"The music tends to be quite good here. The competition makes sure of it," Yrael grins at Jim as he leads the way towards the end of the block. "Even the Big Easy is subject to supply and demand, so to speak." Musicians flock to the city's promise, and so must do better to make themselves noticed in the crowd.
Yrael exchanges a brief nod with another musician hurrying by in the opposite direction. The three of them pass a postage-stamp cemetery squashed among the tall buildings bedecked with streamers and rainbow bunting, a pocket of fenced grass with three obscured gravestones. The fence has been hung with rainbow ribbons, but the gravestones sport a a less colorful variety of offerings: two spent tea-lights, a rusty key, a pebble with a hole through it, small bleached bones of indeterminate origin, a faded origami crane damaged by rain.
The dark magic that this city knows, the tales of blood and resurrection and the Dead that walk by night may or may not be rubbish, but the belief remains. It may have been washed away from the city's bright face, but it still lingers and grows in the corners and under the surface. And Yrael knows the power of belief.
Ahead of them, the parade is starting. Face-painted people on colorful floats throw candy and trinkets to the crowds. A group walks by holding a banner and signs advocating for their cause. The sounds of up-beat jazz grow closer. Some members of the crowd are beginning to dance.
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Date: 2016-06-21 09:34 pm (UTC)From:Yrael exchanges a brief nod with another musician hurrying by in the opposite direction. The three of them pass a postage-stamp cemetery squashed among the tall buildings bedecked with streamers and rainbow bunting, a pocket of fenced grass with three obscured gravestones. The fence has been hung with rainbow ribbons, but the gravestones sport a a less colorful variety of offerings: two spent tea-lights, a rusty key, a pebble with a hole through it, small bleached bones of indeterminate origin, a faded origami crane damaged by rain.
The dark magic that this city knows, the tales of blood and resurrection and the Dead that walk by night may or may not be rubbish, but the belief remains. It may have been washed away from the city's bright face, but it still lingers and grows in the corners and under the surface. And Yrael knows the power of belief.
Ahead of them, the parade is starting. Face-painted people on colorful floats throw candy and trinkets to the crowds. A group walks by holding a banner and signs advocating for their cause. The sounds of up-beat jazz grow closer. Some members of the crowd are beginning to dance.