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When at last the day of the grand feast arrived, Isander found himself assisting in the kitchens. Morning quickly turned into late afternoon, all hands busy preparing for the banquet. He lent his aid by bringing bottles up from the cellar, polishing cutlery, and setting up plates - the cooks seemed to know better than to ask him to do anything involving heat; after his earlier incident trying to chop carrots, they also began to steer him away from anything sharp.

By the time evening had set, everything was ready to satisfy the Gods - or so he hoped. Isander had heard rumors circulating about who would be in attendance, and he couldn’t help shifting from foot to foot in anticipation. This was it - he was finally going to witness the Gods in person. He wasn’t sure which feeling was more prominent - his excitement or his nerves. Not that it mattered; both emotions were coiled so tightly in his chest that there was no way to tell them apart even if he tried.

He had a freshly bandaged finger beneath his glove as the party began. Isander stood vigilant by the kitchen doors, a tray held aloft in one hand while the other was tucked respectfully behind his back. He tried to follow the instructions he had been given - [i]be attentive but do not stare[/i] - yet he was finding it harder to do the longer the night wore on. Particularly once he’d realized that there must have been some sort of mix-up with the costumes. His eyes kept flickering towards the divine ones, his attention drawn to the untraditional attire worn by the imposing figures. 

He even spotted a party hat attached to none other than the [color=#1a98c3]Great Chronicler[/color] themself and felt the corner of his mouth twitch in pleasant surprise. Somehow, seeing them all wearing swapped ensembles or silly hats made Isander feel more at ease. The Gods almost seemed more approachable this way - not that Zan had any intention of doing such a thing. [i]Well[/i]... except perhaps the [color=#D1A054]God of Bounty[/color]. He’d been told to pray to [color=#D1A054]Melion[/color] since he learned to talk, not to mention the festivals they held in his honor every year. He had a million questions but was sure if he ever had the chance, he wouldn’t have the courage to ask a single one. Still, the idea of being in his vicinity was a welcome one. 

As long as he ignored the passing whispers that the [color=#883d39]God of Decay[/color] was around, he was sure he could get through the night without incident. Zan brought himself to make another round about the ballroom, collecting empty champagne glasses and used plates, smiling politely despite giving all the deities a wide berth. [i]Stay busy but don't interfere[/i]... He could do that. Be a bee on the wall, he thought distractedly, noticing said creature garnering quite a bit of attention in the corner. Well, perhaps not [i]that[/i] bee. At least he could use the distraction to clear away the platters nearby. As he did so, he tried not to shiver at the state of the turkey bones that remained.