29th Spring 516
Nephti let her bangles jangle to the music drifting from tower of cloths, squeezing and squashing its way through the gaps where the cloth had to be joined to create such a large space. The city had been bursting with life these past days, and this newest addition to the festival of illusions seemed bring even more beauty and colour and life to the city. It was impossible to miss, even with the twisting streets, and since the morning when the noise of laughter and music had awoken her, Nephti had been making her way there, taking it in at a distance and savouring it, before it was unleashed fully onto her. With her brightest cards clutching in one of her hands, the Eypharian broke into a run, unable to contain her excitement, darting between those that went to the festival and the few that had found it not to their tastes, rare as they were, all of who flocked around her, colourful sheep moving with the crowd and gasping with wonder with what was to come.
It wasn't long until she discovered why. The tent opened in a million places, a wonder in itself, but it was the riches inside that were worth more than gold. Canvas, once white, was now anything but white. Colour could be found everywhere: here, paint looked as if it was dripping from the canvas, but Nephti's fingers remained dry as she ran her hand along the paintwork, tentatively, curious but terrified to ruin it; there, a pile of seamstresses worked with needle and thread across fabrics of the strangest colours, moving as one entity as they formed shapes from themselves in the pyramids they built and from the cloth they worked with. Any remains of silence had been banished to a land where it couldn’t, with a child on a fiddle standing beside her spinning out the fastest tunes possible while a whole band brought a slow and steady melody into the mix, joined by voices from professionals and public.
Her mouth had to fall open - it wasn't like she could help it. Jewels glistened around her, but the type that were too beautiful to be taken. This place was to be held close in the mind and never forgotten, but never repeated either. It had that sort of magic.
Lost in the art all around her, Nephti stumbled through sections, winding between dancers and spectators, not always certain which was which. Half the time, she wasn't exactly certain about which one she was either, for she seemed to move in time to at least one of the musicians in the nearby area, feet twisting and turning and bangles jangling in time as she stumbled around, searching for the next attraction. In fact, at one point she could have sworn she had gathered an audience, until she stepped aside and spotted the real dancing troupe behind her. People still applauded her anyway, unable to tell them apart either.
Finally, satisfied that she had absorbed enough of the beauty and art, she decided to add her own illusions to the mix. It wasn't as good as anything there, nor as beautiful, nor as practiced, but in her eyes, it was art. She moved to a quieter section of the tent, where a young man sat sculpting something, twisting the material in his hands until she went dizzy from trying to watch. She stepped away a little, settling down on the ground while twisting her arms as she shuffled her cards.
Nephti let her bangles jangle to the music drifting from tower of cloths, squeezing and squashing its way through the gaps where the cloth had to be joined to create such a large space. The city had been bursting with life these past days, and this newest addition to the festival of illusions seemed bring even more beauty and colour and life to the city. It was impossible to miss, even with the twisting streets, and since the morning when the noise of laughter and music had awoken her, Nephti had been making her way there, taking it in at a distance and savouring it, before it was unleashed fully onto her. With her brightest cards clutching in one of her hands, the Eypharian broke into a run, unable to contain her excitement, darting between those that went to the festival and the few that had found it not to their tastes, rare as they were, all of who flocked around her, colourful sheep moving with the crowd and gasping with wonder with what was to come.
It wasn't long until she discovered why. The tent opened in a million places, a wonder in itself, but it was the riches inside that were worth more than gold. Canvas, once white, was now anything but white. Colour could be found everywhere: here, paint looked as if it was dripping from the canvas, but Nephti's fingers remained dry as she ran her hand along the paintwork, tentatively, curious but terrified to ruin it; there, a pile of seamstresses worked with needle and thread across fabrics of the strangest colours, moving as one entity as they formed shapes from themselves in the pyramids they built and from the cloth they worked with. Any remains of silence had been banished to a land where it couldn’t, with a child on a fiddle standing beside her spinning out the fastest tunes possible while a whole band brought a slow and steady melody into the mix, joined by voices from professionals and public.
Her mouth had to fall open - it wasn't like she could help it. Jewels glistened around her, but the type that were too beautiful to be taken. This place was to be held close in the mind and never forgotten, but never repeated either. It had that sort of magic.
Lost in the art all around her, Nephti stumbled through sections, winding between dancers and spectators, not always certain which was which. Half the time, she wasn't exactly certain about which one she was either, for she seemed to move in time to at least one of the musicians in the nearby area, feet twisting and turning and bangles jangling in time as she stumbled around, searching for the next attraction. In fact, at one point she could have sworn she had gathered an audience, until she stepped aside and spotted the real dancing troupe behind her. People still applauded her anyway, unable to tell them apart either.
Finally, satisfied that she had absorbed enough of the beauty and art, she decided to add her own illusions to the mix. It wasn't as good as anything there, nor as beautiful, nor as practiced, but in her eyes, it was art. She moved to a quieter section of the tent, where a young man sat sculpting something, twisting the material in his hands until she went dizzy from trying to watch. She stepped away a little, settling down on the ground while twisting her arms as she shuffled her cards.
