[i]Tuesday, Spring 2nd
Forget-Me-Not Valley[/i]

Another day, another place. Sometimes it all seemed to meld together, the traveling and the day turning to night and the night turning back to day. But here he was, arriving in the next stop on the journey to nowhere: Forget-Me-Not Valley. It wasn't that sketch particularly had planned on this being a stop, in fact he had no idea it would be.. But that's no surprise considering he usually never knew where he was going or why. But that was Sketch, he just.. went. And so with all that, Sketch found himself wandering through town, wondering where on earth his bed would be for the next unknowable measurement of time. 

Sound; singing and clapping and cheering. All these things came pouring forth from what he could only assume was a bar, and with too few coins in his pocket and a bed not yet found he could think of no finer or suitable place for him to be. With all the bustle and motion, it seemed a squeeze to get through the door. In fact it took several bumps and haphazard apologies, comments and quips to find himself a spot of wall to lean against so that he could watch the events before him unfold. The man made music consumed him, pulsing through his mind as he scanned the world around him. These people were his new neighbours, mostly farmers and small towns folk to fit this small town it seemed. He could see them, all bits and pieces of them moving around and making a cheery mess, like some story book tavern he thought. 

But of course, for all the motion and all the sound there was no possible way to miss the girl dancing upon her makeshift stage. With a slight tilt of the head, Sketch watched her dance about and lead the masses into a song of nothingness, simply of the emotions of the scene. It was perfect, how on earth could he not take the opportunity. And so within a flash it was that his old tattered sketchbook lay open in his hand and the graphite set to page. The world out there and the world he saw met as his hand flew across the page, sketching out the patrons in an almost mystical way. Things were slightly different, different accents and changed proportions. A man who was for all purposes quick average became a pot bellied dwarfish looking man of great mirth and so it was for many of the characters and the bar itself was transformed, different carvings in the woodwork as physical manifestations of the music itself and the lovely girl's stage made anew. And for the leader of this merry bunch little much was changed, but for the slightest of enchanting touches for she was nothing if not some mystic creature to capture the crowd. All the while his eye danced around the bar and from his lips without a thought came a call to join the waves of sound around him, "What say you pied piper to the winters sleepy passing?".