15175/The Four Treasures: Masquerade (Group: Thing Two)

The Four Treasures: Masquerade (Group: Thing Two)
Date of Scene:	19 June 2023
Location:	A Faerie Ball in Venice
Synopsis:	The Titans find some very important clues towards the greater puzzle of the missing Treasures. Also, three Titans break the rules and fall into a magical sleep. Also: none of them turn out to be Vorpal. I KNOW, RIGHT?
Cast of Characters:	Colette O'Connail, Jinx, Irie West, Kian, Gar Logan, Terry O'Neil, Wally West, Donna Troy

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Colette O'Connail has posed:
(Scene continues on from the split at https://heroesassemble.mushhaven.com/scene/scene.php?id=15116 - see there for how our heroes got here)

Jinx has posed:
    "Just to be clear here—if you screw up and end up in a binding debt, it's magically binding.  There's nothing anyone can do for you as far as I know.  So, you know, consider this an extremely hostile situation.  All the while we have to play nice."
    Crossing the veil in to a place where fae magic rules supreme—she pauses.  "Just think really hard before you speak.  Complement their actions instead of accepting that they did something for you at face value.  Nothing about their way is fair in our eyes—but it is in their eyes.  The fae are about as alien as aliens can get on Earth.
    "No one is going to do you a niceness without strings attached here.  If someone pulls out a chair for you, you might be obliged to dine with them.  If someone offers you food, you might be obliged to eat it—and as I said that could be very bad.  Like how we all know wording a genie wish is extremely important."
    The rules retold by the fae are appreciated and she really hopes no one thanks him for it.  But now it really is time to step through.  She runs a hand through her pink hair and lets out a puff of breath.  "Through bush, through brier, over park, over pale.  Through flood, through fire, I do wander everywhere."  One foot, then the other, she enters.

Irie West has posed:
    Irie's eyes continue to remain wide as she listens to all the warnings.  She reaches out and grabs her father's hand and whispers, "I'm not sure I can keep up with all of this.  I just know I'm gonna screw it all up.  There's so many rules!"
    She listens to Jinx's chant as they cross the threshold.  "Are we… are we supposed to say that?"  The start of panic can be heard touching her voice.  "This is a mistake.  Coming here is a mistake.  I should just wait on the boat."

Kian has posed:
    Kían blinks at Jinx.  "Uh, I'm an alien on Earth, you know."  He looks around, trying to get his bearings.  "Maybe I'll be all right, then.  It still sounds like an awful lot of rules to follow, though.  No eating, no drinking other than the water, no names… *sigh*.  Magic has weird rules.  I prefer science, it makes sense."
    He tightens his arm around Terry's waist.  "Can we all agree," he says, peering around the cat to Gar and back again, "that none of us are going to get pulled into another reality tonight?  I think we've all had quite enough of that."

Gar Logan has posed:
    At Lord Merrihew's added warning and direction inside, the 'Garblin King' flashes him a double thumbs-up and says, "Cool, dude!  No food, no drink, just water, don't agree to anything, don't thank anybody, basically be more careful than I've ever been before.  Got it."  Well, the green Jareth is certainly going to try.
    Speaking more quietly to those he ends up closer to, he adds, "Makes me glad I'm not actually one of them.  Way too many weird rules.  But we're already here because of the first time around.  And why are you looking at me when you say 'think really hard?'" he wonders of Jinx.  "I've never had to ask a genie anything, either."  As they move along, he rubs his hands together.  Probably just a subconscious thing related to thinking about a lamp.
    Aside to Kian, he shrugs.  "They told us not to make any promises, or we have to do it.  And we have no idea what they're gonna throw at us."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Don't worry, Wally!  I'll date you!"  This was said in jest to his friend.  Aside from the fact that Wally is straight, Terry is already very dated, as evidenced by the fact that he is due to marry the shapeshifter and the bird-man who have come with him to the ball.  The lord who greets them in gets a bow from Vorpal and a smile.  "You are most gracious, milord," which is one of the ways to be grateful to a fae without actually thanking one.  Is it a priori knowledge from the part of him that was the Cheshire Cat before he was born?  Or the fact that he could be argued to be a type of fae due to the nature of what Wonderland was?  Or is it because Terry is a dork and therefore he is good at doing research and has read far too many books for his own good?
    Yes.
    "Jinx is correct.  Be grateful but don't thank.  That's very important, especially with such polite boys as yourselves."  He gives Kian and Gar a mischievous glance.  "And remember that we are here not really to enjoy ourselves but to find things out."  He glances around as they advance.  The palatial setting is one that seems to not be quite there all the way, like the dream that an Italian palazzo might have of the glories it could have achieved, had it been blessed with greater architects, munificent funding and the idle promise of an eternity in which to get just about every detail right.  Or, at least, that is what it appears as, like in dreams, details are hazy at one moment, extremely sharp the next, and at others remain but suggestions in the periphery of thought.
    The roof of the palace vanishes upwards into dark skies and starlight in some places, while in others it is low enough for bands of chit-chatting fae to gather and whisper under exquisite frescoes depicting scenes from a mythology not known in the mortal realms.  There are large areas where the fae and other assorted guests of supernatural provenance are dancing, and richly-appointed tables where the most delicious food has been laid out for guests.  Bottles of sparkling wine wink in the bright candlelight that flickers without any visible candles that might be the sources.  And, of course, at every few stages here and there, the promised mountain water, sparkling in clear carafes.
    Vorpal gives Kian's waist a squeeze.  "Calm down, love, just follow the rules and you will be fine.  Right?"  He smiles at Gar for confirmation.  "We may not make promises to the fae, but I can promise you I do not intend to get pulled anywhere tonight, except maybe back to sleep after all of this is over."

Wally West has posed:
    Wally's hand is grabbed by Irie and a smile stretches across his face.  "Hey, don't worry kid.  Hey, hey—"  He tries to get Irie to look his way.  "Don't you worry about anything, okay?  I'll help keep you clear.  Don't let these guys and gals scare ya.  They're just like… really mean lawyers.  We Wests have never been a big fan."  He winks at her.  "I've got you, Irie."
    "Like hell you will!" Wally nearly bites at Terry, shaking his head with a bit of a laugh.  Though the lord that greets the group has his attention and he clears his throat, offering a bow to the doorman and he looks past him towards must may be present.  The party that lies behind that door.  "Oh boy… don't thank people?  That'll be hard.  But I think I can make that work."  He hums.
    "No idea how to communicate with these guys.  Should I use 'thees' and 'thous'?"

