Opening Event: The Feast of Flowering

Posted 3 years, 2 months ago (Edited 2 years, 10 months ago) by brandvandet

The Feast of Flowering
🔸💐🔸

“It’s a cervine, I tell ya,” a properly sloshed young suid in a violently green jacket declares with certainty to anyone who will listen to him. “Look at the...the...the antlers there.” The square burgeons with noise and expectation. Children in gaudily painted Fortune masks—the young ones always liked the smile painted widely on them—hide behind vendor carts and jump out at passersby who startle theatrically and shoo them off with encouraging glee.

“Pies! HOT fresh pies! Juicy fruit pies for sale here!” a camelid vendor crows, swaying past with a tray of steaming, perfectly browned pastries. “Get your pies here!” An older bovine with ram’s horns curled tightly around her head flags him down to snag one, munching into it as she regards an Order mage putting on a display for a bunch of chattering children. An illusory explosion of fire clouds the children, the sparks spiraling off to become little dragons that nip at their heels as they run, squealing with delighted fright from the show. “Disgraceful,” the bovine mutters to the pie merchant. “t’ain’t right. I’m fine with them bein’ about with the monsters ‘n’all but there’s no need for ‘em to be showin’ off.” The merchant, tactfully, gives a non committal nod in response before taking up their barking again.

“Ugh, Billy!” an adolescent equine frowns down at a relcaltricant cervine. “I told you. You have to weave around the others instead of just running around the pole!” She demonstrates, looping her bright yellow ribbon in latticework around the red and blue streamers of their fellow dancers. Billy sticks his tongue out at her in response. “BilLLY! Aunt Joanna! He’s being impossible!” “Listen to Cara, Billy, or I’ll come over there!” an older cervine, presumably Aunt Joanna, calls back reflexively, not turning her head from her conversation with her fellow adults. Billy peers at her for a moment, trying to gauge the actual threat level before huffing. “Fine. But I don’t see why we have to do all this for a stupid yak.” “It’s not a yak,” Cara says automatically. “And we weave the maypole to keep us all safe and together. If you weave it wrong the monsters can get through and it will be all YOUR fault.” She uses her telekinesis to retie Billy’s green ribbon around his stub of an antler.

“It’s gotta be a pig, right?” a shaggy little pony asks their friend. “Like, those haunches can’t be anything else, right?” Their friend peers up at the looming mountain of woven sticks and straw. They open their mouth, perhaps to agree or perhaps to not, but their gaze lights on what would be the thing’s face if the sculptors of this huge creation had given it anything more than the blocky shape of a head. Something there closes their mouth again and they shake their head, unsettled.

The wicker creature dominates the skyline. Approaching pilgrims see it as a dark bulk of a shape against the filigree background of Faline City arcing behind it. They resolve in the distance, to get closer to get a better look at it. Once there, between the shops and the crush of the crowd, they realize they have no better angle than before. Staring up at it is skewed. Even with the healthily respectful distance the crowd keeps from it in anticipation of its lighting, they feel dwarfed in the viewing.

A mage tries to encourage a copse of intoxicated, oblivious revelers who keep straying into the cleared zone to return to safety. As he is distracted, a young child slips past him and runs for the creature. One of the drunks taps him and he whirls to see the child slowing as she gets close to one of the massive legs. “Hold! Hey! Hey! Watch out there!” He runs for her, knowing that the lighting will be happening momentarily. He scoops her up with his telekinesis and turns to evacuate the area once more before she wails at him. “No! I have to put her in!”

Startled for a moment, the mage pauses to ask. “Put who in?” The child stares up at him with brightly determined green eyes. She lifts her doll, a worn, well-loved thing, from her bag. “I have to put her in. Mama said we have to give to keep us safe and last year I didn’t.” She glances down at her hooves. “I was bad. I’m not going to be bad this year. I need to keep Mama safe. I need to put her in.”

The mage softens. “Ok. We’ll make sure your dolly gets counted.” He turns back to the creature and lifts the child up to place the toy in a crevice created by knotting branches. “There. She’s all tucked away and the Patrons will be sure to see. I know Grace must be keeping a special eye on you. Now lets get you back away from here.” He sweeps the child back to safety—and her concerned mama—in the crowd.

