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It was not a particularly sunny or even bright day, but it was a day, and that meant it was the perfect time to be outside and playing. The skies above were that light gray shade of overcast that hinted somewhere in the world it was raining, just not anywhere around here. The clouds would darken just enough to suggest the idea of rain and no more, like a vast, unfulfilled promise to the grass and the trees and all the growing things that depended on the rain to give them life. The air was muggy and thick with the morning sun's residual heat, the breeze faintly cooling, and the humidity of the situation made it faintly uncomfortable. In short, it was the most typical kind of overcast day in summer.

Most people under these conditions chose to be inside, but there was no real reason not to go out of doors with the rain being a lie at best. Out in the soccer field of the Liberty Center, two men were kicking about a ball, more showing off than actual playing. One sent the ball up into the air and caught it on his knee, bouncing it there twice before kicking it across to the other, who head-butted it back. Fancy tricks and maneuvers to waste a bit of time. A perfect way to waste one of the tediously lazy days of summer.

The man with the ball kicked it up high into the air, ridiculously high, and turned towards Riley. He had long ears, as long as hers, but not feathered. His hair was a rich golden shade.

Without even looking up, the man held out his hand and caught the ball perfectly. He grinned. At this display of riduculous skill, his fairer-haired companion doubled over with merry laughter. "Feyu!" said the companion, "that's not fair!"

"Are we in your way?" asked the first elf, Feyu, spinning the soccer ball on the tip of his finger one-handed.

"Oh, Feyu, stoppit!" exclaimed the second elf, jogging over. He was even smaller up close than he looked from afar, and the incongruously heavy coat he was wearing made him appear all the more tiny. He had a very light voice. To Riley he said, "He is not playing fair."

"Oy, Orlu," groaned Feyu, halting the ball suddenly. It sat there, still balancing on his fingertip, frozen. The golden-haired elf sighed heavily and rolled the soccer ball down into his hand, resting it against his hip. To justify his cheating he said, "I can do it perfectly fine without any spells. I just didn't feel like it."

"The trick is to get good rotation," supplied Feyu. He rolled his eyes. "And I wouldn't cheat in a game"

Orlu started laughing. Feyu glared at him. The laughter quickly reduced to a small chuckle and a knowing smile. "Feodor has cheated for as long as I have known him, and I have known him his entire life."

At that verbal wounding, Feodor mimed being stabbed in the chest, took two steps back, tossed the ball so it rolled towards Mikael, and mockingly collapsed to the ground. "I'm dead," he announced. He lifted his head up a few inches. "Orriole, you killed me."

Feodor bounced to his feet smoothly, extending his hand to Runeh. "Feodor Arschev." As usual, he mentally crossed his fingers that neither of the twins had any working knowledge of German. The only reason he kept the name was because it so greatly annoyed his father. "And this is Orriole."

"Al-spa hal'bho," said Orriole, vaguely distracted. It was clearly some sort of elven greeting. He smiled at the twins but watched Riley in quiet appraisal, his orange eyes locked in secret deliberation.

Feodor put his hands on his hips. "I think the proper thing to do is let the lady pick." He winked at Riley. "So what'll it be? Those two scalawags or us two gentlemen?" He jabbed his thumb at Orriole, who seemed to have shifted his attention to the clouds above and drifted off in thought.

Feodor slapped his fist into his palm. "Excellent," he rumbled. "How about a simple goal-score challenge of maneuverability? First team to ten goals wins? Or should we make it a little easier on you guys and make it fifteen? Just to give you a chance to score some yourselves."

"Ah?" said Orriole quite suddenly, looking away from the sky. He really had stopped paying attention. He looked at Feodor and the twins in total bewilderment.

"That's the spirit!" said Feodor, "Though, if I might, before we begin..." He wiggled out his fingers and held them in front of his chest. He cleared his throat and mumbled a few words under his breath. There was a sparkly golden light, Feodor seemed to turn gold and green, and a moment later Feodor's clothes were replaced by a soccer uniform -- Russian National Team away colors. Orriole started cracking up with laughter. Little golden sparkles continued to split through the air for a brief moment after the spell's completion.