The Parrot Parade ~ Chyril 26th, OPEN to all!

[Syra]

"STEP right up, STEP right up! Only a banner per try! Come on then, you know you want to try!" The man smiled broadly, tipping his purple hat to any unsuspecting wanderer that past by. A woman paid up to have her daughter try one of the strings for a prize. She pulled, but nothing came up from the basket.

With a disappointed face she turned away.

"Almost always a prize! Step right up!" The man already turned to the next.

"FRESH FORNIPS!" The pungeant smell of the smoked fish filled one particular corner of the Bazaar. At least the organizers had been smart enough to place them well away from the fancy dresses and the sweets.

"Move it, move it, keep the path clear." Some of the Roques were clearing the road for the parade that would pass through in a few. There was quite a buzz going on about who would be carrying the standard of the Parrot. Appearantly the chosen kid had refused or fallen ill or something. There were even people already looking at the clear skies above as if expecting another torrential rain!

Yet no such thing came down on them. The sun was shining enthusiastically and high above the gulls were already pleading to leave them some of the goodies.

Fresh lilies-of-the-cliffs were placed all along the path, their blue little heads bobbing in every whiff of robe or dress. Children wove in and out of the crowd, some escaping the watchful eye of their parents, others simply escaping the authorities with an apple or other treat hidden in their hands.

Life was chaotic on the streets.
Life was busy.
Life was lively.

Roque was ready for the grand day.

[Motley]

He found himself a good little nook. A small, out of the sun cranny between a wall and the thick trunk of a tree with a good view of the street. He hunkered in to his cozy spot and plucked at the strings of his lute absentmindedly. He'd made himself a snack of cheese and fruit and broke his fast with the impulse purchase of a honey cake from one of the street vendors.

The sad tale of the von Emstellachs, the Forentales and the Schattendrachens drifted through his mind like flotsam in the current. Three families with secrets and scandals aplenty, and he sat in the middle of the storm, quite unwittingly. He pondered how his coming had changed much in their worlds, and if that change would spill out into the very street that he watched now.

He watched the children play, and the gulls soar, and the people stroll by. He watched the crowd for signs of the Phoenix, or signs of earth wizard he knew to be his grandfather. The Parrot and the air would soar today, and so he assumed that the spirit of the Mer would be out this day as well.

He crunched into an apple, eyes careful and watching.

[Callara]

Callara stood on the balcony of the palace, gazing down upon the city. Her eyes perceived the mass of people crowding together to observe the festival that was to take place today. To her it was as if a sea of blood flooded the streets. She was glad not to be down there. The route she observed took the parade that was to come right to her doorstep, and people were flocking to get good seats all around it.

"Foolish peasants...they have no idea what I have in store for them."

She looked up at the sky, at the birds soaring overhead. She watched their tiny blood filled bodies race overhead and remembered the pigeons. A plan had been bubbling up in her mind for a few days now, but still she was uncertain if she could make it stick. She needed more energy, more power. The blood within her was impatient and her training had left her fatigued.

What she needed was a little gore...

Contemplating possible scenarios she decided to take to the streets. The gardens were as good a place as any to be and the maze within might hold some nice rewards for her potentially. At the pinnacle of the day, when the parrot was to be cast from the cliffs, many eyes would be on the bird, and not a lot on the crowd. Also a lot of options there. She'd given the manner in which she dispatched the gate guard a lot of thought and refined the process in her mind. All she needed was a fool subject to try her theory on.

Stepping outside she breathed deeply. The tranquil surroundings of the palace were a haven to her blood soaked mind and she was about to leave it for at least a couple of marks.

"Alright, so...today's to do list..." She mused to herself as she followed the path to the gate. "Watch parade...kill peasant...cause a little havoc around that stupid spirit bird...meditate...eat...find servants...find minions." The last words were accompanied with a glance at the animals above her head. She was dead set on occupying the palace with people, a few, before the day the actual caretaker would arrive. Once that was done she could take care of whatever old bat would come to take that position. She had already taken to the place as her home and figured...with all the travelers coming in...there were sure to be some good gullible saps to take her up on a few coins a day.

"After that is done, I can have some actual fun..."

[Aster Lu'ulnen]

There was a smile on aster’s face as he walked among the crowd, happy that the day of the parade had finally arrived. He was still quite a bit unsure as to what the significance of the parrot actually was – between the Felicia fiasco and his dealings with Solange, he had never taken the time to ask – but a celebration was a thing to be celebrated within itself some times, especially considering what the city had been through in recent times.

Aster kept a mindful eye out for familiar faces, Mainy, Felicia, Gwayne, Nellan, Solange, Haifra, and even Rain, among others. As much as he enjoyed the opportunity to make new friends at such events, it was always a bit more enjoyable to be able to share good times with those you already knew. He made his way out toward the edge of the crowd, unsure of where he should be in anticipation of following the instructions he had been given, but knowing their intent led him to pick what he felt was an advantageous position.