[822 words]

Welcome to the first site event for Anathema! The thread is now open for posting. Both mages and non mages are welcome to participate and will earn double gold for posts here.

Pocus (Anathema) Camy

Pocus was a very sore thumb in the gathering. She saw younger ones run with colorful masks, hide behind cars, and jump out. One even jumped in front of her and ran away from his friends playing a game of tag. It was noisy but it was a welcome sound. As some looked at her odd and avoided her by giving her a wide birth, she could smell the food waiting in the vendors. Food, huh, she hadn't thought of that in a while. Her ears twitched as a bee buzzed, eager to fly home from the flowers nearby one of the stalls. The big pole however really grabbed her attention.

"Oh!" She watched the creatures run around with the ribbon tied to it. Round and round they went, and Pocus couldn't resist any longer. She trotted over to a stall selling ribbons. "I would like to buy one please. The teal or purple one.". The shop keeper, an older mare with greying and slump body nodded. "It's on the house, youngin'. Go tie it and hope it helps you." Pocus tilted her head, confused and curious at what she had meant. "But I don't need any help." "Are you sure?" Pocus nodded with a smile. "Mmhmm!"

Pocus wasted no time to bound off with both ribbons and waited her turn for a while before someone tied it up for her. She was oblivious to other's reactions to her as she frolicked around the pole with the others, her laughter ringing through the air. Although, it wasn't long before she lost control of her magic and began to float. "Quit yur flying!" shouted someone in the crowd and it took her a while to realize she was who they were talking to. "Oh. I didn't even notice." Pocus landed with ease while in a mid frolick with a giggle, ignorant of how others were now looking at her.

Leveret (Anathema) JLynn

For once, Leveret was not dressed in brooding hues of iridescent black and blue (the loveliest of bruises, some would proclaim). No, today, he wore an outfit of purples, of lavender and sangria, touches of intricate gold drawing the look together. Noble, but not quite. Elegant in the way a poisonous flower was, a viper with too-colorful scales. While he followed the latest fashions of the royals, ensuring he was never overlooked because he wore the wrong seasonal trend, there was always darkness woven into his looks. An ominous air that he had spent years perfecting - one that drew curious folk in, hungry for the risk, lured to the danger that flashed in his clever eyes.

His long black hair was tied up, weaved and braided with ribbon to pay homage to the maypole. For all his danger, though, Leveret was the image of spring and new beginnings today, bright and welcoming with a smile offered to anyone that caught his eye (and there were many).

For the day, Leveret was not on the job. His rabbits laid quiet against his skin, their hunger for secrets sated by the promise of knowledge later that night - when the town was full from the feasts, drunk on the wines, and unaware of his inquiring presence. He would lurk among them then, find a pretty someone to buy drinks for while his rabbits feasted on the plump secrets the festival unearthed.

In this moment, however, he moved among the festival with a quiet grace, politely denying drinks that were offered, but purchasing flowers - red roses and tulips - as he went, offering them to those who held his eye longer than most. He would give them a bow, an easy smile with careful eye contact, before he said he would find them later that night…. If he would at all.

It is the great twisted mass of wicker that draws his attention away from it all. For as long as he could remember, even as an unruly child with wild hair who thieved pastries from the vendors, he had given the effigy a gift. He would give a cluster of lavender one year, a carved toy another, and one year it was a coin from his first payment as the infamous Rabbit. This year, he brought a bundle of cherries from his grove, tucked away in his coat and wrapped delicately in silk. As he approached the wicker beast, he would place the cherries gently in a crevice of branches, hope quietly for another prosperous year.

For himself, of course, self-indulgent as he was. Ivras be damned.