Jinx has posed:
    Jinx notices the concern on so many faces in the group. "Just relax.  You're interesting to them.  Different.  That's what they crave more than anything—something different.  We all have secrets, they'll be drawn to them.  Play it out, just… beware it might open old wounds."
    So begins the hunt for clues.  There sure are a lot of fae here.  Like walking through landmines but nobody implemented the middle button click to automatically clear the squares away that are definitely safe.
    She approaches a balcony and leans against it, looking out over the swirling figures dancing before her.  All white, the fae that approaches and leans against the balcony might present outward as looking to pick up but that pretence drops quickly when he observes Jinx.
    "My my, aren't you a little paradox in a bottle.  What's your name?"
    Jinx feels a shiver run up and down her spine.  She knows each fae is different and possesses gifts most of which don't even have words in English.  But talk about being called out.  Her cool is being tested immediately as she looks toward his smiling bearded face, shrouded mostly by mask.
    "I'm the one who knocks," she says.  Her first inclination was to call herself Pink but that's a bit too on the nose.  No, why not borrow a page from Harley's book and quite a TV show.
    His fingers steeple and his smile broadens.  "Delightful.  You may call me Black Beard."
    Jinx can't help but smirk a little at that.  "You're a fan of human stories and history?  I thought it taboo to care too much about the mortal realm?"
    "I thought it taboo for mortals to mess with their own timelines, but who am I to judge.  You do you is what I say…."
    Like a finger needling into her side.  "An exchange.  My why, for your insight."
    "You have my interest.  What insight do you seek mortal?"
    "Tell me who in the Seelie court is capable of masking the three gifts."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "The three gifts?" Blackbeard asks Jinx, a hint of amusement in his voice.  "An interesting wording, to be sure.  Three, not four?  I wonder why you ask that.  Could it be that you mortals know the location of one of our treasures already?  Astonishing.  Word had only just reached us that there would be mortals on the hunt, and yet here you are, in possession of one of the items already."
    He bows low to Jinx.  "Most astonishing.  You mortals will be a marvel to us all.  As for your proposal…."  He taps a finger against the chin of his ghost-like volto mask.  "It sounds like a reasonable exchange.  However you must come to my domus, where we will discuss the matter over wine and a roast of dandelion clocks.  The list you ask for is far to exhaustive to provide in a few moments at a ball."

Irie West has posed:
    Irie hesitates on the threshold, but with Wally's encouragement she steels herself and steps through.  There are so many people here that Irie just stands frozen for a moment.  Already the light lilt of a waltz is floating about the room and several guests are dancing.
    A woman detaches from the crowd and approaches the pair, wearing men's garb that's tight enough to remind everybody that she's of the feminine persuasion.  Her mask is that of a hawk, painted in browns and golds.
    "My, what a lovely young lady you have there," she says addressing Wally.  "Is she taken?  I would so like to dance with her."  Irie looks up to her dad and hisses warningly, "Daaaaad…."

Kian has posed:
    "Well," Kían muses, looking upward into the high reaches of the vaulted ceiling—if there even is a ceiling—"I think I know where I belong."
    He kicks effortlessly into the air, and both Terry and Gar will recognize what the birdman calls 'skydancing'.  He's already moving in time with the music, and he is very good at it.
    He is not the only one there with wings.
    Dragonfly, butterfly, insect, even avian, but Kían does not appear to be looking for a skydance partner, at least not yet… although it's fair to say that he's definitely leaving room for one to join him.
    And from his vantage point, of course, he has an excellent view of everything on the ground, not that he has a really clear idea of what they're looking for, but he's well placed to spot anything out of the ordinary.
    Truth be told, though, just about everything and everyone here is out of the ordinary, so that might not be as useful as it sounds.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Being green, Gar might not be the only one here who stands out for looking a bit other than normal human mortal.  There are a few amongst their own group that also qualify, namely Vorpal, Kian, Xiomara in particular.  As for the Fae?  The abnormal could be normal to them.
    Whatever the case, when the visitors enter, numerous eyes shift toward them.  Some, curious.  Others, likely predatory.  No doubt there are many seeking to see what ways they can trick any in the group, or get them to slip up.
    Having to protect one's own words is quite different from the usual things the Titans get into.
    Having to pass on all that tasty-looking food and stick to water?  It must be a personal version of hell for Gar… or Jareth.
    "You think we should just let Jinx try to do most of the talking?  It sounds like she knows all the rules inside-out.  Maybe you do too," he says primarily to Vorpal, keeping Kian slightly closer as well.  Until, that is, the Akiar takes to wing, which puts him a little above the masses, but also likely marks him a focal point for others with the capability of flight.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    It's not the appearance so much as it is the fact of mortals being allowed to this party that causes the stares.  Before long Gar notices that just as Kian has found some birds and beasts of a feather or wing here, there are a few others in attendance with green skin.  One of them approaches him—a fae of distinctly less human appearance than most, who looks at least half plant.  He, she or it (it's entirely unclear, even though the creature wears no clothes at all) circles Gar, then reaches a finger out to touch him.  "Most peculiar.  Why are you green, when you are red?" it asks.
    Kian finds himself joined by not one dance partner, but two.  One male, one female, both wearing Columbina masks which reveal enough of their features to suggest they may be twins.  Both fly with hummingbird wings that flap so rapidly they seem to blur the air in their passing, and their flight is delightful to behold.  Not the swooping elegance of Akiar flight, but a combination of darting and hovering that's almost hypnotic to watch.
    "See the pretty bird?" the female fae asks.
    "I do, my sister," the male replies.  "I did not expect such nobility of form from these mortals.  I had always heard them to be gross and base matter.  Can we keep him?"
    "Perhaps," his sister replies.  "Would you like to be kept, mortal bird?  We would shower you in gifts, surround you in beauty that will make your heart ache, prolong your life for as long as you would wish to live, give you food and drink that will make your tongue weep with pleasure.  What say you, pretty bird?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Jinx has her own way, but this might require many ways to find out the truth.  We are, after all, a team—" Vorpal says that as Kian takes to the sky.  Of course, the party splitting up was more or less part of the 'search and investigate' approach, but there is something about the realm that makes him want to hold on to Kian and ground him before flying away, the same way he wants to clasp his hand around Gar's wrist and not let him go.  Promise notwithstanding, he is very aware of where they are.  He is always dimly aware that many instinctively know who he is, because of who he used to be… and he wonders how many know that he is nowhere near as powerful as his father was, by virtue (or vice) of being bound to, as the Good Neighbors say, base matter.  Every one of his team-mates seems to have caught the attention of a fae, which means he needs to find his own.  "Please be careful," he leans in to whisper into Gar's ear and gives him a kiss on the cheek.  He gives a glance to the green creature and a flash of the Cheshire grin before stepping away.  Was it a friendly gesture or a shot across their bows to be respectful?  Yes.  He also knows that such a bold claiming was bound to redouble the fae's natural compulsion to test boundaries and transgress, potentially giving Gar some bargaining power in the interrogation.
    He takes several steps away and moves down, passing dancing couples that glimmer like phantasmagoric hallucinations.
    Of them all, he is the only one who can stake some claim to the land of Faerie… however an isolated relative Wonderland might have been.  He also knows that it gives him no privileges, merely some loose courtesy.

