Bessie and Tom had apparently been looking forward to the Artisans' party all year, ever since Hannah's great disappointment with the adventurers' party the previous year had resulted in her making explanatory comparisons. In the face of such overflowing excitement, I eventually found myself relenting and agreeing to attend. Besides, I'd once more been a busy little bee after our outing in the Merchant's Guildhall, and I wanted a break.

However, I set my foot down on wasting more time or coin on fancy formalwear. I knew Hannah had bought a dress, Bessie was renting one, and Tom borrowing something of Mr. Smith's that fit. But as for me, I was wearing my go-to dress, and all right, my only dress... but it was really nice! White with a little black bow, plaid accents, and pleats, it seemed a dress for all occasions, from sitting in the library to attending a party. Anyway, it would have to do.

On the day of, I encountered significant difficulty concentrating on my work (to Senior Grace's vocal displeasure). I supposed it was fortunate then that I'd promised to come early to Hannah's home to prepare. How it could possibly take several hours to make ourselves ready for a party, I had no idea, but Bessie and Hannah had been adamant.

To my confusion, Hannah's mother answered the door wearing a bathrobe and hair rollers. "Oh good, you're here. Go on through," she said. "You can't miss them."

Indeed, though I sensed and heard people in two different directions, I easily followed the sound of feminine voices and laughter to Hannah's room. The door was wide open, so I knocked perfunctorily and stepped through to the bathroom, where I froze in shock. "Oh." The long countertop was absolutely cluttered with cosmetics. "This is... um... what?"

Bessie burst out laughing. "Your face! Relax, this is normal for parties. Well, the type without blood and sweat."

"There are products for those types of parties too," Hannah said. "My parents are just too cheap for them."

"Hannah!"

She scowled. "Stop eavesdropping!"

"Then close the door!"

After doing just that, she eyed me where I was awkwardly standing. "So you're really going in that? You don't want to try some of my stuff?"

Bessie snorted. "Yours will hardly fit. No offense."

"Thanks, but I like this dress," I said.

"It is very you. We'll just need to spruce it up," Hannah said. "Anyway, sit here and try to hold still, all right?"

"Um." The pieces fell into place. "You want to use makeup on me?"

"What else did you think these extra hours were for?"

"It was a mystery," I mumbled. Feeling like a bit of an idiot, I added, "But you both felt really excited?"

"Of course!" Bessie said. "Isn't this your first time wearing any?"

"Yes?"

"So we're introducing you to a brand new world! Maybe you'll hate it, but maybe you will love it. And everybody remembers their firsts, you know?"

Staring around, I couldn't help finding the assembled army of cosmetics daunting and excessive. Clearing my throat, I said, "I read that research shows cosmetics, clothes, and self-presentation in general influences the opinions of women much more than men. Um..." They were both staring at me. "...with the exception of lipstick. Thus we might optimize for time and results by skipping directly to lipstick?"

"Wow," Bessie said, laughing a little. "Do you analyze and overthink everything?"

But Hannah wasn't smiling. "Are you suggesting we're attending this party," she said, "Only to impress men?"

I winced. "No! It's just. Is all this really necessary?"

"Of course none of this is necessary. If you want to go looking just like that, then that's your choice. You might have a harder time getting into the party mood, but you can still enjoy yourself if you try. So what do you want to do?"

I shifted uncomfortably. Her question had two obvious answers, and neither sat quite right with me. But on reflection, maybe this was part of growing up? Like water spirits forced to confront change. At least I could try wearing makeup, incorporate that into my self-identity, and then later change my mind. I wasn't faced with self-dissolution. Also, my friends were clearly eager to exert themselves on my behalf; it seemed churlish to refuse without good reason.

"All right," I said, nodding.

"Just let us try," Bessie said, so maybe my hesitation was still obvious. "If you hate it, you can wash it all off." I nodded again, swallowing. "Oh, you're already well-groomed. Do you exfoliate?"

"Um." It was strange to hear that from Bessie, no offense.

"Stop talking," Hannah said, "We need her to stay still."

They started off with different brushes and powders, telling me to close my eyes and reopen them, to suck my cheeks in and to relax. Then they moved on to pencils, some sort of torture device they called an eyelash curler, and mascara. I'd long since settled from anxious and uncomfortable to bored and uncomfortable. I'd even brought a book but was vetoed from reading.