His eyes scanned the crowd once more, looking for Solange while knowing that she was probably incognito herself – the Adhiel bard had certainly opted for that route, a light cloak draped over his body while his pent-back hair stayed nestled away like a braided roommate to his ear under the sheltering tent of his hood. Much like Motley, Astr felt that the time for food was at hand and, with one last look around, Aster took a seat and began to crunch upon an apple.

Life was looking pretty good.

[Matthew]

It would have been wiser to just...go get cleaned up. After a brief disturbance at the gates, Matthew of Havarti was somewhat spoiled with mud, though his monk's habit had an unusual way of granting him leave to look like some kind of slop farmer. For this reason alone, Matt had allowed himself to be lulled back into the streets for what amounted to a perfectly delightful celebration, where he was tempted by all kinds of wonderful things he could buy.

There were mortises, good for making inks, and inks...good for making manuscripts. And there were paints, good for illuminating manuscripts...and there was sweets and spiced lamb and all manner of clothing, tools, and trinkets. Thankfully, Matthew's rather empty prospects of income helped him overcome the seduction of such lovely items...though his rather empty stomach required certain attention immediately.

And so, Matthew had indeed purchased a bit of pungent fish, skewered and roasted and currently covering a respectable portion of the monk's cheeks and chin. Gnawing fervently upon the seafood, the monk picked his way closer to where the parade should be expected, his attention captivated by the unusually blue color of the lilies. A blue fit for an ink, pondered the little man, ripping off another chunk of fish between his teeth. Oh, he should be at the Monastery...but no one would deny him this little deviation. After all...he wasn't technically a monk, despite his appearance.

I'll go later, confirmed Matthew. Maybe after I see the parrot...

[Arnholt]

Were it not for his mission, Arnholt would not have been caught dead in Roque. Nobles' playground, Big Jim had said. Guards everywhere. Underworld run by big syndicates. No room for the little guy. In short, a place with a remarkable dearth of opportunities for a common street thug, which was all that Arnholt had been.

Until now, of course.

Not necessarily the best of places to start a cult, either. No great abundance of people living without hope, or nursing a grudge against Dominicus... the most obvious sources of potential converts. It was, however, an exceptionally good place in which to blend in and walk unseen, yet still be deep within Oneist territory.

On first glance the city seemed very much as his old friend had described it to him. Arnholt, however, did not believe in a place immune to petty crime, so he kept one hand on his purse. All of his really important things were tucked into different pockets of his jacket, underneath his leather breastplate. The little collection of eldritch or daemonic objects included the Book of Righteous, the Eye of the same, and the amulet he had taken from Lorenzo's corpse (thought its light might have died along with Carminello). He also had a lockpick hidden up each of his sleeves, a dagger at his belt, and a long knife hidden in his right boot. All in all he would have been in pretty deep shit if the guards had decided to search him.

For now, Arnholt was ambling over in the direction of the monastery, where the Roques at the gate had directed him to go. Since the guards had pointed him there straight away, he figured it might not be as off-limits during the daytime today as he had been lead to believe. At least he could take a good look at the place from the outside. If it looked bursting to the gills with nobles or whatever he would pursue his other plans and wander the city at his leisure until dark. He was in no particular hurry, either way. As a total newcomer to the city, why shouldn't Bram Beacon take his time, get a feel for the place?

Righteous could wait. She had bided her time for over 1,000 yahren so far. Waiting was what daemons did best.

[Syra]

Angelica was still recovering from the strange faint the previous day. If anything was sure it was that she would not be walking in the parade, whether people insisted or not. Besides, having the adoption papers signed effectively put her outside of the reach of the organizers.

The bells in the monestary started to ring. This was the sign people had been waiting for and they crowded forward, trying to catch the first glimpse of the blue parrot.

Many a good costume was seen on the streets, ranging from festive clothing to full out dress up parties. There was even someone walking around in a bright, orange contraption that resembled a carrot quite clearly.

Whatever carrots had to do with a parrot, was unclear, but it did nothing to take away any of the merriment ruling the streets right now.

The uniformed Roques were weaving in and out of the crowd, keeping an eye on the mass of people even if it was hard to keep track of anyone. Yet even in the enthusiasm of the moment people made room for an elderly man who clearly needed his cane to move around. Gerben caught Motley's eyes despite his well chosen spot and nodded, while saving a smile for those around him who allowed him a place near the path of the parade.

In another corner the carrot was discussing eating colours as part of a healthy diet, evoking enough response to have some children try and take a bite out of him. Clearly the man in the carrot suit did not mind at all, laughing and running around in little circles.

Although Aster kept an eye out, there was no sign of the Von Emst's or their translating little wonder Mainy. They might be further up ahead on the path, since the parade would walk from the monestary to the main street, through the gates to the upper layers until they reached the cliffs in the arboretum. That is where the blue parrot was supposed to be thrown into the Mer to ensure another bountiful yahren.

