me?

[ There's a lively tune playing now, quick in tempo and accompanied by little drums that have Reynir's blood racing. He wants to dance until he's so dizzy he can barely stand up, and he wants Onni with him when he does. ]

Lorenz | Faun | OTA

[bergamotrose]

A

[The lavish venue was impossible for Lorenz not to notice.

His antlers bedecked with multiple colors of chrysanthemums, the stately and elegant Faun who worked in DiplomaTea quickly made his way into the Maze seeking adventure... in whatever form it came in.

Sure, he could probably find his way out, but what kind of fun would that be? The moons were full, and he needed a diversion]

Have you done these before?

[He asked whomever was nearby, his smile a bit too bright, his eyes a bit too sharp. UnBonded as he was, there was likely to be trouble if he didn't find a way to mitigate himself soon.]

Wildcard

[Don't like a prompt? Make one up!. HMU at woodrift]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat recognizes that face from a little while back. Also those flowers are to die for, so as soon as she sees him she throws her hands up with a pleased little 'ah'. ]

Oh, yes, a few - but Lorenz, wasn't it? Your antlers are simply darling. I love them!

[ She is going to be absolutely happy to chatter away with Lorenz. ]