Harvest Dance
Log Info
- Title: Harvest Dance
- Meetup Runners: Aelwyn, Eztli
- Place: Festival Grounds, Alexandria
- Alexandria Festival grounds, sunset.
While there had been steady work in the area for several days, the festival grounds had been closed down entirely yesterday as preparations neared their zenith. It had only been about an hour and a half since the guards stationed at the several entrances to the grounds allowed those not working on the event to enter.
That was not to say that everything going on was impossible to see without getting a closer look, however. Taking up much of the grounds south of the stands that lined the area was a massive structure, made of ribs of wood and metal, covered entirely in a layer of bright orange fabric, save for the carved green stem that stood out against the top of the artificial pumpkin. Lining the ground around it were hundreds of much less wooden gourds, pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, decorating displays and many stalls that were selling food and gifts for those coming to experience the festivities. Each was carved with different scenes and creatures, from mythical beasts, to scenic landscapes, to legendary heroes of the city, with more than a few familiar faces recognizable amongst them. While carvings were incapable of showing color, there was only one Raven which had been seen wearing a bow tie, after all.
It seemed that the event had not quite started yet, however, with people funneling into the area. What was true however, was there was a general air of good cheer throughout the area.
If there was one thing Slixvah could not resist, it was a party. Donned in a plethora of oranges and yellows with a streak of dyed purpled feathers splashing about the side of her face, she enters into the grounds after a middle aged man getting dragged around by his daughter.
"Oooh~!" Slixvah coos, walking into the space and giggling at the carved pumpkins, finding a few that she knows of!
The Goblin descends onto the gate from above, white-feathered wings sprouting from her shoulder blades. Completely wrapped in leather and fur, her wolf-pelt cloak flapping about dramatically as she does lazy circles until she can touch the ground.
The diminutive woman shuffles in with the crowd, and once near the faux pumpkin, she begins to examine the smaller, carved pumpkins. Murder's laughter is loud and squeaky as she takes in pumpkins carved in likenesses of her friends, past and present.
As the sun sets, the stars are already starting to come out. And with that, come three familiar faces -- famous, even, at least in Alexandria. Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, dressed in a silk tunic of deep orange trimmed in silver with various flowering-plant designs, and forest-green woolen trousers tucked into his boots. His eyes shine with starlight, and his long platinum hair caught up in a braid hanging halfway down his back.
The dapper half-elf walks alongside his wife, arm in arm with her, with his sister on the other side. He smiles at both of them, as they step into the ground. "So, I expect we'll all soon be immortalized in pumpkin form. This should be interesting to see."
Gatherings are always fun. New faces, old faces, everything in between. That there's usually food and drink at them is also a string point. Bryn's idea of 'lots of people' is way smaller than Alexandria, though, so that makes this probably the most folks she's seen gatherin up.
There's so much to see that isn't people, too! Like the pumpkins! Well, Ok, some of them are done up like people, and some she even recognizes as she wanders around just trying to take it all in.
Cor'lana is dressed similarly to impress, a matching dress of deep orange and silver trim adorning her slim figure. She has a rather light cloak for the late autumn day (that is soon to be evening), something made out of more silk to match her dress and seemingly not lined with any kind of pelt, but she expresses no discomfort whatsoever at the chill. Her violet eyes seem keenly interested in their surroundings, spying the festival grounds. "I have to hope that they do Pothy's carving justice," she says brightly. After all... She's resigned herself to the idea that any pumpkin carvings of herself just might accentuate certain things to a ridiculous degree.
Such is the fate of the Temptress of Alexandria.
Pothy, meanwhile, is a bow-tie-wearing raven. The bow-tie-wearing raven. Today, he is one of Auranar's fashion accessories, adorning her shoulder. He murmurs in his true voice (as Cor'lana has kissed him in the last ten minutes), "I really, really hope there's lots of pumpkin pie." His little corvid heart might be broken if there wasn't any.
Auranar laughs at the thought of being immortalized in pumpkin form as Pothy sits on her shoulder. "Me? Immortalized in pumpkin? Surely not. Who would make me a pumpkin?" She shakes her head at the mere idea. (Little does she know that there is indeed a pumpkin out there with her image on it.) She offers Pothy another snack and stays close to Telamon and Cor'lana with some amusement, eagerly looking for the pumpkins that are surely carved with their imagery.
