The rhythmic tap of Ionian hand drums meshed with the booming thump of neighboring Ionian bass drums. Heavy sticks were used to beat punctuation into the swirling percussion crafted by the unified ‘one-two then one-two’ tempo of the smaller drums. Whining strings played softly in the background as the percussion took center stage. Ionians danced thoughtfully to the beat, building in pace as the song did. It was a gentle and vocaless refrain that urged the body to move to its punch and roll. Couples danced together with both palms on opposite sides pressed against one another, feeling the pressure applied and adjusting their step accordingly. Their feet kicked and stomped and slid against the matted grass, each pairing settling into their own unique variant of Ionian folk dance.

Small horn flutes provided filler for the downtime between each beat of a drum and the rhythm suddenly accelerated as a soft Ionian bell was introduced. It was a large and golden thing, hung on a pair of purple ropes from the center of a horse shoe shaped post that curled high into the air and back down into the earth. Across the bell runic Ionian script danced along its circumference, coming aglow with each strike against its hallowed width. The woman manipulating the bell did so with a long stick. On both ends a piece of cork wrapped in cloth struck the bell, finding its designed inconsistencies to produce dinging thrums that didn’t quite carry the note one would think of when a bell was sounded. Instead it played almost like a piano’s note. The higher along the bell she struck the lighter the bum and thrum and vice versa. At times she’d drag the corked tip immediately after making contact to draw the note out and at others she’d spin her dual-tipped stick like a baton to quicken a series of tolls with multiple strikes.

The hand drums fell into silence as the musicians transitioned to their stand drums, changing the sound but only increasing the tempo with an extra percussive thump. The dancers reacted to the change with refined fluidity, bouncing their toes against the earth to account for the extra pop or adding a healthy twist of the hips, using the new note as a directional transition. The whining strings continued as a thrumming pluck from another alien instrument was introduced. It lay flat against the ground as the player hovered overtop of it. He was an eldarly man with wrinkled features and greying hair that fell away towards the top of his head. His moustache curled into two ribbons on either side of his puckered mouth, hanging past his chin. Long nails pulled at strings set against a strip of finely carved and polished wood, no longer than six feet in length. Its hollowed depth emitted purple ashen flakes of light when it was played, sending them up into the air like morning butterflies where they dissipated in the sunlight.

The song morphed again and the strings went dormant. The shirtless men, muscled and proud, threw down their heavy sticks in favor of another twice their combined size. They struck their bass drums, then paused a second and struck again, repeating the process as backlighting for the bell that now took center stage. Still helped along by the percussion from the stand drums, the woman, hair black, braided and fine as silk with lively emerald green eyes - played a ‘one-two-three-four’ peat series of notes in quick succession. With the grace of an Ionian martial artist she flourished her stick as if it were a staff, whipping her left wrist to make contact with the bell on both ends of the baton in a high-low fashion.

In the silence between her ringing notes the strumming of an Ionian lute made its presence known. A young girl, no older than eight or nine, mirrored the ‘one-two-three-four’ peat set with fast up and down strums, gliding her fingers across the neck of the miniaturized lute. Her strums continued in numbers up to five and then six. Now the people were really dancing. Stomping to the bump of the bass drums and jigging to the notes of the bell. They laughed and smiled, cavorting across the open grass around the song pit. Children, without coordination, mimicked their parents and fire dancers with incense burners attached to chains whirled in magnificent circles.

The stand drums tempo increased and the flutes, previously relegated to low filler noise, rose in accordance with the song - stringing together long whistles that broke into smaller ones, their fingers working over the holes of the wood inlays to produce a smooth yet somber melody. Then the strings returned, moaning again to give melodic substance back to the number. The strings and the flutes worked in blissful tandem, laying the same tones to bounce the melody off one another and create a beautifully mirrored duet. The song went on like this for a while until the bell player staked her claim to the refrain once more. Her baton switched back and forth in a quick ‘one-two, one-two, pause, one-two, one-two’ beat, once again joined by the constant drumming and now the clapping of Ionians all across the capital. The song resonated, its volume increased ten fold by the magic in the air. Only during the Spirit Blossom festival could music carry far beyond Ionia City to welcome all with its delightful tune.