"Too thick," Hannah concluded. "Probably nice for pictures, but we should go lighter."

Bessie agreed, and to my dismay they had me wash and wipe off everything to start afresh. "So how have you been?" Bessie asked, possibly trying to distract me.

"Busy."

"Thought you'd have more free time without our visits to Duni," she said, unable to conceal her concern and disapproval. I'd taken to dropping by its core every night, understandably worrying my friends, but as I'd explained I wanted to be a good influence to my fellow Empath.

Then they'd been busy this past week. "How was the tournament?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Rena! Don't tell me you've been visiting the undine instead!"

"Then I won't tell you." I needed to exercise anyway, and it was much more rewarding to accomplish this by visiting Nailla. Two birds in one stone.

"Alone? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"If she hasn't drowned me yet, why would she suddenly change her tune? Anyway, she won't. Because she hasn't given up on her sisters."

"Stop moving!" Hannah hissed.

"Sorry! Um, so, the tournament?" I held perfectly still and waited. "...That bad, huh?"

"Next year," Bessie vowed, "We will at least pass the qualifiers."

"Hey, we're already leagues better than last year," Hannah said. "Remember Blake wouldn't even attend? We showed we're a solid team now... despite losing second round."

"I wouldn't complain if the other team had been amazing, but... oh! Rena, those nobles were there! Not Lord Didane, obviously, but Lord Lynch and the others. And one of them was phenomenal with a sword!"

"I thought a few of them were pretty impressive."

"Yes, but you know the one. Shame how he lost."

I couldn't resist asking, "Do you know the name?"

"Pft, no. We kept well out of the way. They're all Bronze or Silver-Rankers, but they're treated and act like they're Platinum."

"Not like they'll keep adventuring long," Hannah said, "And never know when a noble connection might come in handy."

"Are you saying I should join in kissing up to them? Don't even need to know names, I can just say 'my lord,' 'my lord'... Rena? Are you all right?"

"What?" I blinked up at her and realized my eyes were watering. "Ah, I think I got some makeup in my eye."

"Careful! Don't, you'll smudge..."

When it finally came time for the grand reveal, I was underwhelmed. Perhaps my appearance was marginally improved, but it also looked less natural. I couldn't help staring at the finely applied cosmetics on my skin; even if it looked smoother and shinier overall, it now suggested concealment.

"Wait, one last thing!" Bessie presented me with a tube of lipstick. I applied it and rolled my lips as instructed.

To my amazement, this final touch decisively completed the look. Earlier I'd spoken in earnest of lipstick's documented effects compared to the uncertain results of other cosmetics, but seeing how one small change transformed my whole face still came as a shock. The makeup that had just seemed overdone now appeared appropriate. My lashes were long and thick, framing eyes that looked larger and brighter above pink bow-shaped lips. Overall...

"You look like a doll," Bessie summarized for me.

I flushed, but the rouge on my cheeks mostly disguised that for me. "I just thought I looked more grown-up."

She lifted her brows. "I didn't say a children's doll."

"Ew." Hannah wrinkled her nose.

"So what do you think? We've just ruined your face, or you love us forever?"

"Um, thank you." I smiled self-consciously at my reflection. "I think I look ready for a party."

"What?" Hannah said. "No you don't. You're not wearing that dress just like that. Let me--"

"Wait up," Bessie said. "We should finish our own makeup first."

"Right. Welcome to try other lipsticks!"

Seeing as they took forever, I did end up experimenting and selecting a slightly different shade of fuchsia. Then we moved on to accessories. I was mildly surprised and disturbed by the sheer amount of jewelry in Hannah's possession, though she herself seemed dismissive. "These are just little things I've picked up over the years. Most of it's quite cheap."

I could see that, but I still didn't understand. "Why would you need seven different snowflake earrings?"

"I don't need any of them. But in the moment, I wanted to buy them. Aren't you glad I did?"

Thankfully, her earrings were all clip-ons, and we likewise had our pick of necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and scarves. I stared in incomprehension as she slipped on an anklet that would be wholly covered by her long sunshine-yellow dress. Bessie clinked from two rows of bangles up her arms that vaguely matched her green mermaid dress. "It's the Artisans," she said, seeing me eyeing her. "Crazier is better than too conservative."

Hannah nodded. "Too right."