Carver admires the giant structure looming over all, grand ribbed buttresses veiled in saffron, a majestic 'pumpkin' indeed. A king at court, a grand procession of gourds and merchants who wile passing civilians of their coins, with great tricks or treats. The woman's eyes take in the detail but the lack of wonder across her face is telling. She rubs at her cheek with scuffed knuckles. Again. Frown.
She slips away to inspect smaller jack'o'lanterns. She pauses at more familiar faces, taking in the details. Judging these artistic recreations against the more mundane memories that swim. Some compare. Some definitely exaggerate. All part of the fun. One merchant tries to grab her attention and is ignored. Or rather almost consciously avoided, quickly diverting down another path.
It seemed that the event had not quite started yet, however, with people funneling into the area. What was true however, was there was a general air of good cheer throughout the area.
With everyone quickly filling in the festival grounds, there was one particular area which remained empty. Several stanchions lined a wide path down the north entrance to the grounds, blocked off loosely by rope connecting them, and more firmly by several guards who politely returned those curious to check past the barriers. The last vestiges of the sun were on their way out, and dozens of people of all manner of race dressed in dresses and robes of warm reds, oranges, yellows and browns quickly lit the candles which had been prepared in the carved pumpkins, pushing back some of the darkness in the area. Others, arms laden with bracelets and neclaces woven of late blooming fall flowers dispersed amongst the crowds, distributing them to those who wished for them.
The Goblin has a necklace of red and orange flowers placed upon the top of her head, and she freezes, eyes looking up at the bits of colour she can see. She seems pleased with the colouration, thanks the flower-giver, and wanders off. Murder eventually finds Slixvah, moving to wave at the Egalrin.
"Hello Slixvah!", she says cheerfully. "They are giving out flowers of fire! See see?"
Slixvah briskly finds her way having far too many flower necklaces. "Heya Murder!" she chirps gleefully, waving her arms about. "Yeah! They dope as heck!"
She spies another familiar figure slipping by on her own. Without a thought, the egalrin saddles up to her and throws an arm about her shoulders. "Heya Carver!" she smiles, a flower necklace getting dropped on Carver's head from a little feather-foo.
The arrival of the three Lupecyll-Atlons does seem to send a bit of a ripple through the crowd as they move in. Telamon's smile is broad and charming, and occasionally he stops to wave at a familiar face. Catching sight of a familiar one-eyed oruch, he raises his hand to Bryn in greeting. "A happy harvest to you! I hope all is well?"
Tel pauses to accept those necklaces of flowers, passing them first to Lana and Aura, before donning his own. "Marvelous. An excellent addition. My thanks." His words cause the vendor to stutter a little, before bowing and heading off to pass out more flower-accoutrements.
Cor'lana waves to Bryn a little, and to Slixvah and Carver as well, smiling brightly, before she takes a necklace of flowers. "Wow! These are lovely!" she says. "They'd actually complement your hair perfectly, Rana!" She smiles at Auranar as she looks at her sister. "Here, let me put one on you since you've got a little lump on your shoulder."
"Wow," Pothy complains. "You didn't get one for me? They've got probably a million pumpkins with me on it and you didn't get a flower-necklace for..."
Pothy's words are interrupted when he looks at all of the vendors with pumpkin pie. "Fuck that," he says, which is horribly funny considering he sounds like a little chorus boy. "I want pie. Please, Auntie Auranar? Give me some pie? All of the pie. Err, as much pie as you are willing to obtain. With your generous and benevolent personality and charming good looks and--"
Those bird-blue eyes of Pothy's blink. "Oh! I think I see a pumpkin of you, Auranar!" Pothy's all over the place tonight.
Auranar is pleased as can be to have a necklace of flowers to add to her accoutrements. She smiles at Pothy broadly and bemoans the fact that they don't have a tiny little flower necklace for him even if they do have a smashing bowtie for him to wear. "Too bad that we don't have a necklace of flowers for you Pothy. You'd look smashing in one." She pets his little raven head fondly and follows along in Telamon's wake, smiling fondly at her brother-by-bond's good mood.