Mica, Chelle, Enzo and Lois heard all this from the back of their Beaked Tortoise. Even it stepped in tune with the rhythm, feeling the palpable tides of mana in the air. The early morning sun filtered in as it did yesterday, the hearth's warmth having died hours before. Cinders played across the charred wood, drifting up and out of the openings meant to vent the smoke of fire and let sunlight through. It smelled of cooked meat and Ionian wine. Splayed across the sofa, the chair and the furred rugs were the four Yordles in the beginning stages of their hangover. The now bombastic and lively music sent throbbing pain shooting into their skulls with each bump of a bass drum.

Chelle was the first to come to fully, sitting up and glancing down the length of the couch towards Mica who was absolutely wiped. For such a reserved creature she sure had a wild side when enough drink got into her. The remnants of grease from the Worax meal they’d cooked over the hearth stained one corner of Mica’s open maw. Chelle could only smile at that. A smile that didn’t last long. More throbbing pain sent her vision spinning. She slipped out of bed, her head just barely bopping to the growing sounds of music. The back of her hand ran across her nose as she sniffled, glancing over towards the mass of bodies half covered in sheets. She had to do a double take at that. Is that… Her eyes widened at the sight of Lois curled around Enzo.

Just then Lois’ eyes fluttered open. Her ears perked at the sound of music and her hands rose to rub the sleep away. She glanced over to Chelle who had looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She squinted with a look of confusion. Her eyes followed Chelle’s eyes and felt her person draped around something… Or some one. Upon registering it was Enzo and not a pillow she was cuddling she leapt back in surprise, her cheeks hot red with embarrassment that quickly morphed into proactive anger. Chelle’s smug grin made it evident she would be keeping this little scene in her back pocket.

“If you breathe a word of this to either of them…” Lois whispered, pointing an accusatory finger at Chelle.

Chelle merely threw her arms up in surrender, shrugging. “Your secret is safe with me.” She whispered in return. Though her tone didn’t afford Lois much confidence in that statement.

“It’s not a secret! It’s-” Lois thought a moment. What would it be if not a secret? “It’s just a thing that happened while I was asleep! Completely unintentional!”

“Mmhm.” Is all Chelle responded with.

Lois groaned in frustration, dismissing the woman with a flick of the sheets, draping them over Enzo as she stood to get ready for the day. The two of them silently gathered in the washroom beside the kitchen, using the water they’d ferried up to the abode from the Chine to wash their faces in absolute awkward silence. It wasn’t long before Mica and Enzo were waking to the music, too.

“What… The fuck… Is that music and why is it so loud?!”

“Do you always have to scream about something when you wake up?” Mica sighed.

“Yes!!”

Now dressed and ready for the festival, the four of them emerged onto the patio balcony to find their Beaked Tortoise had come to rest before a city, allowing them to overlook its expanse. Beginning at the base of a long and gradual climb up to a protruding redrock koppie were a series of terrace paddy fields. Each tier of paddy continued up and up with no uniformity in their pattern or size. The crop surrounding the paddies and the water there in was a crimson hue, though it soon made an abrupt transition into verdant green grass as the paddy fields on the outskirts of the city gave way to defensive walls. Stone overlapped with thorny clinging vines and creeping undergrowth provided a stout but protective layering around the city. From above its layout was apparent. Narrow streets and backways circulated between markets, residential blocks, gardens and temples. The housing had a uniformity to its appearance in color and material, but due to each house being formed around a living tree or several, they varied wildly in shape and size. The rooftops of the city were a tumultuous up and down of wood shingles. Turquoise green, red, and grey dominated the colorscape.

It continued on up the koppie until it reached the foremost protrusion at its very apex. There a palace of sorts stood, its grandeur unable to be contained by the confines of the plateau it sat upon. Many massive shard-like rocks drifted afloat in the sky, tethered to the Koppie by massive twining vines that wrapped around their earthen bases. More wings of the palace stood on the flat topped shards of rock where even more drifting stones half their size orbited around them. The palace and all its secondary structures grabbed the eye with their inclusion of pristine white marble. Detailing was etched into the stone to give it the appearance of being enveloped by marble vine. Only the most skilled craftsman or elementalist could claim responsibility for that level of intricacy.

