The laws of Hospitality are such that generally speaking, not having an invite to the party meant that the dwarf (for that is the word to best describe him in your mind) was no longer covered by the implied protection of the party’s hosts.  While Vasilisa had split most of the outright carnivores to strut and clash in the upstairs loft, Kievan’s struggling if valiant friends were left mostly to admire the art in the living area downstairs.  There was still some uncomfortable mingling around the dining room table.

“Hi, I’m Claire, I’m a friend of Kievan’s.”  Claire started talking to the tall woman with wet-looking, deep golden hair.  Claire would have described herself first as a vegetarian, then as a young woman complete with cat, and maybe mention that she hoped to make it big as a graphic artist despite feeling that she didn’t have much in the way of natural talent.

“I am Roo,” the woman said.  She smiled and flashed what might have been rows of sharp, pointy teeth.  She would have described herself as hungry.  She fiddled with a gold comb in her hair, after selecting a small hors d’oeuvres.

“Uh, hi.  So you must know Lisa.  I’m in the publications department where Kievan works.  What is it that you do?”  Claire was fascinated by something about the rusalka’s mouth; watching Roo nibble at a turkey roll was very disturbing.

“I am a dancer,” Roo suggested.

“Really?  Are you with the ballet?” Claire tried.

Roo put a lovely pale hand on Claire’s arm.  “Would you like to see a performance?” she asked.

Claire stared at the slightly damp hand on her arm.  She noticed how it had an almost greenish tint, and at the same time, a translucency that reminded one no less of the water in a fish tank gone mostly to algae.  She looked up at Roo’s fiery green eyes and backed away.

In the back of her mind, Claire knew she would never go swimming again.

Not all of the encounters were those between predator and prey, however.  There were a group of sylph musicians who took on all requests.  There’s nothing like listening to Tool being played on a sylphic viola, but you will have to trust that my tale of byliny is true.  Such music can drive men mad.

So there was drinking, and dancing, and general socializing continued until Vasilisa got tired of her little ploy to avoid the dwarf, and instead suggested they play a game.

“We will split into two groups.  I recommend you play with someone you haven’t met before, as this is the type of game where everyone wins, but especially those who meet someone new.”  Her wisdom knew that couching it in the terms of a game, no matter how frivolous could mean it was a sacred rite, and thus those in the competition were protected from inadvertent hungers.  Kievan’s friends moved quietly into the room and slowly two groups sorted themselves out.

The dwarf unknowingly found himself on the other side from Vasilisa.  This was a piece of her wisdom working.  Some powers are driven by will, and some wrapped up in fate, or destiny if you would have it be so.  She is what she is, but then, so are most wizards.  I don’t claim to understand them, for to do so takes a wizard.  I am the son of a lesiye, and that is enough for any one man to manage.

The dwarf did find himself on the same side as Kievan.  This was also on design, because while Vasilisa may be wise, that does not mean she is never a little petty.  She considered it a good lesson against Kievan trying to surprise her again.

“The rules of the game are simple.  One of you has lost something, perhaps a purse, or a host,” she smiled directly at the dwarf, “or even a small piece of jewelry.  It has not been stolen, but you must ask questions of the person you pair up with of its identity, and then each team needs negotiate its release with the other team, for someone on the other team may unknowingly have it on his or her person.”

This had been easy enough to arrange, and may even have come up in conversation throughout the night.  Now, those without the birthrights or sight are not concerned.  Things lost are never lost forever, and things stolen would be an insult worth injury, so they did not complain.  Those of the modern world are more attached to the things they think they must own, and there was some muttering as women went back down to the gallery to check their purses, and touch their ears where they wore jewelry, and men checked their back pockets for wallets and eyed their hosts a bit suspiciously.

Of course there was no theft, and they quieted quickly, some being quite eager to play the game.

Claire had chosen to be partnered with one of the sylph musicians.  In her mind she tried not to finish the sentence with, “Anybody but Roo,” but it was still true.  This was the sylph who played what looked to be a bass made of light, but which Claire thought must have been a very expensive and experimental new plastic.

“I have brought only this,” her new friend Sadko said, referring to his instrument.

“I have my purse,” Claire suggested, but a quick dive into the organized insides showed no loss.  “I have my keys, my wallet, my earrings,” she touched her earlobes in a way that the sylph found amusing.   She looked around.    “But I have misplaced my drink,” she decided.