It wasn't her 'scene,' as they said. Actually, she couldn't remember who 'they' were, but she was absolutely sure it was a figure of speech. And a good one. Because it really wasn't her scene. Ariadne liked taverns well enough, but the Snake's Den was something a little more than a tavern. And yet...there she was. Something just told her that it was where she needed to be. An instinct maybe? A spell perhaps? Didn't matter. She was there. And enjoying some sweet and fruity drink that was approximately the color of a pink tulip.

She was curled up in a big, squashy chair, her feet tucked under her, her cloak loose around her shoulders to keep her warm. Not that she needed it. The whole room felt warm and cozy and homey.

Nothing like she would have expected.

Feeling delightfully lethargic for the first time in...possibly forever...she turned her attention to the stage, where a violin player had just finished and ducked back behind the curtain.