The Samhain festivities were in full swing and going smoothly - much to Serafina's relief. She'd worked hard to ensure that the festival would run as usual, to keep the people of Camelot happy and untroubled by the difficulties behind the scenes. Even now that the festival was ongoing, she found herself unable to relax. The watchmen were responsible for maintaining order during the festival - those lowly duties wouldn't fall to King Arthur's marshall - but she found herself keeping an eye out for trouble nevertheless. It would, after all, be the perfect time for some wretched Otherworld being to strike.

These were the thoughts running through her mind, even as she stood atop a table in a crowded alehouse. A lute at her side, she was singing a ballad about King Arthur's victories in battle; surrounding her, the tables had been cleared from the room to give people room to dance. Her performance had attracted quite of a bit of attention - she was one of Avalon's most famous bards, but she rarely had time for revelries these days. Normally, she would derive excitement and energy from the attention. Tonight, it only felt more draining. Perhaps because she'd been spending so much time putting on a show as it was.

When the ballad ended, she hopped off the table, making room for another bard. She paused only briefly to ensure her mask was still firmly secured to her face, then pushed through the crowd to order more ale. She made it to the counter, but when she lifted a hand to get the employee's attention, her arm bumped another patron's drink and sent it spilling over the counter. She bit back a curse as she turned to see who the victim was. Luckily, no one too important. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I would blame the fairies, but," she motioned at her mask. "Seems I can only blame the drink. Let me buy you another."