The tavern had welcomed the two Rune Knights with open arms, plying them with ale and revelry into the wee hours. But the friends knew that every party must come to an end. As the night wore on, the merriment began to take its toll - their senses grew dull and movements uncoordinated. They laughed and sang louder to hide their fading focus, pushing through the dizzy haze for just one more story, one more toast. Deep down though, the knights knew that regret loomed on the horizon. The morning would bring pounding heads and roiling stomachs. But that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, they clung to the last flickering moments of friendship and fun, determined to wring every drop of joy from the night before stumbling up to bed. The tavern had given them a gift; it was up to them to enjoy it before the hangover set in.

As the tavern door swung shut, cutting off the dying daylight, Tōga and his fellow Rune Knight were plunged into the vibrant chaos within. Santalicia came alive at night - the capital's streets now pulsed with music and laughter, lanterns flickering like rainbow constellations above the celebrating crowds. Even through the haze of drink, Tōga marveled at the beauty around him. This was the heart of Stella, rich with culture and life. The daytime crowds going about their business had seemed but a pale shadow compared to the joyous nighttime revelry. Here, the city was illuminated in its full majesty.

Weaving tipsily through the tavern, Tōga felt enveloped by it all - the chatter, the aromas of food and pipe smoke, the live band competing with the festival music outside. Every sense was engaged, immersed in the merrymaking. Outside these walls, a more somber duty called. But for now, Tōga let the tavern spirit him away, determined to appreciate every last drop of Santalicia's charm and culture.

"Y-you still awake?" Tōga slurred, squinting into the darkness. When had the sun set? Time had blurred amidst the tavern's revelry. Now night enveloped the streets, the purple-black sky dotted with stars.

Ittindi stumbled along beside him, as bleary-eyed as Tōga felt. They had arrived at the height of day, determined to sample Santalicia's festival. Yet somehow hours had melted away unnoticed.

Despite the late hour, the celebrations continued around them - music and laughter still spilled from the taverns and town squares. The party was far from over. Tōga sighed, weariness seeping into his bones. But through the alcoholic haze, excitement still flickered. There was too much of this city still left to explore. The night was young, and so were they. Steadying himself against Ittindi, Tōga pressed on. No, the Rune Knights could not settle yet. Exhilaration mixed with exhaustion as they rejoined the festivities. There would be time enough to rest when the sun rose again.

---

wc: 478

Exhaustion weighed down Tōga and Ittindi's steps as they trudged through the festive streets of the capital city. Their auburn eyes struggled against the pull of heavy lids, threatening to close with each sluggish stride. One foot reluctantly shuffled forward, the other dragged behind as if anchored to the ground. To their right, a joyful family twirled and spun, reveling in the holiday spirit. Their cheerful laughter rang out as decorative costumes glimmered under the rainbow glow of oiled lanterns. Skull-painted faces grinned wide, baskets brimming with sugary treats. While the merrymaking continued around them, Tōga and Ittindi plodded on, willing leaden legs to carry them through the night.

To their left sprawled small stands and local shops, ready to sate the needs of the revelers. The Day of the Dead festivals were cherished traditions here in the country of Stella, and the people celebrated with solemn joy. While fun took center stage, safety was equally paramount. The stands offered late night nourishment - water and bites to counter the spirits flowing freely. The proprietors knew the drinkers would purchase more as intoxication gripped the crowds. Tōga and Ittindi trudged past the bustling stalls, the scents of steaming food and libations intermingling with the sounds of laughter drifting through the festive streets. Though weary, they carried on, comforted by the watchful presence of their community amidst the night's merriment.

"C-c-coff-ee!" Tōga exclaimed, voice brightening as he powered through his stammer. The tantalizing words finally reached their target as the two came upon a humble coffee stand. The rich aroma of roasted, crushed beans danced with the yeasty scent of ale, mingling in a novel medley. Tōga's weariness faded for a moment, replaced by eager anticipation. The dragon slayer took a deep breath, savoring the unlikely harmony of coffee and hops that filled the night air. After the long march through the festive streets, the coffee's revitalizing promise beckoned. Tōga smiled wearily at his companion as they paused before the stand, the prospect of a comforting cup invoking a small reserve of energy to combat their exhaustion.