      ~Twas brillig and the slythy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
      O Mimsy were the borogroves…~

    It's a voice that he hears over everything else.  It's not loud, certainly not loud enough to survive the sweeping, melancholy music of the fae.  It is however persistent, and he gets the impression that only he might be able to hear it.
    And it leads him down some dimly lit, candle-licked corridors where portraits of Sorrow, Glee, Malice and Melancholia adorn the walls.  Each one, absolutely exquisite.  Each one proving incapable of being recalled afterwards.  And, at the end of the corridor, everything in ends in a large mirror.

Wally West has posed:
    "Sorry friend, she's with me today."
    Wally sticks up for Irie and her comfort levels, the hissing warning that she gives to him more than enough for him to stick his neck out even a little bit.  "But, tell you what, perhaps you could grab yourself some wine over there?"  Wally smiles, and he looks the fellow up and down.
    "That fabric is spectacular.  Who on earth is your tailor?"  Because the last thing Wally wants to do is piss someone off, but he'll be damned if his time-displaced daughter dances with someone she doesn't want to dance with.
    He watches as Kian dances up into the air and he whistles.  "Always makes me smile when he does that."  He turns his eyes towards Terry then for a moment as he starts speaking his rhymes, those things he does oh so well.  One of those things that never gets old, though he does look at the other fellow.
    "And, my friend… what do you know of running like the wind?" he asks with a smile on his face.

Jinx has posed:
    Jinx realises she was in error about the number of gifts; but an error is not a lie.  A curious loophole she has just discovered.  Sincerity is necessary, but this does give her an idea—an opportunity.  If word circles about that the Titan's have one of the four gifts then perhaps the culprit will risk breaking in to hide it away once more.  And so the art of twisting words begins: "I shouldn't repeat that to other ears."
    She wonders, though, on the nature of hiding these gifts from the Fae.  Is it as simple as taking a pen+paper, writing 'spoon' then sticking it on the object?  These aren't things to ponder right now.  She has to play word games with this Black Beard fellow.
    "I couldn't possibly impose, nor am I able to stay long enough to hear your long and no doubt considered list.  Suspicion must burn through this court like a wild fire if your list is so long.  Alliances are no doubt being put to the test.  It would be a shame if your alliance has not made any true ground in the hunt."
    She smiles a touch coyly trying to figure out his vibe—perhaps he's Unseelie.  Now that she knows her mistake in Surrey is visible to magical creatures she will have to be more careful.
    She looks back over at the Titans and considers how little progress she's making—and they're making.  "Enjoy the ball Black Beard."  She takes her leave of the predator and makes her way back to the group.  "I knew this was going to be hard, but does anyone have a good stra-te-gee? hmmm"  Jinx asking for help?  what is this??  She has realised the group has been inundated with curious fae.  This could go very bad very quickly.
    "Split up.  That's our plan.  Right…" she says to no one but herself.  Of all the places for people to wander off to—she set the bad example and now they're following.
    Well, if she's left to her own devices, perhaps an experiment is in order.  She rummages in to her pocket and gets out pencil and paper.  "Let's test a theory."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    The Hawk positively shines.  "Oh, it is alright, little one."  The fae woman reaches over and runs the tips of her fingers through the top of Irie's hair in a conciliatory gesture.  "I appreciate your subtlety."
    She smiles at Wally and holds out her hand.  "You owe me favors three, fleet-footed one.  Favor one I will claim from you: A dance, and through it I will gladly tell you of how I will consider two favors gladly paid for the price of one, and so that you may end the night no poorer in debts than you were when you started."  She smiles.
    "Shall we dance?"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Through the crowd are a number of people circulating to serve drinks.  They're dressed identically in dark gray suits, white shirts and black cravats, whether male of female.  They move through the crowd bearing silver trays full of delicate cut-glass flutes of pale wine, whispering offers of "Wine, sir?  Wine madam?" to party-goers, and handing drinks to those who respond.
    One of them stops in front of Irie, and she may be surprised to notice the dark circles around his eyes.  He looks very tired.  "Ice cream, madam?" he offers.

Irie West has posed:
    The look of stark panic strikes Irie as the Hawk claims three favors from her dad.  She looks around nervously and lets go of his hand.  "Be careful, okay?  I'll… I'll just keep to myself.  Look around.  Scout.  That kinda thing."  She hesitates before quickly hugging him before he goes off to dance, and separates.
    She spends some time roaming around, just seeing all the pretty (and sometimes weird) people in their fancy dress until one of the servers offers her ice cream.  Hah!  She knows this one!  Don't eat anything here.  "No, thank you," she says automatically, trying to be as polite as she can—WAIT DARNIT!  No, no, no, no!  She's wasn't supposed to thank anybody either!