This of course made it perfectly logical for Matthew and Arnholt to remain on the streets while the festive route was being walked. It was quite impossible to get to the monestary now anyway!

"There they come!" An enthusiastic voice piped up and a rusty haired youth pointed at the people moving from the monestary.

For sure he was right: a little boy carried the decorated standard, flowers hanging from the sidebeams and getting stuck in his blond curls, while the top proudly showed the very fake blue parrot. The child took his job very seriously and while the other children and adults around him danced and sang their spring-songs, he ignored them and only focussed on the path before him.

Almost he stumbled over a loose rock, the mass collectively gasping. But he recovered and moved on, with a fierce blush on his round cheeks. There was definitely sighs of relief all around as the parade passed by without other obvious signs of trouble.

Not unlike Callara someone else was watching from afar, his eyes eager to discern which child was carrying the parrot. Yet they were too far away and right now he hesitated to draw any attention to himself by finding out in other ways.
So he watched.
And waited.

[Arnholt]

It wasn't overly long before Arnholt discovered the way to the monastery was blocked both by the crowd of festival-goers and by the parade route itself.

Ah, well. I can take a sign as well as anyone can. He would have to hit the monastery later in the evening, as he had originally supposed. Fortunately Arnholt was prepared for this contingency, too. And now... there's gotta be a guy selling beer around here somewhere. Surely not even Dominicus would begrudge his fake, daemon-worshiping, not-yet-monk a cold beer after a hard day's walk down the long and dusty road to Roque.

Drink in hand, Arnholt set about watching the festivities with a bemused eye. Not that he'd never seen a festival before, but this one appeared to be filled with a symbolism which mostly escaped him. The flowers, the costumes, the parrot itself... all of it was next to meaningless to Arnholt. His eyebrows rose, in particular, as the parrot-carrying boy's near stumble drew a gasp from the crowd.

"If the standard had fallen," he wondered aloud, "what would that have signified?"

[Matthew]

Oh, how lovely! considered Matthew, watching the parrot effigy bouncing its way down the lane. Naturally, the monk had faded well back when the procession drew near...he had some trouble when it came to crowds, and deferred his place without hesitation or protest...but it was the Roques that drew his attention. They were artfully moving among the collected masses, clearly well-prepared and shockingly well-funded compared to most other guard organizations in the Kingdoms.

The monk had been instructed to report to the Monastery, but Matthew had his own plans. In fact, he had his own orders, though they were far less specific or implicit...and whether or not he could carry out his order's agenda largely depended on the city watch. There was little to be done but to find out...and this would be as good of a day as any to do so.

"I beg your pardon, sirrah," called Matthew, waving and approaching the nearest watchman (though not before stuffing the bare bones of his fishy treat into his pocket until he could later discard it properly). "I bag pardon, sirrah! Who commands the city watch? Who is your commander?" he asked, issuing his question with a brief bow.

[Aster Lu'ulnen]

Aster’s eyes focused upon the boy with the parrot, his body moving slowly toward the standard-carrier and then matched pace with it as he tried to follow the parade at the very head. He kept his head down a little, keeping the hood low as to hide his face, blending with the crowd as he attempted to dance among it, still trying to piece together ideas that he could execute if and when Solange’s signal came. He continued to keep an eye out as well for the Von Emsts and Mainy, his recent dealings with that family as well as his employment with the Fowls heavy on his mind as he hoped that he would not have to choose between the two when the time came.

His eyes kept vigilant watch between crowd and parrot, the Adhiel wondering why, among all of the symbols to throw in, had the locals chosen a blue parrot. Certainly, if they were making an offer to the Mer, a live parrot would be more proper a sacrifice – certainly cruel and no less odd - but certainly a little more sensible than offering up an effigy. A small bit of work on a mere prop…where was the sacrifice in that? An uncharacteristic chuckle escaped his lips as the fleeting thought of Felicia, adorned with feathers, was pushed by the young boy from the cliffs within Aster’s private fantasies, causing the bard to wonder if his obsession with Mainy was not beginning to cloud his judgments about kindness to all.

All? She is a diamond…and would sink like a stone… he chided himself as he kept walking knowing, despite any deals with her parents, that he would not rest until every lash Felicia had ever given Mainy’s dignity was repaid in kind - even if it destroyed him in the process.

[Callara]

"Ah, there it comes."

It took a far good time longer for Callara to catch sight of the parrot being brought up along the parade route, since she was further up and removed from it than most. The horde of frenzied onlookers was enough to make her senses do overtime so she made sure to steer clear of them, but as soon as the parrot appeared in sight she turned her attention to the symbol and the child that was carrying it.

"Too far away, darnit..."

Ushuaia had taught her a few things about the blood. About what it wanted and what it needed. She had extrapolated what that might bring her, but she was not skilled enough to see through the mass of blood and target people from that far away. That much had become clear even on the road into the city but a few tides ago. So...she waited patiently for the boy to arrive with the effigy of the spirit of Roque at the end of it's route. She had picked up what would have to happen to end / begin the festival. The parrot would be thrown into the Mer.