The time of year meant the city was finely decorated with shades of white, purple, blue and pink. Streamers, hung on cords, ran between roof to roof in a zig-zag pattern, spouts of multi-colored confetti were thrown into the air with wind magics at random to rain down on the celebrating populous, processions of costumed peoples danced down the main thoroughfares with lovingly crafted Ionian dragon trains and vendors sought to take advantage of the occasion - selling food stuffs, keepsakes and clothes at a premium markup. Ionia City was alive and thriving.

With a healthy dosage of drinking water to sober themselves they gathered on the counterbalance platform at the end of the narrow gangplank leading out to it. In order to get up and down from their mobile homes Ionians fashioned a simple weight pulley system. A small circular platform attached to a rope was counterbalanced by an anchor. A mechanism imbued with magical energy would rotate when touched, sending the platform down and the counterbalance up and vice versa. Lois touched the steel rune woven into the rope and a surge of energy ran along it to the magically imbued pulley system, sending them downwards. The rope zipped audibly against the metal of the pulley before catching with a whip of motion to hover them just above the ground. The four of them stepped off and started up the path towards the open gates of Ionia city.

The music’s weight could now be felt in their hearts as every beat of a drum infected their very being with the need to move. The hangover quickly faded as Ionia’s natural magics suffused the air around them, restoring balance to their systems the more they breathed. A constant stream of jovial Ionians ran alongside them, entering the city or setting up camp around its outskirts in preparation for the journey home the following day. They received some odd looks, but Ionia was a peaceful place this time of year. Hunting Yordles was the furthest thing from normal in the First Lands. If anything their presence was a welcome surprise. They were spirits afterall and Ionians respected them as such.

As they passed into the guarded city gates a number of children ran up to greet them, placing pink and white flowered crowns on their heads. “Oh, thank you!” Mica said, her ears shooting up in pleasant surprise.

“Where to first?” Chelle asked.

“We should probably get dressed for the occasion.” Lois replied, trying her best to communicate and keep the group together within the mass of knees and legs.

“Ah, I know exactly where we’re going.” Enzo nodded.

The first vendor they visited was a middle aged woman with dark eyes and ashen white hair tied back into a bun. She wore Ionian robes, likely of her own creation, beautifully crafted and made of high quality silk. Seeing as how Lois was never strapped for coin, she was willing and able to afford the best for her and her party. The woman’s wonder registered quickly as she smiled and addressed them in Zhyun.

“Oooh, well aren’t you four just an adorable bunch. I assume you’re looking for the childrens clothing?” She gestured to one extreme of her kiosk where a glass case sat, displaying dual sex clothing for adolescents. Many of them were some variation on the colors festoon about the city, most with golden fretwork along the edges.

“Yup. The kids' clothes.” Enzo muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

After taking their pick of clothes Lois thanked the woman in her native tongue and the four started towards the dressing booths beside the kiosk. The first to emerge was Enzo, none too happy to be wearing childrens clothes. His get up was simple enough. A short long-sleeved robe shaded white with floral lacework across the surface draped across his torso, held together at the waist by a belt he’d hastily tied. There was definitely a right way to tie it and this was not it. The robe’s secondary was as close to Freljordian blue as he could find, featuring a turned out lapel and collar of the same color. His blue culotte pants were a little baggier than he would’ve liked and the wooden shoes definitely didn’t fit comfortably on his feet. But he wasn’t going to dampen the mood and be a stick in the mud. He parted his robes at the center to expose his chest. It was the only thing he could do to feel less like a baby.

Chelle and Mica presented themselves next in mirrored kimonos. The blue of Chelle’s wear matched well with the blue of her animated hair. Its length was tapered at the bottom to reveal half the thigh and everything beneath. More freedom that way. Its texture was half velvet and half silk with a light purple secondary and a golden tertiary in the form of waves that rolled across the fabric. Mica, being the more conservative of the two, chose the exact opposite. The skirt came all the way down to the ankle and the silk was awash with gold, glinting brightly in the daylight. A purple secondary ran along the ribbon that held the dress together high up on the waist and blue clouds floated in the fabrics stitching. The pair silently admired each other for a moment before they turned to Enzo and then Lois.