"I-I'll t-take one!" Tōga declared, emphasizing the "one" as he raised a single finger. Swaying unsteadily, he leaned against Ittindi for support as he addressed the coffee merchant. Rosy alcohol-flushed cheeks beamed beneath tired eyes as Tōga gazed around in wonder at the festivities. Citizens laughed and danced, lantern light glinting off their skull-painted faces.

Soon the steaming cup arrived, its heat seeping into Tōga's hands and spreading warmth through his weary bones. With sincere gratitude, he bowed to Ittindi and the merchant before accepting the mug. The coffee's robust aroma rose to greet him as he cradled the cup close. Tōga smiled softly, this small comfort chasing away the chill night air. The sounds of revelry filled his ears as he stood transfixed for a moment, simply savoring the prospect of revitalization from the drink's dark depths. With the first sip, energy slowly returned to his sluggish limbs, as if the coffee's magic was already taking effect.

"L-let's go!" Tōga declared, ready to continue their stroll through Santalicia's festive streets. He took careful sips from the dangerously delicious spiked coffee, wincing initially as the alcohol burned his throat. But the warmth spreading through his chest was worth the sting, melting away the bone-deep exhaustion with each drink.

Tōga sighed in sweet relief, the coffee and ale mingling in an invigorating cocktail. He could feel energy slowly returning to his weary limbs, chasing away the chill of the night. With renewed vigor, Tōga strode forward, no longer having to lean on Ittindi for support. The coffee cup provided a comforting warmth in his hands as he walked, taking in the joyful sights and sounds of the celebrations around them. Restored by the drink's rejuvenating magic, Tōga was eager to experience more of the holiday's merriment and magic as they ventured into the heart of the capital.

---

wc: 652 [1130]

Tōga lowered his coffee cup, eyes widening in surprise at Ittindi's unexpected question. "Huh?" he uttered, caught off guard. He had just been enjoying his morning coffee, savoring the rich aroma and warmth radiating through the ceramic mug. Romance was the last thing on his mind.

Tōga blinked a few times, his mind racing to process Ittindi's words. Where had this come from? He knew Ittindi tended to say whatever crossed his mind, but this inquiry seemed to come out of nowhere.

Tōga takes another swig from his mug, the bitter coffee doing little to sober his drink-addled mind. "A s-silly q-question, Ittindi," he slurs with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You k-know as well as I that romance is not for the likes of us. We who walk the path of the R-R-Rune K-knight have no time for such e-enjoyable t-times." He pauses, staring into the dark contents of his cup as if divining answers from the swirling grounds. "Though I admit, sometimes my t-thoughts do wander to what c-could have been." His voice grows soft, almost wistful. "In another life, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps I c-could have loved and been l-loved in return."

Shaking his head sharply, Tōga banishes these fanciful notions. He nods resolutely, as if to convince himself. "So you s-see, my friend, it is best not to dwell on i-impossibilities. We Knights must harden our hearts and focus on the task at hand." Tōga's words ring hollow and unconvincing, even to his own ears. But the drink soon washes away any flickerings of regret, leaving only the cold comfort of duty.

Tōga's mind wanders back to a distant time and place - the sun-kissed shores of Joya, where he once pursued a love now lost. Her memory emerges like a long-forgotten song, faint yet sweet, beckoning him to revisit bygone days. He recalls her beauty, raven tresses cascading down her slender frame, eyes shining like stars that guided lost souls home. Her spirit was as vibrant as her figure was petite, possessed of a grace that transformed the mundane into the magical. She moved through the market with poise and purpose, laughing melodiously at the antics of the street children that flocked to her.

In unguarded moments his thoughts would linger on the silk of her hair, the warmth of her smile, the lilt of her voice as she shared ancient wisdom from faraway lands. She taught him to see the world through kinder eyes and find joy in the simple gifts it offered. With her the days flew by too fast, each precious moment a glittering gem added to the necklace of his memory. She was an unexpected treasure, one he let slip through his fingers before realizing her true worth. His elusive Joya pearl, perfection embodied in a woman as rare as she was remarkable. Though fate has long separated them, she yet retains her hold on his heart.

