[center][h2][color=b284be]Damon Howard[/color][/h2][/center][hr][hr]
[color=DEB887]“And that’s a wrap!”[/color] Carlos called out as he clapped. He was a sizeable middle-aged man at 6’ feet. He had a beer belly going on, but there was definitely some muscle there too, especially in his arms. He had a warm Mediterranean complexion, and his thick dark brown hair had quite some grays in it already. There were laugh lines on his face which betrayed his friendly disposition.

Carlos Linares often helped organize events like this. For the Summer Festival, he’d been overseeing a group of volunteers as they prepared to help out re-enact the sealing of the Chartreusean demons. Some villagers even believed it to be an actual resealing. 

And sure, Freyja would have the starring role in that. Each year, the Fontaines picked who the most appropriate person was, based on the alignment of the stars, and spiritual energies, and who knows what else. Though, credit where credit was due, when Damon had watched her practice, he’d thought she’d do very well. 

Today, Freyja was away helping build the ceremonial raft – also very symbolically important. But these past few weeks, she’d often been right here in the town’s enclosed sport’s hall, going through the ceremonial dance, and prepping for the real thing.

The point was, even though she’d do the main part, there was still a very involved side-procession; first on the water in two-person boats to accompany the big raft, then on foot along the lake’s shore and further inland. Damon might just be one among the several supports, and it was a small-scale production all in all, but he was pleased to be involved nonetheless. Proud too, though he didn’t like admitting that one. 

As Carlos called an end to the day’s rehearsal, the participants dispersed into smaller groups to chatter and clean up. Damon, who was the only one around his age there today, was mostly left alone. Honestly though, he was pretty damn tired, and didn’t mind missing out on some socialization just then. His breathing was laboured, and he’d sweated a lot. His clothes clung to him, uncomfortably sticky.

[color=b284be]“Pheeew,”[/color] the boy breathed out, and went to sit at one of the spectator benches. Off to the side, some refreshments had been set up, including bottles of water; blessed, precious water.

He grabbed one, closed his eyes, and gulped down almost the whole half litre in one sitting. He’d drunk it so fast, he was forced to cough a bit at the end there.

[color=DEB887]“Hola! You ok there?”[/color] Carlos came by, looking down on him kindly.

Damon nodded. [color=b284be]“Yeah. Thanks.”[/color] He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, and looked up at the older man with a tired smile. [color=b284be]“So? We all pass?”[/color] He asked jokingly.

[color=DEB887]“Si, si,”[/color] the Spaniard nodded, good-natured. [color=DEB887]“And you! You did good. Muy bueno! Glad you’re [i]on the team[/i],”[/color] the man grinned, and reached out to ruffle his hair.

The adolescent scrunching up his nose in faux discomfort, even though he secretly enjoyed and appreciated the gesture. Carlos chuckled and let him go.

More people gathered at the refreshments, and Damon too picked a home-made oatmeal bar and some fruit to nibble at.

After they were finished with the clean-up here, they’d all go up to the Shrine, to help sort out the various other props and start transporting them over to the lake.