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Penelope had started out in a group of six. She could very clearly recall Howell and Saoirse in their charming costumes, holding hands as if it were still a secret, followed by Saoirse's brother that Penelope wasn't aware existed, in a costume she was only sort of familiar with. He had been sending looks out of the corner of his eye to Arista Sykes, decked out in her finery as always, who paid no mind to anyone but herself, though she tripped Howell twice and Ronan once. Nona, always slightly removed from everyone else, walked grandly to the side in her homage to Morgana, looking both beautiful and terrifying, and also tripping Howell on occasion, once even stabbing him with his own bow.

Penelope followed behind, hovering slightly from her wings' steady beating, noting all the subtle interactions of her group with a careful and often unseen eye.

There had been six of them, but somewhere along the way, she and Nona had gotten separated from the group. They'd quite successfully (and much more quickly) made their way through the maze on their own, but after a slight disturbance, Penelope had turned around and found Nona gone.

And then there was one.

She hadn't been doing so terribly by herself. She'd screamed twice, had her wings terribly caught in a spiderweb, and when inside the castle, given good chase by a mad suit of armour. Penelope was about to check the direction of North when she heard a series of yells from nearby.

A chord struck her as familiar within those yells, and she flitted towards it, sticking her head into every nook and turn until she found its source. A wizard hugged the wall, appearing quite out of sorts.

"Charles?" she asked expectantly, studying the familiar bare torso, the only recognisable body part visible.