Flower Bunny Inn, Moon Blossom Village, Heartwood Mountains. 1 PM, Saturday, May 1st.
The laughter, which had been a little too hearty given the circumstances, finally subsided. Sixteen friends, having narrowly escaped permanent retinal confusion thanks to Woodwright's… *interpretive* decor, blinked at each other in the suddenly-too-bright common room.
"Right," chirped Ayia, ever the optimist, brushing imaginary dust off her pristine sleeve. "That was… an experience. Anyone else feel like their eyeballs did a little jig?"
Max, a man whose natural state was one of mild alarm, clutched his chest. "A jig?I believe my optic nerves are currently composing a strongly worded letter to my brain. And I'm fairly certain I saw a squirrel wearing a tiny bowler hat as if it was in front of me!"
