So okay, it was probably a mistake to come to Aldrect, on the whole. Granted that the family weren't exactly hot on their heels anymore, but it still seemed safest to stay out of heavily populated areas where the Whitecreeks were likely to have a foothold, such as, you know. The fucking capital of Desuna.
There were two circumstances that had brought Cylar here: one, Fennis was driving her absolutely nuts. He barely left the house, and all of their conversations had weird stutters in them where the unshared past lay between them, the time between his escape and hers. And neither of them was quite ready to deal with that. This was why she had left town, but the reason she'd come here specifically was because of a job interview, which had, in the way of such things, immediately been postponed until tomorrow.
So. The festival.
Cylar had never actually been in Aldrect at this time of year before, and had thus never seen the festival firsthand—of course, some other places had their own regional versions of the celebration, but she'd never been to any of those for a variety of reasons. She did not own a single gold item of clothing, but someone had draped a scarf over her in passing moments after she entered. Apparently her simple black turtleneck dress would not be tolerated. Currently, she was in search of food that wasn't horribly overpriced.