ooc:
Upon arrival to the Festival grounds, the day was spent in setting shop while acquainting herself with the market and wares. As a would be shop-keep there was little time to spare to fully indulge in the sights and sounds brought on by the collaboration of varying creatures. No doubt time would favor her inevitably to succumb to the splendors and play the part of a spectator for a time, but for the better part of the day she was an organizer, a Shepard of another kind to assure that she and her mate would be secure in their stay.
Night could not come swiftly enough, calling an end to the labors of the day and the beginnings of the after light lives desperate to breathe the free air. Throughout the day she was tortured by the sounds of music and laughter, the trills of excitement coupled with the exuberant mirth one felt when overcome with rapture. She wanted to take part in that… desperately her Mareck heart craved it; a trait learned by her sister who showed her how to dance and acquire a taste for music. With her lithe formed sibling absent, and no sure hand to take lead of her, she would waltz into the world of dance upon her own two dexterous feet, but not without due decorum for the occasion.
While the fair ladies beneath the cover of the tent were adorned in extravagant dress and cotton garb, the Nomad woman had not silk nor cotton, but furs upon her proud frame. The red of the fox fur, of her first kill, was groomed to pristine condition made radiant by the firelight that cast the whole of the dance in a heated glow and red and gold. And from beneath the wore flesh beneath hung only the more extravagant tails of her kills. An array of red and white adorned her left shoulder while the other was left bare. Her cloak of elk hide had been left behind for the sake of ease in movement and fluidity while her trophies remained clasped to her shoulder and arm. Perhaps more feral than a dainty dress, her attire, but then the woman was far from a delicate creature.
As she prowled through the waltzing crowd with umber digits wrapped around the tail end of her tamed, woven mane, she carried about her a majestic air but was made humble by the polite smile worn upon her lips. Among the swaying forms lost within the captivating melody of song, she walked with graceful stride falling in step with the rhythm that graced her ears. Each step was not upon ground, but within the music itself as it conducted the path that led her feet and invoked her body to sway to subtly. Gradually the spell conjured by the strings consumed her as well and all else faded to obscurity. The entrancing firelight lured her sauntering form from the lonesome edge of the gathering and deeper into the glow cast by its unbridled radiance. Her amber eyes were blinded by its light, compelled to close only when the legato rhythm of the strings invoked her to do so and surrender to the sweet renditions…
Yet when they opened again, they saw not the orange of the flame but sun-kissed gold. Her eyes drew wide as the cry of a lone string sang sweetly in her ears, quickening her heartbeat as the lone chord when on…endlessly, then was joined again by its longing pair. She held his gaze until her heart reclaimed is natural rhythm and the anticipation roused by the soloist was dispelled with the climax of the chorus. From where she stood within the light of the fire, the woman carefully extended her arm in offer…