It turned out that she was fooled. Those she had teleported to be in front were not the main group of pirates and in fact the invasion was taking place over there.

Philomel curled her lip with an edge of distaste. She was so used to being noticed, and though yes she liked privacy sometimes (this holiday was a prime example of such a thing) she was not used to being ignored. For heaven's sake, she had ample bosom that many seemed intent on staring at, she had riches in personality and could hold a man's lustful attention with just her words for hours before he was allowed to touch her. Now, it seemed, all that had been lost, reduced to a few glances as the pirates rushed to join their main party.

"Well that is certainly not polite," she said, as she became a mere distraction and annoyance in this coup. Letting out a sigh she stepped to the side, watching the main wooden platforms become swarmed and swamped with striped shirts, cutlasses and snarls. A large clash of guards and buccaneers seemed to be taking place upon the beach front, ruining her view from her own small cabin. A wider perspective told of the assault on the building itself - a proper assail with guns and cannons, which the faun hated so much.

Stepping back, figuring she was going to be ignored, Philomel let a pirate with dreadlocks and a fetching eye-patch pass before her as he came up to the wrong area like her. He paused, eyeing her drawn sword and the fox at her feet. Throwing up her hands she gestured over to where the battle was taking place.

"Over there, my friend," she said, just sighing now. She had been angry. Now she was dismayed.

The pirate gave her a quizzical look. "Thar other nobles be up in th'buildin' ... behin' skirts of their guards ..."

"Well some of them were on the verandah, might still be on the balcony," she said with a shrug. "I was on holiday. Tried to tell people that they were rude to disturb it but I missed my mark by some metres."

There was a whoosh as sand was thrown up suddenly. Some wizard or other was making his entrance, and the faun curled her lip, thankful suddenly that she was that far away. That she had made her stupid mistake. Veridian was dancing by her feet. Perhaps, Philomel thought, she should try to find the 'other' lords and ladies, and offer to get them away from here instead of complaining about the ruin of her holiday.

"Ah - ahrigh'," Mr Dreadlocks said. "Ah I go figh' noo."

"You go do that," she nodded, and looked down at her foxy companion. "Well that was interesting," she remarked.

The pirate rushed off. She found herself actually smiling.

"I think we should ... go elsewhere," she concluded.

And she bent down to pick up Veridian. He complained. Philomel ignored him. Sucking in her breath she focused on the world around them and the inherent nature within the place, and summoned Drys' will. As with before the world opened up beneath them, a portal coming into existence at her hooves. It pulled them both down and away, and this time took her to where she wanted to be.

Before Torvald and his party. Within the house.

"Greetings," she said, quite politely and with a small curtsy.