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This...This wasn't how it was meant to be! Rain was supposed to be the bringer of life, something to cherish deeply! It...It was a gift from the heavens above! But there she was, a soaking mess at the front steps of a nearby mansion. Honestly, she wasn't even aware that such places existed! But this was fact, Rin was being offered shelter from what should have been bliss, a warm towel to snuggle in, a fire to sit by...And no extra clothes in order to change into.

Except a maid's outfit who happened to be the right size. [Extra-flat]

And so here she was, huddled in the corner with a occasional wimper. She stood like a statue, hoping the other guests would pay her no mind. But Rin would push on! T-There...There was no need to get emot-...

Oh goddess why me?

It dawned on Blossom, as she noticed people settling and chatting amongst themselves before heading to the dining hall, that it would be a good idea to get dry clothes. Where she could get them in this place was beyond her, not knowing the first thing about how to navigate such an impossibly large home. She rose to her feet, wringing her hair out over the tile before repeating the process as best she could on the clothes she was wearing. Like Ephraim and Oujay, she couldn't exactly take them off to wring them out. Oh well.

Blue-grey eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face, only to find not just a familiar face, but a familiar at-least-six-feet-long tail.

"Aruna!" Blossom chirped, eyes brightening. She hurried towards her, taking care on the tile with her damp socks, and stopped a few feet away. The naga was friendly, especially now that she had no debts to the cafe for uniforms she'd ruined and she was taking especially good care of the one she had now, but she seemed dry enough that Blossom hated to hug her or otherwise do anything to make her colder, unless Aruna instigated it. She probably wouldn't, but that was all right. "I... it's not exactly good to see you stuck here, but it's nice to see a friend! You're all right, aren't you?" Blossom asked, arms folded behind her back. "Are you here alone? Where is--"

"Wow! I haven't been this wet since the time I was kidnapped by pirates!"

Blossom turned to face the doorway. Of course it was Jaren. It was always Jaren! No one else would shout like that, or stand like a doof like that in an open doorway.

During a downpour.

"J-Jaren! Close the door!" She shouted. Blossom turned to Aruna again, holding up a hand sheepishly, as if to signal "Hold on," before hurrying to the front, slipping on puddles before finally reaching the wall. The Hero fumbled for the doorknob before tugging the door shut with a resounding thud, sighing once. "H-Hi, Jaren."

Dietrich grumbled, stumbling a little on his way down the stairs. Notably, only his head, and what his soaked hair had dripped onto, was wet, as if he'd just had his head out the window for an extended period of time. A towel, stained with something nobody was likely to be interested in identifying, dragged on the floor behind him.

"Hurph... whoa when'd the party start?" rumbled the patrolling guard who, after being offered hospitality, had promptly found and gone to town on the liquor cabinet. He rubbed his face a bit, then tossed the towel aside and flopped heavily into an overstuffed armchair, revealing the bottle of brandy he'd brought with him as he did so-- by taking a too-long swig. Falling out of his home and into Learania certainly hadn't helped his habit-- except perhaps in the sense of expediting the rate at which it had worsened. The Fighter let an unsettling belch echo as he lowered the crystal bottle to the floor, then yawned and stretched both arms and legs, knocking over a vase and a side table in the process.

Bozo had enjoyed the day!

Bozo had rolled around in the grass, Bozo had flown around with seagulls, Bozo had eaten delicious fruits, Bozo had slept under a tree.

It had been a good day.

But suddenly Bozo felt a rain drop. Then another rain drop. Then another. And another. Then many at the same time. Bozo managed counting up to nineteen raindrops before the drops turned too many to count! But that could've been because it took such a long time for Bozo to say nineteen-one!

At first the rain was pleasant. Just enough to cool Bozo down after Bozo's hectic day. But then the rain hit harder, Bozo was too moist in Bozo's fur to like it anymore, but not only that, but loud noises came from the sky! And everything was dark! Bozo didn't like darkness, especially not when the darkness got really bright every now and then with loud bangs too!