"Yes, lets get you a pie Pothy," She says agreeably, heading for a vendor, pausing only long enough to allow Cor'lana to put a flower in her hair and then whisking toward the nearest pie vendor that looks good and eyeing them as only a baker can. "Let's see what we have here."
"Wait, what's that? A pumpkin with me on it? Are you sure it's not Cor'lana?" Auranar pauses mid-step on way to the pumpkin-pie trader, seeming as flighty as the bird on her shoulder and eyes Pothy.
Bryn spies a wave her way and returns it even before she recognizes the waver. After, she calls out an "Ey!" back to Cor'lana and Telamon. A moment after that, a reminder smacks her hard, but is deferred when she notices Carver.
Maybe it's due to the one dour place amidst smiles and laughs. Maybe it's because she just had a necklace dropped on her. She heads thattaways (which is also somewhat nearer to the Lupecyll-Atlons, too). "Havin fun?" she asks Carver and Slixvah. "See anythin good? Er, gooder than the other stuff, anyways?"
Carver is scrunched and flowered. She flashes a brief gap-toothed smile, "I'm just looking." She lets the flower crown sit awkwardly tilted on her head, as fine a place as any. "These flowers mean something? I don't recall." She can't help but notice the one part of the grounds yet forbidding foot traffic. She motions with her stiff left arm to direct Slixvah's attention. "What are they planning for there?"
She nods at Bryn. "Trying. Honest. Haven't bought much. Or not much yet."
A dull drumbeat surrounds the crowd from all sides, having appeared almost out of nowhere - and now, steadily approaching.
And then they appear. Riders on black horses. A swarm of creatures of the night, wearing black clothes and masks and pumpkins. Holding torches. Pitchforks. Spears. Flags. Fire. And so, so many pumpkins, either held, carried or worn. The constant drumbeat, from the skins held by some of the arriving 'undead', grows louder, more threatening. The horses neigh and their hooves clop.
When everyone knows what is coming, the incoming procession stops, except for one solitary rider, who keeps going for few paces more. Judging from the large flag and the various ribbons flowing from the tall spear, he surely had to be the leader of this procession. The large black horse calmly looked around as its rider slowly stood up. The burnished, darkened red scales of the rider's body were lustrous and in obvious display, whilst he was wearing worn looking, but still stylish looking leathers; long gloves, cloak hung from around his waist and red ribbons flaring all over his back. Red leather woven around his legs and chest in diagonal pattern.
More importantly, he was wearing a glowing pumpkin on his head.
The rider stands atop the horse. "TONIGHT!", comes the booming voice. Ghastly and ethereal, but perhaps way too familiar for some. "There shall be a harvest-!" The now actually not that tall sith-makar spreads his arms and surveys the crowd. "Tonight!" He points at a person in the crowd. Poor person. "Shall never come to an end!" Looking around, the pumpkin rider looks around, before he pulls off his pumpking head and tosses it to the ground.
With renewed vigor, the now headless rider with flames and fire extruding from where his neck should be, exclaims. "AND TONIGHT WE SHALL FEAST!"
The drums return - now with intense vigor and excessive flair, sending the 'undead' horde with their smiling pumpkins and flowing dark clothing, dancing towards the center in a display of reverlry and dragging anyone into it whomever even dares to hold out a hand or show a bit of interest.
"You have so many. Such a pretty birdie!", the Goblin says cheerfully, before Bryn arrives. Murder grins at the Oruch, "Getting all decked out in flowers, too, I see. Gonna spoil your tough reputation!"
Her gaze follows Carver's gesture, and she squints. "Probably something fire related.", she guesses.
Someone else catches her attention, and the little green woman is off like a shot, ending up in front of Telamon. "Hey! The lord sorcerer himself! And his lovely wife and sister too!" The Goblin makes for a dramatic and exaggerated bow, such that her cloak flops overtop of her head.
And is promptly carried off by the 'undead' horde before she can even get her cloak straightened. Her squeaks can be heard getting dimmer and dimmer as the horde moves on.
