{ when they made the announcement after the execution, louis didn't need to go to know what occurred. all it took was a glance of passerby minds and he got flashes of the imagery for those that chose to attend. a glimpse into the taste of what the solvunn gods have to offer in their iron might is enough for louis to not attend nor have any desire to associate if he can. there's a stir, a memory that he has pushed that reminds him too much of the rules set aside from where he comes from. vampire rules that deem they can execute others based on them being broken.

it's not the way to manage. he'll keep his mouth tight-lipped to the affair, and turn his cheek away from it for now. it's too close, something in him tells him. he continues to shut doors within the privacy of his own mind, of his occasionally wilting might. he shakes it off, and decides to sit down and start putting together flower bouquets. after some time, he realizes what he's putting together, provided what is available. }

All the books in the world, and sometimes I got my fixations. Fitting to have arrangement of flowers with the meaning of death and grief laying around.

{ there are lilies and muns in the one he's holding, of which he secures with a red ribbon. }

{ he had volunteered his time to aid folks in their outfits. louis didn't think many would approach him, let alone the children. one of them had offered to paint something on his hand after he lined her dress with gold sparkles from the replication of a colorful shimmer of a rock's insides. with more practice, he'll improve. he took to it since it can't harm anyone, but he's still wary of using too much.

he's distantly reminded of the nieces and nephews he missed out on when he sees the little girl determined on drawing a shape he can't make out at first. all he sees is neon paint from his angle. she insisted she must thank him. he figured he might as well, considering the exchange rate mentality, although he would gladly do it for nothing. once she's done, she says her goodbyes and he can finally see what the drawing is.

he finally figures what it is. it's a smiley face. now he's going to be wearing one on top of his hand all night. he likes having the corner of the tent that overlooks the meadow, considering he can spend stretches of time unbothered. the commotion has mostly passed as people move on to evening activities. louis remains in his place, sitting upon the grassed hillside. it's not a bad trade. he'll leave the smiley paint on with its neon glow under the darkening sky. }

{ it had become apparent that he couldn't stay away, since they found him. they as in the children. they don't fear him. it's good they don't, but should he be concerned on the acceptance of oddity solvunn has offered? he's begun to understand it as such. he's walking along the potluck field, intending to go right through it when he finds a ball (or what resembles one) hits the side of his foot. a kid - how many of them are there - asks if he wants to play.

they can't be that friendly. it seems they are. }

It wouldn't be fair.

{ it's said lightly. he gently kicks the ball, but he forgets his strength and it ends up flinging the ball over the kid's head, far enough that he'll have to retrieve it. by the time he has it in his hand again and returns, the kid is gone. probably got distracted. he lifts the the ball and takes the time to inspect what it's made out of. surely it had been football they've been playing or a variation. soccer? it's rounded. he's never been the sporty kind. it's certainly sturdy. if someone approaches, they'll hear his comment. }

Reminds me of a Mesoamerican ball game. Made of materials similar to natural latex mixed with the juice of the morning glory vine.