She started moving closer and eyed the parrot carefully.

"Wouldn't it be fitting if the boy joined it?"

A satisfied smile appeared underneath her hood as she tried to put her training into practice and get as close as possible without feeling the sudden urge to throw up and run. She'd need all her concentration to make this festival a memorable one. With any luck the power released from this....tragedy...would feed her for a long time to come...

[Syra]

As the parade progressed, so did the people move like a wave to try and stay with the walk for as long as they could. Near the gates that stood between the lower and upper regions it would become a real problem since there a new large mass of people stood waiting to catch their glimpse of the blessed parrot!

Especially the growing crowd at these gates would be visible for Callara who had the advantage of holding higher ground. Yet it was not the only place within her vision which showed people gathering: the arboretum was open to the public as usual and already several of the richer people were making their way to the cliffs where the parrot would be thrown into the Mer.

"Oh, don't say such things!" A woman glared at Arnholt. "There must be no troubles along the way." She reinforced her comment with a firm gesture of her hands. "You're not from here, hm? The parrot protects us! It wouldn't do to have it fall before it's time. It's the sacrifice, you see." She nodded conspiratorally.

A feathered mask flew through the air, taken by a gust of wind. Laughter followed as a few eager hands tried to grab it. The Roque Matthew adressed followed it with his eyes while tilting his head towards the pious man. "Our commanding officer? You want to speak to Lyndon Markham then. But he'll be busy this day!"

The mask returned to the ground and was picked up to be given to a crying child. The guard nodded in satisfaction and turned his full attention to Matthew. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

The parade moved up to the gates and the boy passed through to the higher regions. Several richer families joined into the walk now, their children left unattended for once.

A familiar redhead popped up somewhere over the crowd, clearly standing on a barrel or crate, for unless she had suddenly grown taller than Aster, it was impossible to even spot Mainy between all these people. She peered over the mass of movement, clearly looking for someone or something.

"Aha, well, since the boy is carrying the parrot, the question now becomes who will be parrying the carrot!" The costumed man suddenly exclaimed with a wide grin and bent over, using his fake greens on top to fence with a passing moustached man. People started laughing, making a little room for the silly scene. The unsuspecting man tried his best to keep the carrot from getting into his face, but failed miserably as the carrot-man used his hands as well to simply tickle him!

[Arnholt]

"Beg your pardon, then," Arnholt said with an apologetic bow of his head. 'That parrot protects us?' What crap. Probably. It sounded like mere asinine superstition to him. But then again, who knew? There were more things on the Tether and in the Aether than a humble man like Bram Beacon understood.

He bobbed his head in acknowledgment upon being identified as a stranger in Roque. "Name's Bram. Lately from King's Court. Don't know much of anything about your ways in this city," the cultist said, flashing his teeth in his friendlist smile. "So lemme beg you to excuse my ignorance, and indulge my curiousity. About this sacrifice. It's a sacrifice to the One God, then?"

Somehow he doubted that was exactly the case. Blue parrots protecting people. Stuffed birds being sacrificed for the benefit of a city. That don't sound like any Oneist dogma that I ever heard. More likely it could be traced back to some weird pagan tradition dating back to before the Oneist scourge ever raised its head in these parts. Or perhaps it was nothing more than a weird bit of whimsy that had no roots in religion at all... though this woman seemed to think it had an importance beyond mere fluff, and the reaction of the crowd to the near-'disaster' implied she wasn't alone in that opinion.

Regardless, Arnholt had a keen interest in hearing more. He did his best to keep pace with the woman in the push of the crowd, as the parade pushed on toward wherever its destination might be.

[Tarnuun]

ooc: Very sorry for not appearing sooner. Been having problems with getting on Tazlure and the real life got in the way.

Finally within the city gates he glanced around and noticed that he was in the middle of the parrot parade. Watching not only millions of people, but he did manage to see the parrot bouncing up and down, followed by dancers and singers.

He recalled what the little girl said about the parrot, something about it protecting the city. But was the parrot even real? Was it a superstition, or was it a fact, either way it seemed to be something that the inhabitants were fond of.

More concerning things were in Tarnuun's mind, so he -tried- to find his way through the crowd. Bumping into multiple people accidentally, he always apologized afterwards trying to make his way through as good as he could, if the crowd would let him. He did recognize the two monks from the gate. The one dressed in black, and the stuttering monk.

While moving on through the crowd, he tried to find his way back to his parent's house but the streets all seem changed to him. He came across different roads, but all of them seemed to have some parade going on. Tarnuun became annoyed at himself that not only could he not find his way to his parent's house, but also that he couldn't remember anything of a parrot parade. Did he really forget all of this for the three years he was gone?