Bryn gives Carver a wide grin that leaks out a laugh. "Be sure ta spend it'all! Might not need it tomorrow!" The laugh continues as it tilts down to the gobber. "Ha! Who says ye can' be tough AND pretty, hmm?" She bats her eye lashes with an exagerrated blinking. "Really. Point 'em out. I'll rip out their-" And then there are dark riders riding in.
For a brief moment, she thinks something's wrong. To be fair, she's only been in Alexandria a few weeks and already its proven to rank really, really high on the WeirdShiteOMeter. Then she recognizes the one harvesting from the crowd (the fire helps) and her demeanor reverts to what it was with a renewed laugh... as she watches the gobber getting 'stolen' by the horde.
Telamon blinks in surprise as Murder practically appears in front of him. "Well hello there, it's been a while, Murder." The half-elf's dancing dark eyes are cheerful. "This looks to be a good festival, one to remember--" And then the 'undead' horde appears. Tel's expression does twitch a tiny bit, but then he relaxes -- look, when you've seen some things... he laughs.
"I think we're about to get roped into a dance, love," he says to Lana. "Shall we show them how it's done? We've come a long way since our first steps together." He lifts Cor'lana's hand to his lips, smiling at her impishly.
"Jus' lookin' ain' the fun part, ya gotta get wit' it!" Slixvah beams at Carver. "I dunno'! But they're pretty! All thi' is!"
Before she could grin more at Bryn and answer her question, the low drumbeat silences her, the egalrin woman perking up, feathers floofing. She blinks, beak ajar in surprise. There was a moment where she thought something was going wrong- things usually are-, she spies a familiar figure. "WOOO! YEAH! FEAST!" Slixvah cheers, pumping her fists and hopping towards the revelry, hands outstretched. She's very interested in getting swept up into it all. She lives for the moment, and she's yanked along.
"Yuh-huh! See! Look! It's you!" Pothy insists in his boyish manner. Indeed, it's Auranar, with her own distinctive mark of the Feathered One that is separate from Cor'lana's. And then Pothy snickers as he adds, "Look at Lana's!" Yup. They massacred her. Auranar's is a much more tasteful depiction, the 'holy sorceress' in stark contrast to her sister, the Temptress of Alexandria.
Meanwhile, Cor'lana looks at Telamon, her eyes sparkling with her own mirth. "I think we should," she agrees. They really have come a long way from their dancing lessons and their first dances at their wedding. Two years in, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
But then she lifts a brow, looking over in the direction of Pothy and Auranar. "Pothy? Rana? We're not leaving you out of this, you know!" Sisters get dances, too.
"Oh no!" Pothy says. "I've got two left-talons! My definition of sport will be gorging myself silly on pumpkin pie!" As though to underscore his point, he's already mid-flight as he calls out, "See you later! I'll be the bird who looks as big as a barge."
The pumpkins are worth a double take, and Auranar is pleased with hers even if seeing Cor'lana's makes her want to find the artist and punch him in the nose for his efforts.... Such is the nature of such things she supposes.
For a moment, as the 'undead' horde starts riding in, Auranar is inches from drawing her bow and an arrow to boot - even at a harvest festival they're not far away. She's learned that lesson well after all the monsters and fiends popping up when she least expects it! Only it only takes a moment for her to realize that these 'undead' are not actually undead. They're living people taking the part of undead and she rolls her eyes expressively; stepping back. She at least has little interest in joining in on the merry dancing bit of this. Not without Verna at least. She waves off Telamon and Cor'lana to have their bit of fun.
"I appreciate the invitation Cor'lana, but someone's got to watch your familiar or he'll eat half the stalls!" She calls out to her sister cheerfully, chasing after the bird. Maybe she can get a good price on a pie while everyone is half distracted.
Carver is taken aback by the great 'host', the marching 'black wind'. "Oh." She watches with held breath to see where this is going, only exhaling once she realizes that while this is an impressive display, it is just that. A display. Something to set the mood and marvel at, but not necessarily fear. She swallows and focuses on her breath. Slowing. Controlling.
She scratches at her cheek again with her knuckles as Slixvah 'joins' the hunt. "You dancing?" The last question is for Bryn, the only remaining 'survivor' nearby.
