It took Esredes until after the war ended to finally participate in All Saints' Wake fully. Sure, he'd always liked the holiday, but the whole part of dressing up and making it out to events hadn't really been a part of his life before.
But one year, he finally decided he would try the dress up, the costumes. He had a fun idea for a costume and bought himself a purple robe and little clip-on earrings, painted his face with facepaint to sell the look. What stared back at him was his self-proclaimed 'dark sorcerer', and he tugged at the skirt of the robe to watch it move and flow a moment. He knew his fair share of dark sorcerers, but he was most certainly not one himself- none of them would mind if he imitated them for the fun of it, right? After all... it was the only idea he could come up with.
And so naturally, when he arrived to his former workplace to enjoy the All Saints event, not one, two, but three other people had the same idea. Two of them had the same hue of purple robes, and one was black, but still a robe to convey the same look: dark sorcerer.
Well, that was just Esredes. He wasn't creative enough for things like costumes.
It didn't mean he didn't keep trying, though. He'd hit a height with the Fallen Angel costume the next year- he'd delivered a dramatic monologue and everything and won a contest- but it wasn't his idea. Victor had given that one to him.
Next year, he tried being a type of voidsent. He found some fake horns and icy blue contacts, he'd attached voidsent wings to his costume and even wore shoes that made his feet look all wrong. Everyone kept assuming he was a dragon- as if that was 'dressing up' to him- but he'd managed to win another contest. By being the default entry. Still, no one could guess just what kind of voidsent he was, not even the self-proclaimed hunters and experts- so clearly, he had finally done it, right?
The next year he wanted to be creative. Truly creative. So naturally, he turned to literature. There was a high literature parable he enjoyed written about Vylbrand that turned the Kobolds and Sahagin into groups of people trying to summon thinly veiled allegories for Titan and Leviathan, all through the lens of a child soldier in the Maelstrom who stops both of them in their tracks. Esredes could tell the entire thing was meant to critique Lominsan policy, but he didn't know enough about said policy to think much of it. Instead he gravitated towards the colorful descriptions of action, and one character who resembled him in the illustrations. A mad genius type who tried to summon the Titan parallel, a villain to be taken down by the protagonist.
Well, it was his idea. So it was time to try a costume that no one would get, at all. An excuse to discuss a book he liked, and drape himself in red robes, insert an extension into his hair to make a widow's peak, and shove black contacts into his eyes. It didn't win him any contests this time, but he was content with his own creativity for the second year in a row. Maybe he was getting the hang of it now.
But the moment the Rising rolled around, and the season was peeking around the corner, he once again found himself with the same dilemma: what to be for All Saints' Wake? Every single outfit of his involved a flowing, draping robe, with all but the last being black or purple, so perhaps it was time to branch out... but into what?
Esredes drew a blank. He thought and thought about it, but he drew a blank. Creativity continued to be an ongoing struggle, it seemed, for a soldier could never be truly creative. But at least he was trying more than he thought he ever would be.
