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Adamaz was once again almost caught in his embarrassment over his poor reading skills before Panili explained it to him. She always knew just what to say! What a good friend. "Okay. Someone I li-"

Suddenly, a yellowblood leapt next to him. "You should definitely make one and give it to someone," she said pointedly. Her comment was accompanied by an extremely subtle wink. Adamaz was surprised. "Uh, er - yeah of course." He smiled, gave Panili a thumbs up, and headed away to gather materials.

As soon as he'd turned around, sweat ran down his forehead. His mind was racing. The yellowblood had clearly indicated through her guile and inconspicuous signal that she wanted him to make a crown for her. An under-the-radar flirtation. Adamaz was as confused as he was flabbergasted. He didn't even know her! Did she have a crush on him? Probably, Papa Roach hissed confidingly from his perch, guessing his wards thoughts. You should go through with it, old sport. It'll be fun!

Adamaz hopped to his sudden and unexpected romantic mission. He was awfully young to be concerned with such things. But he had only one concern right now: how was he supposed to put the wreathe together without glue? He sent Papa Roach to find some.

Azrael had passed the booth earlier that evening but had decided not to investigate. He had a lusus wing to take care of - Which was healing quite nicely if he had to say so himself- and some other events he wanted to see first. But now he was going to take the time to look at the quaint little booth. There were a lot of familiar faces and some unfamiliar faces at the booth.

His sights zoned in on Elidae, confirmation of the Eostre's claims that she was alive. This sent the young blueblood into a world of relief and excitement. He put on his usual detached but gentle smile and walked over to the two trolls. He gave a wave to the two in greeting, "Hey Elidae," Maybe this time he'd actually get a chance to talk with her, he would love to catch up with the yellowblood, especially after what happened at the gala. He looked over at the orangeblood she was talking too and nodded an acknowledgement. "Quite a night isn't it? Have you enjoyed any of the festivities?" he left the direction of this question vague so that the orangeblood could answer if he wished though Azrael really just wanted to talk with Elidae.

Was it weird to say Alifax had missed the weight of Frossa on his back? This way at least he knew where she was. "I wouldn't mind roast snoutbeast myself," he said, shaking his head. He could definitely imagine it: skin so thick it cracked, tender, savory meat sliding down his throat. He was pretty fond of snoutbeast. Though generally the adults were too large for his appetite.

He would mind more mooncake, although he knew it was the most entertaining part of the festival, for Frossa. Alifax was pretty sure he was allergic to mooncake. They made him want to hurl - and not just the, uh, subpar ones Frossa had baked, either. But fortunately a tug on his horns made him look elsewhere, and the targets of Frossa's affections were...at least harmless. Alifax thought. Oh, what could some vegetation hurt? Although he didn't really expect her to want to eat something so - oh, wait. The flowers weren't for eating? There were snacks on those blankets, he realized.

He felt a little out of place among what amounted to wigglers - some of which he even recognized, although he wouldn't say either of them had made especially significant contributions at that party. Oh, vast glub - he still had to tell Frossa about that. Maybe not right now, he thought. He gave a nod to Elidae, although she wasn't even looking at him. Her he definitely remembered.

"Hello," he said, stiff again in the presence of mostly near-strangers, young as they were. There were a lot of them! He knelt carefully so Frossa could dismount. He didn't know much about wreath-making...honestly, wouldn't the best gift be something edible? Neither he nor Frossa saw much value in purely aesthetic gifts. Perhaps a wreath of sugared petals, lightly caramelized? It always came back to burning things, with Alifax.

Adamaz dimly understood that someone had addressed him while he was working - a voice from the gala he barely recollected. No time for manners. "I'm fine, how're you," he said colorlessly, vaguely towards the blueblood. He didn't know if that was even a proper response. Nonetheless, Adamaz couldn't let idle conversation disrupt his focus.