One of the people working at the event stops to answer the ranger, offering another bracelet of flowers. "Why that's simple, isn't it?" The man answers with a hearty chuckle. "It's a reminder that with proper preparation and hard work, the bounty and beauty of fall can endure through the desolate months of winter to sustain us. "
Then, the drumbeats of the arriving hordes grew even louder, coming from within the crowds that had formed in the square. drapes were pulled away from the north side of the massive gourd, revealing a gaping maw into the building, and two eyes of large glass lanterns that lit up the night. The sound of the drums was coming from an orchestra seated inside the pumpkin, picking up intensity with the wild headless horseman and his entourage's approach, joined by even more instruments keeping the wild pace.
Small hands reach for Slixvah, little green ones with a Murder on the other end of them. "They've got us surrounded! We'll have to fight our way out! You get that half, I'll get this one!", she yells over the din. "Is it just me, or is it odd that this undead horde has their own marching band?"
"Ye! C'mon!" Bryn answers Carver, offering a hand in invitation as she lets herself get pulled in from the other side. "Third best way ta wear yerself out!" She starts swaying and stomping more than walking as she gets into the beat.
GAME: Telamon rolls perform/dance: (2)+24: 26
When the drapes are pulled away, Telamon's eyes widen. Now that is impressive. And clever. The half-sil's lips curve into a broad grin. "No worries, Aura," he calls after his sister. "Have fun!" And then he takes his wife's hand, leading her into the crowd. It takes him a few tries to pick up the rhythm -- the drum of feet keeps throwing him off from the beat of the musicians -- but he soon picks it up. Leading Cor'lana in the elegant and yet fiercely happy dance of an autumn bride and groom.
Sweeping past Murder, he says with a touch of amusement, "Maybe you should look twice, Murder. Sometimes it really is just a costume, you know." He doesn't want Murder to, well, go full evocation, and a calm word is usually the best cure for that.
The headless rider at the front of the procession raises his flag and points forward, sending more of the 'undead' crowd into the fray. The flag carried many torn symbols, vigils - which, by all accounts, were chosen for how lit they were - and a particular cockatrice of an order. Even if he had tried, he probably couldn't have gotten his voice out over the music. The horse then moves forward, leaving the rider climbing up on the saddle and balancing - arms held out towards the side as the mount heads up along.
The dancers on the streets tilted their heads, showed off their moves, and tempted anyone and willing from the crowd to join into the dance. Even those who were not the most adept, would be helped and guided into the circular, twisting dance. Viewed from the ground, it seemed more chaos as the grinning carved pumpkins, the strangely masked dancers seemed to move in every odd way. From above, it would have looked like an interwoven display, funnelling people towards the stage.
And yes, goblins would be tossed in the air. No non-innocents shall be spared.
At least no flowers were trampled, as the procession centers towards the main attraction.
"You're the most responsible of the two of us!" Cor'lana calls out with a grin to Auranar, which is true. Auranar is older than her, and so, Auranar has neatly settled into the occupation (among others) of 'older sister'. So she's perfectly happy to dance with Telamon, although she nearly steps on his feet there at the beginning, when they're both trying to get a feel for the music. It perplexes Cor'lana's musical sensibilities, but then again, only the most avant-garde of Theatre District shows are playing about with odd time signatures.
"Please no burning down this lovely procession and dance!" Cor'lana adds onto Telamon's sentiment. She'd hate to see it all go to waste. Especially when she's having such fun.
Meanwhile, Auranar finds Pothy schmoozing with a pie vendor, who has already given Pothy a generous sample. Turns out some people are making little additions of foamy cream to pie and trying to style it like Pothy. The bird is eager to point it out to Auranar. "Look! It's me! AND I'M DELICIOUS." Chomp. There goes the head of the cream-Pothy.
"No. Sorry." Carver says, withdrawing her hand from the inviting dance partner. To Bryn as they are swept aside into the maelstrom, she gives another smile, but this time without showing any teeth at all. Just a pantomime. Her gaze settles on the bracelet of delicate flowers, resting in her palm. She brushes her thumb across the petals, thinking over their meaning so recently explained or admiring the innocent beauty.
A child passing by is offered it in the end. They are happy to take it but by the time they turn to thank the ranger, she's gone, slipping through the tightly packed crowd. She stalks the main procession, eager to see what the 'crowning' moment of this cabal's march.
