Most folks are probably too busy to waylay him, but another honoured guest - or really, prisoner on probation - has absolutely no qualms.
Coraline's been practicing with her Glamour a little, hoping that exercising her limited magic potential will help it come back fast enough to be useful, but she's found fairly quickly that at the very least, her Blessing are already usable. Which means among other things, she's nearly perfectly invisible against the trees scattered around the town, even in hew new, fitted uniform; her bark skin and hair shifted to match, so when she spots Jon her skin has the uneven orange-ish scales of pine, and her hair is whip-like branches with thick layers of rich green needles.
She's not immediately noticeable at a glance, from her precarious seat on a branch above head height - most things don't look up, she'd learned very early on, when they're actively searching for something - but when she sees Jon walking underneath it's too tempting not to harass him.
"You look like shit." Eyes of nearly pure yellow - perhaps a little paler on the iris - gleam down at him from the gloom of the tree's shadowy interior, narrowed in an amused grin.
Around town
Coraline's been practicing with her Glamour a little, hoping that exercising her limited magic potential will help it come back fast enough to be useful, but she's found fairly quickly that at the very least, her Blessing are already usable. Which means among other things, she's nearly perfectly invisible against the trees scattered around the town, even in hew new, fitted uniform; her bark skin and hair shifted to match, so when she spots Jon her skin has the uneven orange-ish scales of pine, and her hair is whip-like branches with thick layers of rich green needles.
She's not immediately noticeable at a glance, from her precarious seat on a branch above head height - most things don't look up, she'd learned very early on, when they're actively searching for something - but when she sees Jon walking underneath it's too tempting not to harass him.
"You look like shit." Eyes of nearly pure yellow - perhaps a little paler on the iris - gleam down at him from the gloom of the tree's shadowy interior, narrowed in an amused grin.