Papa Roach hadn't returned with the glue. Adamaz had noticed that other flower-wreath-ers had just simply WRAPPED their flowers together. He had tried his best, but the esoteric and elusive science of flower-crown making was utterly alien to him. Adamaz wasn't sure he'd figure it out before his surprise special someone had bored of him and left. He was on the clock. Where was that roach? There! His savior! A little ball of mud scuttled between the legs of passerby and around the tables, and stopped at Adamaz' feet. His lusus, now quite dirty, dropped the ball of mud on the ground. Where's the glue? Adamaz hissed at his lusus. Deepest apologies, sport, but I couldn't find a drop of the stuff. Papa Roach hissed apologetically. But I did find this lovely bunch of mud. I thought it would be a nice present for the lady, yes. Hmph. Exquisite filth. Papa Roach chortled, trailing off at the end. Adamaz rolled his eyes and dragged his hand down his face. Why. Why this.

Frantically improvising, he set to work. He coated the entire wire frame in mud to use as glue, and then stuck the flowers to it. It took only moments to complete the crown. He held it up to get a good look at it. It was certainly... earthy. Adamaz looked around the booth. He couldn't reach out to Panili - he'd be too embarrassed. And the yellowblood could not see his failure. Pleading silently, he gazed at each and every one of the other guests at the booth. Anyone? Anyone. Life needing saving, over here.

Treide blinked at the surge of trolls. There were a lot of them. Drat. If she had thought better she might have brought some of her musical gear and done a performance for the group. But other than her dart flute, there were no musical instruments on her person. Even the dart flute wasn't very, er, musical.

It seemed that the others clamored for Panili's attention and Treide bit into her lower lip, ignoring the swell of loneliness. Whatever. Standing, the redblood carefully brushed her skirt and clothing of debris and picked up the flowers she thought would work best. White and Orange snapdragons for the base, then laced in Red Orange Cymbidium, and finally studding it like jewels, bright Orange Marigolds. Treide sat beside Panili, or well as close as she could so she could see the start of the other girl's crown. It was slow going, but eventually the crown was complete. it looked... Nice.

She would wait patiently until things died down, content to just looking at her wreath.

"Maybe we should get a real meal after we're done here," Frossa perked at the thought of something with meat; something of substance- and unlike Alifax, she could eat a whole roasted snoutbeast by her lonesome, apple and all. Her mouth was already watering at the notion. But for now- snacks! There was no chance on Alternia she'd spoil her supper, after all.

Frossa had been busied admiring one of the incomplete wreaths woven by the orangeblooded girl while Alifax attempted to be social. The girl had since fled- leaving all of the snack bowls at her activity thoroughly unguarded. The purpleblood cackled quietly to herself, edging away from Alifax's side and towards the nearest bowl of dusty cheese puffs. One step, two steps...

"Excuse me!"

A pleasant voice rose up, and Frossa's head snapped around to check if she was being called out preemptively on her gluttony. The curls of her hair coiled and sprung with the movement. She was met instead with the brimming praise and showered compliments from a little greenblood she had never seen before. A tingle crept up her cheeks, faint purple blush crawling across them to meet at her upturnt nose. Frossa knew she was a spectacularly gorgeous; I mean, just look at her. Perfectly adorable. She didn't spend all those beetles going to fancy salons for nothing. But hearing it so candidly from a stranger, and how she inspired him... well, it left even little Frossa flattered and abashed. She toed at the grass with her boot and coyly smiled, not at all minding the boy's rambling compliments.

"Amonee~!" Frossa echoed his name, committing it to memory, giving him a few luxurious bats of her eyelashes. He had an air of culture she could appreciate. "Why thank you, darling. How kind. Lovely to make your acquaintance." Twisting one of her pigtails between her fingers, the purpleblood tilted her head and giggled. "My name is Frossa Fyrste," here she did a small curtsey, flaring out the ends of her tank top in lieu of a skirt. Oh! How rude of her. "And this is my friend, Alifax Bunsem." Frossa shot a glance up at the redblood, flourishing towards him.