Auranar waves to Telamon with a cheerful grin and she manages to buy a pie while she keeps a weather eye on the pair that is her beloved family while they dance toward the main attraction. She doesn't particularly want to dance, but she doesn't want to lose sight of them either. So she pays for the pie, (and some of the foamy cream) wrangles Pothy, and heads slowly toward the attraction herself, though at a more moderate pace. "Come on Pothy, I'll feed you pie while we catch up with the others and if you're very good I'll bake you something special later."
Now that's a promise worth a bird's good behavior... For a while at least.
Slixvah cackles as Murder reaches out for her. "Oh no I can't get em..! I'm gettin' swept away...!" The eglarin howls in laughter as she's half dangling from someone's shoulders. She ends up rolling off after being tossed, tumbling towards the center where people are being funneled, popping back up and stumbling about. "Oh hi Telly, bye!" Slixvah briefly flashes by.
Telamon gains a small Goblin rider for a short time, watching ruefully as Slixvah gets carried away.
"They got Slixvah!", Murder says dramatically, and sadly. Eyeing Telamon, she sighs. "They've got you too!"
With a leap, she abandons the infected, and disappears into the cro-- horde.
To reappear by the mouth of the newly constructed 'building'.
It doesn't take too long to pick up the tempo, and soon Telamon and Cor'lana are smoothly moving through the steps, light on their feet. If anything, Tel's a touch out of practice dancing with his feet on the ground. After all, magic does lend itself to all sorts of clever tricks.
He chuckles as Slixvah and Murder are spun past. "It's good to see people relaxed, having a good time." He tilts his head, looking at Lana, something passing between them. But he offers her a grin, and lets the flow of the dance lead them closer to the stage.
Cor'lana seems to agree with the sentiment passing silently between them, because she leans up onto her tip-toes to kiss him in the middle of their dancing, but she's quick enough on her feet to resume their steps without it becoming a colossal wagon-wreck of an ordeal. "I agree," she says at last.
Then she eyes Murder and Slixvah, and she snickers as they dance. "They ought to get roles in the Theatre District," she says, before she looks a little more thoughtful. "Slixvah in particular, actually. Maybe if we get a quiet moment again to chat..."
Pothy is a good bird, who is very much placated by Auranar's expert efforts (she is just as practiced of a Pothy-wrangler now as Cor'lana and Telamon are), and so, he rides on her shoulder, entirely happy to do so. "What will you bake me later?" he asks, his white tail flapping up and down in happy excitement. "Ohhh, will you make those raven-shaped sugar cookies later? I loved those!!"
Auranar smiles a little at Pothy's excitement. He's just like a little kid most of the time, and that makes him so loveable at times. "You'll have to wait and see. I don't want to give away the surprise now do I? Oh, look! Speaking of surprises I think that someone has something planned here today!" She points toward the area ahead of her where everyone is headed with excitement not unlike his toward the cookies.
GAME: Eztli rolls perform/dance: (8)+20: 28
Carver can feel the breath of the crowd, either the gasps of those in dance or held by those waiting to see the grand(est) reveal. She leans against a railing and observes Telamon and Raventongue as they hold each other, as they lock gazes, and secret themselves intimacy when surronded by so many. She enventually looks away, uncomfortable in observing them. As if intruding on a moment.
Her gaze goes back to the sky for a minute, then behind her, knuckle rubbing her cheek raw again.
The orchestra inside of the pop up theater was continuing their raucous music as the procession finally reached the center of the grounds. Suddenly, the massive lanterns of the eyes burst into flames, engulfing the fabric outside and around them with roaring flames. Except, there was no smell of burning, no fabric falling away, and it did not spread any further.
"Thank you all for coming here today!" A booming voice echoes out from the upper reaches of the pumpkin. "While winter is soon upon us, let it not chill the flames our spirits! Our hard work and the bounties of nature will see us through to the renewal of spring, so let us give thanks to all of those who keep our city of Alexandria flourishing, and those who have made this possible!"
From one of the eyes of the pumpkin leaps a small figure, who twists through the air, landing in front of the display on one slightly unsteady foot. The makari was dressed in a dress that seemed to be made of hundreds of leaf shaped pieces that shimmered and shifted which each movement, in every color and shape of the autumn treeline, wearing a wild crown of branches that curled around their horns.
