[hider=Ash]
Were there five? It was hard to tell in darkness, harder still when one's eyes were drawn towards the light. As far as Ash could recall, they were a group of four when they departed from the catacombs. It was a curious thought to have, one that was soon set aside in order to take in the bright, cheerful view around.

Not much had changed since the androgynous amnesiac had departed from the plaza. The musician that daringly darted from rooftop to rooftop was still playing the same endless ditty, while merrymakers clinked their mugs and feasted to their liking. Warmth and humidity was abound, and a dozen different scents drew her to two dozen different places. On the streets alone, there were vendors selling kebabs, portable stalls featuring bowls of noodles or soup, candy sculpters twisting sugar into the shape of animals, and strongmen carrying barrels of ale on their broad shoulders while offering refills to ladies that fawned after them. Taverns were open as well, advertising 'happy hour' or 'daily specials' or 'one-night performances'. There was [i]The Whaler's Lament[/i], [i]Roselia's[/i], [i]The Smith and Sword[/i], and even a couple of places that looked like little more than holes in walls.

But despite the overload of visual and aural stimuli, Ash could notice details that she had not before. Most people were clad in armor, their weapons strapped on them, their necklaces clattering against steel breastplate. Those necklaces varied in ornamentation as well, from bronze to silver to gold to a shinier material, the enscriptions upon them becoming more elaborate the more precious the material was. Clear too was how unified in celebration the warriors were. There were no bad drunks, no fights, no arguments, not this early in the night, even as their faces were flushed with alcohol. Praise to an 'Ain-Mala' resounded throughout the many gatherings on the outside, while only a few by the windows of taverns raised their own mugs to toast.

And then, there were the destitute poor, slumped inbetween alleyway walls, arms crossed and dozing off despite the raucous chattering. Some had missing limbs, bandages over their eyes. Others had necklaces without any ornamentation at all, while still more had necklaces bearing many different tags. Most in the crowd paid them no heed, too busy immersing themselves in wholesome drunkeness to care, but here and there, a few individuals with robes the color of the sky would drop a coin or two to the rusted pans set beside those panhandlers.

But the state of the disabled and disadvantaged was none of Ash's concern.

No, she still had food to grab, didn't she?
[/hider]