He curled around her neck like a scarf.

She heads out of the room, the many not-satyrs following.

He enjoyed the ride.

They head down the hallway. He can hear Titania has hooves, click-clacking lightly against the marble floor. They sound lighter than the not-satyrs, so maybe hers are smaller or something or she's more lightweight. Plus considering the 17 not-satyrs following them, the hallway isn't lacking in hoof-clicking right now.

Cool. That makes sense.

They head into another large room. This one is more square, and more manmade than manipulated nature- the ceiling, arching what feels like miles above them, is made from glittering crystal and gold. Four thrones are here, like in the other room, except this one has more filled.

Sitting in the tallest throne is a regal, handsome man. He's tall and broad-shouldered, looking as if he could lift a mountain with one toe, and a pair of moose horns, adorned with flowering vines of roses and picked clovers, stretch out from his head in a 3-foot arc. His eyes are a dark lavender, looking black against his vibrant black-blue-white-green hair. His hair is messy and curly, and while it looks like he made some attempt to tame the mass of long multi-colored curls into some sort of coherent hairstyle, he's clearly failed. He's trying to sit still, but he looks as if he chugged 20 gallons of coffee and pure adrenaline 5 seconds before they entered the room. Though he's quite handsome, the messy hair and the fact his knee is bouncing like it's got its own personal earthquake detracts a bit from his overall beauty.

He just stared.

Adavantia is sitting on the second-largest throne. She's staring at Skullio.

He grinned and scuttled over.

She glares and tenses, not leaving her seat. The moose-antler guy looks down at him, curious but not alarmed.