The memory of her still haunted him, even after all these years. She was his childhood sweetheart, the girl who had tethered his restless spirit to the shores of Joya. He could still recall their last conversation, her voice gently pleading as he told her of his dreams to venture beyond their homeland. How he had begged her to join him, to explore the far corners of the world side by side.

But her roots ran too deep. Though she longed to follow him, responsibilities and duties anchored her in place. She spoke apologetically, yet with resolve. Her life was here, her path divergent from his wandering star. He implored and cajoled to no avail. She would not abandon all she had ever known for the untamed promise of distant lands. Her refusal tore his heart asunder but left him no choice but to bid her a bittersweet farewell.

In his mind's eye he could still see her silhouette fading into the horizon as he sailed away in pursuit of destiny. An aching void opened within him that day, one no ocean or continent could fill. In his travels he sought spectacles to share with her in story and song upon his return. But when he came back seasons later she was gone, vanished like the morning mist. Her memory lingered, woven into the tapestry of his being. An invisible thread pulling him back every time his feet grew restless. His one lasting bond to the home he had left behind.

Wanderlust coursed through his veins, an unrelenting force that called him to distant horizons. As deeply as he cared for her, his thirst for adventure was an intrinsic part of his spirit, not easily quelled. To remain rooted in one place, even for love, felt akin to a slow death. The mundane rhythm of an unchanging routine would suffocate his soul, extinguishing the spark that made him feel alive. He required motion and novelty like air, his core needing to ingest new sights and experiences.

Stagnation was his greatest fear. A relationship - no matter how profoundly it touched his heart - could not override his most fundamental nature. He tried to deny it, to content himself with staying, but found only silence where his passion once reigned. In the end, he could not complete her by sacrificing vital pieces of himself. It was the cruelest paradox of the heart. To be with her fully, he first had to explore the farthest reaches within and without. If fate decreed they reunite, it would be as travelers who had woven the world into their relationship. Only then could it flourish in richness and understanding.

She saw the truth even as he turned away. A sad smile bade him follow his destiny, wherever it may lead. She was his foundation, a guiding light he would forever hold dear. Now came time to soar - though he remained tethered to her spirit, still longing for the day their paths would meet again.

Tōga's reverie ended as abruptly as it began, the sights and sounds of Stella's lively capital bursting back into focus. He blinked, orienting himself once more to the present - the bustling marketplace, the lingering taste of coffee on his tongue, his companion Ittindi gazing at him expectantly.

"Ah, my apologies, friend," Tōga said with a shake of his head and a self-conscious chuckle. "It seems my m-mind wandered for a m-moment there."

He took a swig from his mug, buying time to gather his thoughts. "You were asking about...romance, was it? Hah, well..." He trailed off, staring into middle distance. Then, as if arriving at a decision, met Ittindi's eyes resolutely.

Tōga took another draught of coffee, savoring the bitter warmth as he regarded his companion. Their meandering dialogue came to an abrupt halt as they rounded a corner and were confronted by a curious sight. "Huh?" Tōga murmured, eyebrows rising in surprise. Before them stretched an impressive queue, the line of people winding through the streets like a threadbare snake. He stepped aside, steadying his drink-addled mind as he traced the procession's path.

Ittindi was the first to find their voice. Tōga simply nodded, curiosity well and truly piqued. The coffee had done little to sober his foggy state, but the novelty of this scene filled him with interest nonetheless. Passing his mug to Ittindi, the slayer began maneuvering through the throng, excusing himself with mumbled apologies as he sidled past waiting patrons.

“Let’s g-go!”

