“Oh, uh, you want to talk about it?” He asks, motioning with his head down an unoccupied path. You can tell he is trying to be nice and thoughtful.
“Um, sure.” You say after thinking for a moment, grabbing the Daevoo mask from atop the pile of purple feathers. You place it on your head like Sero and follow him down the path.
The path leads the two of you along a curving path a little below the majority of the festival’s attractions. The sun continues to set behind you, the last blazing rays forcing their way through the wall of leaf chains as you gaze out at the leafy abyss.
“Soooo, uh, what happened to you?” Sero begins awkwardly, “Dvriri, you would expect me to be better at this with how long I’ve been alive, but nope!” He throws his hands up in defeat at his therapeutic ineptitude.
“It's alright,” You respond, a speck of a smile leaking from the sides of your mouth. You open it to say something, but you stop yourself.
Now is not the time. A voice speaks in your mind, your voice. Don’t cry for me, Nova. We are almost whole again.
The image of L’Neeri pierced through with Der’ii’s blade of fire, his eyes wide and confused, Der’ii’s face behind L’Neeri’s head filled with exultant, fervorous anticipation, flashes through your mind, an image that you shake off quickly.
A chill breeze carrying the shrill cry of Treebirds breathes its rustling breath through the leaves as you and your companion wind your way through the branches of this alien Titan Tree. A comforting sound, one that shows that this place isn’t so different from home.
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“Home.” The word comes unbidden to your mouth as you stare out over the dying sunset-lit cloud layer. A faint inhalation sounds from the lanky man beside you as you say it.
“Home,” He repeats quietly, “What does that mean to you?”
You pause, “I’m… not sure.” The sun dies behind the Titan Tree, casting the world into the first fizz of twilight, “My home is where I was born, where I grew up, and where I thought I would die for L’Oos. But, now,” you gesture to the black bands on your arm somewhat covered by your sleeve, “That might not be the case anymore.”
The son of Eun turns to walk away, his voice quiet, “Hope to die among family, that is the crux. Hope to die later, for you have a destiny to fulfill.”
You turn to look at him, eyes falling on the Rhodos’s glowing, cyan-ish-white rings as they float absently in front of his raised hand. “That's really inspirational, Sero.”
“You think so?” the rings disappear, “Heh, I wasn’t even trying.” He turns and bows mockingly, “Sero, motivation extraordinaire, at your service, milady.”
“Oh, shut up. I am no ‘milady’.” You swat at him as you walk past him.
The sun dies upon the hidden horizon, casting the world into the first fizz of twilight. As the L’Oos blazes her glory to the night, the Festival of the Sun explodes again into action.
Throngs of festival-goers dance and sing to the now everpresent music, flutes whistle and drums beat in some celebration. Alien food seems to magically appear upon every raised surface: mushrooms, fruit, and even, paradoxically, charred meat sit available to all on dishes of polished wood.
You move among the crowds of joyous people, unable to fully feel their passion. You smile, but it is a weak, fake-feeling smile that only emulates others, never truly belonging.
“Nova! Wait up!” Sero says over the cacophony of musical festivity. You look over your shoulder at the man who had somehow ditched his ill-fitting costume for what he was wearing when you first met him in a matter of seconds. Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of what he has done as he wades and dodges his way through the dancing crowd.
“Nova, what if– woah!” he spins past a brightly dressed couple dancing in each other arms, lithely catching his stumbling feet before he could careen into another group, “what if I taught you, something? Are you busy right now?”