It was a good night to interact with humans. Ruby could smell it in the air.

There was something about the lighting and the aura of the moon, the warmth of the summer air on her skin. She moved through the night as she always did, quickly and stealthily, like a cat. Wolves weren't known for their grace, but Ruby did not identify as closely with the creature as the rest of her people did; the way she had been brought up to.

She had done this only once before, many moons ago, spending the night with a man who she found utterly captivating. He spoke in a funny way, made her laugh, which was an action that Ruby had not really known before him. Her people were not much for joking about.

Her plan was to return to the place she had gone to so long ago. Ruby was not familiar with the bustling world of the wizards and therefore liked the fringe places best. Slipping into the large estate filled with books and teapots and characters of a peculiar variety found their way to this place. Ruby knew this from observation, from books, from pictures, from any scrap of the wizarding world she could uncover.

Tonight there seemed to be a festivity of some sort. If she had recalled correctly, the last time she had been in this place there was a number of people wearing necklaces made of flowers and skirts made from hay. It was perplexing, but Ruby remembered feeling much more confident about her wardrobe choice.

This time, she was equally as confused by the outfits* everyone was wearing but was oddly reminded of home. The place was done up like a forest -- there were trees scraping the ceiling and Ruby was fairly certain she saw a frog hop across the floor in front of her.


*Everybody dress like an animal!

Every Friday at the Artful Dodger, there was a different dress-up theme, and it was Fridays that Freddie lived for. He had an extravagant wardrobe in the sense that it was especially eclectic, ranging from feathery vests to tye-dye shoes. He felt prepared for any motif that could be flung his way.

This time people were meant to come as animals, which meant that they could cleverly be called Party Animals and it would be a lovely time for all. Freddie, though, had not anticipated that the big sweater meant to make him look like a bunny would actually make him feel ready to melt. His state worsened as the crowd grew. He went up to his brother Alfie, who had smartly dressed as a bird. He'd found most of his costume in Freddie's closet, which made Freddie feel even more foolish for his rabbit condition. "I'm gonna be roast bunny in a minute," Freddie confessed as he tugged at the neck of his fluffy sweater.

"Told ya not to wear that bloody thing" Alfie retorted. "You never think about the reality of the situation when you pick out your getups. Sometimes subtlety is key, bruv." Freddie grumbled because Alfie was right and also much less sweaty. Did he have to be wearing a feathery headband when he was doing it?

Kema Ahmes Morgan didn't like making a fuss over her clothes.  At the same time, she did love making a fuss over the inconsequential things.  Like costume parties, elaborate hijinxes, and implausible plots for total world domination.  Because they didn't mean anything, and there was a sort of thrilling escape in that.

So, when Freddie'd been his typical genius-of-fun self and installed a regular theme night, Ahmes was happy enough to get swept up in the momentum.  So long as it didn't require an investment in her time and money--aside from the time and money she'd spend pouring drinks into her system in the company of friends and soon-to-be, not-yet bosom buddies.

Donned all in green from her usual pile of clothes--the most prevalent color in Ahmes' wardrobe--Ahmes had opted for a grindylow, figuring the sinister impishness would be a clear advertisement of what any conquests might be getting themselves into for the evening.  But, the greens drawn from her cupboard had obviously been unclear.  She'd gotten "mermaid," "dragon," "kelpie," and "sewer unicorn"--Freddie did always keep interestingly inventive company.  There were a few of the tart-y sort of costumes she had been anticipating--which would likely feed into some sort of skewed furry sexual fantasy for someone.  Ahmes almost wished she'd opted for that emu costume she'd seen, just to add some contrast.

She scanned the crowd for her usual pick of companions--the brotherly duo themselves--and grinned wolfishly as she caught sight of them.  A bunny costume. How quaint.  Ahmes gave an experimental flex of her metal-tipped nails, considering that even Charlotte was likely to approve of the costume.  She was right--manicures were more fun.

"Heya," she said easily as she slinked her way between the brothers.  "Well, well, look at you, " she cooed approvingly as she looped an arm around both of them in greeting before settling on Alfie--who she'd pick for tonight--if she let him.  Ahmes stayed, by and large, on good terms with her ex-es.  The level of familiarity that typically accompanied a relationship usually lingered on, and Ahmes--not one known for boundaries--was likely to lavish any physical affection for as long as the fond feelings remained--romantic or no.

But Alfie could get testy about these things if there was currently a lady love in his life he was trying to get the attention of.  And, from his feathered preening of the evening, she surmised that he just may have.  She scrabbled the tips of her nails lightly through his scalp before settling on one of the long plumes in his headband, twirling it around her finger.

"'S'tha my vest?" she asked, pulling back from the one-armed hug, looking him up and down.  She recalled the time Alfie and she'd dated quite fondly.  It had been an age in which her wardrobe had nearly doubled.  She gave a slight sigh.  Had they stayed together--all those years ago--she could have had access to that fantastic feathered coat...

With a swagger to her hips and a bit of flame still fresh on her lips, Shona eyed the room with a dragon’s gleam, interest and avarice bright in her gaze. Freshly returned from the glorious hell and high water Southeast Asia (and something she was already recalling with warm nostalgia), the werewolf was nonetheless ready reacquaint herself with land—see what she’d missed while she’d been away. Burma, Thaliand, Malaysia and Cambodia were all beautiful, magnificent in ways the UK wasn’t, but the latter had its charms, too. And there was always something going on… Amid the crush of animal-themed outfits and the punch-smell of alcohol, she could already feel something pinging away at her radar, just waiting for her to notice–

“Can you not,” complained one of the bucks sitting beside her, where he was loosely curled up around his very cute, infinitely more pleasant other half. Leaning against the wall (the three of them had taken a seat against the wall—like a lineup of attractive felons, Shona thought with... probably a disproportionate amount of pride), he had his face inclined towards his partner, offering the room a nice view of his profile as he tried not to poke his boyfriend’s eye out. “You’re broadcasting–”

“She is not,” said Leon, grinning faintly as he tugged their joined hands into his lap. He had a leg hooked over Rick’s—making do with what little room their horns gave them.

