Celandine had barely begun to follow the red-haired girl (whom had flatly refused to answer her questions in the proper style, had broken all protocol and presumed to invite Celandine with her to the punch bowl, of all places) when there were three sounds.

The first was chatter, loudly of young people, laughing like her and Felicity were not - possibly mocking each other. It was terribly familiar at least.

The second was a woosh. A whizz of something flying through the air like a bolt from a crossbow but far less dangerous and more soft. Something akin to bladder-ball which the ladies of the Gilded Lily liked to play in their spare time.

And the third noise was a 'wumph'. This last sound was accompanied by a hard thump to the side of Celandine's head as something cold and wet crashed against her horn and her skull and then - Drys forbid - began to slide down her dress.

"Eek!" She squeaked, throwing up her hands. Her peacock mask went wild, cascading somewhere to the snow and foliage around her. Quickly she turned, trying to remember if she had had any sort of vision about being attacked tonight. But no - all her dreams had been about just meeting boring people and having to conduct business on her mother's behalf. None of them had suggested anything about being attacked.

Turning, she spied a pair of older teenagers, running and chuckling. They were throwing balls at each other - but not bladder-balls or moss-balls, but rather ones made of the snow itself.

Whumph. Something white and round landed near her again, and this time she clipped her hooves, bounding quickly out of the way.

"We're being attacked with snow!" Celandine freaked a little, going to tug on Felicity's sleeve. "Help!"