---

wc: 1238 [2368]

Tōga weaved in and out of the meandering line, his pink hair flickering like a candle flame as he darted through the crowd. "C’use, m-me, Pardon me, s-sorry," he mumbled distractedly, focused only on pushing forward, driven by drunken curiosity to discover the source of the commotion. Oblivious to the disgruntled murmurs of those left in his wake, Tōga emerged closer to the front, stumbling a bit as the alcohol clouded his coordination. With his companion Ittindi in tow, he pressed on, the din of the gathering crowd amplifying with each step, beckoning Tōga towards its epicenter with an irresistible allure. The words of annoyance directed their way fell on deaf ears, muted by intoxication and overpowered by Tōga's insistent quest to unravel the mystery that had drawn so many here today.

After cunningly slipping through the serpentine queue, Tōga emerged at the front, polishing off the last drops of coffee in his cup. With languid, honey-colored eyes, he peered ahead through a break in the crowd, where a curious scene unfolded. "Ittindi, l-look there," he murmured, pointing to an open circle where children spun with blindfolds on, sticks in hand. As Tōga watched their disoriented swings at a hanging contraption, understanding dawned on his face. A wide grin broke out as he discerned the objective of this game - to smack the suspended toy and see what happens after. Tōga observed with childlike fascination, the alcohol induced haze unable to dull his innate curiosity and sense of wonder at the simple joys of such playful entertainment.

"A p-piñata!" Tōga exclaimed with delight, still nudging forward eagerly as the origins of the spectacle dawned on him. Though he had never before seen one in person, talk of these colorful paper crafts had reached his ears since arriving in the country of Stella. Filled to the brim with secret treasures and smacked open with sticks to reveal the surprises within. Candy or coins, the prizes stayed a mystery until some brave soul conquered the piñata, spoiling its hoarded bounty for all to enjoy. Tōga's eyes lit up, enchanted by the game he had only heard tales of until this moment. His curiosity to witness the unraveling of this cultural tradition propelled him forward, as if in a trance, longing to see the hidden wonders spill forth.

The children reveled in the process, tiny hands clinging to oversized sticks as they were spun around. Tōga watched the clumsy, inaccurate swings from afar, chuckling merrily along with the crowd as the piñata evaded strike after strike. The kids seemed unbothered by each miss, simply enjoying their turns as laughter rang out, free of embarrassment. After a few more valiant tries, it would be the next eager participant's chance to conquer the elusive paper prize. Even in his inebriated state, Tōga was adamant - he and Ittindi would be next. A childish impatience flickered behind his eyes, determination swelling in him as the sticks wooshed through empty air. When the time came, he would see those hidden treasures burst forth.

---

wc: 506 [2874]

Tōga was captivated by the children's exuberance as they tried to break open the piñata. Their laughter rang out in delight with each enthusiastic but unsuccessful swing of the bat. The paper donkey remained untouched, swaying gently as the sticks whooshed harmlessly by. Yet the children were undaunted. For them, the thrill was not in the prize hidden inside, but in the merry chase itself. Tōga found himself drawn into their infectious joy, temporarily forgetting his own troubles and losing track of time as he watched their tireless efforts. The children kept swinging with carefree abandon, focused only on the pleasure of play. Their beaming faces and gleeful cheers warmed Tōga's heart and brought a smile to his face. For that moment, all that existed for Tōga was the children's infectious spirit of fun and adventure.

Tōga swayed tipsily as he waited his turn, watching the children flail wildly at the piñata. Their fruitless swings tried his patience until Ittindi grasped his arm and led him aside. Blinking in surprise, Tōga saw a rainbow of blindfolds laid out on a table. Ittindi claimed a purple one, leaving Tōga a vivid red. Tōga's eyes lit up and he snatched it eagerly, bowing his thanks to the owner. Gripping his prize, he rejoined the line, grin spreading. The silly game suddenly seemed fun now that he could participate blindly, not knowing where his stick would land. Tōga's impatience faded, replaced by anticipation. With the red cloth in hand, he was no longer just an observer but a player in the cheerful chaos. Ittindi smiled knowingly at his friend's change in mood, glad to see Tōga embracing the spirit of the moment. Together they would join the children's playful pursuit, taking joy in the journey rather than the destination.

