Drums banged and flutes trilled as the parade started through the heart of the city's bustle through the Crescent Coast and south through the markets. Bombs of chalk exploded in the sky and showered the crowds with glitter. At the front of the lineup was the first set of the men on stilts. They passed out enormous flowers to the children and wives who pushed each other over just to get one. Dancers pranced around the giant-legged men in a perfectly timed dance around - and between - their long legs. Behind them were a large group of men spinning flames, one of which carried a burning urn to symbolize the powerful sun. Behind them was a group of women dressed in long blue robes who swayed and danced loftily in the streets to symbolize the tired, burning sea. Trained birds flew between them and high into the sky forming and arc before disappearing into a chalk cloud. Children dressed as fish ran through the women as they danced faster before jumping high in the air on their spring-loaded boots.
The parade continued south, just past the arena where even some men couldn't help but get their daily fight in. Icha was at the front of the line passing out giant daylillies and sunflowers. He looked towards the arena just east of the parade and saw a man who looked slightly off. With his eyes trained on him, he almost tripped over a cobblestone but regained his posture. The crowd made noises as he corrected himself and he covered it up with throwing flowers at those further from the street. When he looked back at the arena on the hill, however, the man was gone.
Later that evening, after the parade ended and the parties began. . .
Icha was standing outside of a short, musty "bar" with the stilts still strapped to his back, though he had managed to stuff most of the unnecessary clothing into the bag they were kept. A single dagger rested in his belt and a pair of sai were discretely hidden. He walked into the tiny establishment and was immediately recognized by his good, and rather big, friend; Palanayukei, or "Palan," for short.
"'Ey my tiny friend! I seein you in da parade!" He slapped his hands on the counter, "And youd deserve ta drink! Da wey you made those ladies swoon, mm-m, makin' da rest of us look bad!" Palan was already halfway through pouring Icha a tall, stiff, iceless drink when Icha leaned against the wall.
Icha rolled his eyes, "oh, come on, just because your time is over doesn't mean mine is!" He jabbed at the old, rotund man who slid the drink across the short bar.
(((sidenote)))
Most of the patrons drank outside as the only stool was behind the bar, but Palan still made his fair share of money. The bartend, Palan, was the only man brave enough to provide Icha with a job that paid decently. To this day they he still tells the story of how he proved to Icha that the town would come around to him.
Icha took a long swig from the drink and slammed it on the counter with a satisfying sigh.
"In all serious-stuff though," Palan started, "I got ta ask you. 'Ave you seen those strange guys? The ones with the clothes?"
"We all wear clothes, Palan, you gotta be more specific."
"Mah'al" He whispered and Icha's face darkened.
"No, they haven't been around this part of the world for years."
"'Tis why I ask you! You see more than this ol' man," he coughed as he lit the cigar he was chewing on, "I don' know who else ta ask."
Icha stopped for a moment and recalled the man near the arena. He hadn't seen him since, and he remembered his clothing; nothing that resembled the Mah'al.
"I'll keep an eye out," he finished his drink and motioned for another, "but I'll keep an eye out."