"I can't say I've ever been captured on canvas, but if you're seeking out a muse, who am I to get in the way of true art?" Another haughty giggle obstruted by the back of her hand. "Ooh, but I don't know," clutching her cheek, she feigned a look of modest uncertainty. "Are you sure I have the appropriate je ne sais quoi?" Was Frossa fishing for more compliments? Oh yes.

… okay, this place was getting chaotic fast. Sephos wasn't sure whether to be uncomfortable with it, or relaxed at the fact that he no longer was at risk from getting annoying attention from annoying strangers. He decided, in the end, to just be cranky and to let the pleasant orangeblood get back to her whatever it was.

In the meantime, he got to making a wreath of pretty leaves. He poked his tongue against one of his teeth as he worked – it was actually like threading a trellis, but with dead plants. Not too hard. Finally, he stuck some flowers on it and stared.

Hey. Look. He made a wreathe. Cool. Now what?

Actually, he knew what to do. ”Hey. Maku.” he said, turning to his lusus.

Maku looked patiently – and adoringly - down at his charge. Yes? What did his sprout want?

”Bend down, okay?” Sephos said, blushing just a little.

Maku inclined his upper body down, trustingly.

”Here.” Sephos slipped the wreath haphazardly onto Maku's head. It lay, rakishly, along his branchy 'horns' and down his face, an amusing bit of color on the white bark and leaves. Maku rumbled in surprised pleasure.

”It's... it's nothing.” Sephos mumbled, looking away. His eyes fell on another set of wreaths. ”I'll just...” He had an idea. He didn't care what his lusus thought of the idea, or what the other trolls thought, or anything, but he wanted to make another wreathe, and so... he was going to. He started on something simple, something nice...

Wait a minute. ”Hey...” he said to a redblood with a flute, pointing to the bright orange marigolds, ”Where'd you find those?”

"I wouldn't mind that," Alifax mumbled to Frossa, before facing the crowd head on. No one had actually responded to his greeting, except - oh! He nodded to Elidae - beset as she was, he didn't think she wanted more company. He could respect that. Besides, he was much more interested in keeping Frossa out of trouble. (With any luck, it was fine to eat, uh, all of the snacks that'd been laid out - but in all honesty, he couldn't really figure out who was in charge here. There were a lot of people...running around? Okay. There certainly weren't adults marketing their wares, which might just mean everything was up for grabs.)

After some consideration, he shrugged his jacket off, so that Frossa might have somewhere to sit. If it'd been up to Alifax, he wouldn't have minded just using the ground. But, well, he knew Frossa well enough by now. Something about fear of dirt, or something. He didn't really know how an attitude like that would work out in a situation like the ones they kept getting drafted to, out in the ******** desert. But for now, it pleased her to have her a** cushioned by fabric, so...whatever. On the ground his jacket went, and he walked a couple steps over to examine the flora before them. What here would taste good? Was there sugar around? Oh, he'd made some poultices from the roots of that plant before. That'd be practical.

He wasn't really listening for anyone to approach Frossa, and especially not about her, uh, face and hair being magnificent, or whatever. Alifax had never thought of them that way. They were just parts of Frossa. That existed. Generally in movement, because Frossa was not a troll who enjoyed sitting idly. Frossa seemed to meet the idea with enthusiasm, though - or maybe it was just the compliments she was responding to. Actually...could this be a scam? He peered at the greenblood, eyebrows furrowed. This guy was ******** tiny! Well, maybe that explained the aspiring part, but... "Where would - " he began, and then coughed to clear his throat. His voice had come out throaty and awkward, from trying to keep it to a level appropriate for private conversation. "Where would this happen?" he asked, with an eye toward Frossa. "And...when?"

He wasn't Frossa's secretary, and close as they were, he still didn't really feel comfortable dictating her appointments. But there was no way to tell whether this was just some opportunistic beetle-digging, or how much of Frossa's time it'd take up. She had responsibilities with the NFL, too! Of course, if this was supposed to occur at the jubilee...did the guy have supplies?

Alifax didn't know what painting supplies were supposed to look like.