[@Humble1]

The Fae were mad for human music. They could reproduce a symphony with digital precision but somehow it always seemed to lack some vital, vibrant and living component. As a result the ability to create music of any kind was especially prized among humans they interacted with. Of course this was not necessarily good news for musicians who played for them. Think of a famous musician who died young and dollars to pay the fae were somehow involved.

The Moon's Gift was packed tonight. The fae were out in force tonight. A pair of women, impossibly beautiful but with the icy cast of Winter sat in a corner, their drinks smoking with frost. A knight, armored in a breastplate of autumn leaves of red and gold, leaned against the bar chatting with a woman made of twisted green vines. Other less identifiable creatures, changelings, sprites and clued in mortals packed the seats, chatting quietly.

A hush fell over the crowd as the lights went down. Old school pyrotechnics began to detonate with sparkling flashes and smoke billowed from concealed generators only to be light a moment later by lasers that flashed and pulsed. A stylized axe flashed in glittering lights and then the smoke suddenly cleared as the shredding chords of Gossamer Axe began to blast out. A spotlight stabbing down on Giselle Rainwalker.

"Is this seat taken Cheri?" a cultured voice with a creole accent asked. The question was pro forma as the speaker, a handsome black man in a tuxedo and top hat was already sitting down.

"Because I am rather taken with your seat," he said with a lewd chuckle. There was a strange smell about him, like orchids underlaid with something faintly astringent. Small cylinders of cotton wool were pressed into his nose and a cigar was pressed between his lips. A glass of pungent rum punch was held negligent in one hand.

"What do you see when you look at her?" he enquired, gesturing to Giselle with his cigar.