Completed [The Festival of Hope] Something Smells Happy

[Mo'esha]

15 Winter 515 AV - Late Evening

Mo’esha pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she descended into the street. The winds were bitterly cold as they whipped off the sea, chilling the evening air. Her hair stirred wildly around her face, obstructing her vision as she searched the street for an answer to her strange awakening. There had been talk about the city of a festival for days, but – being new to this city and it’s richly layered culture – Mo had yet to decipher the purpose or significance.
Having few acquaintances, and feeling less than sociable after the bizarre events just a few days past, Mo’esha had intended to stay in and rest this evening. She had hoped that the warm blankets and soft pillows of her bed would be sufficient insulation from the cold and confusion of the outer world and this city which was so alien from her previous existence. But, as she lay curled beneath her comforter, head tucked stubbornly beneath her pillow, she could not escape the insidious and enticing scents creeping into the windows and seeping through walls.
The city was alive with a crackling, gleeful energy. Mo could hear people moving in the streets. A veritable cacophony of cheer, a cavalcade of conviviality, greeted her raw senses. Children squealed with glee and parents cackled in nostalgic anamnesis. All the while Mo felt a kinship with the barren trees of the city, stripped and vulnerable, removed from all safeguard or aegis, with an abrasive sensitivity like exposed nerves. And just as the jubilating Rivarians cut away at the skeletal topiaries of winter, each person she approached cut deeply into her psyche and soul. It was all too much.
No matter her effort or exertion, there was no escape from the ever pervading festivities that suffused the dusk. So with an exasperated sigh Mo rose, donned her warmest clothing, secured her cape, and left the warmth of her room in the hopes that something out there might offer some modicum comfort.

Word Count332

[Mo'esha]

Mo watched with equal measures of envy and loathing as children skipped, carefree, down the city streets. Families accompanied the younglings, with clusters of adults conversing and following slowly behind. Trying to avoid the larger groups, Mo surveyed the crowds carefully. Choosing a smaller family group, Mo slipped in quietly behind and followed them in the direction that everyone else seemed to be moving. Keeping her distance, she watched as a small boy pranced contentedly down the street crowned by a laurel of naked branches. A man with broad shoulders and skin kissed by Akajia smiled broadly as the child cavorted about. A woman nearby cajoled the child while coddling a cooing infant, and Mo’esha felt a tinge of trepidation as the gold bangle on her wrist brought thoughts of the future to mind.
Seeking some sign of what her existence in the city may become she inched closer to the family. As they turned a corner toward the brightly flaring watchtower that illuminated the dimly lit alley, they were joined by other groups braving the chill of the blustery evening to make their own pilgrimage. And as more bodies pressed around her, Mo noticed more children bearing crowns of twigs and she was embraced by the scents of the season. As people passed she was overwhelmed with the smell of freshly fallen snow, crisp winter sun, sugared plums, and sweetbreads. A father passed with a litter of blue skinned boys, and Mo could discern the scent of syrup and berries still clinging to the children – presumably from the family’s favorite breakfast. A mother, heavy with child, crossed the street in front of her, and the air was filled with the precious smell of a newborn’s head. A young man cut in to the group, and the scent of metal and leather greeted her strongly.
Overwhelmed by the sensory stimulation, Mo’esha paused, closing her pale water colored eyes and resting her blonde head against the cold stone of a nearby building. More people passed and more scents accosted her. Muttering softly under her breath, Mo’esha prayed to the only gods she knew; asking Rak’keli to take this affliction from her, and invoking Avalis – if only in name. Softly footsteps approached behind her, and Mo was startled when gentle hands took her elbow. Immediately she was overwhelmed with the aroma of crisp silk, clean linen, and lye. The Konti reeled from the unexpected incursion of her gift, but steadied herself as the other fragrances of the evening faded away.