Kian has posed:
    "I am pledged," Kían says, glancing down towards Gar and Terry, "and would not abandon my tenár'yw, my beloveds.  Even for such a generous offer."  He chooses his words carefully, remembering Jinx's warnings, and delivers them gently.  "And kié.  In peace I greet you."
    He hovers there a moment, considering.  And knowing no other way of behaving, he says with blunt honesty, "I have been told that the asking of names is not proper.  By what may I call you, that is acceptable to you?  Earth ways are still a little strange to me, but I'm getting used to them.  And your ways are even more alien to one who is alien to this world."
    Godswilling, that's acceptable without getting himself into trouble, but at least it may work in his favor that he is utterly incapable of dissembling.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Jinx, though she has done her best to study Fae habits in the week leading up to this party, knows well that there are real limits to that knowledge.  Fae are prone to misleading mortal students of the magical arts, and notoriously most tomes of Faery lore are not to be entirely trusted.  Her pondering raises one interesting question that mortal students of the Fae argue greatly about—just what is the relationship between the Seelie and Unseelie courts?  Would an Unseelie lord be invited to the Seelie ball?  It is entirely possible.  The strangely two-faced nature of Lords Bezote and Merrihew pointed that way.  Black Beard's eyes bore into her back as she makes her excuses and leaves, but he does not pursue her.
    "What theory is that?" a voice says from behind her.  Standing over her shoulder is a woman perhaps nine foot tall, but slender as bamboo.  She stands out amongst the finery in that her dress appears to be made from ragged muslin—but a closer look reveals it to be made from layer after layer of delicate spider web.  "Are you an artist?" she asks Jinx.  "Will you draw a picture of what you see here?  That would be interesting."
    The servant looks long and hard at Irie, then nods his head at her and walks away.  She said 'thank you', but… nothing?  No repercussions?  Wally has something to deal with from his slip, but Irie does not.  The servant seems to be making no claim on Irie for that slip.  Perhaps there's some other rule in play for the servants?  Interesting….

Gar Logan has posed:
    There are distractions abound, and while Gar is watching Kian for a moment as he's approached by the pair, he can't hear what they're saying to him.  He gives Vorpal a grin, then it's his turn for some attention by another of the green sorts, this one with a planty way about him.
    "Oh, hello there," he states, giving a smile from the visible area beneath the mask.  He watches the circling, and while the creature's gender is difficult to discern at first, he allows the touch to be made against the sleeve of his coat, or perhaps elsewhere depending.
    The 'Garblin King' remarks, "I'm green because of something that happened, but why would I be red?"  There are things he doesn't know, things he's not privy to.  That type of question suggests an area he's lacking in knowledge over.  "You have an affinity with plants, I see."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I heard you speak," he says when he reaches the mirror.  Anywhere else, he might be consider a little… peculiar for speaking to reflective surfaces.  But there are two places where that is not so unusual, and both of them are in Faerie.
    The mirror does not have the consideration to return his reflection.  Rather, it is that of a little girl with burning black eyes, and a pageboy cut that frames her head face with black locks.
    She resembles Nadia.  But it isn't Nadia, and that's the point.
    ~You have come a long way to be here.~
    "Merely a fall away," he answers, looking at the mirror.  "…Alice Liddel is dead," he muses, "So, who are you?"
    The girl smiles.  ~I am her. Or at least, her recollection.~
    "…Mirrors can't remember, only reflect," he points out.
    ~Before you can remember, Cheshire Cat, you have to be able to reflect.  And what's a recollection, if not a reflection from the past?~
    Vorpal takes a step back, thinking about this.

Wally West has posed:
    "Well well well, you know what that means don't you?"
    Wally looks down.  "Crap."  He turns to Irie, encouraged by her quick hug.  "Love you kiddo.  Stay out of trouble alright?  And if you need a hand, you lemme know."  Then almost IMMEDIATELY she breaks a rule!  Thankfully, no repercussions come.  WHEW!  Just as Wally gets tugged onto the dance floor!
    Wally wasn't a bad dancer by far, but he certainly wasn't going to be flirting around or any kind of nonsense like that.  And he's honestly moving a little too fast for his partner anyway!  "So we call this line dancing…."  Fucking Wally West, doing his best to make social interactions difficult.
    …or outright charming, depending.
    "Soooo tell me about these shindigs.  You guys do these things often or just every now and again?"

Jinx has posed:
    An inquisitive Fae.  Those are usually the ones who can be more helpful as they're self-investing in to the nature of the mortal realm.  "I'm no artist, but I am curious about the nature of magic…."  Fae realm magic that is.  Jinx turns and smiles… uuuuup at the very tall fae.  Curious clothing.  She holds up a finger and walks a few steps to the buffet.  A bowl is taken and a serving towel placed across it.  She returns to the tall fae.
    "There is a question to be asked and an answer to be given."  She writes 'Chocolate' on the piece of sticky note paper, then sticks it to the bowl.  Its contents hidden she looks to the very tall fae.  "It must be self evident what is in this bowl."
    Jinx has very carefully not lied yet she has allowed the words written on the bowl to imply something that she knew to be not true.  Yet with the towel hiding the contents, what is the truth of the bowl's contents?

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "I am green and I am green," the flower-fairy tells Gar with a nod of agreement.  "You are green and you are red."  It gives a shrug of its shoulders.  "We are what we eat, and we eat what we are, isn't that the truth?  I have no argument with you, red man who is green."
    "A question though," it says, circling Gar.  "Is it truth that you are mortal?  I did not know that mortals could be green or red.  Not truly so, like you and I.  People say that you are mortals, come here to dance and play and join us in our revels.  I have not met mortals before.  I had wondered if they would be like stones, but you are red and green, so you are not like a stone.
    The flower fairy opens it's mouth wide and reaches a hand in.  When it draws its hand forth again, it bears a rose.  "A gift for you, red and green one.  A peace offering."

    "All the time," the hawk-like fae Replies to Wally.  "Why would we not?"  Her dancing is exquisite, and makes up for Wally's lack of experience.  He's got the balance and dexterity of a speedster, which helps.  "You mortals foolishly view life as some kind of disease that troubles the dead for a brief time, interrupting their sleep with fevers and agues.  What is life without joy?  And therefore what purpose is there to spending time in any other manner than to pursue it?  So it is for us.  We live for love, and laughter, and dancing, for wine, and joy, and treasures.  Bring me a hair from the little one's head.  A single hair.  I shall fix it in a globe of glass and place it on my mantel at home.  This will be the second favor you owe me.  And perhaps the third, if it is done well."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Chocolate!" the tall fairy declares in response to Jinx's puzzle.  "Chocolate is in the bowl.  I saw you place it there.  Give it to me, if you will.  I will consume it with pleasure.  We can share it—I know you have been warned not to eat of fairy foods, but this is food you yourself have provided.  Therefore it will be safe for you to eat.  Is this not so?"

