#wbsstarters

          &&.   The carnival festivities had been UNSURPRISINGLY extended, and Celeste was betting on the Silvers executing their trap any hour now. She slinked through Archeon’s backstreets toward the place where Damon and Brooks likely waited for her, her backpack clinking with stolen assorted goods and her breath laced with whiskey. It wasn’t a  b r i l l i a n t  plan of His Majesty Carl Luke David Aurelian Calore the 200th to hatch in retaliation for the harbour’s bombing, by any means. Attract enough Reds with a gathering so that it’d be impossible for rebels to NOT be amongst the crowds. Lull them into a false sense of security with pancakes and shiny, golden things. SLAUGHTER THEM ALL IN THEIR SLEEP. She’d seen it coming miles away, all the way back in Naercey, where she’d been planning on staying UNTIL Grey’s persuasions.

          The Red reached around to her backpack for the waning bottle of whiskey. Celeste figured that if she was about to be on the run as a Red fugitive in the middle of Silver City, a little something boozy would do well to quell her nerves. However, at the sound of footsteps approaching, she paused and cleared her throat.

                ”ISN’T IT A                 LITTLE LATE TO BE OUT ON YOUR OWN...

                  The game was simple. Run through the obstacle course, which was developed by a bored looking Telky. A distant Provos cousin, she thought, judging by the blonde hair and willowy build of her body and THOROUGHLY PINCHED expression. Claud and Juliana had always been immune to the perpetual irritation that seemed to hang around their cousins like a storm cloud. Using the obstacle course as an EXCUSE, Sera ducked away from her guards and ran through the first half of the thing. Blocks shifted underneath her feet and flew in front of her in an effort to trip her up and make the course more challenging, and though her grace came in handy through the first third of the track, eventually, there was a block she couldn’t quite avoid. 

                  It wasn’t that she ADVOCATED for cheating, but really, WAS it cheating to use her ability to her advantage the same way the Telky was? Silencing the girl with barely any effort, Sera smiled when the block dropped to the ground with a solid thud. Mentally patting herself on the back, she danced through the rest of the course, dropping off at a turn just before the finish line and slipping into the crowd on the other side to avoid being seen by her guards. She gifted the Telky back her ability and started to walk off, before she heard a familiar voice. 

                                                           ❝ I saw what you did. ❞

                  She paused, glancing back, and raised an eyebrow, feigning INNOCENCE. “ I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Octavian felt the hum of the carnival echoing through him like hymnals. The pounding of feet on the ground, the buzz of the rides, the steady endless white water rapids of chatter—cresting, swelling, always on the move and threatening to overwhelm. It was like being at the centre of some great beast, twining its coils around Archeon and washing it in revelry. He loved it so much he felt fierce and wild with it, the loneliness that had been plaguing him since arriving in this city and beating its champion into the sand smoothed out for a single night.

He stood now at the edge of a great circle of dancers, one hand wrapped around a cold beer, wishing absently for a partner to grab and launch himself into the dance with. But he didn’t know the steps—was sure to show himself up as a clumsy provincial, the boorish Pict to the dancers’ assured, fluid Romans. If he had been surrounded by laughing reds he would have chanced it, thrown himself in without a thought of self-consciousness. Even if he’d been around the lower silvers he’d grown up with. But he wasn’t—he was in the middle of a throng of the highest silvers, regal and imposing, and he was blisteringly aware of his status among them. Their champion, the current shining star in Archeon. And as that figure, he couldn’t just wade in and make a fool of himself.

But if someone invited him in…he drained the last of his beer and set his glass down, then cast his gaze around himself measuredly, hoping to catch the eye of somebody seeking a partner.

The ding of the bell had ensnared him, caught him hovering curiously on the edge of the strength test, his brow furrowed and serious as he regarded the flow of Nortans chancing their luck with the game. This was a dream of strength. A child’s wistful imagining. It gave Octavian pause—watching other silvers find their powers useless in the face of it, watching reds laugh and jibe and bet with each other. It was a challenge to them. Something to strive for. He was so hungry, suddenly, to struggle with the exact opposite of his true fight—to seek to hit things harder, to clutch lovers more strongly, to be desperate to prove strength instead of to control it, to limit it, to pull it back to avoid damage.

Irritable with himself, longing for the uncomplicated company of his family or a friend from Delphie or even a long lost lover, Octavian turned away from the game he’d never embarrass others by destroying—and nearly collided with somebody coming towards it or one of the people around it.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his hands going out to steady them, his tone and demeanour instantly more open and apologetic than it might have been if he’d recognised a fellow silver. He’d caught the red undertone to their skin without effort, the dawn-rose blush it brought to their face. With silvers, he felt like he had to be careful—at least here in Archeon. But reds were reds, no undercurrent of power bleeding into every move, and suddenly he was eager to spend more time around this kind of person. Uncomplicated. No politics. Red.

                       After wandering through the carnival for hours, Sera eventually found herself on the outskirts of the festival, drawn in by the firelight. The electric lights weren’t as frequent so far away from the main event, but there were a few small bonfires set up, and music playing. The music! Stars, Sera had never heard music that raw before, music that was cutting through the air on reedy fiddles and flutes and guitars, played with unskilled fingers. She was used to the perfect recordings of old world music, to the practiced and beautiful compositions of the Silvers. The music of her world was so much more REFINED than this, but it was nowhere near as ALIVE as the melody she could hear wafting through the firelight. Couples and children danced in a giant circle, paired off into twos and threes and fives as they spun and clapped and laughed in time with the beat, and Sera found herself counting their steps as she hovered on the outskirts of the group. The dance was unfamiliar to her, but simple enough. One, two, three, cross, spin, clap, two, three, clap, clap, spin. It was easy to follow, an uncomplicated pattern that was embellished on by the more talented couples in the group, and by the time she’d watched two cycles of it, Sera was fairly certain she had it down. Not that she was about to INTRUDE, by any means, but a dancer herself, she was all too interested in this folksy bit of fun. 

                       She had good intentions –– the BEST of them, really –– when someone bumped into her, sending her stumbling forward, closer to the group of dancers. It was odd. No one immediately apologized or reached to steady her. No one bowed or cowered before her. Three people turned to glance curiously at her, but that was that. Sera blinked, startled, but then smiled, a bit pleased that no one had recognized her. She didn’t have to be the ghost tonight. She clapped when the song finished, CHEERING for the band with the rest of the Reds, intending on turning around and leaving them to their own devices and enjoyment, when a new song started up. Something slower, still unfamiliar, with drawn out claps and a humming so loud and deep it felt like the buzzing vibration of standing in the middle of an oversized beehive. Someone grabbed her by her wrist and tugged her into the stamped down circle of a dance floor, and before she could protest, they were spinning and dancing with the rest of the group. She stumbled a little with the steps, glancing at her partner’s feet and at the feet of the couples around them, and flushed SILVER in the firelight. 

He possessed enough diligence to be mistrustful of the invitation, to notice the King’s suspicious absence from the affairs, but even still, in the evening’s ominous grasp, there played a happiness for which Emmett could not help but be thankful. It was not often he got to see it. And, as new company made presence, he looked to them, a kind smile on his face.

“I don’t suppose you would mind a simple stroll, would you? It seems I’ve managed to lose the last of my means to do much else.”