Running Word Count750

[Mo'esha]

“Are you alright?” A female voice with a heavy Tukant accent asked, and Mo’esha stared at the hands a moment as if the voice could have come from them. Gently she nodded, and then laughed aloud as the realization washed over her that such a thing was likely not unheard of this season. “It is just…bleeeaagh!” Mo groaned, her exasperation having no bounds within articulate verbalization. She looked up into kind, creased eyes that glinted with the spark of age.
“This season has been… interesting… for us all. And we’ve a hard winter still ahead of us yet.” The woman moved to support Mo’esha, and the young Konti leaned thankfully on the woman’s shoulder. “That is why our festivals are so important. They remind us that there is beauty, even in the withering.” The woman laughed, for reasons that Mo’esha could not yet understand, and the crow’s feet around her eyes wrinkled in mischievous glee. Pulling Mo gently along, her new found friend moved slowly toward the watchtower. “I remember when I was young, this day was one of my favorites of the whole season. The markets always smelled of warm things, and as children we had run of the whole city. Or at least it seemed that way. The first fire of the cold season… the smell of it always reminds me of how happy I was back then.” The woman patted Mo’s arm gently, and for a moment the perfume of fresh firewood and soot stained the air. It was so strong that Mo expected to see the gleam of a roaring bonfire dancing around the approaching corners, but the alleyways remained dark. Perking with confusion and curiosity Mo craned her neck to seek the source of the aroma, but found none.
“There, there.” The woman cheered softly. “You look better already.” With a gentle nudge she moved away and allowed Mo to, shakily, stand on her own. “You’ll be alright. I can see it.” The human smiled at her. “Enjoy the festival, dear.” She waved happily, and slipped away into the crowd as stealthily as she had appeared.
Mo’esha tried to call after her. She had so many questions, and the woman’s presence was an unexpected comfort. Her voice, though, was small and easily lost in the bustling crowds. Soon all that remained of the mysterious woman was a quickly disappearing glimpse. Cold, and lonely again, Mo’esha returned to her hunt for the fire, but as the woman’s form faded from sight so too did the warm scent of open flames.


Running Word Count1,174

[Mo'esha]