Irie West has posed:
    Irie stands there, tense as she waits for the shoe to drop and when nothing happens she just stands there agape wondering if this will come back and bite her in the butt later on.  Probably.  Moving on.
    She fidgets, not knowing what to do with herself.  She gets curious glances, that's for sure, and she's a bit too nervous to approach anybody for information.  She doesn't trust herself not to make another mistake.  So she goes and finds herself a cup of water to sip on as she stands in what she hopes is an inconspicuous corner.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Gar Logan bleeds red, but the flower-fairy-fae ought not know that, right?  Is it guessing?  Or is it speaking of something else?  Keeping the mask in place—those straps reaching back into his longer hair helps—he regards the creature further as he is again circled.  "Mortal like… how?  That we live and die?  That… yeah, it happens.  Do you live on and on, with no end?  Or do you eventually die, too?  If you do, wouldn't that make you mortal as well?"
    He crosses his arms shortly before the rose is produced in a slightly unnerving way.  With that his current pose, the long tails of his coat draped behind him almost down to the floor, his head tilts at the offering.  Oh, this is an easy one.  That one even named it as a gift.  "That's kind of you, but I can't.  We can speak peacefully without that.  I think it would look better in your… foliage."
    Clearing his throat once into a hand, he adds, "It's interesting you compare us to stone.  I'm trying to find a particular block of it.  I'm still not sure what red has to do with me, but we can share the similarity of looking amazing in green, hmm?"
    With no way to be sure how well this is going, hopefully others are having some success.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "You are not a mortal then?" the male hummingbird-fae asks of Kian.  "We were expecting you all to be mortals, but it seems it is more complicated than that.  I suppose that's only to be expected in a place like this though.  After all here we stand in a place that for the night exists both on mortal Earth and in the Fae realms."
    "A simple solution," the female hummingbird-fae tells Kian.  "Bring your two beloveds.  We have room for them both as well as for you.  We shall keep the three of you, and you shall live with your two beloveds forever.  Death will never part the three of you as long as you are ours.  Surely that would be acceptable?  More than acceptable.  We five shall know such joys together!"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Very well.  Let us assume I take this for granted.  Why are you… here?"  Vorpal gestures to the mirror.
    ~Your host thought it would be suitable to have me here, sparing me from being destroyed when the hou—~
    "I mean," Vorpal says, patiently, "The reason for which you called me.  And you did call me.  I heard you."
    The little girl smiles ~To warn you, of course.~
    "Of… what?"  But the girl only smiles.
    Vorpal narrows his eyes and turns around, ready to rejoin the party.
    But there are only corridors.  Not the ones he followed.  He turns around—
    The mirror is gone.  Instead, there is a long corridor that fades into darkness, with a glimmering of firelight filtering through a half-open door.  "…o-kay."
    This isn't technically a trap.  He is not trapped.  He is, after all, free to wonder where he may.  He just doesn't know where he is, and where everybody else is.  And he realizes this was, probably, done on purpose.  "…I am very close to futterwack up someone's rear end if this gets my friends into trouble."  He starts walking down the corridor.  Harpsichord music comes from the room in the distance.  From an out of tune harpsichord.  It is excruciating, like the sound of skeletons making love on a tin roof.

Wally West has posed:
    "You know, I really don't know the answer to that one," Wally remarks to the hawk-like Fae who speaks with such genteel and moves with such grace.  It even makes one like Wally look good!  A runner's physique mixed with a speedster's agility lets him react quickly to sudden spins and pirouettes.
    "Well, we mortals might surprise you.  Plenty of us love to laugh and dance and sing and be merry.  I find my joy in food."  But a second task is given to him to take a hair off of Iris's head.  NO WAY is he giving Iris's hair to anybody.  Then… a light bulb goes off.
    There's a rule about cheating Fae.  No rule about taking them literally!
    A quick motion to pluck a hair from the Fae he dances with and with a twirl, he spins away from the Fae with a wink to them as he walks towards Irie.  "Hey kiddo, you doing okay?"  He sets the plucked hair atop her head and in the same notion, removes it.  "Had a little trouble," He teases her playfully as he walks back to the Fae.  "One hair."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Water, dear?"  Irie finds herself accosted by a faery woman of extraordinary beauty, about her own height, similar in build, with the same coloration.  She even has a dress that almost matches the young speedster's own, though with a little less of the speedster wing details.  Irie could almost be looking at some kind of magical inversion of a fairground distorting mirror, showing her a version of herself more perfected.
    "Water is very bad for you, you know," she tells Irie with an expression of concern.  "The more you drink it, the more mortal you will become.  You wouldn't want that, would you?"  She claps her hands together and calls the servant back, who returns with his tray, and once more looks at Irie through tired eyes.
    "A drink, madam?  Champagne?  Mexican Coca-Cola?  Ice cream float?" he offers.  He doesn't look like he wants to be there at all.
    Wally returns to the hawk-fae with the hair plucked from Irie's head, and the fae accepts it with a moue that slowly fades into a respectful nod of the head.  "Mortals are not such fools as I had perhaps been lead to believe," she tells Wally.  "I cannot even berate you for taking something from me without asking, because in a way I did ask.  It's all about the framing.  Well then, I must be more careful about the final favor that you owe to me."

