Evening; outer edge of the festival Simon & Rhiannon Rhiannon, like her Aunt, was not known for her love of crowds. Both women had a history of going out to the festivals for long enough to hear the Danu's speech, grab one cup of wine, and then head home. Back in Castyll her brothers would have surrounded her like a buffer, perching her up onto a high place to see the festivities when the press of bodies became too much. It was beautiful to watch though, and she had painted it from memory more than once and it seemed vibrant and unique each time she did it.
Here it was just her. The occasional friendly face, sure, but no one she wanted to force to escort her around and help her feel calm. This time however, this year was going to be different. Surely. So after she had ducked back into her house to recharge--and redo her too long hair into a more casual shoulder braid than the crown it had been in before--she emerged back into the festivities. A little calmer now, with so many of the children tired or gone home altogether for one.
The outskirts of the festival were still more welcoming though. She could watch the festivities there and see the joy on everyone's faces, already imagining what it would look like on paper.
However, things are so rarely simple. Her eyes drifted along the crowd to a group of men talking until they settled on one in particular and felt such a startling sense of deja vu for a moment she felt as if she were dreaming.