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Post by Pa'landri on Jun 22, 2014 23:44:45 GMT 1
Not all flames can be extinguished, and one such flame is the one that burns within the souls of every native to Ignis, the city which is itself, almost literally, on fire. Although the street torches and window candles are put out since long, the city continues to emit a warm, red glow throughout both night and day during the entirety of the Awakening Festival. But red is not the only color covering the city.
The people of Ignis, proud, fierce, and very, very competitive, are as always determined to not be outdone by the other counties' festival celebrations. It is a great spectacle, entertainers and overdressed actors putting on a show both bigger and grander for each year that passes, throwing color and music all around them with their performance to captivate their audience. Entering the city of Ignis during this time is surprisingly easy during this time (assuming one is allowed past the wall posed by the Six Cities) as the performers are eager to drag more people to their stages. Leaving it is, however, an entirely different story...
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Ffion Vexith
Wanderer
Posts: 1
Race: Elementalist
Primary Class: Pyromentalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 0
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Post by Ffion Vexith on Jul 10, 2014 20:55:26 GMT 1
Ffion was always hyper aware and sensitive to her surroundings. She was leaning against a pillar in the town center, close enough to see the action but far enough away, and standoffish enough, that no dancer dared to come her way. The soldier could watch the festivities, let the drink in her hand cool her, but retreat if needed. She felt safe, she was home and Ignis was always ready, so battle was not something she had at the forefront of her mind. (But it always was there. The treat of invasion, albeit it would be stupid to even try, was something that could happen.) Vexith was proud of her country, painfully so, but by their standards she was deemed as too cold in a country that saw fire as passion. But she was military, and control was in her bones. And damned be the one who thought for a second otherwise. Ffion was fire. Fire caused her skin to itch and to move her legs and to breathe. It settled in her bones and burned bright during celebrations, and when she'd be screaming at the men and women beneath her to rise up to take over.
The chaos didn't cause her to tighten up, it helped her relax. She'd smile at little girls flouncing by, and would tease them with delicate swirls of fire. And really, it was the only time the woman would long for a family but she was far past that point in life. But that doesn't mean she'd stop weaving fiery flowers though. It just means that when the night reached a certain point, she'd push off the stone and walk inside the nearest pub to eat and watch the folk who were dancing inside instead.
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