Jinx has posed:
    Jinx pulls the bowl back a moment and raises an eyebrow at the suggested exchange.  "Ah but if I give this bowl to you, it will be yourself and you are fae, which makes it fae food.  Though, I appreciate your enthusiasm.  So, I will give you this bowl if you tell me how it tastes."
    She holds out the bowl of 'chocolate' to the fae.  She genuinely has no idea if the insides will be chocolate now, or if the fae will be amused at a magic trick of turning chocolate in to canapes.  Either way she is gaining insights that might speak of the 'how' the four gifts were taken in the first place.
    She realises, if it's true what she is observing here, that even the one who stole them wouldn't know where they are any more.  Except if she has stupidly put a target on the Titan's Tower.  Time will tell.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "We know little of stones, green man who is red," the flower fae looks like they wilt a little at their gift being rejected.  "They bear so little interest to us.  They remain, but seldom change. We are ever-green, such as you are, and we are ever-changing… again, as you."
    The fae moves closer to Gar.  "However, it may not be simple stones that you may be after?  Of those things… we do know."  They smile mysteriously, the growth along their body swaying gently in a nonexistent breeze.  "Perhaps we could tell you… where not so many may hear."
    There is a little alcove, in one of those strange areas where the ceiling dips low.  That is where they seem to be headed, looking over their shoulder at Gar.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    The tall fae gives Jinx a bow and accepts the bowl.  She removes the towel and takes the piece of paper with the word 'chocolate' written on it.  She slips it into her mouth, and an expression of pleasure crosses her face.  "Delicious.  Most delicious.  You have exquisite taste, mortal.  I have not tasted such fine chocolate in a long time.  Yet there is an imbalance here that must be corrected."
    She offers the bowl over to Jinx.  Inside it sits a sphere of dark chocolate, speckled with dots of white chocolate, and topped with a rose of even darker chocolate.  "There," she says to Jinx.  "Eat it freely, for this is food you placed within the bowl.  It is not faery stuff—I ate that part.  This is safe for you."
    "Where we stand now, for the span of this night, is a place unique, both within the mortal realm and within fae.  This allows something to exist in both mortal and fae forms simultaneously.  I eat the part that is of fae magic, you eat the mortal remainder.  Is that not fair?  Is that not balance?"
    She tilts her head.  "Well, not quite unique.  But such places are rare indeed these days.  Once, centuries past, there was a great overlap between the mortal realms and the fae realms.  Yet you mortals became so… so mortal.  We had to close them off, one at a time, the great nexus points where our realms overlap.  There are so few still remaining."

Irie West has posed:
    Irie watches as her father pluck the hair from the Hawk, and she starts to panic again.  When he comes over, places the hair on her head and then plucks it off she hiss-whispers, "Dad!  What are you doing?"  When he wanders off she watches as the Hawk graciously accepts her own hair back and she lets out a breath in relief.
    Then there's a beautiful woman in front of her, and he cheeks pink a little.  It's like looking into a mirror.  Almost.  "Oh!  Uh.  Hi.  I like your dress.  It's very pretty."  She takes a look at the water that's in her hand.  "Oh.  Really?  I know that after I run I get really thirsty, and water quenches that thirst better than anything so it can't be that bad for me, right?"
    "I mean," she begins, fidgeting with her cup.  "I think I like being mortal you know?  I want to grow up, go to school… maybe have a family."  She looks up and gives the woman a dazzling grin,  "Besides, if I were here, how would I save anybody?  I wouldn't even be able to see Maddie without having some kind of strings attached, wouldn't I."
    When the waiter comes by she manages to catch herself before she messes up again.  "No thhhh—I appreciate the offer, but I must decline."  Wow, she feels so awkward saying that.
    Her eyes light up when she realizes something.  "Oh, hey!" she asks the woman, "I'm looking for a silver bowl.  Not just any silver bowl.  It's a treasure."  She tries to put as much meaning in that one word as she can fit.  "It's about yay big.  You wouldn't happen to know where it is would you?"

Kian has posed:
    Kían knows better than to agree to anything specific.  "I can't speak for my tenár'yw," he says carefully, glancing down to reassure himself that both the cat and the green metamorph are within sight.  They may or may not be, but the glance makes him feel better.  "So I may not promise them to anything beyond what we have promised to each other."
    The first part of their question is… complicated, as the hummingboy said.  "Really, I don't know if I'm mortal or not.  I think I am, but there are those who think I'm not.  I don't expect a sensible answer outside of… of… well, outside of events I am not ready to have happen yet.  My Gods aren't very good at giving me assurances.  I gather most aren't.  But so far, no black hole or Earthly underworld has kept us apart, and I am grateful to the Gods for that."
    He regards the humminggirl sympathetically.  "And there are some pleasures, I must admit, we cannot share," he adds with a half-smile.

Gar Logan has posed:
    The green 'Jareth' chews at his lip enough for the ol' snaggletooth to stick up from that mild underbite.  Gar's going to find out what this whole 'red' thing is, somehow.  Or he won't.  "You seem to know a lot about me," he notes.  Whether this means the creature can see through to the truth or is just making some things up, hard to tell yet.
    "There are a few things we may be after," he remarks, and while the sensitive part of him would feel a little bad at the 'wilting' over the rejected gift, the slightly swaying growth and the path being led over to the alcove… it seems safe enough for now.  There was not a verbal invitation or offer made, per se.  This is just an informational thing.  Right?
    He takes steps to follow, after the glace his way.  In getting closer, a horn of the mask bumps against a low-hanging protrusion of some kind, but he's quick to get a hand up to protect the mask before it gets dislodged.  "So you have some information?  I may be able to answer something for you, if you need."

Wally West has posed:
    "Don't worry!  I got this."  Wally smiles at her.  "Who do you think you got your cleverness from?"  Honestly?  Probably her unknown mother, but he won't let her know that!
    Wally returns to the hawk Fae and returned the hair.
    Game recognize game.
    "We are such things that dreams are made of.  Be a shame if we didn't have a little bit of wit to us no?" he smiles and nods.  "Ask it, if you so like.  Or I can try to dance without stepping on toes!"  Of talons, in this case.  Wally was putting on that Shakespearean charm as best as able!  The one time Shakespeare has ever helped him in anything.

Jinx has posed:
    Jinx observes the chocolate in the bowl.  She's doing her level best to look surprised.  There is potential that it's a trick, but there is also a way to be sure—simply wait out the night.  If it truly is mortal chocolate then it will persist after the party has ended. 
    "Balance.  Where I am from, others take the first bite.  I will share this with my mortal friends tomorrow and tell them of the gracious and elegant fae who I met."  That is to say, whenever she got given anything in the orphanage all the other kids would take it off of her and if somehow she got to eat it or play with it first, she'd be called out as selfish.  You couldn't win.
    Because the wheels are turning, her mind is ticking over.  How can you hide the gifts?  Give them a false label.  How can you get them out of the fae realm?  these places where mortal and fae realms overlap that were closed off and forgotten.
    Now that's something they can find.  She carefully wraps up the chocolate in the towel and opens up the pouch hanging from her belt.  Renaissance outfits do have some advantages—in the pouch she places the fascinating chocolate.
    Still, she cannot help but wonder if that exchange would have even been possible if 'bad luck' were still following her around like a stink.  Perhaps the paradox she created just worked in her favour.
    A courtly bow is given to the fae now that the exchange has completed.  "Enjoy the rest of this night."  It wasn't quite what she thought she'd find coming here.  In many ways it was more than she expected.  She has much to discuss with the team—if they all make it out of here alive.
    And there is one little thing that's tickling her brain now that she's been through that ritual.  One part fae, one part mortal.  This whole time they've been working off the assumption that what they were told is true—a fae stole the treasures.  But what if it was a fae and a mortal working together….

