The towers loomed over the city, a familiar sight to the locals. Its spires reached into the starry sky like a child catching fireflies, the black curves of them reflecting the peaceful moonlight. From the joyful and ever awake locals that filled the streets, lilting music lifted into the air, following the easy winds across the town; a brilliant sector of art and culture. Moving in beautiful swirls that seemed to carry the cobalt sky and intermingle the blinding whites and yellows of the stars, the wind was a personal reflection of the people whose hair it lovingly brushed past and whose flags it raised. While the breeze may be cold enough to bring shivers with even the slightest of encounters it captured the warm and bright scents of the foods that adults would remember fondly as part of their childhood. Spiced meat, grilled vegetables, sweet chocolate that seemed to compliment the slight bitterness of the wine that the children always made a game out of attempting to steal from their parents like masked thieves of the night.
Out in the mountains, onlookers couldn’t help but watch with a faint sense of nostalgia and fondness. While this was their first glimpse of the town, the spark of humanity and love it held was so steep that it managed to reach the hearts of even the farthest of wanderers.