Wrathion is not, exactly, in the queue. He's more curiously patrolling up and down the queue, eyeing the trees and trying to decide how he feels about the whole affair. Of course, Winter Veil trees are something he's familiar with -- why this place has renamed the festival he's not entirely sure. Then again, this whole... realm is a little off in that regard.

"Fascinating, aren't they?"

He glances sideways at Huaisang, his normally bright red eyes reduced to a less intimidating gold-flecked hazel.

"Ugly, too, but that seems to be the fashion here."

A controversial opinion. Then again, Wrathion is apparently reduced to rebellious teenager here. His black leather jacket hangs open over a plain white t-shirt. The jacket itself is... tolerable, but he's not a fan of jeans so far.