"We're up!" Tōga cried out eagerly as the children dispersed, their stick clattering to the stones. The piñata now hung unbothered, awaiting its next challenger. Tōga swayed tipsily, senses dulled by drink yet sharp with anticipation. To him the wait had felt interminable, though in truth mere minutes had passed. As the parents herded the spent children away, Tōga turned questioningly to Ittindi. Ever gracious, his friend motioned for Tōga to go first. Needing no further prompting, Tōga surged forward, blindfold in hand.

The red cloth would be his looking glass, he realized, transforming the piñata from mere paper to mystical foe. With sight obscured, his other senses would guide him. Tōga smiled as he tied the blindfold, embracing this newfound uncertainty. For now the prize inside was forgotten, the present was all that mattered. He raised the stick, ready to participate fully in this game of chance. Tōga's impatience melted away, replaced by anticipation of the delights to come.

The crowd roared as the pink-haired Rune Knight entered the ring, blindfold in hand. Tōga's exuberant smile and shining eyes revealed his swelling anticipation. With a flourish, he tied the red cloth, sealing himself in darkness. The world vanished, leaving only Tōga and his elusive foe. He staggered briefly, then dropped to his knees, patting the ground until his fingers closed around the discarded stick. "Yes!" Tōga cried out triumphantly, surging upright with stick held high. Though he could not see it, he could feel the piñata hovering before him, ripe for conquest. This was no childish game, but a battle between valorous knight and sinister enemy.

Gripping his weapon, Tōga turned slowly, ears straining for any whisper of movement. A hush fell over the crowd, holding their collective breath. Then, with a mighty yell, Tōga swung with all his might! The stick whooshed through empty air as the crowd gasped. Laughter erupted around him, but Tōga smiled undaunted. The first charge was but practice for the duels ahead. With senses heightened, he pursued his crafty foe. Each miss only fueled Tōga's determination and brought him deeper into the game's thrill. For now, the prize inside no longer mattered - this contest was its own reward.

Tōga tightened his grip, feeling the rough grain of the timber between his fingers. He widened his stance, heels sliding apart as he lowered into a powerful pose. With senses deprived, he swayed gently, calculating trajectory from sound and memory alone. In his mind's eye, the piñata hung before him, ripe for conquest. Tōga inhaled deeply, then exhaled, centering his spirit for the mighty task ahead. This was no trivial game, but a battle between courageous knight and sinister foe. Just one clean strike would fell this crafty enemy.

Steadying himself, Tōga pulled the stick back, feeling the tension in his muscles. His focus narrowed to this singular moment, this one pure chance to prevail. With a guttural cry, he swung with all his might! The stick cut through the air with forceful grace. An instant later, a resounding swirl echoed through the arena - the valiant knight had hit absolutely nothing!

---

wc: 814 [3688]

Ittindi approached the pinata hesitantly, doubt clouding his usually cheerful features. His friend Tōga watched on encouragingly, wishing he could lend the dragon slayer some of his own bold confidence. But Tōga knew this was a battle Ittindi had to fight for himself. As Ittindi took the wooden stick from Tōga's outstretched hand, Tōga smiled, hoping to transmit even an ounce of courage to his comrade. Ittindi squared his shoulders and marched towards the taunting pinata and its mischievous puppeteer master, who had thwarted Tōga's previous attempts. Tōga gazed after his friend, pride and hope rising in his chest like the rays of the morning sun. This time would be different.

The lively sounds of the festival carried on the warm autumn breeze, but beneath the laughter lurked an undercurrent of longing and grief. It was the Day of the Dead after all - a time to honor those who had departed this world too soon. While the people of Stella celebrated their ancestors with riotous colors and flavors, there was an inevitable melancholy that crept into even the most joyous hearts. The games booth was meant to be an oasis of lighthearted fun amidst the swirling tides of emotion. Here, people could take a respite from painful memories and bask in moments of shared amusement. Laughter rang out as children and adults alike partook in the simple pleasures of festival games, providing a uplifting balance to the weight of remembrance. Tears still flowed, aimless wandering continued, but many found solace in the bursts of joy and community offered within the creaky wooden walls of the games booth. A space to breathe, to reconnect, to celebrate life alongside the inevitable specter of death.