(433 words)

Finch (Anathema) DearCervid

32122149_Xcx4JmmCWF58Yvk.png?1614708165 Finch could feel his bundle heavy in the shoulder cloak he wore and with its weight he remembered its quality this year. A small inward pang swam through him as it was things he had worked hard on but that was the point wasn't it? Give something of value to ensure a good year. Well his heart thrummed as sadness and at happiness knowing his gift was good this year. Parts of orchard trees from a few farmers he had helped this year made the core of the bundle strong. They had survived a blight that Finch had recognized and flourished. Their crop this year would show impact from the hard time but the trees were strong and he had asked for a few sticks from each type and they were given graciously. He had carefully laid them in the sun for months so they would become dry. With them Finch had some rather unique looking variegated plants propagate this year and with many others he pulled 3 and let them wilt and dry. He powdered those along with some herbs he had grown for his own use and placed them in a bag which he tied with twin around the sticks so the bag hung snugly against the wood. As the year went on he had added a portion of some of his best plants. Some just dried stalks he tied onto the bundle. Some he bagged and tied on so now the bundle contained four or five woven bags as well as the stalks and sticks from many other projects. One last item brought the most sadness, a small cervine figure carved from wood by his sister. It was meant for exactly this but this years had been so pristine, so detailed that it hurt but he had followed her instructions and tied it to his creation with some lavender clumps he had been waiting to adhere to the gift.

Now Finch stood, time drawing near and he found himself thinking of the year to come. How would his sister fair. Would he see his family which he hadn't seen in over a decade? Were they here? A nervous flurry of glances from the tiny deer brought him back to now as the cloak shifted from the weight. His eyes fell and he chuffed at himself for such silliness. If they were they probably wouldn't alert him and if they met well... it would like meeting old acquaintances and he would deal. He would deal.

Using his telekinesis he slipped the bundle from his hanging cloak. The weight change gave him some relief as he floated the pack to the wicker beast where a plethora of offerings lay. He nestled it within the lot and smiled. Finch closed his eyes to think one more time of all the little things he had done to create this years gift. When he opened all three eyes he smiled and curled his body away and began to leave. He looked over others from his low vantage point, seeing such an array of bodies and parts and magic. He could feel the aliveness of the situation around him and he felt even smaller as he moved about the celebrations.

(537 words)

Dorcas/Charna (Anathema) Aleth1a

There is a certain anonymity in big crowds, that Charna knows to appreciate. It's so easy to get lost in them, disappear into the crowd without a trace. Still she tends to prefer smaller, more secluded areas, villages so far out of the way that no one would even think of.

She'd been staying in a small village just like that, so insignificant it didn't even have a proper name. She'd been planning on staying there for at least another week, needing to stock up on supplies and preferring the bed at the in, to the cold ground of the road she frequented. Still when she had heard of the festival, the news having managed to somehow reach the village, she'd felt compelled to leave early and travel to the capital to join the festivities.

The journey had been hard and the use of the more public roads had left her anxious, sleep deprived and more than a little regretful of her choices. The smoke from the festivities had been visible from miles away and with each step she'd taken towards it her apprehension and excitement had grown.

And now that she is actually here, weaving between the crowd, trying to avoid the more drunken revelers and the children running around everywhere clearly enjoying themselves, she doesn't know if she should feel trapped or safe. So ignoring the feeling in her gut , she trudges along, tucking in her hood and pulling it even more over her head. She finally finds a place relatively secluded, just besides an ally, to stand where she will not be in the way. Her back firmly pressed against a wall she finally looks around, taking notice of the crowd, the dancers and the huge wooden beast in the centre of the festivities. She sees many going up to eat, looking at it, touching it, leaving offerings at its feet and between the branches it is made of. Some just tie ribbons around them and some leave more personalized gifts. A flower, a gold trinket, a little girl even leaves a doll. She has nothing to leave, nothing to offer for a better future or even for hope. She flinches at those thoughts and looks away. Today is not a day of fear or sadness. It's a day of happiness and joy. But then why is she here?

WC: 392

Clarabelle ♡ (Anathema) Viscella

Clarabelle watched eagerly as the rainbow worth of colours passed her by, easily seen from her perch atop of her companion's head. The large moose was effortlessly five times bigger than her and his branching horns comfortably provided her with a safe anchor to hold on to in addition to his full mane. Usually she was only able to see the undersides of everyone, generally their knees if she were able to get up close but from this new vantage point she was able to tower over everyone; her eyes wide as she took in all of the little details she usually missed. 