In the end, I thought we all looked, well, ridiculous. And rather good? One look and it was obvious we were attending a festive party, which made me feel less self-conscious, like I was just wearing a costume.

We finally emerged from Hannah's room to find the others all ready and waiting. As Mrs. Smith made exclamations of delight, I was trying not to stare at Tom. The most striking difference was his skin, which looked bronzed. He'd smoothed back his hair, his eyes appeared more dramatic under thick brows, his lips fuller, and I guessed his face had been subtly contoured. He seemed matured somehow, not to mention he really filled out that tan robe suit. I'd never previously noticed him that way or thought of him as attractive -- no offense -- so the sudden shift was startling and almost unwelcome.

Looking at Hannah's parents felt safer. They had likewise transformed from unassuming blacksmiths to glamorous near-strangers. I could've sworn Hannah's mother had short, practical hair, but her head was now full of glossy curls; she must have used a hair potion. And Hannah's dad, ahem, also cleaned up nicely.

"...Blake not coming?"

I refocused on the conversation. "Remember I told you, mom?" Hannah said.

"I know, dear. It's just a pity we'll have to take the pictures without him."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Pictures? Nobody else was surprised. I thought she might retrieve a picture orb or image box, but the pocket orb revealed was even better. I stared at it admiringly. "Is that from Inova?"

"It is. An older model but still quite convenient. Everybody ready?"

I watched with interest as Mrs. Smith set the artifact on a piece of paper and kept her hand on it for a long moment. The slight shift in mana was the only external indicator something occurred before she ambled to where we were positioned around the living room couch. Hannah was seated in the middle, Bessie and I to her sides, and her parents and Tom behind us.

"Ready in three," she said. "Two."

We all readied our smiles, and the orb glowed brighter and brighter before winking out. Mrs. Smith hurried forward and checked the paper. "Oh, lovely." She showed it around, and we made appreciative noises while trying not to stare overlong at ourselves, or maybe I was projecting. But was that really what I looked like?

"Shall we try different poses? This time let's..."

Again, why was I the only one surprised? Was this more typical pre-party behavior of which I was unaware and unaccustomed? The novelty soon wore off, and I was repressing a growing impatience through repetitive shots when Hannah snapped: "Mom, enough! We can take more at the party, all right?"

"Just one more, dear. Funny faces this time." What? What did that mean? "Three, two..."

The orb captured me staring with my mouth open at Bessie and Hannah, who were practically unrecognizable but for their hair and outfits. Bessie clutched her stomach laughing at the image, while Mrs. Smith just smiled serenely and asked, "Who wants copies?"

"Um, I can do that," I offered. "With [Scribe]?"

"Would you? That would save us so many mana crystals."

"It's no trouble."

"So what should we do for the next two hours?" Hannah asked while I worked.

I looked up in confusion. "I thought the party's starting at seven?" To my shock, it was already nearing six, meaning we'd truly taken almost three hours to ready ourselves.

She shrugged. "Nobody actually attends an Artisan party on time."

This seemed rather nonsensical to me, but their party, their rules.

Bessie bounced on the couch. "Can we watch something on the play orb?"

Oh, finally I could relax with some fun reading, especially since I'd promised Hannah I wouldn't bring my book to the party. But I found myself staring blankly at the page as my thoughts wandered.

Three hours! I had difficulty believing any party could be worth it. No, perhaps such exertion paradoxically made the goal seem more desirable in accordance with cognitive dissonance theory. In other words, we would subconsciously overvalue the party to justify our efforts expended preparing for it.

Merciful mana, Bessie was right! I did analyze and overthink everything. Or possibly I engaged in this tendency more often when feeling out of my depth.

(And here I went and did it again.)

Noticing Mrs. Smith's approach, I lowered my book and accepted her offer of water. "Would you like to watch something else?" she asked.

Crashes and screams resounded from the play orb. "No, thank you. I'm happy reading."

"'The Perfect Scroll: 1500 Runic Exercises'? You're... enjoying reading that, are you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"...I'll leave you to it, then."

Two hours later, I felt refreshed and could fully appreciate the vision that was our destination. The Artisan's Guildhall, fittingly for a museum-cum-exhibition center, was designed for beauty. I found myself almost grateful for the long line snaking around it, which afforded us ample opportunity to savor the sight.

