The sorrow of a setting sun is that it repeats over and over again.

- A nameless samurai long, long ago.

The Moonflood Festival is a one-of-a-kind festival celebrated by Blood Falls. It occurs roughly every thousand years or so using the universal calendar everyone uses, or Tuesday, whichever happens first. Right now though, the day has been set as a Friday like has it always been since forever, and everyone is all the better for it, save for Reuth Giapain, who is missing a package and a bomb. In his haste to try and set one up over his employers, the drifter missed his appointment to pick up the package he was supposed to deliver and now his deadline loomed within striking distance. He faced this dilemma like he's faced all others before it; by finding a noodle shop with big portions, get a seat that faced the ocean of blood, and start eating silently while music played in the background, somewhere.

"Who are you looking for?" Another patron suddenly asked while Reuth was in the middle of slurping. The drifter squinted his eyes at the sudden question, but something about eating noodles brought out the honesty in Reuth Giapain.

"It's none of your business. Also, I'd like to be left alone to eat my noodles now in peace." Reuth laid out the terms and hoped the fellow patron would get the message and move on.

"Ah, okay. Sorry. I hope your search will be a short one." Reuth scoffed as much as one could scoff with noodles in their mouth. He tried not to think too deeply about what has driven him for this so long and this far, mostly because of the heartache that comes with the territory. But for every reminder, the flashes of her smiling face and gentle eyes seems almost like an apology, which Reuth Giapain was determined to throw right back in-person. Until then though, he'd keep an open eye and-

Any and all thoughts were cut short, and not just those of the drifter, but also everyone else', as a peculiar sight for even Blood Falls was unfolding. An arm, impossibly long, crashed into the bloody ocean and the impact sent a tsunami racing towards the coast. What made this unusual was that the arm was still connected to something, and it in turn, was still back in Blood Falls. It was the world's longest staircase, and a thought came to the forefront of mos of Blood Fall's residents.

I got to get the top before the arm comes loose!

At the noodle shop, Reuth watched as several patrons jump off their seats and made a general mess of the place. None of them dared to leave without paying though, as evidenced by the stack of paper, coins, gems, and assorted goods deemed to have value in Blood Falls. Reuth Giapain followed suit soon after, though he paid his fare with a defensive ward, which the cashier accepted and added to the noodle shop' defense matrix without much fuss.

Once the drifter was out and about, he considered his options once more while Blood Falls roared and swelled with cheers and laughter as well as shouts and screams of terror. Tidal waves surged and swept off the weaker masses to their fates in what was once streets and alleyways, but in his own personal bubble, Reuth Giapain decided that he was going to do a job properly for once.

He clacked his heels twice against the pavement and took one step forward. The sight changed from a flooded district to that of a very dry and sterile bank counter. From the other side, a package was pushed out and Reuth Giapain took it, no words exchanged by anyone as the drifter clacked his heels twice once more.

Reuth Giapain's leave left Micha Ostor plenty of time to become free and even more for him to escape, but a sudden deluge outside made such plans moot. It did gave him time to finally process his thoughts and emotions properly for the first time since his exile, and the tears that came surprised even the godling. And they did not stop at one or two drops, instead they became a small stream which pooled on the floor. And yet there was truly no sadness in Micha Ostor, as his face remained simply as resigned as ever and not one muscle twitched out of place. It gave the impression of a doll crying, and as the tears dried up, the feeling that rose next in the godling' heart was morbid bemusement that only his body still felt what the rest of him had long ago abandoned.

About the only sadness Micha Ostor truly felt lie with the loss of his spear, pitiful as it was and as useless as he was with it. He cherished it as the only thing that remained constant in his life, which always returned regardless of how bad his luck got. The godling even thought of it as his own personal godly symbol, even as big as a failure of a deity he was in the eyes of his parents.

Is there something I can do right? Micha thought forlornly, watching debris crash against the window closest to him. His body, usually wound tight from fear, loosened and he found himself staring up at the ceiling.

I know I should be more scared of Reuth, but he's really a nice guy so far. He's kept me fed, clothed, and hidden. I coudn't have asked for a better kidnapper. But ... Micha fell silent as his hand brushed over his chest, resting on the spot where his mother had cursed him.

I'm scared at what's waiting for me at the end of all this good luck. I don't think my mom is that strong, but she is a proper goddess with good standing. She always gets her way. Micha rolled over and let the floor embrace his face, pressing up with a pressure that was almost comforting, almost like a hug.

Please, someone. Help me. The tears came again, but now the godling cried fully, his sobs swallowed by the roar of the crimson tide outside and the choked coughs of a broken heart.