The looks that Yula gets are very different from the front compared to the back.  As she approaches, sides are nudged and glasses are raised, but as she moves past these change from merely appreciation for the furred dress hanging off of her breasts to coughed out surprise, gasps, and hoots of approval. Of course, that also could just be because the slit for her tail gives quite a show.  Either way, Yula's outfit has also received quite a bit of positive attention.<br/><br/>The two drow look up at the sound of approaching footsteps and offer grins, Cheszeth's tight and Divdor's welcoming and appreciative.  The male drow goes so far as to gesture to a chair at their table.  At Yula's words, Cheszeth rolls her eyes in a very obvious way and raises an eyebrow at Divdor.  "We're blending, isn't that right?"  The drow's dress is fetching, but looks more similar to a farmer's feast-day clothing than anything as elegant as even Yula's simpler clothing.  Cheszeth's arms and feet are bound in leather bracers and her white hair is gathered into a traditional braid, though needless to say her coloration is far from wood elf.  A brown wooden bow with green leather wrapping completes the look.<br/><br/>Where Cheszeth went for simplicity, Divdor has been elaborate.  Carved wooden armor over his shoulders, chest, and arms are done with apparently appropriately elven writing, several layers of dyed green and brown leathers, and a crown of bone about his ears give him very much the look of a drow who has gone to be a princeling of the wood elves.  He, at least, seems to be having a good time.  Leaning forward a bit he shrugs and says, "We're dressing up and joining the festival because it helps us to be known and trusted.  People will want to talk to us about our costumes, it gives them a starting place.  Otherwise we're just the friendly drow and the scary drow."  At this point, Cheszeth kicks him under the table.<br/><br/>Cheszeth then uses that same foot to push a chair out for Yula if she should want to sit.  "I didn't want to be an elf," she complains before picking up her mead and taking a delicate sip of it.  "That's... Quite a costume.  Uh... What...  This is an overland thing?"<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/45/b1/c3/45b1c304aaba15287a1cecf07d472b8d.jpg)</div>Across the bar, Ayca chuckles at Phelypsis as she leads her along, holding gently onto the barbarian's arm.  A bright, crisp laugh comes from her and she muses out, "It was actually an easy enough costume!  I got lucky there."  Her skirt swishes against Phelypsis's legs as she went, "No, no, you don't need to hide!  Where would you hide, love?  We could duck you into the kitchen!  No, no, if he sees that I dragged you off, he'll assume I wanted to gossip about something or other."<br/><br/>Ayca passes through the crowd with comfort and ease, even avoiding hands that reach out to try to swat or grab at a passing little witch.  Each time that Phelypsis accidentally bumps someone or clearly is struggling, she gives a little squeeze to her arm and an affectionate pat, assuring her that it's okay.  When they find Nuria a wide smile comes to Ayca's face as she looks up to Phelypsis, "See?  Bit of safety from The Storm."  She gives a wink and moves to place herself next to Nuria as well, casually reaching out to stroke a hand along her shoulder with a warm smile, "An impressive valkyrie, wouldn't you think?  I was half tempted to cast a spell on her and drag her back to my lair."  The look she gives the puffed out valkyrie chest does look quite interested.