A grin split his face as he parted the doors to the Citadel's entrance. The main hall had become an explosion of. 'What has it become?' the Elder thought to himself. Extravagant colors permeated a hidden theme of red and green throughout the expansive hall. The Consul had spared no expense for her Life Day party, it seemed. The normal dour and desolate hall had not seen such festivity in quite some time. Braecen approved greatly. Partially, because he enjoyed the holiday. Wholly, because he enjoyed the unease it created amongst the attendees.

No one dare refuse the Shadow Lady. Refusal lead to a cadre of Elders descending on you. The Quaestor still found it both unusual and perplexing that her absolute positive demeanor had created loyalty that thrice outstripped any of the previous Consuls. Perhaps there was something there. He would not have time to consider it until tomorrow, though. A jubilant K'Tana waltzed up to him. The Twi'lek stopped short of him, planting her hands on her hips and standing defiant. "You," she accused, "are not festive enough." She planted a crude hat on his head. It was red with white accents around the rim; a big fluffy ball of white at the tip of it's top. She smirked. Satisfied her job was done, she spun off towards the next individual walking through the doors.

Unsure, but unwilling to remove the hat, Braecen moved towards the refreshments. He desperately wanted a drink. As he approached the table, he noted that both Kordath and Mako were spiking the punch. "Two times the alcohol, two times the fun?" he inquired. Both men grinned devilishly before capping their empty containers, scooping a glassful, and moving towards the larger party. It wasn't until they moved on that Braecen noticed Zakath had been standing behind them. The Elder arched an eyebrow. Apparently K'tana had found the Barabel, as well. He wore a hat with odd horns projecting from his head. "Nice, uh..." his voice trailed off.

"Zhe zaid they waz antlerz," came Zakath's reply. He was obviously troubled with the development as much as Braecen was confused. "They... look good on you," Braecen lied. He poured himself a cup of the Mako-Kordath special and sipped. His eyes watered, his sinuses cleared, and his throat burned. He coughed a few times to regain his composure. He turned towards the Barabel and they touched their glasses. "Here is to another wild and crazy celebration in Arcona."