From afar, the Guildhall appeared as a somewhat quirky castle. Up close, nearly every inch of its exterior was an intricate carving or background, as though the architect could not abide wasted space. Closer still, even the building's flat surfaces contributed to the vivid imagery.

In one small scene, for instance, a formidable-looking team of fighters, mages, and archers faced off against a dragon, each figure sculpted in high relief so that they barely seemed connected to their background stonework. Said background was easy to overlook, far in the back as it were, but upon closer inspection portrayed mountainous terrain and a human army marching from the distance. Yet more observation at the right angles revealed small creatures quivering in their burrows in sunken relief... and a clutch of dragon eggs, so lightly imprinted they were barely visible.

And again, this was just one instance among many. What made the Guildhall breathtaking was that so many tiny pieces were seamlessly interwoven in smaller and larger spaces without feeling crowded or disjointed. The general theme appeared to be humanity conquering the surface world. Taken as a whole, it was a work of art; seen closer, it was another; and peering from different perspectives only shifted the substance without losing the form for aesthetics.

Then there was the delicate warding, which I knew would require more in-depth study from inside. It also accounted for the emotions that muted whenever anybody entered the building before cutting off completely as they presumably passed through another layer of wards.

"Is this your first time seeing it?" Hannah radiated pride as she interrupted my continued perusal. We were nearing the front of the line.

"Wilton's, yes," I said.

"Oh. How does it compare?"

"Um, similar in style and beauty." I thought for a moment. "But this one's... newer? And the theme is... interesting. I like it."

"It is a bit controversial." She shrugged. "Some Artisans love that."

We broke off as the door guards checked the Smiths' tickets, confirmed our identities and purposes, and double-checked our peaceful intentions before waving the six of us through. "What do they do about feuding Artisans?" Bessie wondered. "If they genuinely wish each other harm?"

"They're Artisans, not adventurers," Tom said. "Not like they'll start a brawl..."

But I'd stopped listening as the next doors opened and a concentrated rush of emotions hit me. I could feel the chaotic and compressed swirl of a multitude and the generally buoyant mood, like a wave continuously lifting me onto my tiptoes before returning me to the ground.

Maybe I should have asked Georgina for her handcuffs. They'd probably be seen as funky jewelry or a symbol, broken chains to end the year. On the other hand, this atmosphere felt good. Loud, energetic, boisterous: it was the feeling of hundreds of people united in their determination to have a good time. I started smiling, and Bessie beside me said, "Oh, look at that. Isn't it beautiful?"

I knew she wasn't referring to them, but the wards really were. Differently from the Scholar Guildhall's, this wardmaster had spared extra thought for the aesthetics, adding unnecessary details and subtle flourishes like trickled treats for the discerning eye, effectively signing their personal signature. And the wards had been cunningly adapted just for this event, using... pillars...?

I took a moment to look around and discovered we were in one of the largest single rooms I'd ever seen or stood in. Each of the walls was covered in illuminated stained-glass windows, lending the impression we were in a separate and complete building rather than ballroom or event hall. Large columns interspersed the cavernous space, and I beelined for the nearest one.

"Rena!" Bessie's hand landed on my shoulder. "Are you feeling all right? Is it all the people?"

"Hm?" Seeking to assuage her concern, I tried explaining, "Have you noticed we can hear each other quite clearly? That is thanks to these. Quite ingenious, they're filtering the sound outside so we can still hear but aren't overwhelmed." Indeed, what should've been a cacophony of voices was reduced to a pleasant murmur. It wasn't just sound, either. I detected space expansion, temperature control... plus different columns could be differently attuned, segmenting the room while maintaining an open space...

"I think she's just fine," Tom said dryly.

"In that case, why don't you show your friends around and we'll meet back up you know when? Don't forget..."

"Yes, thanks, bye."

I wasn't paying much attention to the voices behind me until Bessie said loudly, "Rena, Hannah's showing us around! You can stare at the building later!"

So we started on a circuit, and whoa, the party 'decorations' were rather unexpected. I supposed I'd pictured Artisans sipping fine wine whilst discussing fine art or something, but the reality was... not so highbrow? Screaming, laughing children slid by on giant ice slides. A nearby ferris wheel offered a more sedate ride and was also quite pretty to observe in action, like a floor-to-ceiling snowflake shifting through kaleidoscopic patterns. Passengers smiled and waved from a miniature train tootling past. I turned to Hannah with questions just as she said, "Watch this!"