-" I'll never find my way through this parade ".
He said out loud slightly frustrated. But he knew that getting angry at this wouldn't make any difference, so instead he turned his attention to the parade. He watched the boy walking down and all the others who danced and sang. They really did take this parade seriously. He watched with a smile on his face and just had to take up his personal affairs another time, when the streets were cleared and when he could ask someone for directions.

[Motley]

The ugly little man continued to eat his breakfast and watch the events unfold around him. He spotted Gerben, and gave his grandfather a playful wink. For some reason, he thought Gerben seemed like he was trying to blend in, so rather than approach him, Motley simply stayed put, and allowed the elderly man to progress unhindered.

Familiar faces found his attention in the crowd. People he'd seen before. People he knew, even a few he wished he didn't passed in the streets around him.

Motley smiled as the little boy carrying the parrot came into view. Angelica was free from this particular little ritual now, and tucked safely away from the crowds and judging eyes. The little boy suddenly stumbled, and Motley's eyes narrowed in concern until the boy righted himself and continued.

Close...

The procession continued, and so did Motley's silent observance.

[Guest]

Baxter made sure he was not seen by Tarnuun as he followed him around from a safe distance. He, as usual, did not give a damn about that stupid parrot. Baxter had always hated the stupid festival, actually, he hated msot festivals. Too crowded but at least it was good for making money.

He noticed that Tarnuun seemed to be lost so he finally decided to approach him.

"I take it that you are lost?" He said with a bright smile.

[Callara]

Callara progressed down the gardens slightly further, lingering along the cliffs that rose above the Mer in all their splendor. Seagulls soaring overhead she cast a glance at the crowd gathering around the end of the route, marking the spot perfectly as she sought a vantage point to oversee it without being blocked by the crowd but still at a relatively short range. She had taken out the guard sloppily at a rather short distance but she was certain she could increase her range if she concentrated on her single target, the boy holding the parrot.

Not at all bothering with being seen or not, expecting to be considered some high-upety noble wanting for a better view she locked her focus on the boy.

"Now then..." She recalled her first attempt at mental manipulation. The guard at the guardhouse. She had tried to make him do something he didn't want and he had fought her subconciously with every fiber of his being. She recalled the way she had manipulated the heart of the guard at the gate tides after and the rock.

"Mind over mind, mind over matter..."

Drawing her dagger she pricked her finger and released a single droplet of blood onto the rocks at her feet.

"I sacrifice little to gain much, let's begin."

She knew what she wanted. The boy had to die. It was a perfect plan to shatter the dream of the people beneath her, their faith in their precious spirits destroyed as the child dropped to it's death. But she most likely could not make him just walk off, he'd fight her. So instead she started to weave an entirely different chain of thoughts and sent it to the boy who walked the path to his own demise.

You carry the parrot...
So proud...
Nearly fell?
Must not let go.
No no...
Never let go of the parrot.

As the boy progressed she repeated the chain of words that were entirely bent on making him hold on to the parrot for dear life. Every emotion and word she sent were imbued with the feeling of responsibility he needed to have, he had been given to do this great honor. He must never let go...

Never let go...tighten your grip...

Never let go...it must not slip...

Her plan was simple. She would complete the weave of the boy's mind just before he stepped up to the edge of the cliffs. She knew he had been told to drop the parrot in at the moment he would be told, so her chain would be broken then.

"Can't let that happen."

So...as he neared the end of his route and took his position at the edge, she would have finished her weave and call on the blood once again to pull the parrot and the boy towards the cliffs and into the Mer.

And he would never let go...

[Matthew]

Polite as well, thought Matthew, nodding at the guard as he gathered his answer. Lyndom Markham. "No, thank you, sirrah...I beg you have a fine day," bowed the monk, backing away and turning his attention back to the wavering parrot he could only just see bobbing over the heads of the people before him (as Matthew had receded well away from the spectacle by now).

Lyndom Markham. The man would no doubt be a skilled diplomat...perhaps more so than a soldier...to manage the affairs of such a wealthy place as Roque d'Ancourt. He could only retain his position...and the funding for the local guard...with detailed knowledge of the locals as well as a deep understanding of the local social climate. While Roque d'Ancourt wasn't necessarily his, there would be no one more ideal to approach regarding Matthew's particular function.

And approach him he would. A letter, of course...Matthew's pen was as crisp and elegant as any...and perhaps an appointment at one of the more well-known (and quiet) eateries in town. The...Goose and Gander? pondered the monk, retrieving the husk of the impaled seafood from his pocket and searching for a place to fling it away. He hardly had the kind of income that would be expected at the Goose...but impressions were very important, as was civility. The monk could only insure both within such an environment. It would be better than the garrison building, as anyone could be watching that place...and it would be better than any common inn, as...once again...they would be quickly noticed.

Turning, Matthew glanced towards the sky as if he expected the rain to start at any flicker. Indeed, if this...Lyndom Markham reacted poorly to Matthew's proposal, the monk would have to leave. But if he does not, perhaps I might stay for a time?

