[NOV-24] NOV 24 - MUSIC

voltaje has been preparing for this night for weeks now. routines memorized, choreography practiced, all in preparation for tonight. his body is painted beautifully with the colors of his crest, and ribbons are tied around his ankles as part of his performance group’s uniform.

the festival grounds are bustling, full of life and and music and chatter. for once, this festival is mostly skyfolk. they fill the grounds in all sorts of shapes and sizes, brightly colored crests proudly displayed for all to see. there are a few stragglers of the other kinfolk, mostly tourists who arrived to experience the culture. some tall-necks, some sharpteeth, some horn-crowns. but they're outnumbered by an order of magnitude by the skyfolk.

voltaje has some time before his big performance, so he makes his way through the crowd to the band that will be accompanying them. they’re a mixed bag, that band, made up of everything from the smallest to the tallest skyfolk. their instruments were made by the dexterous hands of the small, feathered two-legs, custom built for the flexible claws of the skyfolk. the instruments are mostly drums and plucked strings, though there are some vocalists in the band as well. the tallest skyfolk have voices that can be heard over the winds for miles, and they serve the band well; trumpeting the performers’ victory into the skies.

“bruma! viento! how is the accompaniment for tonight?”

the siblings of voltaje’s host are here in the band as vocalists. they still have no idea what happened to their brother, as his new mind has done a fine job of slotting back into his old life.

“we’re just about ready for tonight,” bruma replies. “we were just about to play some music for the folk in the meantime, would you like to stay?”

“i would love to.”

as the instrumentalists begin, many of the tourists begin crowding around the band to see what the new noise is about. the strummers begin to play a beautiful melody, a song of what it’s like to feel the clouds part way as you soar through the skies. a song of the skyfolks’ souls.

“is this a cultural piece?” one audience member murmurs.

“be quiet. enjoy the music for once.” their companion mutters back.

viento and bruma slowly join the fray, their beaks opening wide as they harmonize with the strings. voltaje closes his eyes and focuses on the experience of it all. it truly does sound like flight, like freedom.”

there’s scattered applause as the band finishes their little piece, and the performers bow in appreciation.

it’s time. the crowd gathers near the festival grounds’ lake where the performers are situated. they all chatter amongst themselves in anticipation.

voltaje makes his way to a group of tall skyfolk like himself, their bodies all painted with the colors of their crests. they nod at him as he arrives, and they get into position.

the vocalists' voices soar, and so do the performers.

twisting and turning in the air, the ribbons around his ankles fluttering in the wind, voltaje focuses on the music, feels the drums pounding in sync with his own heart. he hears the voices of the host’s siblings almost cheering him on as they sing.

the troupe’s routine is beautiful, graceful, agile, and the audience is silent as they watch them skilfully maneuver in the air to the beat of the music. the sight of it all has rendered them speechless.

voltaje feels the wind whipping past him as he performs his routine, feels the music in his heart, feels the freedom of flight in his soul.

the performance is over before he knows it.

as the music descends, so does the troupe, back to the earth, where they’re met with applause and adoration from the audience. voltaje still feels the thrill of it all in his veins, almost feeling too light on his feet to walk. he nearly gallops to the audience, taking a big bow in front of them as they throw flowers at the troupe. he feels the pride of a job well done in his chest, and goes to the host's siblings to celebrate.