Slixvah? Dramatic enough for the Theatre District? Says who? It's not like she's completely lost in the moment, dancing away with whoever she ends spinning in circles with. "Oh noooo, danse macabre...!" Yep, totally not.
Her exuberance is held up from the burst of flame, the fall hued egalrin looking up. She beams, whooping and hollering as she claps for announcer- oh hey! That's Eztli! Makes sense considering the Aelwyn and her were working on something big recently! She claps vicariously.
Telamon grins broadly, watching the display, slowing his dance so that Lana can watch as well. "Oh, that's clever. And well done. I hope someone from the Theatre District is taking notes, because this is quite the spectacle." His starry eyes reflect the flames, and he nods in appreciation at the makari's agile leap down. A tricky play, and well performed.
His gaze sweeps around, reading the crowd, and nodding with a grin. It's clear the showmanship has not gone unappreciated. And the work of Eztli and Aelwyn has not been in vain.
Aborbed into the crowd again, Murder goes with the flow, eventually bumping into Bryn. Whom the Goblin climbs up, to settle upon her shoulder. "Havin' fun?", she wonders of the tall woman. "Ever think you'd be dancing in an undead horde in the pale moonlight?" Murder glances around a bit. "I dunno if this is the best way to get adventurers dancing. I mean... someone could have set an 'undead' on fire or something." That would be Murder, despite her best innocent look.
"Where'd Carver go? S'pobably caught up like I was."
The headless rider stops by the edge of the crowd as well. "We have come to salute!" The rider calls out. "The last dying embers of warmth! Of the fall of summer!" He gestures out towards the crowd. "Yet the cold shan't steal away our hearts, for they are unyielding, undying!"
"The city stands, but more than anything - you are! And tonight, one is the bounty, and one shall harvest!" The rider continues, before resettling down on his horse. "Forget the day, forget morrow, forget the yester, for night only matters!"
There's a moment when that fire on his head flickers out. Horns! And then there's a sudden fwoosh as the horns disappear again.
Auranar falls silent as the show begins, watching as Eztli jumps out onto the stage and begins the show. She doesn't know what the whole show is supposed to be really, but she has to admit that it's impressive thus far. They've put a lot of thought behind it. So she claps at the appropriate time and the fall of silence that follows is particularly ominous.
"Eztli and Aelwyn have really thrown an excellent festival!" Cor'lana says appreciatively, her violet eyes sparkling as she gives a short clap of appreciation in the direction of the two organizers. She curls in close to Telamon, exceedingly happy she got Telamon and Auranar to come with her to this event. It'd been a happy surprise in many ways.
Meanwhile, as Auranar catches up to Cor'lana and Telamon, Pothy is exceedingly happy, too, with the whole event. "Wow! So cool!" He looks up at Auranar with those wide little bird eyes of his. "Almost as cool as you, Auntie Auranar!"
Yup. Pothy is such a kiss-up. But then he pairs it by nuzzling into her hair. "I'm really proud of you," he murmurs in that sweet little voice of his. "You always deserved to be known by everyone. Today, pumpkins, and tomorrow... The world?" Or, well, at least this winter's market prospects for adventurer plush toys.
Carver braces elbows into the railing, lacing her fingers together. It serves as a place to rest her chin as she watches 'Flamedancer' spring forth from the 'eye'. One must wonder if that is a Sith Makar legend that she and Aelwyn used as inspiration. She'll have to ask later.
She smiles at the sight of beleafed sorceress, and though it's small and tired.
It's the first sincere one since a dark, moody night in a terrible befouled temple.
Eztli leapt into a dance, quite literally, as they clear the distance between themselves and the pretending to be headless horseman. It was a wild but clearly well choreographed dance that took them over much of the area. There was only one pause as she stopped to give the Ranger who was watching by a railing a hug. "Happy you're hear, Carver. Means a lot to me." She says, before just as quickly returning to the dance. The flames around the eyes of the pumpkin creeping steadily upwards towards the top as the sound of the orchestra nears a crescendo.