[Alexandrya L`handriel]

The sunshine and the sound of the people in high spirits felt amazing to Alexandrya. Of course even with all the happiness, she felt a sort of eerieness inside as if something was going to happen today. The chills ran down her spine as she speared that idea with her mind once again the Mer's thoughts cried out to her. It would not hinder what she had to do today.

Her cheeks were rosy with her own laughter as she drew closer to watch the man engulfed in a giant carrot costume.

Her own costume was not really a costume for her job today was to blend in and to keep merriment going. For her own offense she also had a basket filled with treats, apples, carrots, cherries, as well as other assorted cookies and candies for at least the little children. It was a remainder of an idea that Jonah and Alexandrya had about her becoming a baker and being poor when the needy children came begging at her shop.

She decided on pretty blue dress that marked her as a middle class patron, her hair braided in numerous strands and held up by what looked like little blue flowers such as forget-me-nots and other such assortments, luckily, she was even able to wear comfortable, sensible shoes due to how long they would all have to be on their feet. Her face was painted with a giant butterfly with sparkles used by mica and other such reflective minerals to stand out.

Alexandrya's own eyes scouted the little blond boy and was lost for a moment as if she was stuck in that dream that the Mer had put her in. What if today something will happen like so long ago? The Mer would protect the child...the Blue parrot will protect the child.

...Who will be parrying the carrot! Was suddenly heard and pulled her out of her reverie as laughter spilt out of her, a lovely smile lit up her face. The carrot man was trying to fence with a man with his greens and instead tickled the poor mustachioed man. "Who will win? Who will win?" She raised her voice specifically trying to carry it so it could be heard above the laughter to keep the merriment going. "Kind sir, you cannot let this rogue carrot get the best of you. I heard they are a delicious snack..." She wagged her finger at the carrot-man. "And who will be brave enough to best this carrot?!" She drew out a carrot as if it was a sword and offered it to anyone who was willing to play along but also kept her eyes open for someone open to such a task but too shy to step forth without a bit of coaxing.

[Aster Lu'ulnen]

Aster nodded to himself and drew in a deep breath as he heard the catchphrase which was his signal to go into play. The tides before had been a mass of confusion and preparation for him as he was unsure what, exactly, Solange and the rest of the troupe were expecting of him and what, exactly, he could get away with within the scope of the Fowls 'shield' of immunity. He had spent many marks in prayer to Mother for guidance and it was only at the last possible flicker that she had guided his thoughts and hands toward a plan.

Aster had grown up around costumed, both in the theater proper and watching his mother prepare them for the actors and actresses, yet his focus had not been upon watching the construction closely enough to truly pick up on the nuances of the craft and so, as he moved quickly to a point in front of the parrot-holder and placed a parrot mask upon his face and opened the 'wings' of his cloak, revealing the insides of the cloak and his tunic and breeches covered in haphazard blue feathers, only the truly daft would most likely have mistaken him for anything resembling a bird.

His lack of skills in costuming, however, did not deter from his abundance of determination as he began to squawk loudly in protest of the sacrifice.

“Brawk!” Aster screeched angrily, flapping his wings at the fair-haired parrot-bearer. “Brawk braaack brawk brawkbrawkbrawk brawkbraaack! Braaack brawk brawk brawk braaack brawk brawk brawkbrawk braaack brawk?” He kept flapping his wings angrily and stepping backward, not truly stopping the boy's progress, but certainly trying to rattle is target as well as onlookers as he continued to inquire, in parrot-ese, about why his hatchling had to die.

[Syra]

"Well, Bram from King's Court, there's things people in the big cities simply do not know about." The woman nodded her head, looking quite smug in Arnholt's direction. "Some say the parrot is an avatar from Dominicus. Even the colour would fit, right? Heavenly colours? Others say the parrot is the whole reason why good king Balthasar's father built the palace here. It's because of the palace that the village turned into a city. Yet did you ever wonder why the cliffs don't crumble under all that weight, hm? Did you ever wonder why the Mer never takes our ships? Well, it's the parrot, I tell you, it's the parrot!"

Meanwhile the crowd pushed on beyond the second gates, moving through the beautifully sculptured gardens towards the cliffs. No one was stopped. Everyone was free to come, yet one needed a certain kind of persistance in order to make it through the mass of moving people.

As such it was amazingly hard for Tarnuun to move without accidentily pushing or shoving people. "Watch it, big lout!" Another grumbling citizen moved past the blue-clad man. Yet blue seemed to be the theme today and as such he was properly dressed, following the blue parrot. In fact, his father would have had a story to spare about some bird watching over Roque's children. Might it be that this pertained to the very same bird?

Yet salvation was nearby as Baxter popped up from the crowd -with seeming ease compared to the big man- and walked up to Tarnuun as a lifeboat in a storm.