"Oh! Oh Moose, did you see that Cervine?! They had ghost hair!" The little potbelly pig excited exclaimed as she pointed and waggled a small pettitoe in the direction she had seen the ghastly Cervine, mesmerised by their colours. 

Her reluctant companion merely hummed in response, not even bothering to turn his head in the direction she was frantically pointing to with her trotter. There were many individuals who had chosen to dress up for the special occasion, and although she had given it plenty of thought she had simply decided to where her usual attire; a bright pink and lavender bow that sat atop her head. Usually it would be complimented by her colourful tutu, but Lami had convinced her that it was best to leave that at the circus for the day, as it was her super duper special clown outfit for when she was performing her act!

All around them children were playing, their faces covered in colourful painted masks and they squealed and squawked as they hid behind the vendor carts, jumping out at passer-by's when the opportunity arose. A few had tried to jump out at herself and her moose companion, but he had simply flicked his head in annoyance, a lip curling as he used to tentacle to shove them back. Truthfully he may have pushed them a little too hard, for they fell quicker than a sack of potatoes, lying stunned on the ground for several seconds but Clarabelle had found the whole situation incredibly funny, giggling away on her perch and laughing so hard that she had nearly slipped off, her companion having to use the tentacles to pull her off his nose and place her back onto his head which had only furthered her laughter as she dangled in the air by her trotters - for nothing could scare her Moose!

"Hey Mr. Moose?" she calls down, mushing her face to the top of his forehead as she peered down at his face, going cross eyed with the effort. "Have you brought an off-" she paused in her question as something caught her eye, "Oh! Oh Moose! Moooooooooooooooose, we gotta go check that out!" She exclaimed, not even pausing to take a breath as she began to tug on his forelock, guiding him in the direction she was looking to go as he huffed grumpily but didn't question her, automatically heading in the direction she was egging him to.

"Eeeeee, this is sooooooooooo exciting - it's gonna be the best day ever!"

[Word count: 522]

1 (Anathema) ChikPeas

“Get your tiny dagger hoof out of my eye-” A shallow depth echoed from his voice that held a little too much humor for his liking as he lifted the tiny piglet from off the bridge of his nose. A pair of enormous glittery eyes were gazing into his with wonder and all levels of excitement until he lifted Clarabelle from the bridge of his nose. Gentle placing her back up between the stalks of his tall-tined antlers, he huffed and returned to maneuvering about the crowd. Her desperate stomping was rattling his empty head and convincing him he would be taking a week to recover from the headache that was beginning to build up.

Overgrown hooves clacked on the swept stoney path that wound through the city’s festive wonders decorated in soft pastels and vibrant greens for the spring activities. Almost everyone was covered in similar bright clothing and adorned in flowers of all shapes and sizes. It smelled sickly sweet in the center with the freshly baked goods and wagon-loads of petals being brought back and forth between booths selling everything from sweets for children to wood-carved mugs, overpriced clothing, and of course ribbons tying off bouquets of pink flowers. The amount of people filing in made walking in a straight line impossible. The mass of the crowd was making him rather uneasy but the tiny squeaking voice on the top of his crown brought a relaxed and content look spread over his otherwise daunting features.

Children trying to run through him instead of around him caused his brows to furrow. It made going anywhere a great task, and Clarabelle was directing him to go in many places. His interest turned to a row of pies but before he could suggest lunch, the distracted screech of the piglet made him grumble. Her little eyes were completed fixated on colorful bundles of sugar being passed out by a heavily braided vendor. Unfortunately at the very top of his tall stature, Clarabelle had a birds-eye view of everything and everyone.

“Okay okay- calm down-” He huffed while pushing her back up from toppling over again.

His direction was turned towards the cart with a small spinning machine attached to the center. The vendor blinked at the pair before their face erupted into a large grin. Everyone was more than eager to exchange happy smiles, fortunately Clarabelle made up for his somber demeanor.

