Abreigelle's jaw dropped, in awe of the sheer number of treats that were now laid out before them. There were cakes and croissants, chocolate crème pies, raspberry tarts, caramel truffles, and so many other sugary confections that she couldn't even give a name to. And...and fudge. Abreigelle's heart leaped. "Am I allowed to..."

Beshna shrugged, "Go ahead. I don't see a problem with it."

Yes. Yes. She reached out and plucked a square of the dark chocolate fudge from off of a lace-paper lined platter. Abreigelle had tasted fudge only a handful of times in her life-times when Beshna had been generous enough to let her finish off her leftovers. Each of those times, Abreigelle had become more certain that fudge was the most delicious food on this planet-a medium between mundane and divine. Tasting it again was pure happiness, a concentration of such joyous memories from her childhood.

"Look at you, Miss." uttered a familiar voice. Standing before Beshna was none other than Tryn. Was the jester's next role to go around and torment all the other guests? It had to be...why else would he be standing here?

The jester tilted his head to the side, his hat jingling, and inspected the Lady as she awkwardly managed to swallow the bit of lemon cake in her mouth. Abreigelle took a step back, not wanting to be caught between the two of them. His expressive grey eyes looked stormy up close, and thoughtful. There was some sort of sophisticated, predatory grace to the way he moved, like the grace of a prowling fox. "I would take it that is is your first time at the New Year's Ball?"

Beshna was at loss for words, clearly in shock. "I-yes, Sir." A bead of sweat dripped down her cheek.

Tryn continued:

"A fair maiden, her dress the color of ripe cherries,

her eyes like onyx, her aura...like a fairy's"

A poem? Beshna' cheeks became darker--not red--in a colorless blush. "That was...lovely." She said.

"Ahhh, so you're a poetry lover?" Tryn mused, "Verse only works fifty percent of the time, you see. That's why I always start with a line or two, especially for the pretty ones."

Beshna batted her eyelashes. "You definitely have a talent. Perhaps one day you'll teach me the art of improvisation."

Abreigelle nearly choked on her fudge. Was Beshna honestly trying to flirt with a fool? Her father would have a fit if he found out. Beshna must be truly desperate if she jumped at the first man who thought her beautiful. Abreigelle knew better, and blurted out, "Or perhaps, my Lady, you'll be too busy."

The look in Beshna's eyes became dangerous, but Abreigelle met her stare with defiance. Beshna had to understand that she couldn't go around making dates with every male in the room.

Tryn folded his arms on his chest and clicked his tongue. "Well, well, well. What an electric personality for a human servant. So bold." He took a step closer. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Now that's interesting." He reached out, and to Abreigelle's surprise, pinched her nose. "Aha!"

"Ow! What was that for?" Abreigelle rubbed at her now-sore nostrils, "You can't just come up to me and-"

"Hush, little human." He paraded around her, nodding, examining her. "You look rather lovely tonight, though I must say, blue and silver really are not your colors. You would look much nicer in gold. Gold with accented black."

Abreigelle gaped at him.

"That flower crown also feels out of place as well. Perhaps you should take it off?"

Anger surged through her. He comes up to me...insults my clothes... "No. I'm not. In fact, why don't you leave now and go make fun of some other women?"

Tryn just shook his head and lazily walked off. Beshna said nothing as he left, probably realizing her mistake.

Abreigelle breathed deeply, trying to stay focused. Her hands were still shaking from the fury she kept bottled within. "Why don't we look for our objective instead of wasting time on useless twats like him?"

"Agreed." Beshna sighed, "Lets find Rashtar and get this over with." Her hand slipped into the pocket hidden within the folds of her dress, to where the disc sat.

"But how will we know which one of Rashtar?" There had to be hundred of young Neurean men here...and with not much color variation, they all looked nearly the same to Abreigelle.

Beshna blinked. "Well, he will obviously be wearing the finest clothes, and be incredibly handsome..."

"That's how most of the guys look!"

Beshna rolled her eyes. "You will know when you see him. Trust me." She waved her hand, pointing lazily towards the mezzanine level that Abreigelle hadn't noticed. "Why don't you go up there and search for him. You'll be able to see everything up on that balcony."

That might just be a good idea. It looked like there was no one up there, so she wouldn't have to worry about attracting stares as she scoped out the entire room. "Fine." said Abreigelle. "But if I don't--"

"Beshna! Beshna Varner?" a loud, trumpety voice sent the two of them spinning.

A Neruean Lady with annoyingly wide mouth walked up to Beshna and enveloped her in a hug. "Cousin! I haven't seen you in ages! Are you busy? Can we talk now? I have so much to tell you."

"Vaniete?" Beshna looked shocked, as if she wasn't particularly interested in talking with her cousin. Abreigelle couldn't blame her--Vaniete looked like the kind of person who could blabber for hours without saying anything meaningful.

That was Abreigelle's cue to get moving, so she quietly slipped away while Beshna attempted to look interested in her cousin's conversation. She hoped that Beshna would at least try to keep a look out for Rashtar instead of leaving her to do all the work. Unfortunately, the new conversation wouldn't help.

Abreigelle paced along the outskirts of the room, all the way to the back near the foyer. She'd spotted a door on her way in--a door that could possibly lead to the upper level. Usually those kinds of staircases were situated just off of the main room. She also didn't want to look like she was snooping either--the Neureans here were not only huge gossips, but also the kind of people who enjoyed getting others into trouble. They were drawn to anything out of the ordinary, and would blow it way out of proportion just for the fun of it.

To her relief, she found the door that she was looking for rather quickly, and flipped the fine metal latch. Abreigelle glanced around quickly before slipping through the oak doorframe, out of sight.