Bozo was really scared. Bozo's tree caught on fire when the lightning hit it. Bozo had to find cover somewhere else, but no matter where Bozo looked, Bozo could not find anything! How Bozo missed Master, who would safely tuck Bozo away inside his shirt whenever scary things happened.

Finally, Bozo had found a house! But...Bozo did not like this house! The house felt evil! Like a lot of bad things would happen here, and Bozo liked bad things even less than the loud bangs in the sky! Bozo looked in through the open door when some moss on two legs walked in and was making a ruckus. Bozo hesitated about going in. In fact, Bozo decided not to go in. The house looked far too scary to spend time in.

But Bozo changed Bozo's mind when another bang sent her fleeing in through the door. Bozo's mind was a frail thing, that was sure. More frail than Bozo's body!

Now, Bozo was hiding on a table (as the snake lady looked like snake lady was up for some ping-pong and Bozo-buffet, and there seemed like there was no ping-pong table available), covering Bozo's eyes with Bozo's long ears, crying in a sound that could only be described like this.

Legault was finding it difficult to remain unsupervised in the company of such fine trinkets. Indeed, the dining room and the adjoining sections of the manor had such lovely valuables for the taking... still, everyone would probably search him first were something to go missing since he had that whole 'thief' thing going on.

Abandoning that train of thought for the moment, Legault settled into one of the chairs and sniffed the air for the aroma of the much anticipated meal, hoping he wasn't jumping the gun by being the first to seat himself down. He looked over at the knight of Caelin that had actually led him to the dining room (which was probably a fluke of some sort) and then at the various dinnerware. "So, Wallace. How're things?" he asked, not really caring but figuring that he'd break the silence.

The meal indeed was brought out to those who went to have it before the horrifying woman could ruin it. It was a very delightful pheasant stew, to warm the bones and fight the cold of the storm. The guests were served very politely. Above the head seat of the table, which no person was permitted to sit in, was a large portrait of a family. In it was a woman, two young boys, and a man with black hair and a scar. There was nothing truly spectacular about it, save that it was likely the noble family that owned the house. The lack of children running about would possibly suggest to some that the family wasn't even there.

The meal continued and eventually was followed by dessert, which, regrettably, had not been so fortunate in escaping the sabotage of the dragon lady. The cook wearily presented the guests with a scrumptious serving of... meatball pie.

As desert was coming to an end, the butler reappeared to the group, bowing as was customary, and made an announcement. "Your rooms have been prepared. There are enough for three people to sleep in each." he said, clearly not treating little Bozo as one who would need the accommodations of a human. "Each room has their own facilities for if you desire to wash before resigning for the evening. The guests not present have already been informed. As it is late, I would suggest retiring soon, in order to receive an adequate amount of rest. The morning will come faster than you think. If you'll excuse me." He bowed his head and then departed the room.

*The first night has come. Once I have received word from all those who have special roles, I will be starting the first round. Until then, you are free to continue posting at your leisure.*

It was safe to say that after the bottle was wrested away from the grumbling, protesting fighter, a bowl of stew certainly left him looking much better. It also came as a bit of a shock when he properly conducted himself at the table, including proper use of silverware and perfect posture, without a hint of slurping. It was always so easy to forget that in spite of his boorish behavior, noble blood of the houses of Odo and Neir ran through his veins, and he had been properly educated (and sternly punished for delinquency about his manners) as a young noble. Alcoholism and falling in with a bad crowd, along with his father's naturally brash disposition and his mother's sharp tongue, had clearly robbed him of much of that teaching, but you could never put him at a dinner table without his back straightening out as memories of nightly paddlings from the governess floated through his brandy-addled mind.

He gently dabbed at his lips after putting away at least three bowls of stew, and then without hesitation, he cut himself a large slice of pie. "... This smells like Wednesdays at the barracks," he said, glancing suspiciously at the chef before taking a large bite, and then another.

Honestly, he was really surprised, when he was the last one left at the table, by the amount of pie remaining.