Running late as artists are prone to do Wisti pulled up before the farm house, double checking how she looked in the mirror before slipping from the car, grabbing a wicker basket off the seat. Warmly encased in her mauve knee length coat she sets off for the door, wondering if she dressed properly for the event. A black skirt with elegant golden designs laid into it peeked from beneath her coat, her top a gold to match the pattern, and tan boots with four inch heels make up the rest of it. Her abundant curls are pulled back from her face with just four bobbypins, mostly left to do as they will.<br/><br/>She smiles at Trip, waving with her free hand and going to stand next to her to wait for the door to open. The faint scent of rich apple pie drifts from her basket, her own special recipe, though its not alone in the basket, sharing the space with a sinful chocolate torte. When Paradox arrives already half drunk from the look of it she hides a giggle and merely smiles politely.