Drops of Dew in Our Glass (Tales of Zestiria fanfiction)

Festival

Reassurance, strength.

"I'm doing fine, don't worry."

Peace, radiance.

His heart grew lighter with each flower that he sent on its way, and it became easier to talk. Soon, he was speaking about the days that had come and gone since his time here at the festival last year, the people he met, the work of school... He became accustomed to the silence, taking comfort in it rather than grief.

It was from the sound of his own words that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching from the town, the clearing of a throat from a short distance away as he set down the very last flower. He jumped, turning around to find a boy that didn't look any older than he was leaning against a tree.

His arms were crossed, sleeves flowing low to the ground from the robe he wore. Short brown hair only a few shades lighter than his own settled in wisps at his cheeks, bangs curved to the side. His skin was paler than the moonlight that shone upon it, the delicate features of his youthful face carved in a frown. Piercing violet orbs met with the green of his own, and he found his breath stolen away.

"You shouldn't litter." The sound of the other's voice, stern and scolding, brought him back to reality.

"Ah, this is--!" He waved his hands around, looking back to the stream to see if he could gesture to the flowers floating on its surface to prove that he wasn't throwing trash into the water, but they had all been carried away. "Um..." He turned back sheepishly, the bags beside him were empty as well, having been filled up with the flowers that were long gone.

The other boy didn't look impressed.

"Whatever you threw in there will end up coming back to you, you know. The land isn't your garbage can to be used at will." It was clear that he was mad, though his tone was steady and calm.

"But it wasn't garbage! It was..." He started rummaging through his bags again, plastic rustling furiously until he finally found what he was looking for. "Aha!" In his fingers was a blue petal, and he held it out triumphantly to the other. "Flowers! I was setting down flowers in the river!"

"...What?" The boy of a pale complexion looked confused, but he stopped leaning against the tree in favor of coming up closer to examine the petal in his hand. "Why would you do that?" he asked, kneeling next to him.

"Well, it's, uhh..." he trailed off, not sure how to explain it in words because it would surely sound weird. "Oh, just follow me!" he exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing the empty bags beside him to dispose into a proper trash can later. (Because he wasn't a litter-er, contrary to this boy's opinion.)

"What?" the other said again, but he could feel his presence behind him as he bounded toward the road again.

The procession of people had long since reached their destination at the center of town, leaving only a few stragglers in the path, most of which were sellers closing shop. They didn't pay him or the other boy any heed as they ran through the streets, following the main road past where everyone had gathered at Marlind's Great Tree and going on to the sanctuary.

They crossed past the stone fence, the black spires adorning the top of it glistening almost maliciously in the moonlight. The boy in front slowed his pace to a walk, feathers jingling at their clasps. He could hear the other do the same, sounding only slightly out of breath.

The wind picked up, and the shed they walked by creaked eerily. Suddenly the quiet, happy mood of the evening festival was gone, replaced by a somber ambience as they walked past the sanctuary and into the graveyard at its side.

There was a small gasp behind him, and he shook his head to deter any thoughts the other boy might have had coming on. He didn't bring him here to get pity.