She raised her hand palm-up, and a humongous tray came swooping down bearing plates and glasses. Bessie clapped her hands in delight. "Amazing!"

I stared up at the floating flock of trays before returning my attention to ours, selecting a small plate and champagne flute. Hannah tapped the tray on the bottom, and we watched it lift back to hover a hundred feet up. Next, she summoned two more trays, one stacked with finger foods and the other wine dispensers. Reading the labels carefully, I organized a sample assortment on my plate before filling my glass with rosé wine.

"The Artisans sure can throw a party," Bessie said as we returned the trays. "What's this year's theme?"

"Oh, you remember that?" Hannah seemed embarrassed. "'Snowground Playground,' subtitle 'laughing in the snow.'"

"Um," I said, swallowing a bite of spicy turkey and cheese roll-up. Yum. "Snowground isn't a word?"

"Shh, they're Artisans. Making up things is what they do."

Hannah said, "Think of this whole party as one big art project."

I was taken aback by the abrupt claim and said, "This is art?"

"Why not? Since we're the Artisans, we define it."

I backed off from her defensive tone and because, well, what was art? As we passed by an indoors-outdoors area with snow forts and piled snowballs, I couldn't answer that myself. True, the whole party seemed beautiful, and yes, the possibility of interaction only added to the appeal. I said 'possibility' because Hannah, despite greeting people as we went, kept us moving.

"Later," she said, nudging Bessie on from the picture-taking stations. "My mom's got the pocket orb, remember?"

We saw a grand stage currently showing acrobats, an ice-skating rink mostly occupied by synchronized golems, an ice bar with more options for eating and drinking, and two separate dancing areas. Not to mention all sorts of amusement rides! I was quite put out when Hannah finally said, "Oh, here," and brought us to a section for painting.

Thankfully, she didn't suggest we discover our own artistic abilities. After looking around, she approached a painter and asked, "Mark, will you mark us up?"

He turned from his canvas and smiled. "Anything for three pretty ladies! And their gentleman."

Hannah laughed, and they chatted while he casually began to paint on her. But her dress! I tried not to look aghast until she turned to show off an elegant tiger shimmering against the yellow silk, and he cast: "[Living Art]." The tiger prowled across her stomach while we watched; suddenly, it started to fade until only its stripes were visible as it disappeared around her side.

"Oh! Do me next!" Bessie hurried forward.

He gave her an octopus, Tom a tusked boar, and me a penguin. We laughed at his choices, thanked him, and then he liberally dribbled glitter over us. Some children were already waiting to beg for their own animals, and I couldn't help overhearing as we left: "Anyone have an older sister?"

We waved down more trays and topped up or replaced our refreshments. I noticed I was the only one still sipping the same glass.

"Look, isn't that...?" Hannah gestured.

I knew who it was before I turned to look. Georgina Lauren was fully in her element, wearing a fiery red dress with gold embellishments. Much like the Guildhall itself, she'd draped herself in elegant ornamentation, weaving jewels into her shining ruby-red hair and spinning intricate patterns down her curvaceous figure. Appreciative looks followed her trail as she cut through the crowd, exchanging handfuls of words.

"Georgina!" I called. For a moment, her stunning violet eyes met mine, but then she moved on as though she hadn't seen or heard me.

"That's funny," Hannah said, "I thought you two were becoming more friendly."

I'd thought so too, but I said, "Regardless, I'm so very grateful to her. I couldn't have asked for a better tailor." My recent experiences and daily Scroll work had prompted me to suggest modifying my robes specifically for Scrolls, and she'd agreed without blinking an eye.

More importantly, I'd obtained special approval for Georgina to join me for a single session studying [Mind Over Matter]. To my pleasant surprise, the experience had already been far easier -- "Well, of course," she'd said, arching her brows. "I tailored these robes specifically for the one Skill. Now I just need to perfect them for you with the Skill" -- and her alterations over the course of the day had noticeably lessened the drain on my mana further.

It was nobody's fault I'd made only middling progress in my subsequent two uses of the Book. As I had been warned, studying [Mind Over Matter] was hard.

"I just wish I had more than ten tries total," I said.

"You could always use another SES," Tom pointed out.

I sighed and started to speak when a loud bell suddenly sounded. While Bessie and Tom looked around in confusion, I couldn't help but notice Hannah was buzzing with excitement and anticipation. "You're hiding something," I said, eyeing her.

