Morrighna was gone, but Fenn’s discomfort and fear still clung close to his side. The night spun out around him. Shrieking hosts of chatter and gossip nipped at his ears in the foreign language he was becoming accustomed to hearing.

Nil si cliste. Ba mhaith liom nios mo a ol! B'fheidir go bhfeadfadh si cairdeas a n-uachtair uachtair a thaispeaint do?

Fenn, was lost.

The boy ambled breathlessly through the crowd, taking care to avoid getting caught underfoot of the larger guests. Most ignored the small child-creature ducking through the crowds. They were all too caught up in their drunken revelry and their conversations, too busy whirling from distracted to distraction to take note of him. Fenn was glad for this; the next person to bother him was going to get socked over the noggin with a sharp clod of ice. Where was Banrion? Peering through the thick of the fae, a nervous twinge shivered his spine. There were so many people here. Fenn wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself as an impossibly tall deer-man glided around him. Was she going to be angry with him for losing her?

As little as he knew her, Fenn had felt much safer with the Chancellor there to defend him. Any moment now, he expected a malevolent eye to catch sight of him and whisk him away for… well, he didn’t know what. He just knew that he couldn’t trust anyone except maybe her.

There was a little elevated stage that Fenn passed by, fashioned out of several wide, polished tree trunks. This was the source of the music; flutes, strings, and sweet voices. Some of the singers were glassy-eyed Salvarian mortals. Fenn could tell, because they were devoid of any freakish features; no odd ears, no leaves growing out of their skin, no animal features, nothing. No masks. They had beautiful voices, even if their vapid smiles sent shivers through one’s very soul. Fenn took off in the opposite direction, but not before he took a moment to wonder why there were humans here, and why they didn't seem quite right; add that to the list of things he had to figure out.

Forget his hunger. After all this, he needed a frigging drink.

Thankfully, that was easy to find -- as disoriented as he was, Fenn nearly bumped straight into the crystalline goodie table. The banquet was heaped high with otherworldly delights, otherworldly being the main descriptor. Fenn gripped tightly onto a silver tablecloth and peered into the selection with dismay, not recognizing half of the food displayed. Sliced seadir fruit -- no thank you -- was skewered delicately with chunks of raw greyish meat. A tray of foul-smelling mushrooms tied lovingly with bows of bark rested before his sight. White beetles writhed within a slick ice bowl, crawling halfway up the sides only to lose their grip and slip into the main mass below. Their wings had been neatly trimmed off and collected in a smaller bowl nearby. Ick.

Fenn resentfully glowered at the selection. His stomach gurgled. A lot went wrong today, but awful food was one of the most tragic things he could think of. Mostly because, well, he was still starving. No honey? No cake? Nothing here was even cooked. What was wrong with this place?

A pale, amphibious arm darted past Fenn to snatch a beetle from the bowl. “You’re that -- hic -- Changeling? From the courtroom?” a feminine voice said in thick tradespeak.

The boy startled and scooted away from this new stranger, a froggish gangle of a creature who leaned a bit too heavily on the table.

It seened this stranger had a bit too much liquor in them, for they didn't seem to notice Fenn’s hard glare, nor how his hands shook. They just gave him a gummy grin and waved. “Looking for something special to celebrate with?”

Fenn glanced uneasily at the unappealing food.

“Well, if you’re new -- hic -- to our food, I would recommend that am- the ambrasi nectar over there. Good drink, very strong. If you can handle the sedative effect, you’ll, uh, you’ll enjoy it immensely! It loosens a body up,” the creature slurred gesturing to a murky drink in little bark cups. It squinted at him through bulbous eyelids. “Not sure it's good for children though…”

Children, schmildren! Defiantly, Fenn grabbed for an open cup. Strong drinks were no stranger to him! He was certain that, if he could go eight pints of beer without getting too crazy, he’d be fine to down a single fae drink. Maybe it’d even be better than the food -- or at least help him forget his hunger. Rolling his eyes, the boy ducked underneath the table so he could nurse his nectar without any more prying eyes saying dumb things to him.

The party was much more subdued from under the dark of the table cloth, damped to flashes of light and a murk of incomprehensible noise. That was much better, Fenn thought. He curled up and took a gulp of his furtively-stolen drin- wait, what was this?

Uh-oh.

That spicy-gross, magic-touched flavor -- it was all too familiar. Fenn poured out a bit of the liquid into his palm so he could see its hue more clearly. Yep. It was a bright, shimmering blue. This was the same kind of drink Aengus had given him. His fingertips were already tingling.

Fuck this, fuck that, fuck all the things! Before Fenn knew it, the cup had sailed out of his numbing hands and through the veil of the tablecloth. A thud was heard, and someone exclaimed rather indignantly. The boy realized that he had done quite a bit of angry object-flinging today. But frankly, he didn't care. This was the last time he was going to trust a stranger’s drink.

There wasn't much left on Fenn’s mind as he passed out on the ballroom floor. He was just tired.