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I may, indeed, have an answer for you.  But first, you must answer me."  The plant fae reaches the alcove and sits down on a setee, a perfect two-seater in forest green.  The longer the fae speaks, the more its appearance changes subtly, until eventually its features are not so ambiguous, but slowly become something reminiscent to a young man, with grape-leaf hair that falls around his features.  He pats the space next to Gar with a smile.  "There is one curiosity we cannot overcome, green-red man, and it is something that is alien to us."  The light is dimmer in this area, which somehow plays to the charms of this creature which suddenly begins to bloom into flower at the shoulders.  "For you see… we are complete.  Is it true that you mortals… are born alone?"  He leans forward.  "Incomplete, until you are not?"

    The humminggirl gasps, "The gods are wont to keep their pleasures to themselves.  That is very much like the gods," she says, a little mournfully, "but what other pleasures do those of your kind experience?"
    The male fae flits back and forth.  "If you are not-mortal and mortal at the same time, then perhaps you exist between states, and therefore between boundaries?  And so must your beloveds as well."  He smiles.  "We can show you, in fact.  We can paint a dream of what it would be, in your mind—oh, do see it, before you make your final decision!"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Vorpal frowns.  There are voices coming from that room.  One is strange, but the other one is very familiar.  It's Gar's.  His steps quicken, but no matter how fast he walks, it almost seems like the room starts receding into the distance.  "No… nono…"  For a moment, he thinks about summoning a Rabbit Hole… but bending space in this place might offend their host.  That is not something that should be done lightly.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    The woman gives Irie a frown.  "I know why you're here, mortal," she replies.  "It's not like we don't want you to find the treasures.  If we knew where they are, we wouldn't need mortals to help us find them now, would we?  The treasures are hidden from Fae eyes.  That is a question I should be asking you."
    The servant gives Irie a short bow, and looks at her through tired eyes.  He looks haggard and worn, though he's smartly dressed.  It's an odd discrepency—the fae all seem so perfectly presented and full of life.

    The tall fae tilts her head at Jinx's suggestion.  "It's your chocolate, you can do with it what you will.  I'm not sure that will work though.  Once you have left this place, magic must make amends.  Here, in a place where fae and mortal realms overlap, a thing can be two things at once.  That which was once mortal, fae.  That which was once fae, mortal.  And the dream of chocolate be both mortal and fae at the same time.  Yet when you leave this place, won't the magic that makes it so vanish with the night?  Such is the way with places like this, I would think.  It is a risk, but it is your risk to take.  I will not be offended if you refuse the chocolate."  She returns Jinx's courtly bow and makes her way back into the crowd, searching for someone to dance with.

Irie West has posed:
    "Ah!  Okay.  S-mm."  Irie catches herself before she can say she's sorry.  After all, that's what got her dad in trouble in the first place.  "I, um.  Am still new to this," she flails a hand, "whole thing, you know?  I didn't mean to offend you."
    Her eyes dart to the server and blinks as something occurs to her.  "That guy… the server.  He's human, right?  Is he going to be okay after tonight?"  Irie, God bless her soul, sounds legitimately worried.  She then vigorously shakes her head.  "So-MM!  Nevermind.  It's not my place to ask."

Kian has posed:
    "I'm sure I'm one or the other," Kían says a little dubiously, "but I don't know which yet.  It's…"  He sighs heavily.  "…complicated."
    The hummingboy's offer gives him pause, but there doesn't seem to be anything ulterior in the suggestion to link minds.  Linking minds is a perfectly normal thing.  "Yes, I can see inside your mind, if you do not object," he says.  "We are natural telepaths with each other among my people, but with others I require physical contact."
    Hovering easily, he holds out his hand.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Gar Logan glances over a shoulder to see about noting the locations of the rest, but some are harder to spot than others.  Another green thing before them, this being the spot only large enough for two to plant—get it—their butts down.  He lifts a brow at the subtle shifts taking place, seeming to grow from more androgynous to a bit more masculine.
    Hands remain in his own lap, gloved as they are, with what certainly looks like leather or some similar material for the tight leggings.  "Ahh, well," he starts, squinting at the flowering of those shoulders.  "Complete, like… with someone else?  Of course we're born alone.  We have to grow up before any of that," Gar answers, as if such a concept couldn't be more obvious and clear.  His head tilts, the horned skull mask with it.
    With this answer given, he's got to remember to push on that whole 'red' thing, but not before the matter of his question about the block of stone can be handled.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    The green being smiles beguilingly.  "…show me?  I have heard that mortals join…"  Wait.  No, he is reaching out to touch Gar's lips, visible barely under the mask.  "We have heard the tales they tell of the power of these things.  We wish to know the power of this, a magic that seems to be solely the purview of mortals.  Such knowledge is worth, to me, the price of any question for which you may demand answer."  He smiles, and leans forward, glittering eyes the color of violets glances at Gar.

    And when Kian peers into their combined minds, for the female hummingbird also joins in, it is… well.  Overwhelming.  Like living several lifetimes in a single moment, each one a different flavor of bliss, with a panoply of pleasures paraded in an impossibly long succession.  Faced with the notion of multiple infinities lived at once, the mortal mind can't help but… well.  Kian's limp body is led gently down onto the ground by the pair, who smile to each other and flit away, leaving the Akiar asleep in the midst of the dance floor, where the dancing couples dance wide circles around him.  And the two creatures flit away, and vanish into the veil of dreams.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "He'll be fine," the woman assures Irie.  "He thinks he's asleep.  Sometimes we borrow mortals while they're sleeping to help out at these things.  No harm will come to him.  On the contrary, think about it!  He is surrounded by faery splendour.  We are doing him a great favor by bringing him here.  The stuff of his existence will be enriched for the experience.  Not many mortals get such a suffusion of Faery stuffs, he will be much the better for it in the end.  Perhaps one day we will even reward him."
    How true is that?  Perhaps it's best not to know.  It will perhaps explain to Irie why she got away with her little slip to the servant earlier—this is no Fae, there are no contracts assumed or otherwise in her interactions with him.  Irie's safe for now.

