Festival and Celebration

 

As Wanderer ascended further and further up the dark shaft, the ladder going on for far longer than they had thought, the Vessel’s doubts and insecurities began to sink in.

What was going on on the surface, how would they blend in, what were they going to do, how were they going to complete their mission.

One hundred and one questions raced through their mind, each near unanswerable till they reached the surface.

Suddenly they found themselves wishing they had asked what those in the city were doing, and for a moment they wished to go back down the ladder and pester the guard about all their questions.

But it was too late now, and they had already avoided the human to appease Emio, descending would do them no favours.

Whatever it was, they would brave it.

It was as the Golem thought this that they realised something else important, while Herukah had given them something to disguise themselves, either out of fear, unconcern or forgetfulness, she had neglected to do the same to Emio.

“Where can I put them where they won't be seen”, Wanderer thought, as they realised, in the same moment, a greater issue “and how will I get them to stay there”.

Seeing as they had little chance of solving this problem while on the ladder, the Golem continued upwards with the hope that there would be some variety of cover when they surfaced, in which they would not be recognised.

It didn't take too much longer climbing through the pitch black shaft before Wanderer hit their head on the exit, yet they hesitated to go up and instead listened.

They could recognise, at the edge of their hearing, a great cacophony of voices and people, shouts and stomps and the sound of talking abounding limitlessly.

Yet this was far away from the Vessel, or at the very minimum muffled, from above them they could hear nothing.

Hoping this was a sign of safety and not an intricately crafted trap, the Golem pushed on the exit above them as light rushed in.

The trio climbed into a small room that, as like many of the other things occupied by the underground rebellion, was disused and abandoned.

It was likely a bedroom at some point, a large construction of wood and fabric serving as a bed in one of the corners, and the worn remains of a pale dresser also present.

There was a single large window of tinted glass that served as both the only light source in the room, and the majority of the ceiling.

Directly behind them was the exit of the shaft they had just come through, which was once covered by a secret panel made to blend with the floor and a worn out rug.

Wanderer quickly recovered it, they would hate for the complex to be discovered because of them.

The room was mostly uninteresting, even to Wanderer, anything of value or interest long since stripped clean, and so, the Vessel turned their attention back to their issue, how would they hide Emio.

Their first thought was to put them in their satchel, but it was an idea quickly debunked, the verdestry was small, but not quite small enough to fit.

Next, the Golem’s mind turned to the possibility of hiding them inside their robes, yet that too was quickly debunked with a simple thought about how strange a suspicious glowing lump would look, and how much more unlikely Emio was to hold themselves there for ages at a time.

Stumped, Wanderer walked over and took the small monster off their shoulders (much to their chagrin) and sat on the bed.

How could they hide the verdestry in a way that would be both comfortable for them and won't reveal their existence, it seemed like an impossible task.

The Vessel clenched their hands in frustration, grabbing the bed sheet below them.

Yet as they felt the sturdy fabric in their long fingers, a brilliant idea occurred to them.

Wanderer shot up, disturbing an increasingly upset Emio in the process, and ripped the bedsheet from the bed, which was now little more than a wooden board.

Despite the abject poverty of whoever must have lived in the house last, the linen was both incredibly tough and intricately decorated, nearly as mesmerising as the robes the Golem wore even now, though faded and worn with time.

After another moment of admiring the piece, Wanderer folded it crosswise a few times and picked up Emio.

After a little bit of explaining, and far more convincing, the small monster wrapped two tendrils around the Vessel’s neck and retracted the rest into their body, their glowing eye facing outwards.

Satisfied with the positioning, Wanderer picked up the length of fabric and began to fashion a sort of baggy scarf.

Around and around they wrapped it wound their neck, making sure to contain any evidence of Emio except for a tiny sliver which they could see through.

After making sure that Emio was comfortable, and were not likely to leave halfway through a crowd of humans, (something they couldn't truly guarantee), Wanderer gathered their wits, stepped up to the door, and hesitated.