Tōga swayed tipsily as shame crept into his intoxicated mind. In his reckless desire to win, he had lost sight of the deeper meaning behind this festival night. The spirits of loved ones were to be honored, not used as an excuse for foolish games. As Ittindi tied the blindfold around his eyes, Tōga felt a pang of regret pierce through the haze of drink. He opened his mouth to shout encouragement to his friend, but could only manage a slurred, "You got this!"

Ittindi turned towards the sound of Tōga's voice and nodded, gripping the wooden stick purposefully. Tōga watched through blurry eyes as Ittindi swung with all his might at the dangling prize, his movements fluid and focused even without sight. In that moment, Tōga was reminded of the true spirit embodied by his friend - perseverance, courage, faith. Qualities not measured in mere games, but in the content of one's character. Tōga vowed he would honor that spirit going forward, rather than betray it for petty competition. There were more important things in life than just winning.

Tōga watched with bated breath as Ittindi wound up to take his swing, auburn eyes fixed on his friend's blindfolded form. In his sober state, Tōga's mind was no longer consumed with the desire for victory. Rather, he hoped to see Ittindi enjoy the game regardless of the outcome. The stick whistled through empty air with an audible swoosh. Tōga tensed, then let out a slow sigh as Ittindi missed the mark, just as he had done earlier in his reckless determination. But rather than grow frustrated, Ittindi simply lifted his blindfold and passed the stick to an eager child with a smile.

Tōga felt a swell of admiration for his comrade. Ittindi embodied the true spirit of the festival - finding joy in the experience rather than the results. There was no tantrum or outcry at his failed attempt, only an understanding that there were more important things than hitting a target. Things like sharing laughter and creating memories. As he watched Ittindi help the child take a turn, Tōga was reminded that while winning may be fleeting, the bonds forged along the journey last forever. He resolved then to focus more on cherishing each moment with friends, and less on short-lived glory. For it is connection, not achievements, that make life worth celebrating.

“W-Whatcha mean?” Tōga inquiries, somewhat confused to how Ittindi’s words correlated with some of the masters he served in the past as butlers.

---

wc: 701 [5061]

Tōga seethed internally as Ittindi's flippant words about his role as a butler continued. Anger boiled within him, his thoughts turning dangerous and volatile. Though he maintained a stoic exterior, inside he was a roiling mess of violent impulses, barely contained. Ittindi remained oblivious, prattling on and dismissing Tōga's dignity with each callous remark. Tōga focused on keeping his face an impassive mask, not betraying the rage that grew with each careless word.

Despite the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through his veins, and the recent humiliating failure at the piñata game, one thing cut through Tōga's drunken haze - his intense hatred of bullies. It didn't matter to him that someone was rich or held a high status. Those things didn't inherently make them better than others, they simply afforded more access and privilege. But to impose your will on another, not through fair combat or contest, but simply because you could...that was an undeserved talent of the worst kind. Bullying represented a complete disregard for another's dignity and autonomy. And as the pompous noble continued his verbal assault, Tōga seethed. His body may have been unsteady from drink, but his mind was focused, raging against this casually cruel demonstration of power. Tōga would not stand for such callous disrespect. Not now, not ever.

Tōga's mind raced as he contemplated the possible abuses Ittindi may have faced in his role as a butler. Perhaps he had served some wealthy family with entitled children who saw themselves as minor deities, lords of the manor. Had he been subjected to changing their soiled nappies, chauffeuring their bratty selves to school, and catering to their every juvenile whim? Or maybe he was butler to a widowed socialite who viewed him as her property, calling on him to satisfy her needs and fleeting fancies like a human doll.

With each hypothetical indignity, Tōga's irritation grew. His eyes narrowed as further scenes played out in his mind - Ittindi reduced to a servant at beck and call, devoid of autonomy or dignity. Compelled to bow and scrape before cruel, petty, and self-important overlords. Forced to swallow his pride while they looked through him as though he were part of the furniture. Tōga's hands curled into fists, jaw tightening. How dare anyone treat another person so callously, he thought angrily. To dehumanize and demean another for their own gain or amusement was unacceptable. As Ittindi continued speaking blithely, Tōga's rage simmered just below the surface.