Lois threw aside the curtains to show herself in regal dark purple robes that fleeted into gradient black towards the bottom, edged with dull bronze-gold. The length of her skirt descended to hide the feet completely, splaying out and flowing freely as opposed to clinging to the legs and ankles. A wide band ribbon ran around her hips, pressed lower than it should’ve been for the sake of comfort. Her boho bell sleeves were thin and flowing things that fell down past the palm. The center of her dress was parted to show a ‘V’ slice of her cleavage and only that much. To sell the aesthetic just that bit more she purchased a large, purple, semi-translucent and jeweled bead necklace.

“Thanks for this, Lois. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something so expensive.” Mica felt the quality of the silk, looking down to admire its gleam.

“Well, you guys have risked your lives for me. Maybe more than anyone ever. This is my present to Chelle, but really to all of you.” Despite her dreary tone there was a tinge of sincerity and compassion hidden there. “Anyways… Care to dance before we eat?”

“Y-... You dance?” Enzo inquired with a look of utter astonishment. His look of bewilderment was shared by the other two.

“Just- Come on.”

The song’s crescendo was still a ways away when the four arrived. The people still danced across the garden circle around the music pit, filled with stamina from the high winds of magic. Red leaves from a central spire-esque tree rain down from above, shaken loose with every breeze. Even in morning’s light paper lanterns glowed, hanging low from overhead branches. The contrast of crimson leaves scattered on green grass made for nature’s most perfect dance floor. With their travel clothes stored in bags set to the side Lois, Mica, Enzo and Chelle found their place amidst the Ionians. A generous circle of free space was given willingly as some watched with bated breath to see the spirits dance.

“I thought they weren’t supposed to be here till afternoon,” one woman gasped. “I’ve never seen spirits like these, before,” Another man whispered.

Lois tuned them out as she brought them close. Yordles were far in advance of the average human in most regards. This included their ability to recall and replicate. Teaching any ordinary creature a brand new dance might’ve been a time consuming process, but with Yordles it was as easy as committing a song to memory. If you listened long enough and sung the lyrics a few times, eventually you’d get it down. Not to mention they had the example of others all around them.

“Come, Enzo. Help me teach them.” Lois beckoned him forth.

There was a bit of reluctance as he dragged himself before Lois. Chelle could sense it. Was he nervous? She wondered. Lois held out her left palm and Enzo, taking cues from his surroundings, pressed his own left palm into hers. Now the two were offset and facing towards one another. Chelle and Mica mimicked their gesture and stance, heads turned to watch closely.

“This dance is about feeling and reacting to the music,” Lois began “Footwork is important. But what’s more important is feeling and reacting to your partner. Like any dance, the lead sets the pace. It’s best to find a simple resting dance you can transition into and out of when you want to add a little extra flair.”

Lois began with a simple one-two step. Right foot out, left foot in, left foot out, right foot in. Enzo watched and then replicated, out in, out and in. They repeated this step for a few seconds before coming to a stop again. “Then you can change hands…”

Lois pushed against Enzo’s palm into a half turn, connecting the opposite hands together. “Or use both hands…” Lois squared herself to her dance partner and brought both palms into contact, elbows bent at a generous angle. “And extend,” Lois pulled away from Enzo slowly with a dancing step all the while, “Or close.” The two stepped into each other with surprising cohesion, mere inches apart in an instant.

Lois turned to the other two where chelle was already looking with suspicion. Her stare didn’t seem to evoke any emotion from the Hemomancer, though. “Just use your hands to imply direction. The rest will come naturally.” She assured them.

Chelle took a moment to distance herself and Mica from the other two. Right palm against right palm, feet set and eyes ahead. “Should I lead or…?”

“You lead.” Mica nodded.

“Okay. Ready?” Chelle glanced to Mica.

Mica looked back with a smile. “Ready.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands were wet with perspiration. She hated this. Autumn’s cool didn’t seem to be cool enough to save her from the intense heat she was feeling right now. She could feel each individual ray of light beating down on her brow. The music was so loud and her dress was tight. But she steeled herself and took the first step. She planted the sole of her right foot and levered her heel outwards. It was sloppy. She almost lost her balance. A deep breath convinced her not to quit. Mica mimicked it to the best of her ability and she performed the move again, this time with a little more twist of the leg and ankle, pivoting in place on it while her left foot remained planted. Stomp, twist, bounce. Stomp, twist, bounce.

“Okay,” She whispered to herself.