"Yes! Now come on, to the stage!"

As a melodious voice instructed us to do the same, we joined the crowd flowing in that direction until we found her parents already there and holding seats for us. I was glad to be off my feet and also to take my mind off yesterday and tomorrow's troubles.

Looking up, I saw only a single person on the stage, a flamboyant seeming gentleman with incongruously sombre attire and glitter streaking his face, lips, and blue pompadoured hair. He waited patiently for his audience to settle before speaking. "Is everybody having fun?"

People cheered, which I thought seemed premature. "You know there's free food, free drinks, rides, performances, free drinks, music, dancing, and also free drinks" -- he paused as there was a burst of laughter -- "so there's really no excuse if you're not." Some apparent fans screamed his name, though I still had no idea who he was. His voice was as rich and lovely as Nailla's, though. "But we do have some serious business tonight, so we better start on that now before you've had one too many free drinks." More laughter. "Don't worry, I won't waste your party time" -- his fans loudly protested -- "so without further ado, the Artisan's Guild is proud to announce a new Expert Artisan! Congratulations...!"

Oh. I suddenly knew what was happening. I turned to Hannah, who was cheering and clapping while the once-Senior ascended the stage and ranks. Bessie and Tom were also staring, but she kept her eyes firmly forwards, refusing to acknowledging us.

Instead we three engaged in silent communication. Bessie looked at me questioningly; I shook my head. I glanced at Tom, who did the same and then nodded to Hannah's parents, who were leaning against each other. Their proud, eager, but slightly bittersweet emotions gave me pause. Still, they decidedly weren't feeling casual. I lifted my brows and nodded, and Bessie nodded back; Hannah continued to ignore us.

"Each Path is a journey, and for those Journeymen who have found their calling and proven it, we are proud to welcome seven new Adepts to our ranks. Congratulations...!"

As he rolled off names and accomplishments while strangers ascended the stage, I clasped my hands together and waited, my heart beating excitedly. (I was so glad the Scholars didn't handle rank promotions this way. Think of all the timid ones who'd sooner die of stage fright.)

"...Adept Hannah Smith!"

The tension broke, and I cheered and clapped albeit sedately compared to Bessie and Tom, who leapt to their feet and began hooting and hollering. My face burned as people turned to stare. Hannah was likewise beet red, but she gracefully rose and ascended the stage.

"Adept Smith comes from a family of Senior generalist blacksmiths, but she's chosen to focus on arrow making herself. She's also an archer and Silver-Ranked adventurer. Congratulations!"

The Master of Ceremonies looped a medal around her neck, shook her hand with a smile, and started calling out the next name as she left. I noticed he spent less time on each successively lower rank, which was appreciated, as we next had to wait through eighteen new Journeymen. I applied myself to finishing my plate and wine between clapping politely.

Next, he moved on to announcements and the raffle, which nobody we knew won. Finally, he wrapped up. "Tonight's the last night you can party like it's two-nine-seven-two! So give us a party to remember!"

"Hannah!" Bessie instantly rounded on our friend. "This is amazing! You should have said!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise. And I would have spilled if Rena was still wavering on coming. This promotion wouldn't have happened without you," she said to me earnestly. "At least not this year. Thank you."

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. "Um, but what about Blake?"

"I got extra tickets for the rank ceremony and gave him one, but... you haven't seen him?"

We all shook our heads. "Bet he'd be here if he could sneak in," Bessie said. Hannah rolled her eyes; she'd been as shocked as the others to learn of his stalking tendencies.

"He can't with the warding here," I said. "Not unless he had the right tools, an insider, communication crystals..." I trailed off at my friends' expressions, clearing my throat. "Um, his loss. This was a fun party!"

"...Why are you talking like it's over?" Tom asked.

"Isn't it? We've circled the room, finished eating and drinking, concluded the rank ceremony...?"

"Rena!" Bessie exclaimed. "You can't think this is it? We haven't even danced yet!" What? I didn't know how to dance. "We've barely talked to anyone!" I saw no problem with that. "Remember we're talking to Artisans about their foci? And we haven't taken our pictures, or watched any shows, or tried a single ride!"

Hm... She did have a point there.

"Believe me, Rena." Her gaze was fierce and bright. The octopus on her shoulder waved a feeler limply. "This party's only just starting!"