#event 005

All had been going well – they'd been scouting the streets for peacekeepers, bantering, and Naz's shoulder had even brushed against Prue's own in a way that made her heart flutter. She'd noticed the hours quickly ticking away – the time that she'd been instructed to return and report back long since having passed. Ordinarily, Prue was a stickler for a deadline, but she had become quickly engrossed in some story that Nazanin was telling, which led to another, and another – and by the time she'd found the presence of mind to tear her eyes away from Naz's lips and to her watch, dawn had slipped into early morning. She'd muttered something about needing to get back – but, before they had the chance, the Capitol started to burn.

She won't ever remember much of what had happened next – she will remember grabbing Naz's hand and starting to run as the building beside them was suddenly engulfed in flames. She will remember the screams of frightened Capitolites as building after building caught fire, as the foundations began to collapse and smoke clouded the streets. She will remember choking on the smoke and dodging debris as more and more of the city centre became an uninhabitable inferno and flames licked at her exposed skin. She will remember seeing blue sky in the distance – and almost, almost making it to safety, before the building in front of their path to escape came crumbling down.

And then, she won't remember much of anything at all.

Consciousness returns slowly. The first thing that Prue becomes aware of is a painful pounding in her head. The second is a raw feeling in her throat, cotton in her lungs. The third is that she is in the dark – surrounded by debris on all sides and trapped by large slabs of concrete. The fourth is a dull throbbing over her arms and legs. She squints against the darkness to see that her skin is red and raw, and her left arm has started to blister painfully from where it was exposed to the flames. The fifth ( and, by far the most important ) is that she is not immediately sure where Nazanin is. They'd been together, hadn't they? Naz had only been here because Prue had dragged them along – and now she couldn't see them.

Because the Unseelie won the coin toss for choosing the Imbolc venue, and because Beltaine was in unstaked Brooklyn, the Seelie held the cards for the setting of Cotilan this year. It’s uptown, on East 59th Street, and it’s called Guastavino’s. The entryway is gorgeous and though it’s cloudy in Manhattan today, the lights of this building and its outdoor gardens, where you can catch a breath, make the skyline glitter nevertheless—not to mention the impressive views of the Queensboro Bridge and the East River waterfront.

The interior foyer holds the open bar and is none too shabby, either. Here, guests can mingle and have candid photos taken; there is also an oldschool photo booth where people can draw the curtain and take polaroids together while others are still getting admired out front. Once 8pm rolls around, attendees are welcome to enter Guastavino’s proper. Inside, there is a grand ballroom complete with live orchestra, but that’s not where most people will initially settle. No, first, attendees will flood to the balconies.

In the balconies are table settings and a three course meal will be served. As the meal is going on, the balconies overlook the kickoff and true purpose of Cotilan. There is the Seelie host, Firethorn, sitting on an elevated stage; just behind him sits Forest, the Seelie Overseer, as well as Ivy, the Unseelie Overseer. Slowly, Firethorn introduces each Court’s Elite 5 to the crowd. He gives their names and Interviews them compassionately, looking to engage the crowd toward betting, toward choosing who they think will win what he only refers to as “the coming Game.”

Among these are Davey Ventura and Elise Savalia. Each of the 10 competitors are asked about their goals, their hopes, their dreams, their loves, their pasts. Each are shown off in their chosen attire, which must be both fashionable and functional. Each are applauded heavily over the course of the meal, shouts of admiration are given, hollers of appreciation, and some quickly hushed heckles. When all of the interviews are finished, Ivy and Forest step out from behind Firethorn and escort their Elite to the ballroom floor for the Demonstration.

As the de facto hosts of the evening, the Seelie allow the Unseelie to go first as courtesy. Ivy takes time with each of her 5, sparring with each one in turn, each getting five minutes to show off some of their prowess and to instill in each viewer the worth of the competitor. One favours the chakram, another is a wonder with a whip. After this, Ivy retires to the balconies herself and Forest repeats the experience with his 5. This will be the first time that the competitors meet, identify one another, and know each other as fatal enemies.

Then and only then does Firethorn proclaim that the Betting is formally open. Seelie and Unseelie alike are free to place formal bets with him as to who should win, as well as to make their own side-bets that they will govern among themselves. It is typical that, by the end of the evening, the King of the Seelie and the Queen of the Unseelie will announce their own Wager so that all members of each Court know what’s at stake in the coming game. The Wager is their own betting terms; what each will give up, should the other Court win.

As a refresher, the King and Queen’s wagers are a big deal. Because the Courts are in a “truce” and the war is a cold one, overt harm can’t be done to each other without breaking the accords and risking war—and so these wagers are the best ways the rulers can hurt the opposing Court. While common fey can make betting money on a specific Player, the rulers bet simply that their Court will be triumphant—that any of their Players will win the game and take the other ruler’s wager. So much rides on the outcome; not just which Player wins, but which Court loses.

After Firethorn has announced the betting, he relinquishes the microphone and the elevated stage is swarmed with the orchestra and the swells of their music echo all around the venue. Now, it is time for drinking and dancing—and to get to know the competitors personally. For some, it will be a time for those who didn’t make the Elite to say their good-byes to their compatriots as they head into their final days of training; a last night of true revelry. For others, this is just the fanciest night of good fun the whole year long.