“Aye! One for this cute lil miss!” The tall moose only blinked when the fairy-floss was passed up to her on a white stick. “There’yar miss! Looks like your face still mighty plain- visit m’neice o’er yonder for some butterflies on those happy lil’ cheeks o’yours!”

A payment was exchanged and the moose could already feel giant starry-eyes boring holes into him. Wordlessly he turned away from the cart as Clarabelle grew silent only due to the copious amount of sugar going directly into her happy little mouth. That thought finally settled into his mind enough to realize his mistake.

“That was a lot of sugar-” Moose’s voice was a little louder to be heard over the crowd. “Lemme help you with that or you’ll be bouncin all over my antlers.”

He reached up with a slippery arm and took a hefty chunk from her sugary mess, even if she protested. Unfortunately when it came to bringing it to his mouth it had almost already melted. He should’ve used those powers he rarely ever used. After freeing his arm from the drippy mess, Clarabelle started to babble through her mouthfuls as they crossed a number of vendors to a little station littered with kids and chatting adults.

Brows were raised and eyes turned to this dark burdened figure approaching their colorful crowd with young kids playing with spinning wands. Then Clarabelle started screeching about the paintings and demanded to be let down from her perch. The adults standing there relaxed and returned to their chattering. He rolled his milky white eyes, but dropped onto his knees then followed through with a gentle plop onto the ground. He laid there and let Clarabelle bounce down and join the kids waiting for their turn to pick colors they wanted with a lovely ginger-haired alpaca.

Now that he was free of the tiny terror he had an opportunity to drag his eyes through the crowd, scanning people for anyone of interest. Beyond a look-over and a glance, he would never go out of his way to approach anyone. Instead he’d remain laying there in everyone’s way until Clarabelle was all painted up and day dream.

WC: 764

Clarabelle ♡ (Anathema) Viscella

The little pink pig jiggled merrily in place as the vendor showed her different examples of her work but it didn't take long, for Clarabelle already knew what she wanted to be painted on her cheeks. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Whaaaaaaaaaaaat about, a butterfly on this cheek AND on the other cheek, an octopus!" She giggled merrily, watching as the painter's face went from a wide smile to a somewhat confused squint. 

"An... octopus?" She questioned, somewhat put off by the weird request of the miniature pig jumping about in front of her. It wasn't that she was asking for something off putting, just different than what the other children had been looking to have painted on their faces.

"Yes yes yes!" Clarabelle squealed in delight, "I wanna su'pise my fwiend moose!"

Nodding carefully, the vendor began to ready her supplies for the painting and as she got herself organised, Clarabelle took the time to look around for her companion to make sure he was safe, for she was very aware that he wasn't a fan of crowds; or really of people in general. He liked to keep to his own, even within the circus - but she had made her best attempt at puppy-dog eyes to convince him to take her out today, even going as far as to guilt trip him by saying Lami was having one of her off days even though she didn't really know for certain, for her carer often tried to hide it from the small youngster.

Her faithful moose companion had found himself a comfortable spot a little out of the way, but still close enough to be in eyesight so that she wouldn't panic as despite her bubbly exterior, Clarabelle didn't like to be left alone.

The face painter swept her wet brush across the little piggy's apple cheeks, the pigment staining her pink skin purple as she fidgeted and flopped, still riding the sugar high from the fairy-floss she had just recently consumed. The vendor had to stack a few pillows on top of the counter so that she could appropriately paint Clarabelle's face, for she was on the smaller side, even for a child. Fortunately, she never really let her height put her down and she was more than happy to sit upon the pillow throne, feeling like a princess and her toosh comfortably sat upon the pillows, feeling like clouds.

The vendor was concentrating hard on her art work, her tongue sticking out slightly, her eyebrows furrowed with the effort as she attempted to avoid the left over sugar residue from the earlier snack. As the vendor worked, Clarabelle was already plotting for what her and moose could do next. Maybe something flower related? Flowers were important, especially at this time of year! It helped that they always tasted nice too - their, obviously floral, perfumed scent often translating over to the flavour.

"Alright! That's the butterfly and the... octopus... done!" The face painter happily exclaimed with a grin, showing Clarabelle the finished product; who squealed in delight. It was simply perfect!

"Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank youuuuuu!"

"You're very welcome little one." The vendor replied, helping her off of the counter and shaking her head in amusement when the little pig immediately took off like the speed of light, expertly weaving through the crowd as she jumped towards her moose companion with little trodden hops.

"Moose! Moose! Loooooooooooooook, I got a picture of youuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!" She exclaimed as she neared him, the grumpy moose squinting at her butterfly face paint on one cheek, before she cheekily rolled her eyes and pointed to the other side.

"Here! Look, look!"

[Word count: 609]

✨JERICHO FAVARIS (ANATHEMA) Ecliptic-Kase

What's wrong with a little destruction?

A delicate cape trailed in dirt - the point of dressing up shattered within seconds of stepping out of camp. Still... The thought was there, was it not? Jericho had taken the long journey to the gathering with Asher and imagined the other man may have regretted the decision to accompany him once they were an hour in and his ear had been thoroughly chewed by unimportant drivel. He thought, for a moment along the way, of what he'd be offering to the effigy. A letter, a few winters old now, but still sharp enough to cut his skin deep... In a metaphorical sense. The news of his uncle's passing lay on the faded sheet. It had remained in his possession for too long - Now was the time to let go of the past. What better way than to burn it in hopes of a better future? "Tell me, Asher," Started the man, "Have you ever attended one of these things before?"

It was clear to know when they were drawing closer. The sounds, the smells, both assaulted his senses at once and let him know they'd be among the common folk soon enough. Children played in the streets, merchants peddled their wares... It was all awfully flowery and wholesome... The sight tugged at his lips beyond his control. Maybe it would do him good to enjoy a day of fun without the need to ruin it for someone else? Ha, now there was a thought.
His eyes lingered on the phantom cervid, then to the large moose and tiny pig - quite a pair. A small deer, another dark-coated equine... How interesting these strangers seemed.

"Goodness me, all this fuss just to watch a giant unidentifiable creature burn." A grumble came from the tall figure watching idly by, sharp eyes worming their way around the crowd in an effort to pin some possible targets. He took his time approaching the wicker monument - animals of all walks of life were gathered here and the stallion was certain he'd be able to con at least one poor sod out of their gold before the day was done. He'd been before, once or twice, so knew the score. Spirits were high... So were the intoxication levels of most attendees... Perfect. Jericho halted in his tracks as he and Asher reached the wicker pile, quirked a brow, and flicked his tail.
"Oh dear... Did I trot my pretty hooves all this way for that?" Quickly his head turned to the direction of Asher, feigning a look of exaggerated shock and disgust before laughing it off with a shake of his head, "HA, I kid, dear boy! Come, let us get into some trouble, ey?"

Just before he moved his way from the wicker creature, Jericho pulled the letter from beneath his fabrics. Melancholy eyes read over the words a final time, the fading ink tattooed in his mind now. Belmont has passed. He asked to see you, you never came. The words mattered not now, for they were to be but embers soon. "To the future, and all that." He passed a glance to the stallion by his side, "Go on then, make your peace man!" Within an instant, his eyes were aflame with mischief once more, ready to participate in whatever the celebration had to offer.

[552 Words]
"Speech" | Code by Neam

marinedoq

The trek to the feast hadn't been all too terrible, except for the heat. Donning his coat, he felt hot beneath the baking sun and the heavy cloak. He didn't need to bring it, obviously, but he didn't want to flash his knives. He hadn't wanted to leave them behind - something familiar in having them close, knowing he'd be safe or ready to fight back once the night grew darker and people got less friendly. He followed in Jericho's steps, keeping up with the older equine as the two got closer to town. Jericho seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before turning to Asher and asking whether he'd participated in the feast before - or something similar.

"Hah, I'm afraid not Jericho. But who would pass up the chance to see something burn for a bit, isn't that what brings people together?" He replied back, his mind wandering back to the many nights in front of campfires. "Campfires I mean. But no, it's not something I've been to before - not a time nor place for it yet!" While his expression didn't reveal much emotion, his voice betrayed a tinge of excitement of what awaited them further ahead. Though he didn't fully know what to expect, other than the burning of a huge.. creature.