    "Are you indeed such stuff as dreams are made on?" the hawk-fae asks Wally, her head tilting curiously to the side.  A mischievous smile spreads across her features.  "Well, that is interesting.  Dreams can be so much fun after all.  In that case, fast and curious mortal, who is not so foolish as you mortals so often seem to be, that tells me what the third favor is that I shall ask of you."
    She reaches up and taps the cat-like face mask Wally is wearing.  "Cats do love to sleep, do they not?  Famous for it.  This will be a simple one for you then.  The third favor I have to ask you is… to sleep."
    For Wally, darkness descends.  The hawk fae he's dancing with is not cruel though—she keeps a hold of his hands, to let him down gently onto the dance floor, where he sleeps alongside Kian.

Wally West has posed:
    "That's what the Tempest writes.  Though I won't go into the 'Thees' and 'thous' and speak in much longer words than necessary."  Though why does Wally feel as though he has made a terrible mistake?  The smile she gives Wally is downright creepy and her hand is lifting.
    "What're you—"
    A touch to his mask and darkness descends.  Eyes roll into the back of his head while consciousness escapes him completely, surely to drop like a sack of potatoes were he not caught and guided by the Fae creature who helps him rest peacefully on the ground…
    Fully asleep.

Jinx has posed:
    Jinx makes her way over to Irie.  Splitting up was a terrible idea but may be everyone managed to figure out a piece of the puzzle.  She gives the fae talking to Irie a smile, then looks to Irie and asks, "Can you speed about and gather everybody together.  I'm getting a bit worried—I think I just saw Kian fall asleep."
    She turns just as she sees Wally fall asleep too and her mouth opens.  "Yeah.  Let's—maybe gather everybody together, stick together, and wait the rest of this out safely."
    Who better to ask than the young speedster.  No one else could get around this massive ball faster after all.  No one awake that is.  Jinx takes out her paper and pencil and begins to write down what she's learned fearing she may be the next to fall asleep.  She doesn't want it all to fade away like a dream.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Gar Logan shifts his position in the settee, facing the other one more properly as the rest of the room feels like it's becoming more distant and faded, if for but a few moments.  That may be all that's needed.  "You want a… what?"  The fingers meet his lips, and while he draws back briefly at first to say, "That's not really magic, you know," he looks on with flashes of doubt and budding confusion.  The plant-Fae isn't doing something to alter his perceptions… is he?
    But if this helps get a question answered, an important one such that would get them on the right path to one of the treasures, he shrugs as he stares at those strangely colorful eyes.  "Well, if this is what it takes…."  He leans closer, tilting his head.  Giving in to the moment, holding a breath.  Then tasting something… familiar?

Irie West has posed:
    "Oh!  Okay!" Irie says, assured by the faerie woman's words.  "I mean, this whole thing is pretty neat.  I've never been to a masquerade ball before, and everybody is so pretty!  It…."  She chews on her lower lip.  Was she just about to admit how attracted she was to some of these fae?
    Oh look!  Here's Jinx to the rescue!  "Okay!"  She turns to the woman and does a little curtsey.  She practiced those before coming to the ball!  "Excuse me, but I have to go gather my friends."  And like that, she's off!
    Odds are the Fae haven't seen somebody channel the Speed Force before, and all that can be seen of the girl is a streak of yellow and red, stopping occasionally to speak to a Titan to help gather them together.  When she gets back she says, "It's really hard to run in a dress like this!"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    And as Gar gives in to the moment and gives a kiss to the green fae, the taste of strawberries is strong in his tongue.  Green arms wrap around Gar, greedily, as well as vines and other growth to hold him in place, ensuring that the shapeshifter not only tastes the fruit, but consumes it.
    Vorpal finally realizes what he must do, and has spent several seconds running backwards in the corridor.  A few seconds later, the warm door is upon him, and he bursts through it in alarm.
    And the wall right behind Gar and the plant Fae opens up to reveal Vorpal, just as the kiss happens.  Just as Vorpal can see the strawberry-red tongue vanish into the kiss.
    "Gar!  No!"
    But it is too late.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Too late, Gar realizes.  Don't eat the food offered.  He wasn't expecting it to literally be produced by one of the Fae itself.  The deep sleep overtakes him before anything can be done about it, and with the embrace around him, he slumps into the arms and vines of the tricky plant-creature, not the only one to fall prey to their machinations.

Donna Troy has posed:
    On her mission to gather Titans, Irie runs into Donna.  Donna is frowning a little but she has a smile for Irie.  The smile doesn't last long when she sees that, as she had feared, some of the Titans have got into a little trouble.
    The Hawk fae is looking rather proud of herself, and lets Donna see it.  Donna punches her in the face.  Hard.
    Mostly, around the ball room, the moment of violence seems to have been unnoticed, though perhaps carefully ignored would be more accurate.  A few of the closer fae dance in such a way that they are as if by the nature of the dance drawn further away from the group of Titans, and the hawk fae lying on the floor.  Donna looks around to see if there are any other Fae who might be to blame for three Titans being unconscious, but it's not clear who is responsible.  She stares at the plant Fae, but she's not clear if the plant fae is responsible for Gar's condition, or is helping him.  The fae does it's best to make it look like the latter, and lowers him gently to the floor before retreating.
    Donna takes a step closer to the hawk fae.  "I'm going to have to carry some of my people out of here," she says.  "Which means you owed me.  I consider us even now.  If you take any action to change the balance, so will we.  Am I understood?"
    The Hawk Fae glares up at Donna.  "I preferred the mortals," she says bitterly as she gets to her feet.
    "Mortals King Auberon has a task for, which you have got in the way of.  Shall we discuss that fact with him?  As you like mortals so much, perhaps he can show you what it is to be one."
    The hawk fae looks in the direction of a tall, antler-masked figure, then looks back at the Titans.  She shakes her head with eyes wide, and vanishes into the crowd.
    Donna looks round.  "Come on guys, let's get the hell out of here.  Terry, can you grab Kian?  I'll take Wally and Gar.  We've got what we came for."
    A little more than they came for, because while they may not yet know it, Irie and Jinx may have stumbled across parts of the secret of how to return the treasures once they have been found.  That will have to wait though.
    There are three Titans to awaken first though, and who knows where the three's dreams have taken them?