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Snippet #2595045

located in Taloria, a part of Tigers' Stripes, one of the many universes on RPG.

Taloria

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rose Character Portrait: Taji Anila Character Portrait: Lucy Character Portrait: Atara Orpheus Character Portrait: Jacki Newburn Character Portrait: Ena Yumika
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Taji never was one for festivals. Sure, back before it all happened, he had pretended to be. He went to them with his friends; smiled, laughed, played games; and they thought it made him happy.

It didn't.

The air smelled fowl of smoke and vomit from drunks; his sense of smell, especially keen, only made it worse, so his stomach always hurt a bit, his lungs felt harsh breathing it. The noise was so intense it made him dizzy. The press of people had always bothered him, but after the cage, it was no longer bearable.

He had to try, though. Who knew? Maybe his family would be here. They always went to Obon, no matter what, every year. So he pressed on, despite his discomfort, hoping to catch a glimpse of their familiar faces. If he didn't see them for the entire night, it meant they probably hadn't moved to live near this place; he could discount a lot of ground in his search. So, he persevered. He talked to people that talked to him, pretended to be joyful, and played their silly little games, just as he always had.

After a while, he decided he had surveyed the inner press of people long enough. He headed for the edge of the festival, away from the dazzling lights and yelling vendors, and into the woods surrounding the fairgrounds. Upwind, of course. The faintest of breezes promised that the smell would remain in the other direction, as well as setting leaves to dancing, creating patterns of shadow and moonlight on the stone path that wound through the brush, slightly overgrown at the edges. Deciding he had traveled far enough, he summoned the winds, letting them take him to hover within the canopy, so he could still see. If any had seen, there would have been an uproar. A wraith, some would have said; visiting those left behind. A God, others would have said; a God of the festival, come to answer their plea to guide the dead.

He carefully edged back closer to the festival, using the dancing patters to hide the way his hair would shine in the moonlight. Stupid, unnatural white color. White was not helpful for blending in. His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching from his vantage point.

Nothing.