Their soul itched to go outside and discover the wonders of the city, yet at the same time, their fear repelled them equally.

They didn't know if their disguise would work, or if Emio would be revealed, if the god would strike them down or if they might offend people by accident.

It only just occurred to them that they may not even be able to understand the language these people spoke, or how suspicious it would seem if they were asked a question and were only able to answer in ineffective sign.

The enormity of their lack of cultural understanding warred with their adventurous nature, neither side gaining ground over the other.

A voice pierced through the indecision, one the Vessel did not expect to hear, their Spirit.

There was a resigned tone to their message as they conveyed their approval of a trek into the city, as if they too had faced a internal war similar to that of the Golem.

What other purpose to life was there beyond discovery, what other way was there to learn than mistakes, why should simple fear prevent us in face of discovery.

With that nudge to their psyche, the Vessel’s mind was made up, they would simply have to trust their Spirit and the good people below them, trust that the magnitude of all that they would see would out weigh the risk they were taking.

With one final check to their preparations, and the approval of their Spirit leading them on, Wanderer opened the door out of the little room.

As expected, the room was not isolated, but part of a larger, similarly abandoned house.

After only another moment of exploring, the Golem found a kitchen, bathroom and yet another bedroom were all the abode housed, all of which were stripped clean and completely abandoned, spiderwebs populating the area.

Every room in the house had the same ceiling glass, held up by dull walls of dark grey brick. 

Soon only a single door remained untouched, one from which the cacophony of voices from outside came strongest.

It was louder now, to the point where Wanderer could almost hear what people were saying, if not for the thousands overlapping each other.

Unwilling to let the number of people cause them to hesitate, Wanderer opened the door and found a scene unlike any other the Vessel had ever seen.

The door led to a little balcony, then to a set of narrow stairs that led to the ground level of the city.

The city itself was conical in nature, leading ever deeper as one got closer and closer to the massive tower in the centre.

That tower stretched from the deepest point of the metropolis to high up in the sky, where the little box that housed the god’s servant was.

Yet all the glory and power that the spire commanded was not even enough to hold the Vessel's attention for a moment, as they looked down below.

In the streets, thousands of people rallied and shouted, waving banners with as many colours as a rainbow.

Yet despite their number, Wanderer was deceived as to whether they were human at all, as each and every person in that crowd wore a costume.

There were things with teeth and viscous horns, things that had feathers and rustled in the wind, some things were smooth, others rough, some were joyful, others had expressions of the deepest pain etched upon sorrowful masks.

The sheer brevity and uniqueness of every single one of the costumes astounded the Golem, every one making them do a double take.

Yet mere dress up was hardly the end to the festivities, games and battles, similar to the one Wanderer saw in the dining hall, took place everywhere.

Fully robed warriors faced off against monsters of ages past in violent recounting of stories blown a hundred times out of proportion, people shouted and screamed every time their favourite contestant took a blow or sent one in return.

Merchants and chefs lined the sides of the crowd, taking money and giving goods away as if they were water, while trying to not be carried away by the crowd.

Yet stitched on every banner and embroidered on every costume, no matter their context or story was the same god, its golden, cyclopic form taking centre place.

It was only now the Golem realised something important about the structure of the city as a whole, the homes and shops they currently resided in were run down and drab, but the same could not be said of the buildings closer to the centre.

The further one went, the more luxurious the various establishments became, it began with simple colour to the walls, then more lights and fires to brighten the streets, by the time one reached the centre, the architecture and vibrancy of the buildings far surpassed anything Wanderer could have imagined.

Great arches and engraved walls, lifelike statues and flowing fountains, mansions carved from solid stone.

Yet the Vessel’s joy quickly turned sour as an unexpected scene graced their eyes.

Surrounding the tower, hung above a pit of burning coals, were a group of agonised slaves.