RORY
Rory had been up early to help set up the festivities: he hung banners and ribbons between erected poles, offered his hand at setting up stalls. A couple of shopkeepers had asked him if he could haul their goods out with the horses, so for a time in the early hours of the day Esaia and Talys had made the trip to and from the Settlement, and then stood around nibbling on the fresh spring grass as Rory placed his lanterns all around the festival grounds. They were rawhide lanterns, easy enough to make, and splashed with all sorts of bright and festive colors—or at least the ones he knew how to make with earth and herb dyes. The effect was wasted in the daylight, and the lanterns were unlit anyway, but it usually looked rather nice at night.Then he took his trusty animals home, and gave himself a good scrubbing to rid himself (mostly) of the scent of sweat and horse and horse-sweat. Once clean he pulled on some of his nicest clothes, which consisted of dark, thin wool pants (they fit rather snugly), and a high-collared dark blue shirt. It wasn't exquisite, but it was softer than most of his work clothes and had a nice patterned trim, and was still in good condition. He left the laces at the throat undone, tied a bright sash around his waist, and braided back his hair in several smaller braids following his skull on one side, roughing up the rest into somewhat of a golden mane. For dramatics, he stuck a couple of iridescent feathers into the braids.
The thing was this, though: Rory wasn't in a particularly good mood.
How could he be, with everything that had happened lately?
He was lost and afraid, paranoid and anxious, irritable in a way that was very unusual for him. The idea of Fiat Lux filled him with dread and distaste (the entire world did); he just wanted to lie down on the hard floor and turn his back against the door and lie there until he was only dust.
But if it was one thing Rory decided somewhere in between the barrier's fall and the dawn of Fiat Lux, it was that he was not going to let them (whoever that included these days was unclear) ruin Fiat Lux for him. He was going to go to his damn festival and he was going to enjoy it, and everything else be damned.
So he was going to get on the drunk side of tipsy and he was going to stay that way until he had to sleep.
He cut a dark, but striking, figure as he slipped back onto the festival grounds, beelining for a brewer who made the most delicious honey beer and trying to avoid anyone who might waylay him. He normally avoided getting drunk and rarely had reason to drink, but he wanted to be able to enjoy the festival, and that just wasn't going to happen unless he found some way to relax.
Plus the honey beer was just great.
So.
His fingers closed around the tankard as he sipped from it, finally daring to let himself look for familiar faces in the crowd.
Rory lurks and is going to get himself drunk if left to his own devices because he's an unhappy idiot. Imagine his hairstyle is like a much less jpop and longer-haired version of the feather dude's in this picture. <.<
as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
