[Celty stands out as she roams the stalls of the festival. She remains confused at her arrival here, but there's something about the festivities that makes her feel at ease. Something familiar about it all. And yet it's in this ease that she perhaps neglects a certain point of style.
The yukata suits her well enough, black cloth with a patterning of pink and blue and purple flowers on it. It's a gentle image despite the mix of dark and pale tones. But there are two problems that make her stand out in the crowd. First of all is the way she's tucked the right side of the yukata over the left. A beginner's mistake, but a symbolic one nonetheless. The other, and more obvious, is the yellow motorcycle helmet she wears as she wanders about.
She stands at the back of the crowd at every stand, observing but not participating in any of the events. It's difficult to tell if she's merely shy or making a point of standing back, but there's certainly many things about her that make her seem Other to the people around her, even as the crowd flows past.
Perhaps it's that, for the hours she spends here, she never approaches the font of the lines to get food?
The bridge
[The woman in the helmet pauses on the bridge. Her curiosity and stubbornness has lead to a few failed attempts to cross it and now she just stands at the railing, the lights of the festival glinting on the visor of her helmet as she looks out to the street below.
One hand rests on her chest, a sense of melancholy and loss filling her and making her all the more aware of her lack of a heartbeat. She's missing something but she can't quite place what. Something important perhaps, but something she feels is beyond her now.]
C) An Accident
[With the crush of the crowd, collisions are a thing that are sure to happen. People bump into each other all the time in daily life, and a festival is no different in this regard.
The real difference here is that the impact has jostled this woman, and in her own distraction her motorcycle helmet has fallen to the ground. While the hollow sounds of its impact ring out, more attention is drawn to the sight where it once was. A pale white neck ends in a murk of black smoke that twists and curls off into the air. There is no head to speak of beyond that point.
Celty seems as shocked as anyone else about the sudden unveiling. But if she can't scream, will someone else do so in her stead?]
Celty Sturluson | OTA
[Celty stands out as she roams the stalls of the festival. She remains confused at her arrival here, but there's something about the festivities that makes her feel at ease. Something familiar about it all. And yet it's in this ease that she perhaps neglects a certain point of style.
The yukata suits her well enough, black cloth with a patterning of pink and blue and purple flowers on it. It's a gentle image despite the mix of dark and pale tones. But there are two problems that make her stand out in the crowd. First of all is the way she's tucked the right side of the yukata over the left. A beginner's mistake, but a symbolic one nonetheless. The other, and more obvious, is the yellow motorcycle helmet she wears as she wanders about.
She stands at the back of the crowd at every stand, observing but not participating in any of the events. It's difficult to tell if she's merely shy or making a point of standing back, but there's certainly many things about her that make her seem Other to the people around her, even as the crowd flows past.
Perhaps it's that, for the hours she spends here, she never approaches the font of the lines to get food?
The bridge
[The woman in the helmet pauses on the bridge. Her curiosity and stubbornness has lead to a few failed attempts to cross it and now she just stands at the railing, the lights of the festival glinting on the visor of her helmet as she looks out to the street below.
One hand rests on her chest, a sense of melancholy and loss filling her and making her all the more aware of her lack of a heartbeat. She's missing something but she can't quite place what. Something important perhaps, but something she feels is beyond her now.]
C) An Accident
[With the crush of the crowd, collisions are a thing that are sure to happen. People bump into each other all the time in daily life, and a festival is no different in this regard.
The real difference here is that the impact has jostled this woman, and in her own distraction her motorcycle helmet has fallen to the ground. While the hollow sounds of its impact ring out, more attention is drawn to the sight where it once was. A pale white neck ends in a murk of black smoke that twists and curls off into the air. There is no head to speak of beyond that point.
Celty seems as shocked as anyone else about the sudden unveiling. But if she can't scream, will someone else do so in her stead?]