Isobel closed the front door, turned around and unconsciously let the grocery bag she was carrying slip from her suddenly numb fingers as she gaped at the intruder in her home.

"Who-" she stopped, blinked, opened her mouth once again and then closed it. There was... a random guy in her hallway. In a mask and a hood and generally just being really really random - what was she supposed to do in a situation like this? Mum wouldn't be home for at least another three hours; if this creep absconded with her, no-one would be the wiser for a while. "I can scream," she cautiously edged out, back pressing against the door as her hand fumbled for the doorknob.

The creep stepped forward, holding out his hand with - a cream-coloured envelope? But couriers didn't usually let themselves into a house on their own, did they? Nervously her eyes darted from the object up to his masked face, only to catch his mouth closing; ah, he'd been talking. She'd been preoccupied, staring at the envelope as gears turned in her head. "Could you, um, repeat that?" She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed it wasn't anything horrid like 'I'll cut off your limbs and feed them to zoo animals'.

"For you," the young man repeated, and she cracked open her eyes to stare at him yet again. He made a motion with the envelope, obviously offering it to her, and she almost reached out to it before hesitating. Heck, who wouldn't hesitate in a situation like this?! There was an intruder in her home, offering her mail or- or-

She really had no clue. What was even going on here? "What is this? Who are you? What are you doing here-" Her fingers curled into her hand as she drew it back to cradle at her chest, throwing the intruder a defiant, if not nervously edged glare. "Explain yourself!" There - that sounded more like what the heroine in some novel would say; even if it hadn't been entirely convincing, she'd still managed to make it more confident than most things that came out of her mouth.

It had no effect on the young man in her hallway, though. He simply stood still, face unreadable beneath the mask and the envelope still held out towards her.

Gathering her courage, she tried to out-glare him, hoping to show him that she was Not To Be Messed With, but the effect was rather lost when she quickly lost her nerve. Fidgeting, she contemplated the fact that this was really something of a stalemate and although he'd shown no inclination to gut her or anything like that, he hadn't really been particularly forthcoming either. He just kinda... stood there, really. Waiting patiently for her to take that darn envelope; and as three, four, five minutes passed she considered that maybe just taking it wouldn't be so bad? It was simply an envelope, after all. She could just... not open it, right?

One more anxious glance to the young man and then she was tentatively reaching out - touching -

The intruder disappeared. Isobel gave a strangled squeak, automatically fumbling to catch the envelope before it hit the floor - she managed it, clutching it to her chest and considering that maybe she was really losing her marbles. He was right- he'd been right there and now, she confirmed with a suspicious glance around, there didn't seem to be anyone but her here. That was, that was just slightly concerning. A tad wee bit.

She was still trying to wrap her head around it as the scent of burnt orange made itself known, almost pleasant yet also not, left a charred taste in her mouth.

Glancing down, she stared hard at the envelope in her hands. She'd thought not to open it but honestly, she was curious - what if there was something in there to explain the intruder and his vanishing acts? Already she was stacking the evidence that this wasn't a normal situation, a normal letter - the courier, the scent, the all-around weirdness.

It seemed like - well, like magic. Butterflies were taking flight in her stomach and a slight flush was rising to her cheeks. Magic. Real magic. It had to be, surely?

Tentatively she opened the cream envelope, taking out the letter which read-

'The Court of the Sorrowful One
requests your attendance on the eve of the red moon
at a dance to honor the tithe of the otherworld.

Come alone or in a pair.
Please arrive at moonrise and appropriately dressed.
The unmasking will occur at moonset.'

-an invitation. The Court of the Sorrowful One? She'd never heard of that, but it sounded magical. It sounded like adventure, like something that'd happen to a heroine of a young adult fantasy novel. The kind of which Tibbie had often envied.

Maybe this would be her chance! Tipping the envelope on its head, a light-coloured key fell into her hand. Reverently she closed her fingers around it as a giddy smile bloomed on her face; adventure wouldn't come if she didn't give it a chance to. She'd give it a chance - what could be the harm? Worst case scenario it was someone playing a mean prank on her; she could live with that.

Now all she needed was an outfit.