"Almost Green"

Shoot to Thrill Pt 1

The cheerful Bloaters knew no end.

And the streets were their home. Some would say that's the definition of one suffering the fate of "homelessness", but alas not in Laterano. In Laterano, the tally of those who'd consider the running marbles their true abode was surprisingly high, and counting with the coming of such festivities. The Bloat, The Wastage, The Untitled's, The Titled-but-forgotten's, Midnights In A Perfect World, all of the above and more - they sparked a spiking boom in the count of homeless street-drifters.

And so, the nightly silence knew no peace in the City.

Yearning for something as unreachable as the stars, it was forced underground to instead haunt the buzzing chambers and discretely displaced rooms beneath the Tower of Revelations. Shelves of murmuring computers lined the walls, with cables running high along the ceilings and floors, snuggling neatly around the feet of those who were allowed into such secrecies. Two pairs of footsteps danced across the wired minefield, rattling with straps of light lead and stutters of heavy metal - the feed and its designated glutton.

"Increased neural activity tonight." One pointed to the other, as they hurried towards the Lawful king's bedchamber.

The recipient answered with a short nod, for it was a fact widely known. The Law taught not to waste unnecessary words when applicable, and so the most devoted had always followed.

The Law itself rewarded their gazes. It's physical form puzzled and nuzzled the brain with questions, yet it stood as unmoving and peaceful as ever. Cubical in shape and immense in authoritative power, it had no place above ground. It had a place in the heavens high above, but the two Law-tenders knew nigh holy bullet would pierce the sky, so it stayed buried beneath dirt instead.

It sat and buzzed. It buzzed because it felt the need to spread the Bloat's joy, even if just with its two silent devotees.

So they celebrated. They sat and allowed it to buzz.

They obeyed the call, as always.

Far above the tangling server rooms, a City-wide party brewed with no end. Mugs of frothing booze clung together in tandem, with trains of both Sankta and Liberi parading across the whitish-ly animated streets. Laughs and cheers lit the night aflame, even if just to momentarily be drowned beneath a river of wheat-gold flooding - Laterano had a knack for allowing deluges of beer and warm wine to spill through the canals and valleys between tenement housings during times of festive. It wasn't like the people were to object in any way, though. These were the times when threading the line between marginality and majority became a non problem, and every citizen could feel mostly the same level of comfort. It blurred the borders between Sankta and Liberi, and everyone felt welcome. Everyone cheered, everyone hit mugs together and spilled beer all over one another, carelessly laughing it all off and delving deeper into the festive mood. Then, the following day the Sankta would wake up with killing hangovers and rot the day in bed, whereas the same Liberi who'd drunk with them the night before would sweep the streets of the phlegm of yesterday, since the early hours of new.

But who cared? It was the Bloat.

Late in the evening, far away from the booming bustle, groups of people would make their own festivities for a change. Outside the city gates, along the many roads leading into the Big World, where grew the windswept hills and oceans of golden wheat, travellers from here and there would settle and dictate their own fun. Not so far from a bloomingly delicious peach orchard, a fair of sorts had been set up. It was quite the fancy thing for its limited capabilities, aimed mainly at the people generally sick and definitely tired of the Bloating festivities, with reaching tents and wallowing open-air stands that reeled in the attention of any soul passing in and out of the main gates. Like a skillful fishmonger, the carnival hook-d, line-d and sinker-d the curious eyes of passerby fools, rich and poor alike, with premises of glimmering lights, faceless mirrors and scattering smoke. Fowlbeasts, plucked and cleaned, sizzled lazily on grates hung above the hungry flames eagerly licking their fat juices, attracting the noses and churning stomachs of anyone within a five mile radius. Liberi salesmen and women, Sankta buskers and fiddlers, sharpshooting competitions set against volleys of empty bottles, live music and prancy dances - it was all present within this little community of unbound free souls, a little less connected spiritually to the general premise of the Bloating behind the walls.