“Is too,” Rick shot back, and without looking Shona could just tell he was smirking, peeking up at Leon while he smirked. It was disgustingly romantic.

“Are too,” Shona cut in, because they were leaning in now, horns or no horns. And securely single though she was, it was seriously hindering her vibe. It made her want to cuddle, when right now she wanted to dance. “And this is me broadcasting my exit, because you guys are the worst.” She popped off the bench in a rustle of snakeskin and leather. “You kids gonna be fine without me, or…?”

Leon smiled, amused and dry. “We’re good, thanks.”

“Bye,” said her brother pointedly.

Shona rolled her eyes, but she was grinning, too, and still was as she headed off, making her way through the room. To where, she didn’t know; only that the room was filled with people and she hadn’t a single name for any of the faces she saw. Which was a damn shame. Clearly this had to be rectified…

She spotted her lucky target then—a figure in pink fur and bunny ears caught in a grindylow’s grasp—and was just about to go over and introduce herself when another figure caught her eye. A witch with choppy ash-white hair and an outsider’s interest towered over most of the room. She wasn’t costumed as the other partygoers were, in that tilt-cut dress, and seemed to regard them with a kind of mystified curiosity. Shona watched her navigate the room with stealth; there was a fluid grace to her movements.

Head cocked to the side, Shona felt a loose grin tugging up the corners of her mouth. A witch was always better than a bunny. Nearing her – the party animals between them shuffling to the side in the face of Shona’s leather-clad confidence – the werewolf readied a brilliant smile.

“Hi,” said Shona, and stopped short, gaze sharpening.

Traditionally, Freddie was the older, wiser, and far more mature brother. That's why he had been the one to plan his outfit, not to mention the event itself. Figures that his spontaneous little brother would end up with the more practical costume. It mystified Freddie when things worked out in Alfie's favor that way; perhaps Alfie had a dash of leprechaun in his blood where Freddie did not.

Ahmes Morgan walked up and Freddie cheered up a bit. She had that kind of personality that came with contagion. "Well if it isn't my favorite of Alfie's exes," Freddie greeted. "You look smashing. Far more fun than me, Sir Bunny Hoppington." He adjusted his bow sternly and gave a short, stiff bow,  beginning to wonder how the word 'bow' could have possibly come to mean such different things.

As they often did when he was doing a little daydreaming, Freddie's eyes wandered about the room. He admired all of the costumes his guests had put together- nothing got Fred amped for a night of fun like drinking with a bunch of creative-types.

In scanning the room he spotted a girl whose costume was not immediately obvious to him, but who had such a graceful, mysterious ambiance that he could only assume the white dress she was wearing indicated that she was a swan. While the rest of the patrons were busy chattering to each other and yelling orders to the wait staff, this girl remained quite isolated. Alfie and Ahmes continued bantering as Freddie became enraptured. What had he just been complaining about?


Alfie wasn't the type of guy to hang on to feelings for more than a few days. Yeah, he could be an emotional guy, but his way of wallowing was lying around with a bottle of vodka and a pizza for a few days until he felt better. Ahmes had been a pretty special girl, had left him with a slew of vodka-tainted nights and pizza stains on his bed. They were on good terms though, in the end he understood. 'Mes had always been an over-achiever where Alfie was quite the opposite.

Now he saw it as: we used to boff, now we don't. She was a regular at the Artful Dodger and was a cheerful presence in general. Plus it was helpful to have someone who fit the idiom 'good head on her shoulders' to Alfie's 'he'd lose his head if it wasn't attached.'

"s'tha my vest?"

Alfie looked down at the suede jacket he was wearing. "It brings the whole look together, luv," Alfie said. He shrugged and drank some ale. "'Sides, we don't all have a bundle of grindylow hats stashed away in me wardrobe." He was teasing, and  raised his eyebrows at her playfully. He appeared unaware of his brother's mental absence.

The fashions had certainly changed since her last wizard-world excursion. Unless her memory failed her, last time there had not been so many hats or horns. She watched a pair of men with antlers sitting together, their headgear tangled together. This seemed unnatural; in Ruby's experience, when bucks snarled their antlers against each other, they were fighting. Fashion had always mystified Ruby, who spent most of her time in the nude- but this was really too much. It all seemed so impractical.

Ruby watched as she always did: as a curious observer. She was not sure yet how to infiltrate the social groups of the wizards. They were a baffling species, and this fashion craze was adding fuel to the fire. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration. Animal skin was much more relatable than vividly-colored fabric flowers, at least. 

She watched the man she'd encountered last time looking like a furry creature. As she began to realize what he had dressed as, Ruby found herself smirking at the idea that she'd once slept with a man who dressed as a rabbit. That's exactly what she'd hunted and eaten for dinner on her way here.

Her private smirk was interrupted by a woman dressed in an outfit that Ruby had much more appreciation for. Most of the clothing Ruby had stolen from abandoned houses was made of that material: black leather. "Hello," Ruby said, failing to notice the analysis she was receiving. She was good at stifling her condition, what her people referred to as the 'natural state' of being a werewolf. Ruby instantly sensed wolf-like features in this woman... but how could Wolves live among the wizards?