The Majors, Who Let the Demon Out? *under rewrite*

Chapter 12: Stylists and Strangle Attempts

~Erin~

"Woah." I exclaimed. My vocabulary was far too small to find any word quite extraordinary enough to define the sight. So woah it was.

I heard yet another chuckle from beside me, my awe quickly turning to annoyance as I realized Xornoth was laughing at me. "What?" I snapped.

"Nothing." He said, quickly covering his mouth with the back of one of his hands. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"What do you think?" I grumbled, my right ear twitching in agitation.

Another snicker left the elf's lips. "Just follow me. We don't want to keep the Emperor waiting..." He said in almost a mocking tone, beginning to strut into the massive crowd obscuring the street to the Fire Temple from sight.

I scrambled after him, holding my breath as I was submerged in the crowd. Hardly anyone took notice of him, surprisingly, although a few gave us rather odd looks.

In moments I was absorbed by the mass of people, warm bodies pressed up against all sides. I was drowned in the scent of sweat, spices, and the warmth that hung sickeningly in the air like fog. This was so much different than the heat of the Grimlands. It felt like I was drowning in the humid hair, choking on it. I struggled to keep my eyes on Xornoth, despite him sticking out like a raven in a flock of doves.

"Uh- Xor—" I called, my voice raising shrilly as I was pushed and shoved, my ankles nearly kicked out from under me, my arms tugged and yanked. I stumbled, feeling my heart rate pick up faster and faster as I began to get farther and farther behind.

His violet hair was quickly lost in the blend of other colors, out of sight.

All those around me towered above my line of sight, making it impossible to tell which direction I was going.

It was all heat and confusion, my vision a blur of all the people and places and backdrop of everything around me, I could no longer see properly...was the ground supposed to be up in the sky...?

I was gasping for air by the time I had blindly stumbled out of the crowd, sweaty and panting. Pressing the heel of my hand against my temple, I blinked, trying to steady my view of the area. I was just off to the side of the mob, along the market stalls, no brother in sight.

Wonderful.

The area around me was still strange, shouting his name would be no use over the noises from the crowd. What do people always tell their kids to do when they're lost? Stay put and find an authority figure?

Hah, no.

So I began to wander.

Every vendor's stall was different, some supported by wooden poles driven into the ground, colorful cloth stretched into a shading canopy to protect from the sun beating down in waves. Others were just tents pitched along the edges of the road, worn by the sandaled feet of hundreds of passersby.

Some sales items lay on tables, piles of spices from Mezalea I presume, jewels from the Elven Mountain Range, filets of fish and racks of lamb hanging from twine. Others like furs and rugs from Pixandria were piled on the ground, the winged avians and eared felines pacing through mazes of clothes in search of something to purchase.

In the distance the jungle was still alive with life, the rawrs of wildcats just barely audible every once in a while. I even spotted some leashed like dogs would have been in Eastvale. Strange people...