Open The Harvest Festival

[Poison]

The tables in the Gathering Hall were covered with bowls and plates that contained all kinds of delicacies. Some of the Harvesters had also brought back exotic spices that had been used for the dishes that were being served during the festival. Occasionally when one of the plates or bowls was empty, a Symenestra dressed in colourful silk would take it away and bring a new one.

There was music as well. A woman with waist length grey hair and golden eyes sat in the corner, playing a song on her lute and singing, a song of a young Harvester’s search for the most beautiful surrogate of all, of his journey to a faraway land, countless dangers and a woman whose beauty could rival the gods. A small crowd had gathered around her, listening to her rather than enjoying the food.

And of course people were constantly talking about the contest. It wouldn’t be too long now.

Here and there a Harvester had quietly snuck away to check on his or her surrogate and make sure that she was ready for the big event.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

"I was abroad during the Fall, so I was unable to attend, but my younger sister did. She was..." He found a polite euphemism "...Talkative on the subject." Duvalyon barely tilted his head, considering Nissabella with a mixture of social understanding and medical dissection. The true star? She had wrapped Avarys's name in breathless admiration. The chorus girl was very fond of the school's male lead. How quaint. Duvalyon could admire Avarys's talent, but thought he was controversial without principle. He didn't seem to have a passion for anything save making a stir, and would go about it in any way possible. Duvalyon wasn't exactly charitable to artists, nor was he understanding of the muse. Medicine had strokes of creativity, but they were all rooted in the pragmatic application. "My opinion is secondhand. While I heard the technique was good and the expression tolerable, I found the plot petching idiotic." He smirked to temper the swear. "I expect a certain amount of saccharine drivel in the arts, but Avarys's character ought to have been publicly shamed." Duvalyon's expression had made a surprising transition from mocking to cool disgust. "Not only is the philosophy the role espoused damning, the character couldn't even keep to his principles." Duvalyon looked directly into Nisabella's eyes as he pronounced judgment, "No man would let anything he loved die in the Nest." The medic shrugged, removing his hooks. "Too lazy to go find another surrogate to replace her, I suppose." He smiled at his joke. "Ask any of the harvesters up front. They'll admit it's quite a pain. Much easier to make sad eyes and trot your Kelvic back to the Nest." Having some... mild familiarity with the complications of the plot, Duvalyon was quick to tear it to pieces, perhaps unfairly. Avary's had to dance the line between outrage and expression. "And it was a bird, yes? They have wings, last I checked." His expression was wry, "Not that difficult to escape once un-collared." While Duvalyon had a perverse pleasure in antagonizing Esterian outlooks, he was beginning to wish he had gotten more to eat first. The bowls and goblets were being cleared away with rapid pace. Gods, did he smell Yaheban spices? Someone must have brought them back as a kind of cultural offering. The flavors were one of the few things he missed about the blistering region. Which unfortunate harvester had chosen the second brightest place in Mizahar (he was now convinced Lhavit was the first) as his hunting ground?