He gets into Cotes ward as the last of the parade crowd is leaving, moving against the stream of people going home or else off to the beach. He walked past the remnants of the parade. Some of the stalls he walks past are packing up, their owners too busy to pay him mind. But even the ones that aren’t don’t call out to him. There’d be nightlife here, yet, and in the distance, there’s still music and fireworks, but right now, it's like the ward is taking a collective breath, a space for someone like him to walk through. A ghost.
He’s wearing a long coat, dress shirt, slacks. Nothing festive. Maybe that’s why they don’t look twice. He’s not wearing the hat though. He never did think the hat suited him.
Eventually, he finds what he’s here looking for. One of the stalls that isn’t closing for the night. Maybe there are still sales to make after the parade, after the life fills back into these streets, more pliable and drunk than the daytime crowd. Or maybe it’s owner just wants to watch what will happen next.
“These are some interesting masks you have here,” he says, holding up one of the more straightforward takes on a traditional oni in front of his face. The figure he’s addressing might as well have been part of the display, just a kitsune mask on an elaborately robed mannequin, for how still he’s sitting. He’s sure the man has been startling customers all week with this. “Having fun, Uta?”
@indumentums