Hushed Willows a swell of smoke arose and filled the air [festival]

The bustle of a festival was not her favoured atmosphere - though the sylph could appreciate the meaning behind such a gathering, none of the faces were even a touch discernable to her, beside that of the Sotaherra she accompanied.

Faeryn was among a growing sea of unfamiliarity, svelte figure gliding up beside the bulky appearance of Wintersbane (alongside Derg), sliding her seaborn gaze over the crowd before settling on his own glacial demeanor. "You know any of these people?" came her murmured enquiry to both men, tail flicking in aprehension at her rear. She ought to spread out, converse with those strangers and convert them into friends, perhaps gain some knowledge of the world outside of her mismatched, indecisive bubble, but she failed to conjure an array of topic starters, and decided swiftly against the idea.

Better to leave herself open, and allow others to tip-toe her way if they thought to greet her, and traverse from there.