It's a wonderful riot of colour, which is only fitting. It'd be worse if the festival of colour were dreary and drab, and the Elvhenan have had enough bad things happen to them for millenia worth of lifetimes. A festival being depressing would just be the cherry on top, wouldn't it?
It's overwhelming, in a nice way, seeing so many elves about. In Kirkwall she only ever saw elves in the Alienage, really, and even still she doesn't see them often out of it -- and many of those faces are ones that she put there. Most of the faces around her are flat-ears, unmarked by Vallaslin, or else wearing what is either some very poorly done Vallaslin or a best approximation at it from someone who doesn't know the patterns.
Still, though, it's lovely, and Merrill lets herself be swept into the crowd, a bright embroidered hood over her head and her entourage left behind. Some lively bards strike up tunes every few hundred meters, and a circle dance has formed around the nearest one. She joins the ring of clapping and stomping hangers-on around it, knowing well enough that she's no use among the dancers. Maybe after a bit more liquid courage.
But then a bright young thing grabs her hand and swings her into the midst of it all, and Merrill flails a little, spinning in his arms before the dance moves on, and she stumbles, all but tossed into someone else's.
It's overwhelming, in a nice way, seeing so many elves about. In Kirkwall she only ever saw elves in the Alienage, really, and even still she doesn't see them often out of it -- and many of those faces are ones that she put there. Most of the faces around her are flat-ears, unmarked by Vallaslin, or else wearing what is either some very poorly done Vallaslin or a best approximation at it from someone who doesn't know the patterns.
Still, though, it's lovely, and Merrill lets herself be swept into the crowd, a bright embroidered hood over her head and her entourage left behind. Some lively bards strike up tunes every few hundred meters, and a circle dance has formed around the nearest one. She joins the ring of clapping and stomping hangers-on around it, knowing well enough that she's no use among the dancers. Maybe after a bit more liquid courage.
But then a bright young thing grabs her hand and swings her into the midst of it all, and Merrill flails a little, spinning in his arms before the dance moves on, and she stumbles, all but tossed into someone else's.
I'm sorry in advance for my two left feet!she yells over the music.
04-16-2023, 10:10 AM