She was getting into the rhythm of it. The drums helped to inspire her and she transitioned feet. Left foot forward, right foot back. Step, twist, bounce. Her focus was intense, looking down at their unified footwork whilst plotting the next part of the dance in her head. The motions were becoming more fluid. They were stomping and twisting all at once, hands still together. The drums kicked up and so did she, adding a kick between every twisting stomp. It was all coming so naturally now. Her heart still pumped a gallon of blood every second but she was starting to ease into it. She finally looked up to see Mica was making intense eye contact with her. Eye contact that diverted once it was met. A thumb and an index finger from her free hand nudged Mica’s chin, bringing her eyes back up into contact. And then they were locked.

With only the gentlest of pressure applied Chelle was able to convince Mica to move as she did, rotating them in a half turn. Then a twisting stomp. Another half turn and another twisting stomp. Two more half turns and they completed a full revolution. The strings thrummed, the bell tolled and before the bass drummers could find their mark Mica and Chelle were sliding to the beat. Chelle went right and pushed off with one foot, sending fallen leaves fluttering in her wake. Mica did the same but in the opposite direction. Their left hands came up and fell into place like puzzle pieces as they squared, both palms pressing into one another. There they were, sharing the same breath. Those few seconds felt like hours. Chelle could smell last night’s wine on Mica’s lips, such was their proximity. And that didn’t bother her… It excited her.

The next boom of the drum signalled their departure. They went sliding back in the direction they’d come, leading with the hips until their right palms pressed into one another again. Each dragging slide swept up a miniature maelstrom of red leaves at their feet, adding to the spectacle and intimacy of it all. They slid back into place before one another and Chelle applied forward pressure on her partner’s hands. Mica read her like an open book and the two went sliding backward in perfect synchronicity. The white noise of other couples and everything else around them fell away into darkness. All she could hear was the music and all she could see was Mica. Her hips moved of their own accord, her feet stepped without input and her arms swayed in time with the beat all by themselves. She was even snapping in time with it, too and she couldn’t even feel the gesture. Mica watched with awestruck, half-lidded eyes. And then it was her turn.

Chelle froze and became a silent spectator to Mica’s dancing. She was one with the music. Her feet fell on every rattle of a drum and she spun in accordance with every note of the bell, as graceful as a ballerina but with barely seen sultry undertones. She noticed it in the way she moved. It was as obvious to her as them being in love was to everyone else. Her heart's beating was no longer fearful, but impassioned. Her eyes went wide as she saw Mica beckoning her over, snapped from her enamored trance. They met in the middle and both palms made contact again. With foreheads pressed together their spiritual souls enraptured one another and they moved as one. Sliding and stepping, twisting and turning, separating and coming together. She never wanted this to end.

The dance continued and quickened, without a need for contact the two of them felt each other’s intention on a subconscious level, bouncing their toes in time with the music, twice on one side, twice on the other, arms extended out to either flank like dancing Bahrl Jays about to take flight. Mica’s arms swung round and Chelle was quick to mimic the motion. The two of them spun past each other like Zaunite gears, catching one another’s wrist on the way past to snap them out of their rotation and back into alignment. The two of them balanced on a single foot now, right arm extended and gripping their partner’s own. Their weight was counterbalanced perfectly between them. With thoughtless cohesion their left arms crossed over their right and clasped into each other.

In one swift and sudden step forward their chests came together, arms crossed over their torsos like coffin lovers. Chelle could feel Mica’s thumping heart beat as if it were her own. A moment of realization broke the hypnotic state they both had created for themselves. A look of understanding crossed their features just as the world returned with all its noise and people. They gazed, unblinking, into each other’s eyes.

“Mica, I-...”

But Chelle never would get the chance to say it.

The music came to an end as the last cord was struck and the dancers around them leapt into thunderous applause, shattering the moment. It seemed they had drawn a crowd in the time they were away. Mica receded into her shell just as quickly as she had come out of it at seeing all the people gathered around them. They gave Mica and Chelle praise in a language they didn’t understand and handfuls of confetti were scattered into the air around them. They were spirits afterall… And Ionians respected them as such. Just then Chelle scanned the crowd. Lois and Enzo were nowhere to be found. Just how long had they been dancing for?

She led Mica away from their fawning fans in search of the others, looking everywhere they had been. No sign of them anywhere. Where in the hell did they get off to?!