While the big man had trouble with the crowd, little Motley had troubles of a different kind. With his lack of height the chance of being run underfoot was considerable and it took an experienced tumbler to get out of this mess in one piece! Yet as he had chosen his observational spot, the crowd passed him by without any trouble at all. Gerben nodded back, a soft smile playing around his lips as he followed the antics of the walking carrot and the girl urging people to participate as people moved onwards.

Alexandrya might have noticed her basked becoming lighter and lighter, much as Jonah had expected to happen with all these little hands around who'd love to get a grip of anything sweet. As his face was too well known, the former scout was staying on the side today. It was clear he no longer regarded himself as a real part of the Fowls, but his interest in the little play superceded any other plans he might have had.

As such he grinned as Alex fired up the crowd.

"Win?" The moustached man laughed, trying to fend off the tickling carrot. "I'll show you a win!" And for sure he grabbed the greens of the carrot-man and pulled, leaving Raydon -who was in the suit- without his headpiece!

"I'll save him!" A girl in pink exclaimed and took the carrot from Alexandrya to attack the haf-carrot-man. Raydon shot a look at Alexandrya, begging for a ltitle assistance on his side.

Unless the little bard followed, he'd soon be alone in ghostly empty streets. Everyone followed the boy. Everyone followed the parrot. And the little kid did splendidly! Keeping a good hold on the standard he now watched where he walked to prevent another stumble. A flowerpetal dropped off, landing on his nose. He wriggled it free by wrinkling his face, giggling at the itch it left. Yet still he would not free up a hand to wipe his nose.

never let go....

The thought echoed as Callara's blood dropped on the floor. Through her excercises it was becoming harder to follow both paths set to her, the one which required tremendous mental strength as taught to her by Ushuaia; the other where sheer passion needed to take over in order to make anything work. Yet here she was, trying to combine the two into one goal.

The blood stirred.
Boiled.
Fear.

Fear was a powerful motivator. The blood caught on and growled inside, searching for it's prey. There was no more conscious thought-sending, no more articulate wish or rhyme. All that was left was an overpowering need to have more. To feel blood. To taste blood. To absorb death.

Fear...

The boy gulped. His palms felt so sweaty, yet he could not let go or it would be bad luck. If he failed now, he'd be the shame of the city. He needed to do this right, but oh, the fright of doing this wrong....

"BRAWK!"

The boy stepped back, eyes wide open in utter shock as the big angry parrot stepped in his way. If Aster had planned it, he could not have gotten a better reaction as there was a collective gasp from the unknowing audience -who incidentilly did not speak any parrot-ish.

"Brawk braaack brawk brawkbrawkbrawk brawkbraaack! Braaack brawk brawk brawk braaack brawk brawk brawkbrawk braaack brawk?” The young Adhiel continued.

The boy's lower lip began to tremble. This could not be happening! He had to move on! Hesitantly he moved on, his hands becoming slippery with the sweat.

No one tried to stop the giant parrot, as clearly this had to be part of the whole parade. Nobody noticed the boy's very real fear. Nobody noticed the very real strands of a forgotten magic trying to work it's way further in.

[Arnholt]

Arnholt dipped his head in a brief but reverent bow at the utterance of the One God's name, as he had been taught to do as a child. Just as well. The gesture and the folds of his hood ought to hide the look of incredulity that had flitted across his face upon trying to imagine the parrot as Dominicus' avatar. For one thing, the One God's bird was a dove, not a parrot. And the fledgling cultist had never considered blue to be a "heavenly color" in any but the most literal, least spiritual sense. The whole line of reasoning smacked of the sort of fanciful, tacked-on argument that people dreamed up to explain traditions retroactively. The Dominicus thing might be what the parrot means today, I guess. But it don't seem likely that it started out like that.

He elected to turn to the woman's other point, as to why the palace had been built here. "Did the King Dorian have a special fondness for parrots, then?"

Though Arnholt hadn't been paying much attention to the antics of the costumed folk around him, Aster's parrot act drew his eye, just as it had most everyone else's. Like much of the crowd, the false monk took the man for a part of the parade. Naturally the feathered man's appearance didn't seem especially odd him... no stranger, anyway, than anything else about the festival. As far as he knew this turn of events was nothing out of the ordinary. So Arnholt just stood there, idly combing his fingers through his beard, as he tried to reconcile the man in the bad parrot suit with the overall symbolism of the festival.

He's an elf. So... a representation of the old alliance with T'aquar? But then it really ought to be a woman. Also, from the reactions of the crowd, the arrival of this bizarre humanoid parrot was not necessarily a happy omen. What, then? He looks like a freak in that outfit. Is he supposed to be some kind of parrot-eating monster? The anti-parrot so to speak. Symbolizing the troubles the parrot is supposed to protect the city from, maybe. Or, since the parrot is supposed to be an avatar of Dominicus, I guess that would make this guy the avatar... of...

"Huh." Just a thoughtful little noise in Arnholt's throat as the idea wormed its way through his mind, momentarily driving all thoughts of parrots from it.