As they got closer, Asher felt overwhelmed by the sudden change in atmosphere. He'd gotten used to the somewhat quiet days on the road, so being met by so many faces, smells, sounds, shouts. It was a bit overwhelming, but he couldn't help but looking around as much as he could, keeping an eye out for anything interesting that might catch his eye - or someone to take it from later, if chance came. It wasn't often that he saw this many different personalities in one place, he noticed quite a few mages around, some seemingly the high stationed Order ones, others looking like they tried to hide a little. Feeling self-concious for a moment, he tugged his coat closer, despite his horn being uncovered - at least his knives were, and that was more important right now.

Jericho brought back his attention, his look of disgust and shock aimed at the soon-to-be fiery wicker creature near them. Letting out a laugh, he nodded against the huge pile of sticks in front of them. "Hopefully, there's more to this place than this! Food, drinks, things to see, things to take," following the last bit with a wink and a smile. He watched Jericho place a letter far into the wicker creature. The one from his uncle? He wasn't sure, but again, he and Jericho didn't go and exchange letters all the time, so the two hadn't talked about it either. It might make sense though, especially judging by the words that followed.

"Oh, I... Wasn't aware I had to bring anything to get burned?" He spoke, visibly surprised and a bit embarrassed to be standing there at this moment. A whole festival, and he hadn't for one moment thought to himself, to ask what would be going on or what the purpose of it was. "Do I find something to represent the past? Or the future? Maybe we can circle back later, find a trinket or two to represent another good year for us," he offered, looking around the crowd for anyone looking a bit lonely or gullible.

{561 words}

CrowBirb

After returning from Ivras only a month prior, Fin was eager to get her hooves into everything her homeland had to offer which included gorging herself on sweets and wine with her friends at important events. The woman had been eager for the feast of flowering for weeks and now that the event was upon them she made no plans to hold back - she’d enjoy herself to the fullest. Now, shoving through crowds wasn’t part of the plan. With a pie firmly clamped between her teeth she shouldered her way through crowds and children alike, refusing to acknowledge their scare tactics when she had such an important mission at hand. Held delicately to her chest was a maroon-colored bottle, its contents sloshing wildly as Fin was jostled around. How hard is it to find a giant moose in a crowd? She thought as she shoved her way out of a meandering herd and into a rather spacious clearing. Using this time she sighed, taking the pie from her mouth to take a proper bite and munch away as she looked around for her friends. Despite the day being relatively young her body had already begun feeling the effects of a few too many bottles of rum, she felt warm and fuzzy, a tad dizzy as well but before one judges she would say she had her reasons for doing so. Months she had spent far away in Ivras leaving behind a lover that had meant more to her than life itself, Midas, the golden lady that had made her life so full. Imagine the mare’s surprise when upon arrival home she finds her woman unfaithful. It hurt...of course it did and while Fin was never the settling down type she had found herself entirely faithful to Midas, she had felt betrayed. Besides, who doesn’t drink at a festival anyhow?

“Ack! Hey-” Fin shouted out in alarm as the giant, and frankly hard to miss, form of Moose slowly crested the horizon. Cramming the remnants of her pie into her mouth the woman leaped into action, using her body as a shield for her bottle as she shoved through people. “Hey hey! Moosey baby!” Fin called out cheerily as she skidded to a halt to avoid ramming right into Moose’s long legs. Pausing a second to catch her breath Fin presented the bottle to her companion with a mischievous smile, “I heard we needed an offering but I think it’d go to waste if we didn’t use it…...I started hours ago you better catch up” It was then that she noticed the wee Clarabelle on Moose’s head. “Oh Clarabelle uh….I did have something for you but….I ate it.” [448]

Jotunn (Anathema) PurposefulPorpoise

Down moss-covered steps do ebony hooves quietly step, dragging behind them the edges of fine red silks that stretch from withers to the banner of the tail. No sooner than when he departs from the shade of the alleyway do heads begin to turn. He's soon swallowed up by the crowd, dwarved by those around them but nonetheless convincing them to part a narrow path to guide his every step. Quiet, they all are. Then slowly those who see him continue their goings about, muttering whispers of his name, or, despite their curiosities, refraining from dare speaking. Two waterdeer scurry up to him and flank each of his sides. They are his valets, dressed in golden tassels around their necks and donning white chrysanthemums for the spirit of the holiday. He himself is not without such spirit, in spite of the stoic facade across his owlish face. Eisregard wears a crown of edelweiss and white roses across his antlers.

