Ibanborah looked like it was in the middle of a festival. But then, Ibanborah always looked like it was in the middle of a festival. Canopies of multi-coloured fairy-lights illuminated the streets, forgoing the mundane street-lamps preferred by the more mainstream towns. The houses, especially those closer to the river, were exquisitely designed and painted in colours more exuberant than anything one would ever see in Ragah. Stalls selling everything from junk food to handicrafts lined the pavements, displaying their wares under colourful awnings. Rickshaws done up like old-fashioned carriages plied the streets, giving the whole town the general feel of an elaborate cosplay.
The river sparkled in the distance like an earthbound rainbow, reflecting the prismatic lights of the city.
“Geeti wasn’t kidding about the tourists, was she?” said Ashwin, gaping at everything with the wide-eyed wonder of a country kid on his first visit to the big city.
In a strange way, Ruban could almost relate. After all, he had once been the wide-eyed country kid awed by anything that wasn’t a sprawling corn field. “Nope. Thirty years ago, this place had nothing more than a tiny fishing community. As nondescript as they come, and poor as fuck. Then Jimena Washi – that’d be Casia Washi’s grandmother – swept to power as an independent candidate and within the next decade, Ibanborah had turned into one of the most popular tourist hotspots in the country, not to mention one of the richest cities. Now they have everything – the hippies, the pilgrims, the backpackers and the gangs.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“And the food!” added Ashwin, gliding from stall to stall with an ever-increasing pile of junk food in his arms. Ruban could have sworn the Aeriel had cartoon hearts in his eyes every time his gaze landed on anything remotely sugary. Popping a handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth, Ashwin slurred through dessert-induced bliss: “I’d forgotten how good the food was on earth. And it’s only gotten better in the time I was gone. Vaan is in dire need of mortal chefs.”
“What for? Aeriels don’t need to eat.”
“And you don’t need to knife my mother. Life’s not just about the needs, my friend. It’s about the pleasures.”
Ruban rolled his eyes as Ashwin purchased an orange popsicle and slurped on it with an expression of ecstasy that would have put crack addicts to shame. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep going like that.”
The Aeriel tittered, confirming the Hunter’s suspicions of a sugar rush. “Advantages of immortality, my dear. ’M physically incapable of getting sick.”
“I’ll believe that when you’ve gotten all that syrup off your face. Honestly, you make Hiya look like the epitome of self-control.”
“Nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of hard labour,” Ashwin proclaimed, extending a hand to accept his stick of candy floss from the smiling shopkeeper.
“The only ‘hard labour’ you’ve performed all day is flirting with Luana,” Ruban grunted. “I’m gonna go make a round of the local Quarters. See if I can find any info on the body. Meet me by the river when you’re done courting diabetes.”
“Roger that,” said Ashwin, lifting the candy floss to his temple in a mock salute. Ruban decided he needed to keep the Aeriel away from Hiya, if only to preserve his own sanity. “Have fun investigating.”