Adam continued to enchant as the last week of dawnval approached ever closer. The gentle showers provided soft relief for those under the heat of the late dawnval sun, which bore heavily upon their shoulders.
The first day of the festival was as Adam would have expected. He finished tying the pink belt around little Larot’s waist, the boy old enough to wear such. Each of his children wore blue clothing, for one day they would wear tattoos of the sa colour. They were adorned in a blue vest over a white shirt, the sleeves cut off at their forearms. Their trousers fell right above the top of their boots. The attire itself was only slightly different than Adam was used to, but the pink belt was entirely new.
‘Pink for dawnval?’ Adam thought, watching as the children’s grandmother applied paint to their forehead, though she did not do it for the likes of Virot and Xarot, Elder Shaman having advised against it from this year onward. ‘How cute!’
Adam hugged each of his children, spending the morning with them as he fed each one, little Jarot eating from the half elf’s fingers. “Make sure you eat a lot this week, okay? It’s the festival so you all need to eat a lot, otherwise you won’t have enjoyed the festival enough!”
The Family Heads brought out the candles for everyone before they set off towards the rest of the festival.
“Do you see these candles?” Adam asked, holding them all within his hands, enough for each of them save for the youngest children. “Elder Forest said that we need to light these candles in the evening for an hour. They each last seven hours so we can only light them for an hour each day since the festival is… oh gosh, daddy is so bad at maths! How many days is the festival?”
“Daddy you know it is seven days!” Jirot’s brows raised pointedly towards her father. “You are so silly sotis.”
“Ah! Yes, indeed! Though daddy is really bad at maths most of the ti.”
“It is okay, daddy.” Jirot reached up to pat his knee. “You can do it.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Adam did his best not to cuddle his daughter, though it didn’t last long, as the half elf hugged his adorable twins, which caused him to hug his adorable triplets too. He even snuck a kiss onto Virot’s cheek, the girl twitching as she glared at her father, but she smiled coyly towards the half elf, reaching up to her cheek where he kissed her.
“Make sure you enjoy the festival properly!” Adam peppered each of his children with more kisses, before allowing them to leave to explore the festival, the half elf’s heart aching.
Jirot was about to tease her father, but the one ard Iyrman lifted the girl up, patting her back gently. “Babo!”
“You cannot tease him today, since he is working hard for the Iyr,” Jarot inford the girl.
“I wanted to play with daddy,” the girl admitted with a pout.
“I know. I will speak with him next ti, but this ti, you must allow him to leave. Okay?”
“Okay…”
“Bam, do you wish to accompany us?” the Mad Dog asked the baker.
“I must assist the baking,” Bam replied, not wanting to outright refuse the Mad Dog. Bam was a thickly built fellow, the thickness born through eating bread his entire life, his large forearms driving envy even within Iyrman. He was clean shaven, as always, and he wore a scarf around his head almost like a pony tail.
“Okay,” Mad Dog said, taking the twins away.
Bam let out a soft sigh, still uncertain of how he beca a mber of the Mad Dog’s family. His eyes darted to Sonarot, whose son his daughter had married, the woman escorting the triplets away, with Lanarot assisting them. Jurot, his son in law, guided his daughter, Bam’s own grandchildren, away.
Bam stepped away, taking a longer route to where he said he was going to be. As he did, the man fell into deep thought. He glanced around all the buildings, each large and yet densely packed. The Iyr wasted very little space, though he noted they allowed efficiency to fall when it ca to certain types of buildings, like those of the playgrounds, parks, and anything to do with physical activity, like the nearby gymnasiums, which were more often than not large fields with a few buildings and items nearby.
Bam stopped, glancing aside towards the Iyrn, who had begun to explore the festival. Most of the roads were lined with stalls, each built of wood, most temporary, and covered with food. As the Iyrn reached for the food, not a glint of copper, silver, or gold was tossed, spilled, or dropped to pay for it. The Iyrn had split the duties among themselves, with every fifth or so Iyrman working hard for the day in order to provide the other four a greater day. Tomorrow, the faces would change, and perhaps the food on offer would change too, though this festival, almost identical to every other festival he had seen within the Iyr, was still so different.
