The feast continued in full swing as more dishes began to appear, each one more absurdly elegant than the last. One plate came garnished with edible gold flakes, another had a tiny floating sphere of sauce that burst on the tongue like a mana-infused bubble.
La Rocha didn't serve them personally after the first round. He had conjured a series of elegant, emotionless constructs in tuxedos to do that for him but every now and then, a loud clang or a frustrated mutter echoed from the kitchen, just to remind everyone he was still working.
Lola happily bounced from lap to lap, giving dramatic reviews of each dish like a tiny, overexcited food critic, most of which made everyone burst into laughter.
Eventually, the plates were all cleared out and everyone's stomach and hearts were full. The laughter had quieted into warm smiles and soft chatter as the sky began to shift, casting the balcony in hues of pale lavender and peach.