Slowly and with silence, Jotunn does step, until the crowd opens up to the colorful festival plaza that so loudly contrasts his palette. Ahead, children bound and romp away from their mothers, holding ribbons and flowers in their teke. Families gather around the wicker place, making their tithes and saying prayers for a hopeful year ahead. Jotunn smiles, oh, just slightly. The sight does not bring him much joy, but, the lord would not deny that which dances around him. Peace as it should be, or how it is, for now. A city should not have to pray for good fortune. It should be confident, strong. He part-takes in the ritual ceremony anyways; mostly because of societal norms. His smile falls back across his beak as his golden leer traces the outline of the wicker place. "Does my lord wish to place his gifts at the wicker's alter?"

The saccharine voice of his valet squeaks. "You may." Jotunn replies to her. His tail lashes with inquisitiveness at the crowd which gathers around the ribbon pole. "Why don't we humor the commoners, dear Solomon?" He crows with a smile to his valet, while the other has gone to place his offering of fine wines and silk. "I have been itching for conversation." And he steps deeper into the crowd, whilst the shadowy limbs fold themselves behind his back.

- Lord Jotunn Eisregard

"Be ~~Not~~ Afraid."

| WC: 385 | Note: etc.

1 (Anathema) ChikPeas

Silver eyes traced slowly along the rows of fast paced figures of the crow weaving in and out. A very rare few stood out in the same ways he did, but once found, it was easy to pick apart the mages. He watched those ones walk along with a companion, some toiling in their own minds, others searching for someone in need of company. People watching was what he was good at. There were many things he had learned simply by standing back and observing everything everyone else did. Still however, no familiar face came into view.

He was almost startled from his peaceful train of thinking when a shrill excited cry rang over to him. Slowly his bulky head turned to observe legs moving so rapidly that they blurred as Clarabelle trotted to him from the face painting booth. She definitely fit in now and it hadn’t taken very long for her face to become filled with different colors- some of it still from the fairy floss. As her voice carried on in excitement while she showed him the butterfly, he swiped away some of the food caught on the tip of her smushed in snout. She was so used to him fixing up her appearance that it didn’t appear to slow her rapidly moving lips down. He was about to make a comment regarding how he looked nothing like the painting, until she turned her face to the other side.

“Oh- that makes more sense.” He mumbled. “Now if you run off they’ll know who to return you to.” His humor was lacking but she’d find it funny anyways. C’mon let’s go find the crew and get real food and throw in your thing to the giant pile of stuff.”

He let the tiny gal hop back up and rolled himself onto his chest and knees before standing up again. Clarabelle giggled and nearly fell off his head from the motion it took for his lengthy legs to get into place. Lazily the cervid looked from left to right while Clarabelle told him of all the different foods she wanted to try, really, he just wanted to dump her off with Lami and indulge in the food himself. His head was really starting to hurt and he could use a break from society. Finally deciding on a path to take, a taunting voice tickled his ears. Brow knitting the long fur on his neck shook with a brief sigh as he turned with the youngster still perched on his forehead. His eyes turned to the familiar figure that had disappeared for a good long moment. Fin came tumbling forward and the first thing his dead eyes settled upon was the liquid content sloshing around a transparent bottle.

“Your offering is an empty bottle…” he gave her a long blank look before shrugging. “Makes sense.”

He reached out with an arm and coiled it around the top of the glass, then pulled it beneath his blanketing cloak and held it rather close to his body beneath a faintly moving mass. He was only allowed to drink if he wasn’t watching the troublemaker.

“Been trying to find Lami so I could get a start.” He muttered. “You didn’t happen to crash into her or Taegen on the way over did you?”

WC: 551