The first of November was a chilly time of year for a gathering on the terrace, but it was a household tradition, a sort of impromptu celebration of the sun’s rising after another Hallowe’en night. Now and then it was a welcoming party for new family members; now and then it was relief that they’d successfully navigated the visit of a difficult guest. When the weather was truly bad they moved it inside, but Ségolène was pleased that the sky this year was clear and the temperature not excessively low. Environmental adjustments could be done, but were so difficult and ephemeral without walls to contain them that they were scarcely worth it.
It was still November, however. She wrapped a warm woollen shawl over her dress, an impressively comfortable thing of thick jersey knit with three-quarter sleeves and a long full skirt, and started down the stairs. She preferred her familiar conventional clothing for dealing with guests—it made her feel more like she was on solid footing—but she’d succumbed to the temptation of much more modern casual fashions when only her family were present. Cosmo knew her tastes and was happy to oblige.
She still couldn’t quite feel comfortable in trousers, however.
The terrace had three round tables of lace-like painted cast iron, each with six chairs around it, but no one was sitting down yet. They were playing with the exuberant dogs, or petting the cats into bliss on the railing of the terrace. Thalia was checking on her terrier-sized winged bear to make sure the damaged wing that had led her here hadn’t seized up overnight. The birds were inside, out of the chill, but Ségolène could see them already back in their enormous cage near the windows of the great hall. So many animals found their way to the house—strays on Hallowe’en venturing into the loggia for shelter, creatures from anywhere finding their way somehow to the farm or the main estate, and Thalia’s bear had come from Tarragon’s sibling once it was clear she would need ongoing care. The house felt strangely empty and quiet on Hallowe’en night when they were all confined, but it was the only way to keep them unequivocally safe, and any distress or harm to them would be unbearable.
“Excuse me, Mistress,” Neon said, and Ségolène stepped quickly aside to let Neon pass with a heavily-loaded tray—and Jake with one in each hand.
“Can I help, cherie?” she asked. Always that title. She’d never asked anyone to use it, any more than Richard had asked anyone to call him Master. She trusted them, though, that it was said with love and not with fear. Her family had been through entirely too much fear and pain in their lives already.
“We’ve got this,” Neon said cheerfully. “Too many bodies running back and forth and we’ll end up bumping into each other. Especially when one of them is that big.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in Jake’s direction.
Jake snorted, and scooped her up to toss her over one shoulder on his way back towards the kitchen. Neon, suddenly a slender golden-haired maiden in a long white dress, squirmed madly, laughing breathlessly as they vanished back inside. Jake was particularly good at throwing visualizations at their shapeshifter so clear that they were effective at morphing her, unless she was deliberately defending against it, and she rarely did without good reason.
“Watch out!” Cosmo called. “Lupa, come back!”
Wolfish Lupa, no longer the gaunt and frightened creature that had turned up in the loggia, bounced past with her tail high and her ears perked, and for some reason, Banana was clinging to the top of her head like some odd hat with eyes. Ségolène stepped into her path, called her name in hopes of coaxing her into reach, but Lupa had no intention of the game ending so quickly and dodged her hand. Ségolène, Cosmo, Wanda, Dora, and Trace spent the next few minutes trying to corner her; Ophelia finally caught her with the enticement of a sausage from under those bell-shaped domes on the trays. Ségolène scooped Banana up and settled him safely on her own shoulder, under the warm shawl, and created a small bubble of protective warmth around him. He was a tropical creature, after all, even if he insisted on not being left behind. He snuggled down flat, arms gripping the soft fabric securely, but he could still peek out.
Maggie had told her privately that she suspected Banana might actually develop familiar powers, given time, and he was clearly bonded to Neon already, which might lead to some fascinating new abilities for their empathic shapeshifter. Ségolène had no fear of how they’d be used, and rather hoped she’d be able to pass on what she knew. But, regardless, the little octopus was precious and friendly and part of her family, and she wanted him comfortable.
By then, Neon and Jake had finished bringing out the trays, and Tarragon had joined them as well, so everyone found seats around the tables. The cats just stretched out on the railing of the terrace to absorb what sun they could, except one tabby who claimed a chair for himself and peeked hopefully at the contents of the table; the dogs flopped underfoot, and Thalia’s winged bear with them. They’d already all eaten, when they’d been released.
Wanda was currently visible, at least more or less under her long warm cardigan; Ophelia had switched back to her human phase because the chill made her snakes unhappy, and Cosmo found meals for the most part more enjoyable when human. Amerie had wished away her armour now that there was no risk, though it could reappear in heartbeats if she saw a threat. The rest were in their ‘monster’ phases. Except Tarragon, of course, who was simply a member of a species from the other side who had taken a fancy to them and found a way to indulge a mild obsession with food from their world. Having that rather extensive family looking out for their household had been invaluable many times, and Ségolène was deeply grateful. Sally and Neon and Jake had clustered together so they could share whatever vegetarian option Tarragon had invented; the rest lacked any rhyme or reason in their choices of location. Ségolène found herself between Sally and Thalia.
Once the party ended, everyone would scatter back to their own individual pursuits and passions, the things that made each unique, but in this moment, her family was together, and laughter dominated, and all was right with the world. Or at least, with their own private space between them.