Tōga was jolted from his angry musings by Ittindi's conciliatory words. "O-Oh...Let's let the kids have fun with the piñata for now, we have all night," the butler said with a strained smile.

Inside, irritation still simmered despite the disarming statement. Through the alcoholic haze, Tōga's mind lingered on the possible mistreatment Ittindi had endured. He pictured the butler cowed by cruel masters, dignity stripped away by those who saw him as less than human. Tōga hid his simmering resentment beneath a relaxed, congenial facade. He would play along for now. But this was far from over. The thought of anyone being subjected to such denigration made his blood boil. Tōga swore that no matter how long it took, bullies would get their due. And he would enjoy watching them fall.

The overpowering stench hit Tōga's enhanced senses like a physical blow. Under the assault of smells, his body recoiled instinctively. The noxious mélange of odors - cloying seasonings, human sweat, the effluvia of celebration - curled permeated the air, inescapable. As the minutes passed, the reek only intensified, accosting his nostrils and turning his stomach. Tōga winced again, the riot of smells growing stronger as the drinking crowds swelled. It was a palpable miasma, clung to their clothes and hair. The scents mingled sickly with the lingering alcohol in his system.

“Yeah, let’s g-go somewhere else,” Tōga said happily, fingers pinching at his nose as if to cut off his ability to smell for the time being.

---

wc: 658 [5719]

The moon hung full and heavy in the star-strewn sky, casting its pale light over the slumbering land. Tōga stumbled slightly as he walked, the effects of the day's revelry still lingering in his system. Beside him, Ittindi was a silent, steadying presence, seemingly untroubled by the drinks they had shared earlier. Though the day had been filled with joy and growing camaraderie, Tōga now felt bone-weary, the vibrant energy of the festival drained away with the setting sun. A dull ache settled into his muscles, the day's exertions catching up with him all at once. The cool night air helped clear his fuzzy head, but did little to alleviate the dragging exhaustion seeping into his spirit.

As the hour grew late, a pensive mood fell over Tōga. The euphoria of the day's pleasures had departed as swiftly as it had come, leaving him feeling hollow and brooding. He glanced sidelong at his companion, taking in their tranquil aura. Their solid reliability was a small comfort amidst the maelstrom of his thoughts. With the festivities dying down and sobriety returning, the transient delights of the day seemed to lose their luster. The world once more weighed upon Tōga’s shoulders, a burden only partly eased by the steadfast presence of his companion under the watchful moon.

Tōga's legs felt like lead as he trudged over to a nearby bench and collapsed onto it with a grunt. The cold wood pressed against his back, grounding him as he took a deep breath of the night air, letting it fill his lungs before releasing it in a long, slow exhale. "What a fun day, Ittindi-kun," he murmured, a tired but content smile crossing his face. He tilted his head back, gazing up at the velvety darkness sprinkled with glittering stars. The moon shone overhead, a luminous pearl suspended in the heavens, its soft light washing over Tōga's face.

The day's revelries had drained his energy fully, leaving his body and mind sluggish and foggy. But even through the haze of exhaustion, Tōga could appreciate the simple beauty of the night sky stretched out above him. The moon's tranquil glow soothed his spirits, its timeless presence a reminder that, though the day's pleasures had come and gone, some things endured. Letting his eyes drift shut, Tōga soaked in the delicate moonlight, finding a sense of peace even as weariness continued creeping through his bones. The celestial sphere watched over him benignly as he rested, its beauty undimmed by his faded drunken state. For now, the burdens of tomorrow could wait - he had this moment of quiet communion under the moon's gentle light.

“Ima rest here for a little,”

---

wc: 444 [6163]
OOC: Hi, Ittindi! Let's conclude this thread here. I think we got some good plot out of it. I think we should start a new one, either tackling some more activties from the event or a social. :)