Mo’esha rushed after the woman, desperate for answers and human kindness. Mo was just out of arm’s reach when she unexpectedly darted around a corner and out of sight. The struggling Konti was swept up in the quickly moving procession toward the watchtower, and though she struggled against the current was unable to resist its undeniable pull. For a moment she felt a glimmer of hope as the smoky scent of bonfire greeted her senses. And Mo hoped that its enticing source might still lay around the next corner. But as the woman’s thin shadow slowly faded from view the soul-warming scent did too. And Mo realized, with drawn suspicion, that the source of the aroma was not a roaring flame, but the woman herself.
Surrendering herself to the magnetic flow of the crowd, Mo’esha turned toward the quickly approaching tower and turned her attention to the myriad perfumes that colored the night. Pushing through the persistent, dull thrum of her migraine, she inhaled deeply attempting to pinpoint a single scent on which to focus and was pleased when the faint aroma of Fortilas cut through the others. Calming her pressured breathing she inhaled slowly and deliberately, sensing – though she could not understand how – subtle movements in the musky, floral scent. Lifting her chin to better sample the air, she did her best to follow these nearly imperceptible fluctuations until the cramped street suddenly opened into a clear landing.
Hundreds of people were gathered in the clearing, surrounding the piercing blue stone of the Azurite Watchtower. Children of all ages were gathered around the base, surrounded by families, who were themselves surrounded by barren trees laden with tiny, twinkling lanterns.
Mo’esha paused a moment to take in the strangeness and the beauty of it all. People poured into the clearing from streets and footpaths in all directions. Shrieking children of all ages, wreathed in branches, raced passed their parents toward the base of the tower. Parents carrying infants, likewise gathered around the growing ring of little ones. Small fires gleamed from nearly every branch, trunk, and cranny around the perimeter.
Having nearly forgotten her reason for venturing out that night, Mo’esha stood for a long moment at the edge of the crowd, simply observing the people of her new home. Basking in the warm, flickering glow of a nearby Crag Fir, Mo hid herself amidst the gentle piney scent until the soft scent of Fortilas tickled her nose from the distance. Piqued again by this strange new occurrence, Mo lifted her head and sniffed, turning slightly this direction and that, as one might expect to see from an animal or Kelvic. From her right the scent grew stronger, and as Mo opened herself to the experience her mind exploded with images of flower forts, kaleidoscopes, and a roaring hearth laden with pillows and pallets. She did not understand the visions, as they were foreign and alien to her, but she was enraptured in a sense of pure, childlike joy.
Mo reveled in the feeling, unlike anything she had ever known in her life, and was so lost in the experience that she was genuinely startled when the crowd around her began to shout in unison. Jostled from her ecstasy, she glowered at the crowd as they counted, loudly. For a moment the reason for their enumeration was lost on the Konti, until she realized that the gathering ring of children had begun to move around the base of the tower. As the children passed, a whirlwind of joyous smells surrounded her. Puppy breath, little sister, honey candy, grandma’s hand cream, peppermint, fresh grass, fortilas, soil, dad… on and on it swirled about, filling her with a sense of deep and abiding happiness, until eventually the ring dispersed, with a collective “Three!” from the surrounding crowd.
Mo dodged a barrage of scrambling children as they drug less enthusiastic parents toward the twinkling trees, each alight with their own sense of glee. One by one the children lead their adults to individual lanterns, and gestured excitedly as they prattled on about the day. Mo’esha watched quietly near the base of the tree as the large crowd began to thin and disperse. Each person who approached the tree smelled differently. Parents wore perfumes of nostalgia, weariness, and pride. Children of elation and excitement, tinged with sadness or disappointment. Mo’esha noted all of these as she finally acknowledged the impossible awareness that had slowly taken root over the long, strange course of the season.
As the last of the stragglers slowly gathered themselves and their belongings, Mo’s tree was approached by a small Konti girl, dragging her beaming mother behind her. As the two ducked beneath the Fir’s low hanging branches, the air was permeated with the sensual musk of Fortilas, and Mo’esha smiled down as the girl pointed to a diminutive hanging lantern at her left. The girl’s mother smiled and nodded, patting the girl’s head and cooing softly about how pretty it was.
Working up her courage Mo gestured to the small candleholder. “Why is this?” She asked with a shy smile, and listened intently as the woman explained. The Festival of Hope, as she called it, celebrated the gift of new life brought to Riverfall each season. And the small glimmering lanterns served as a beacon to guide future lives to the city. Overflowing with joy, Mo cupped the tiny lantern in her hands, as sweet tears of pure joy flowed in frozen rivulets down her cheeks.
The other Konti smiled knowingly and patted her sister gently before turning to guide her child home for the night. Mo waved after them, thankful for the beauty that had been shared. Turning suddenly the girl-child rushed back to the tree, pulling her tiny lantern from its branches and placing it, instead, in Mo’esha's upturned hand. Gently she wrapped Mo’s legs in a tender silent hug, and then dashed off into the night behind her mother.
Mo’esha carried the minuscule lantern back the way she’d come, careful not to allow the winter winds to extinguish its dancing flame. Once safely with her room, she set it in the window - reluctant to douse the light - and allowed it to continue burning as a bright beacon to the traveling souls of the world. Once again warm beneath her blankets, she drifted to sleep surrounded by the comforting scents of sugarcane, tobacco, and swampland mingling a midst humid summer heat. And for the first time since her departure from Kenash, she felt truly at home and happy.

Running Word Count2,256

[Kiva]

Such a Beautiful Thread . . .

Hello, Mo'esha!

So, I have good news and bad news. Good news, I graded your thread and loved it's simplicity. Your vocabulary is amazing (ex: cavalcade, conviviality, anamnesis). Seeing the world through Mo and her power were really wonderful. I absolutely loved your descriptions of things.

The bad news, is I can't post your grade until you deduct Winter 515 seasonal expenses. When you do, please PM with a link to this thread so I can fix this and you can edit your request in the RF queue (if still applicable).

Have a great day and keep writing!

. . . I brought it a Treat.