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[right][@Jumbus][@NoriWasHere][@Skai][@Atrophy][code]Monday April 14th, 13 Mourningdove Lane[/code][/right][hr][color=A9A8AF]
The room hummed with the weight of something unspoken. Shadows flickered against aged wallpaper, the candlelight clawing at the edges of the gathering, illuminating strange faces and stranger intent. The air held the scent of dust and something spiced—like old books and mulled cider, like autumn folded into the bones of the house itself. This place, this night, was not ordinary. Happy could feel it in his chest, a twinge of nervous excitement threading through his ribs like a half-formed melody.

Emmy leaned in, voice low but slightly amused. [color=afa3f5]"This is... an interesting group."[/color]

Happy smirked, leaning toward her as if sharing a great secret. [color=856F45]“Definitely. My kinda weird.”[/color] His voice was playful, but his eyes flickered, studying the room. A mix of wariness and curiosity danced behind them.

He took everything in—the shifting postures, the hushed voices, the way some people seemed as uneasy as he felt while others carried themselves like they belonged to the night itself. He had no idea what they were all doing here, but the energy was electric, and for now, that was enough to keep him engaged.

Emmy turned to him again, a glint in her eye. [color=afa3f5]“Apple or cherry?”[/color]

[color=856F45]"Apple, definitely apple,"[/color] Happy said without hesitation, flashing her a wink. He wasn't sure why she was asking, but he'd play along. It was likely about Pom's smashed pie after he'd given it a brief consideration. Besides, there was never a wrong time to talk about pie.

Across the room, Azure exhaled softly, boredom creeping into his limbs like an unwanted guest. His violet gaze, sharp and unreadable, slid across the gathering with an air of disinterest, his fingers tracing idle shapes in the air. The novelty of this rendezvous was beginning to dull, the initial amusement of the unknown fading into something less compelling.

Pom approached, presenting the sorry remains of a pie, the crust caved in, filling splattered.

Azure tilted his head, watching the ruined pastry as if it were a fallen star. A slow, theatrical sigh left his lips. [color=714F8E]"Ah. Tragic. A shame, truly."[/color] His voice was smooth, laced with something too light to be genuine, a performance of regret rather than the real thing. But in truth, it was unlikely he would have taken a bite even if it had been pristine. His tastes were particular, and even if they weren’t, he preferred to remain an enigma.

Then the Archivist arrived.

An old elf, wrapped in the weight of centuries, sneered down at the gathering with thinly veiled contempt. His presence slithered through the room, carrying the sharp edge of judgment, his words clipped, dismissive. He spoke as though addressing children—or something lesser, something unworthy of his time.

Happy stiffened. He had been raised to respect his elders, but that didn’t mean he had to like them. His easygoing nature faltered for just a second, irritation tightening his jaw. He didn’t like being looked down on, and he sure as hell didn’t like the way this guy was talking to everyone. But instead of snapping, he settled into something more measured, more thoughtful. [color=856F45]"I think Rowan’s got a point,"[/color] he said, voice steady but firm. [color=856F45]"You wouldn’t have called us here if you didn’t need something. So what is it?"[/color]

Meanwhile, Azure drifted. Quite literally.

He floated above the gathering, suspended in the air like an idle blue-lipped specter, watching the unfolding confrontation with mild intrigue. The Archivist’s presence had stirred the others, their responses ranging from defiant to bemused to outright irritated. It was fascinating, in its way. He observed them all, silent as he took mental stock of their dispositions, their tempers, their tells. The way their emotions flared, the way they chose to wield their words—everything was a story worth noting.

Yet, beneath his composed exterior, he was vaguely unsatisfied. This was the moment where things could shift, where the night could take a sharp turn toward something truly interesting. And yet, it was still teetering on the edge of ordinary.

Bored and intrigued in equal measure, Azure waited.

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