Almost unconsciously he brushed the fingers of one hand across his chest, over the place where the Eye of Righteous hung around his neck, securely hidden behind layers of cloth and leather. Funny. His newfound Goddess was never very far from the barely-converted cultist's mind. A Goddess with a following of one, more or less. But Arnholt had a vague idea that the more followers She got the more powerful She would be, until in time She might rise to challenge Dominicus himself. It seemed unlikely in the extreme, however, that her followers would grow so numerous as to completely eliminate the One God's worship. And Dominicus' followers would never accept Her as co-equal with their god, the way that believers in the Pantheon of the Seven Isles might.

However... There really is no one, single opposite to Dominicus. Daemons? The Forces of Darkness? Sure. But the Oneists just lumped them all into an anonymous rabble. Since the fall of the Dark One there was no great champion for Oneists to point to and say, "That is the face of the enemy." Only maybe there could be. Even if the Oneists never worship Her as their Goddess in place of the One, perhaps they will accept Her as His antithesis, instead. Her "darkness" to His "light." Her "lies" to His "truth." Her "vengeance" to His "mercy." Her Justice to His tyranny.

His blue parrot, Arnholt mused, to Her man in the bad feathered suit.

If nothing else, an interesting thought for much further on down the road. He'd have to remember it later. Much later.

Shaking himself back to the present, Arnholt leaned on his staff and watched the parade, waiting to see what would happen next.

[Matthew]

"You heard the lady, Master Beacon! Behold, the Great Western God!" laughed Matthew as he caught up to Bram Beacon, an easy fellow to spot in the street given his dark clothes and somewhat swarthy appearance. The young monk had been careful not to interrupt his conversation with the lady, as that would have been...well...rude. "Frankly, He never looked so flattering, to be fair. I beg your pardon, Master Beacon...I've come to apologize for the appalling direction I have you earlier. It seems my memory of the city...or perhaps the city itself...has changed somewhat in the last ten yahren..."

"Ooo! Look there!" Matthew interrupted himself, nodded towards the massive carrot. "You will find the Great Decapitated Carrot of Plenty, the Patron Saint of Children's Vegetables, Guardian of Dessert, insuring a plentiful harvest...to be sacrificed to dogs, hidden under tableclothes, slipped onto floors...look how they torment him already..."

Matthew paused along with the crowd, observing the altercation between the bobbing parrot effigy and the clothed example of another parrot. Speaking even lower, "Alas! It appears we've wandered into a...domestic dispute. This may be a fine time to offer you a more fitting apology by way of...perhaps an early dinner? I confess, I'm no Merchant Lord, but I feel the kind of humility and embarrassment that can only be addressed through..." Matthew glanced at the two parrot puppets ahead "...roasted chicken. And perhaps carrots. I beg you will allow it?"

[Motley]

Motley observed the parade as it passed, and silently mused over if he were to follow it to its conclusion.

As a boy, he'd seen the parade many times over the yahren. It always ended the same, and its mysteries were lost on him now. More than anything, he'd simply wanted the satisfaction of seeing another child carrying the parrot. The little boy that had been chosen seemed determined, and he smiled despite himself. Angelica was free of the ritual now, and free of a life where her decisions would be made by anyone except her. The ugly little man took a great amount of pride in that. He wasn't against the parade as a ceremony, far from it. He simply disliked the way that the people involved disregarded the lives and complications of those they chose to involve in their little drama. Angelica had been chosen to suit their needs, not hers, and whatever consequences that might occur from such defiance, he knew was well worth it.

He stood up and broke his makeshift, impromptu camp. He smiled at the revelers and trailed along in the very back, meandering slowly at the very rear edges of the crowd.

[Alexandrya L`handriel]

The achadhiel's eyes twinkled with laughter as the carrot-man was unmasked. Oh dear... It was even more hysterical when a little girl in pink took her challenge to heart and started to confront the half-carroted man. Poor Raydon. He is going to lose this one. To help or not to help...hmm. All the while she tried to school her expression towards the little girl arming her with a carrot and then looked towards Raydon. "It is the end for you, Sir Carrot because this brave lady shall end your tickling ways."

Towards the moustached man, she gave what she believed an undeniable smile and asked, "May I have your trophy, sir, to maintain the carrot's dignity even when he shall be slain by the brave lady in pink?" Her arm outstretched towards the man with Raydon's greens to accept the item back from the mustachioed man hopefully without argument.

Despite the merriment she felt a prickle of a chill or what might have been fright that slid down her spine which she tried to ignore at first. Alexandrya had worked very hard to hold up and reinforce her shields to protect herself from other emotions but sometimes was overly sensitive with negative emotions especially when it was so displaced from what was currently going on. The achadhiel had no idea what had caused this sensation in her but if anything she needed to finish up this scene with Raydon. Perhaps it was the entry of the big blue bird man that might have caused this emotion in some people, but she could not ruin Raydon's scene because of her abilities and tried her best to isolate these feelings in a certain direction without breaking her improvisation.