Post by Admin on Feb 20, 2018 14:14:23 GMT
OPEN TO ALL
February 14, 1893
The sun was beginning to set between the buildings, casting strange silhouettes. The theater district had been transformed by streamers of red, violet and pink hearts, paper lanterns set an atmospheric glow and festival booths littered the streets under every gas lamp to draw customers to them. In the center of the theater district where the Luncheon Park was located (a small grassy square with a spatter of trees and a circular bike path) housed the bigger carnival rides that had been set up just for this occasion. Enthusiastic tinkerers rode around the bike path in their elaborately made and decorated steam-cycles with all the bells and whistles. Crowds buzzed with lively chatter and laughter as they rushed around excitedly. Street performers eagerly set up in their own little corners with tips jars and hats, filling the crisp air with love music.
Yes, once again, it was the annual Festival of Hearts. The theaters were performing hour after hour of romantic comedies, while receptionists stood by the doors, drawing in crowds with their voices and selling tickets. The areas of the Merchants District and Central Square followed suit, vendors and callers sending their voices outside their usual places and setting extra booths to line the front of the buildings and attract customers. Even the less likely establishments had gotten into the festivities, decorating their windows to match the monthly theme, placing up posters advertising any cards, trinkets and options hand with the theme, hoping to catch the hearts (and wallets) of incoming passerby’s.
Spirits were high, music was loud, drinks and entertainment abound. A perfect time to have a romantic date, make profit, or just treat yourself with the love you deserve.
But this year was different.
Just before the final rays of the sun were leaving the skies, the sign of the quickly approaching twilight, a hooded man was seen advertising a different sort of wares near the district’s clock tower.
“Friends!” he cried out. “Family! Loved ones! We have lost so many near and dear to our hearts, both past scars and fresh wounds in our minds. And so, as a gesture of goodwill for our races, for one night only, using your love as a catalyst, I shall bring back those you wish to see once more!”
Such a spectacle was met with extreme skepticism; not only was he publicly announcing his Ander heritage, but, at least for those who knew of the spell, claimed to be able to summon anyone. But then a young girl approached the man with a simple request: to see her mother again. With a gentle smile, the man placed his hand on her head and instructed her to think hard on the image of her mother. Low and behold, mere moments after doing as he told, a Gating portal opened, and out stepped the child’s mother. Amazed at the miracle and moved by the tearful reunion, more people sought out the man, news spreading fast of a man who could bring back even those thought to be lost forever.
Or at least most of them.
“My deepest apologies,” he told one couple. “But I regret to inform you that I can only bring back those whose soul was last seen in this country.”
Regardless, he was still able to bring back many more people before he used up his remaining spells just as the twilight turned to dusk.
“You have until midnight to say your final good-byes,” the man warned. “After which, the spell will end. Enjoy these fleeting moments, and may you have the closure you seek.”
Not long afterwards, the man seemed to disappear, perhaps blending into the crowd. But one thing was certain: love truly filled the air, as the festivities increased ten-fold in an effort to take advantage of the short time they had left.
February 14, 1893
The sun was beginning to set between the buildings, casting strange silhouettes. The theater district had been transformed by streamers of red, violet and pink hearts, paper lanterns set an atmospheric glow and festival booths littered the streets under every gas lamp to draw customers to them. In the center of the theater district where the Luncheon Park was located (a small grassy square with a spatter of trees and a circular bike path) housed the bigger carnival rides that had been set up just for this occasion. Enthusiastic tinkerers rode around the bike path in their elaborately made and decorated steam-cycles with all the bells and whistles. Crowds buzzed with lively chatter and laughter as they rushed around excitedly. Street performers eagerly set up in their own little corners with tips jars and hats, filling the crisp air with love music.
Yes, once again, it was the annual Festival of Hearts. The theaters were performing hour after hour of romantic comedies, while receptionists stood by the doors, drawing in crowds with their voices and selling tickets. The areas of the Merchants District and Central Square followed suit, vendors and callers sending their voices outside their usual places and setting extra booths to line the front of the buildings and attract customers. Even the less likely establishments had gotten into the festivities, decorating their windows to match the monthly theme, placing up posters advertising any cards, trinkets and options hand with the theme, hoping to catch the hearts (and wallets) of incoming passerby’s.
Spirits were high, music was loud, drinks and entertainment abound. A perfect time to have a romantic date, make profit, or just treat yourself with the love you deserve.
But this year was different.
Just before the final rays of the sun were leaving the skies, the sign of the quickly approaching twilight, a hooded man was seen advertising a different sort of wares near the district’s clock tower.
“Friends!” he cried out. “Family! Loved ones! We have lost so many near and dear to our hearts, both past scars and fresh wounds in our minds. And so, as a gesture of goodwill for our races, for one night only, using your love as a catalyst, I shall bring back those you wish to see once more!”
Such a spectacle was met with extreme skepticism; not only was he publicly announcing his Ander heritage, but, at least for those who knew of the spell, claimed to be able to summon anyone. But then a young girl approached the man with a simple request: to see her mother again. With a gentle smile, the man placed his hand on her head and instructed her to think hard on the image of her mother. Low and behold, mere moments after doing as he told, a Gating portal opened, and out stepped the child’s mother. Amazed at the miracle and moved by the tearful reunion, more people sought out the man, news spreading fast of a man who could bring back even those thought to be lost forever.
Or at least most of them.
“My deepest apologies,” he told one couple. “But I regret to inform you that I can only bring back those whose soul was last seen in this country.”
Regardless, he was still able to bring back many more people before he used up his remaining spells just as the twilight turned to dusk.
“You have until midnight to say your final good-byes,” the man warned. “After which, the spell will end. Enjoy these fleeting moments, and may you have the closure you seek.”
Not long afterwards, the man seemed to disappear, perhaps blending into the crowd. But one thing was certain: love truly filled the air, as the festivities increased ten-fold in an effort to take advantage of the short time they had left.