‘How did he do it?’ Bam thought, staring at the buns on offer as an Iyrman child bit into it. It was a miniature version of a typical bun, for the children would explore the festival and its wide variety of gas for the entire day. However, instead of the little girl, he saw a tiny green skinned boy, and instead of an elder sibling who remained nearby to watch over the child, he saw the adoring father who continued to pamper his children.
‘Why am I even…’ Bam wondered why he cared so much. It had been almost a year since the boy struggled to eat. However, though Jurot was his son in law, Adam was… Jurot’s brother? The Iyr thought so, but they weren’t related by blood. A half elf was slightly difficult to accept, purely due to the matter of Rock Hill. However, his children, two in particular, three including the red skinned babe, how could he accept them as part of his family?
Goblins and a demon?
Anyone who would hear him in Red Oak would surely laugh in his face, since who could believe that goblins of all things could be soone’s children? Goblins? He could already hear the harsh words, the jokes, the laughter. It was laughable that his daughter had accepted them too.
However, Bam recalled it. He saw the paleness on the half elf’s face, the dark eyes, and the grief which had taken him. There was sothing about that sight, more than just a grieving father, that made his hair stand on end.
Pam had asked him to help, and almost every week, Bam had thought deeply about the situation. From baking all the bread, to trying to find out what worked. He had even kept track with various symbols within his book, a book he had received from the Iyr. He had been unsure of how to pay for it, but the Iyr hadn’t asked him for paynt, and when he tried to deal with it, the Iyr sent him away.
‘What a strange place,’ Bam thought, and as he closed his eyes, seeing the image of the half elf watching over his goblins, it only further cented that the Iyr was indeed a stranger place, full of queerness, unlike Red Oak, sweet Red Oak, which he missed so dearly.
“What makes you think so deeply?” called a familiar voice.
Bam turned to face the dark skinned Aswadian, who had spotted the Aldishman in thought. “I was thinking of ho.”
“Have you not accepted this place as your ho?” Ashmir asked.
“Don’t think I ever can.”
Ashmir let out a soft groan of understanding, bowing his head lightly. “Your ho must be a wonderful place if you cannot accept the Iyr.”
“Is this place your ho?”
“Yes.”
Bam blinked, taking in the sight of the muscular Aswadian, who had defeated the previous Elder Wrath, earning his freedom and a place within the Iyr. Unlike the Aswadian, Bam had joined the Iyr thanks to his daughter, and the extre lengths the Iyr was willing to go in order to look after him. He blinked again, wondering if anyone in Red Oak had ever gone to such great lengths for him. He thought of his grandchildren, who he would often watch over, along with their cousins, Virot and Xarot, who stuck to his grandchildren like glue.
“You are thinking dangerous thoughts,” Ashmir said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Bam stood up taller, as though he had been caught by the Aswadian. “…”
“…”
Bam bowed his head lightly. “I should be getting to work.”
“I have heard you work too hard,” Ashmir said.
“You did?”
“When he would co to visit Ranya, he would complain to that you were gifted so much gold, and that you still work.”
“He’s the one whose working through the festival,” Bam replied, frowning slightly. “Besides, the gold is my daughter’s.”
Ashmir smiled. “He said you would say such a thing, since you are a father too.”
Bam flushed lightly, before excusing himself, and as he stepped past Ashmir, he stopped. “You’ve… been retired for so tis.”
Ashmir groaned in response affirmatively.
“Are you… can you still fight?”
“I can, but I am too cold.”
“Are you what they call a Paragon?”
“I am.”
Hearing the response, Bam was too frightened to ask his real question. If Ashmir had replied in the past tense, he was still unsure if he wanted to ask who could win between the pair of them. He could already hear the laughter if others knew his question, for how could a young man like him defeat the likes of soone legendary like Lion King?
‘At least he isn’t as scary.’
Bam trying his best to live amongst monsters.
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