"Ethan is not as appealing as I thought she would be." Max says gloomily.
"Shut up!" Novo manages to snap back, but he knew Max was right. The ground was littered with dry sand, not a living seen or plant in sight. Exept for ofcourse the people.
This is the most people Max and Novo have ever seen in one area at the same time. Every corner and shadow was crowded with people of different ancestors and religions.
A short man with a stubby build was selling blood pudding to their right, while a tall yound red headed man was trading raw fish and onions.
The smell of salt and hardwork hit them both as soon as they entered the crowd, hair whisped past them in a flash, colors began mushing together. Ladies were seen in fine purple silk while dark colored men were seen wearing heavy whool.
Max and Novo pressed together in the crowd shoving there way through.
A sharp boot steps on Novo foot just as he hisses, "whatch it!" shoving a random person to his left who didnt bother turning around.
"Hurry up Max!" Novo commands, grabbing Max by his colar and shoving him infront of him.
Max stumbles slightly but regains his posture and continues on aheaad this time in the lead of Novo, following the crunched path towards the meeting area.
The further Max and Novo traveled across the crowded path the more warm and exotic it seemed to become.
Different tongues were spoken, more poisons and charms were being shoved into there line of sight trying to find an owner to be sold to. Novo finally thinks he had made it past the crowd when a dark skinned lady with a red ruby sewn into her forhead stops them, laying a light hand on Novos chest.
The old lady had black shining hair that hung to her wait, he skin was dark and seemed to have been pressed together inot one wrinked mess, her beedy eyes barely showing through. Her clothes colorful and long.
"Hello young sir," she cooed, "would you like some Mulukhiya," she smiled almost warmly, showing them what looked to be a flattened bowl of water and grass infront of them.
"No," he grunted back, waving her off with his hand.
She reached forward and grabbed his wrist with her sharp nails, her eyes becoming more desperate and her voice more quick, "or perhaps you would be more interested in The Amulet of Healing," she gestered, holding up a red amulet much like the one sewn onto her forhead attached to an old chain, "very ancient indeed, yes yes, very old, but still very powerful. Healed my yound neice-"
She was cut off once again, "no, we are doing fine on our own." He grumbled, throwing the old women a irritated glare.
Novo was just beggining to walk away again when he heard a small voice.
"Perhaps...perhaps we should take it Novo." Max said thoughtfully, "I'm not saying you havent done well in taking care of us without an healing amulet, bnut we are heading into more dangerous lands."
Novo sighed, how could he be traveling with such an idiot. "Even so Max, i doubt a singly amulet will do much to save us when the time comes for it."
"No it will!" the women said, sounded excited, "sow the flesh, mend the bones, cools fire, compose the heart...its even been told to regenerate the dead."
Max stared at the amulet in awe, a red tint reflecting in his eyes, "regenerate the dead..."
"When will you people comprehend the reality of death. Once you die you are in internal rest, once you die there is no ressurection, no reviving. Once you die there is no coming back, once you die you cease. Theres no charm or amulet from this world that will bring us back. Enough abstractions. Come Max."
"Yes sir," Max said laboriously.
"Wait," the women breathed quietly, "wait. In my hand I hold assial." Out of her skirt she pulled a cloudless vile, in it was clear thick liquid, "my last possesion."
She shuffled her feet slightly, coming to a stop infront of Novo. Standing a foot under him, "assail is a venom that produces neither life nor death. This liqiud brings discomfort which turns to a dull ache. if you take assail you will break into a fever, a sickness that will sting, prick, spasm and dull your enemy. And may one day save your life." She smiled up with brown teeth, her breath causing Novo to cringe.
"I have no need for your poison," Novo glared irritated, "lets go."
"Alright." Max mumbled.
There was dead air between the two as Novo and his partner made their way out of the mobbed crowd.
Dirt kicked up into the air and blinded them momentarily as Novo squinted his eyes searching for an opening, or a path, or...something.
More feet crowded his vision as he glanced at the ground. A door opened to his left, distinct laughter overflowing from the bar. Warm air brushed past him and his partner and he took in the fowl salty air.
"Max." He spoke sharply.
"Yes?" Replied the all to eager voice.
"Go into the bar and find a seat, I will accompany you momentarily."
"Yes sir," the freckled boy replied rushing into the crowded bar.
The door shut with a bang, leaving him feeling surprisingly empty and shut off from everyone.
Novo shook off the feeling and continued on his way. He'd be able to travel faster if he didn't have to worry about Max getting lost in the continually overflowing crowd.
Normally it wouldn't be this crowded, but this was a different situation. One would call it a holiday or celebration if they were heavily under exaggerating.
No. This was much more than some easy celebration. This was the birth day of a god.
Something that rarely happened in ones lifetime.
Even immortals die. But immortals are not just put on the land of the dying for the sake of being here. Each one holds certain responsibility.
They are known as "the gods of emotion," though in reality they are not gods at all. Neither are they immortal.
But what they do and how they do it is not of any importance. At least not now.
All of these people have gathered for what many call "the race for power."
He knew better. He was raised by one of these so called gods.
It was not a race at all. It was a fight. A fight meant to show the true colors of the components. The bravest and strongest would come out in the end, and the weaker would back down and watch the new immortal be born.
At least, that's how it used to be.
People become more desperate, and the fight of bravery, becomes a game of wits and thieves. The winner who comes out of this fight will no doubt be a fraud.
Unfortunately, that winner, will be me.