GAME: Aelwyn rolls perform/dance: (5)+15: 20
The headless rider leaps out of the horse, planting the torn flag - except for the important bits - near the horse. Then he retrieves his glaive and moves on towards Eztli, making an exaggerated bow. It has been a while since he has been dancing without mortal threat hanging over him. Perhaps that is why the rider stumbles a moment, spreading out his glaive in a wide arc that lits up the blade on fire. Then he settles into the movement with Eztli; swaying his glaive as well as dancing with the other makari; tail flicking along.
Though the 'very mysterious' rider does pause to make a 'menacing' grin at some of the people he recognized in the crowd, almost as if taunting them. Or showing off.
Telamon looks at Lana as he watches the dance commence on stage. "That seems like fun. Why don't we follow their lead?" With that, he slips an arm around his wife, whirling with her as well, matching the dance's tempo. He offers a smile to Aura and Pothy as they pass by, and grins imagining Murder's reaction to all the fire and pageantry.
"At some point," he murmurs, "We really should host a party at the castle. It's big enough for a proper weekend away, when everything is calm and we can rest our heads for a bit."
Auranar watches the show and pets Pothy, smiling at the little familiar fondly. "I have no designs on being known across the world. Being known by those I care about is more than enough for me." She flushes a little bit and gives him a little kiss on his forehead. "Like you dear one. Goodness knows what will come of my fame after all. I know that poor Cor'lana has hardly enjoyed hers. Though you seem to be enjoying yours hummmm?"
Indeed the bird *loves* his free samples. Auranar watches the show with interest and smiles at the byplay between the two actors, impressed by the dancing. She's not much of a dancer herself so any amount of skill in that area is impressive to her.
"A party at the castle sounds positively wonderful," Cor'lana says with a grin up at Telamon. "Maybe for a Yule ball of sorts?"
Oh, that puts wheels in her brain. She looks over at Auranar. "Auranar, if we throw a huge Yule ball at Leca'fi Amdamu, would you be kind enough to make us a nice cake?" Cor'lana rather omits the part where the day that she and Telamon first became a couple, courtesy of Grandfather and a bench in the Arcanist's Society that now has a plaque on it, is coming up.
Pothy's plumage puffs out in particular pleasure as Auranar observes he's enjoying his fame. "I am!" he declares. "I get all the snacks I want. And lots of cuddles from my people. And the kids all love me. And--"
The leucistic raven might say more, but his words are suddenly a series of raven noises, and Pothy blinks. He looks over in the direction of Cor'lana and calls out, in Telamon's voice, "Kiss me, Cor'lana!" Cor'lana's strange power to kiss speech into nearly anything only lasts for so long.
Slixvah gives a large whistle as Aelwyn goes about dancing with Eztli. She sticks her tongue out at him as he all but taunts her, meeting his gaze. Determined to make up for the challenge, she all but throws herself into the throng of the crowd, and of the fun. Aelwyn was right, tonight is all that matters.
"Go kill 'em." Carver encourages Eztli during the brief embrace, letting the opposing spirits settle their grand duel. As they always must, right? She slips away from the railing and circles back through the crowd.
The music swells and crests, creating dips and waves and raucous moments. The dancers around the edges move with the motions - but there's a shift. Dancers peel away. Gaps form. People notice they are dancing more with each other, and less with the 'undead'. Indeed, they are drawn away - in preparation. The music becomes threatening. Dark.
Spinning away from Eztli, the headless rider suddenly straightens. "Tonight - we shall burn!" Stepping forward, taking a turn - and that burning glaive lashes out, sending a massive trail of fire towards the 'Flamedancer', completely swallowing her whole.
Carver has reconnected.
The flames rise, and as they fade away, there is nothing to be seen save for the scorch marks against the floor from the flames. The music dies down to almost nothing for several long moments.
Only for it to begin to swell again, hopeful, with a cheer that was not present prior. The whole theater shifts suddenly, the top of the pumpkin torn off, flipping to one side with cloth blowing in the wind. one massive claw crests the top, then another, a huge, spectral golden dragon clambering out of the top where it perches, giving a roar of triumph, wings outstretched against the night sky, before it takes off, flying out of the festival grounds before vanishing against the night sky.