[center][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1108206767327948810/1136396460179603476/ezgif-4-93da16ccfd.png[/img][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][sup][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230726/0f27039aa8e4026b7e68c9ac3f7074f3.png[/img][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][[/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup] [color=0086d4]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [/color][/center] [indent][indent][b]"Takara."[/b] Stab. Lift. Drop. Steadfast in rhythm, Takara held the pitchfork with an iron grip as she shifted hay into troughs. Each motion was its own beat, creating a sort of tempo to the work.—the end result of doing the same task over and over for years on end. Stab. Lift. Drop. [b]"TAKARA!"[/b] Breaking free of her trance, Takara poked the pitchfork into a pile of hay, and looked around for whoever had been calling her name. No one to her left or right. No one behind her. Finally, Takara looked upwards, towards the second story of the Crane's Roost. Her home, in other words. There, she locked eyes with her father, who had been leaning out an upstairs window. [b]"Finally,"[/b] Benjiro grumbled. He wondered if his daughter had always been this oblivious, or if she was simply distracted by today's festivities. [b]"I need you to run over to the Akiyama's. The festival will drain our stores, so I want to make certain that we have an order in beforehand. Understood?"[/b] Without skipping a beat, Takara waved her confirmation to her father. [color=0086D4]"On it, otou-san!"[/color] Racing towards the stable, Takara walked past a series of stalls before coming to a stop next to one that was currently occupied. Inside the stall had been her own pride and joy, [i]Masaru[/i], a sleek, seal brown steed capable of running for hours. [color=0086d4]"Here, boy."[/color] Takara spoke to the horse as she unlatched the stall gate. [color=0086d4]"We've got errands to run. You up for it?"[/color] An adamant neigh came from Masaru. [color=0086d4]"That's what I like to hear."[/color] Walking over to a side fence where Masaru's saddle had been resting, Takara lifted it within her arms and placed the saddle upon the horse. It wouldn't take long for Takara to fit Masaru for riding, and before long, they were ready to leave. As she rode through Heiseina, there had been many faces Takara noticed; some she knew, others she hadn't really known at all. Out of all of them, however, one group stuck out more than most: a group of women around her age, yet dressed up in clothing much fancier than her own. Oh, yeah, [i]that[/i]. Biting her lip, Takara had been reminded that her father was bound to drag her kicking and screaming to their neighbor, Kudara-san, in preparation for the festival. On most days, her father hadn't been a stickler as to what Takara wore. But for some reason, during every week leading up to the Dance of the Serpent, he'd get a thorn in his side and force Takara to look the part. It made her feel like a fish out of water, uncomfortable and out of place. Why did he care so much, Takara often wondered. Was it because of Yua, her mother? Did he think it would help bring her back? Takara didn't know. But... maybe, just maybe, she would play nice this year. She wasn't a kid anymore; perhaps it was time to finally grow up and stop throwing a temper-tantrum each time someone requested her to not look like "a dirty peasant." Before she could dwell on it any further, a sudden [i]Neiiiigh![/i] came from Masaru, snapping Takara out of her thoughts. They had reached the edge of Heiseina, and further down the outskirts a familiar face skipped along the roadside as she tossed roasted soybeans across the ground. It seemed she didn't need to go all the way out to the farmland after all. [color=0086d4]"[i]Oiiiiiii,[/i] Haru-san!"[/color] Takara called out, waving a free hand at the girl in hopes to capture her attention.[/indent][/indent] [center][color=0086d4]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [/color][/center] [sup][right][color=0086d4]Interactions:[/color] [i]Haruhi [@Lemons][/i][/right][/sup]