Renevere Mars: Part Three

Episode 20: Snow Festival

Ren looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was done up so her eyes seemed set a smolder, and her hair looked brushed for once. She kept it down instead of tied up in the messy knot it usually found itself in. She wore a floor length gown with a slit up the side that exposed the lower half of her thigh. The dress was black, with no sleeves and a low V neckline. It was simple, and wasn't very expensive, but it did look good on her. She took in a deep breath as she ran a nail along the edge of her lip to wipe away the slightly uneven edge of her lipstick. She was a little nervous about sneaking into a festival which she was technically not allowed to attend, especially when she wasn't certain what the punishments for such a crime might be. But both Heath and Trish had assured her many times people snuck in every year who were older Carnols, about to be Homaliths, and no one said a thing. She didn't think she would stand out as too young, so maybe it would be fine.

Deciding that more staring would not make the outcome any better, she turned to the door and pulled on her strappy heels. It was far too cold for such an outfit, but the walk to the arena wasn't far, and she hadn't been able to find a coat that would fit the occasion. There was a knock on the door and instead of a skip of her heart, she felt happy, easy, relieved even. She opened the door and smiled at Heath, dressed very handsomely with his short beard neatly trimmed and his hair more purposeful than usual.

"You look snazzy," Ren complimented, letting him come in.

"Sheesh," was all he said, eyes traveling down the length of her, especially as she turned to clop toward the kitchen. She snuck a glance over her shoulder to see he was smirking at her devilishly. He met her gaze, not worried about hiding his expression which for some reason made her laugh.

"Oh, stop," she said, withdrawing two glasses from her cupboard, and then two more. Her house was the closest to the arena, so she was hosting, though she felt rather ill prepared. Heath had assured her that no one would be at the festival until later in the night, or no one worth catching there anyway, and the later they went the less likely she was to get caught.

Heath set the bottle of amber liquor on the kitchen island and sat on one of the bar stools as she lined the glasses up beside the bottle.

"Those are, uh... big shot glasses," he muttered.

"That's because they're water glasses," she laughed, cracking open the bottle nonetheless. She poured 4, hopefully shot sized amounts of liquor into each glass and handed one to Heath.

"Should we start without Trish?" she asked, swirling the liquid in the glass.

"Oh, you assume she hasn't started before us," Heath said humorously. "Bold assumption."

Ren chuckled and nodded her head to the side with a shrug. "Well," she said, and gulped down the burning liquid. She made a terrible face, making Heath laugh. A knock at the door signified that the other two participants had arrived. She clopped to the door and let in Trish, who greeted her with a high-pitched series of complements, and her date. His name was Eian and he had jet black hair that was cropped on the sides and faded to soft, purposefully tousled length. His almond shaped eyes with heavy lids and cool expression made him seem like he was barley listening most of the time. It made sense that he was Trish's date, because he was also very tall, muscular, and attractive.

The four of them laughed and drank and played a quick round of 10s with a beat up deck of cards Ren had stolen from Tannah forever ago. Once it was good and late, the moon risen high in the sky, they made their way to the arena where the festival was held.

"Wow," Ren said as they rounded the block and the arena became clear up ahead. "They really dressed the place up." There were lanterns hung on strings between light posts, making bright lines overtop of the stone walkway leading up to the entrance. What was usually a stern, plain looking double doorway was much more inviting with all the doors propped open and festive music pouring out of them. There were great pots of winter greens and flowers that could withstand the cold. Wreathes the size of the moon hung on the massive face of the arena, with little glowing lights in them the nature of which Ren could not fathom. They looked magical. Hanging from the wreathes were great banners, white as snow. In their center was the symbol of Ossilith, a silhouetted bird with its wings splayed wide, talons clutching a dagger, a single drop of blood forming from its foot.