Drunken Revels and Swan Maidens (again)

One of my friends had his birthday over the weekend.  When asked what he wanted, he replied "capture the flag!"  So they held a campout in which to play.  I couldn't go since I had to finish a paper for finals.  Anyway, it turns out that their party was a lot less "capture the flag!" and a lot more "get drunk and see how big we can make our fire".  It's pretty standard when you know my friends, so yeah...

The really interesting thing is that one of my friends this morning told me about two "really bitchy girls" who showed up about 2 AM in their campsite.  He also remembered that they were really, really attractive and somehow the line of group reasoning turned shortly to a "birthday present" for our birthday friend.  In the morning, they were gone and nobody remembered a thing about what happened, but his sleeping bag was covered with white down feathers.  Which gets me thinking...

Swan Maidens.  We've already been here once.  I get the feeling I know what went on.  Might as well call them werewhores.  The thing I want to know is, why do they keep finding my group of friends and what they want (apart from the obvious)?  Side note:  Why do people not notice or remember the preternatural things going on about them?  Is there something in normal people that just shades it from their minds?

Time to put on my detective pants.

Drunk People are Fun, Shapeshifters Aren't

I went to a friend's birthday party last night.  Pajama theme.  A lot of fun.  Most of the guests were over 21 so there was quite a bit of drinking.  Nothing wrong with that, but it's a lot of fun to be a prude in the middle of a bunch of drunk people.  The party progresses.  We dance.  People get drunker and drunker.  Clothing is shucked.  It's really kind of funny to just sit back and watch it all.

Come 3 AM.  The DJ is winding down, those who drank are entering incoherence, and I'm about to be asked to be some drunk person's last resort.  Time to go.  Lo and behold, two attractive young ladies stroll in.  They're dressed in gauzy little numbers and for a few minutes I seriously consider staying.  Then a large white pair of wings unfurls from one of their backs and I change my mind.  Damn it.

Swan Maidens.  You hear a lot of legends about them.  In spite of the stories, they really enjoy "dalliances" with normal men.  They don't ever do anything with lasting consequences, so I usually leave them alone when they show up.  The non-predator therianthropes aren't usually a problem.  The partygoers were too inebriated to remember them, anyway.  (And the ones who weren't won't believe their own memories.  Nobody ever does.)

On the bright side, I managed to swipe a canister of salt from the kitchen on the way out.  (Stealing is wrong, but I'm too paranoid to care right now.)  So at least my room wards are back up.

Incidentally, here is a common representation of a swan maiden.  They're impressive, but not this impressive.

Caer Ibormeith The Swan Maiden by ~Quicksilverfury on deviantART