[MWAR-RIGHTS]-To Inform(Closed)
Nov 4, 2019 0:30:06 GMT -6
Post by Civil War NPC on Nov 4, 2019 0:30:06 GMT -6
The day of the speeches has finally arrived, and to enter the main square of the city is to see banners and posters wrapped and hanging from trees and poles. Some have slogans, others merely have the image of a vespa in flight, but they hang messily from almost every available surface in more languages than most in the labs would recognize. Most are written or drawn on fabric and paper, though a few that appear to be made of web hang as well, the breeze threatening to twist them into illegibility at times.
There is music too, a band of enthusiastic players trying their hand at a few of the more popular songs that one might have heard on the radio. Their instrument choices were as different from the originals as the players were from one another, a hawk-like avian on a set of marching drums, a humanish with cat ears and slitted pupils playing a violin with such enthusiasm that is almost made up for the screeches and jumps in pitch, and a deer undulate playing a flute as if she wanted nothing more than to make it suffer. They are enough to keep some of those passing by in orbit around them, and each new person joining the crowd only causes them more excitement.
The band is playing on a small stage that has been set up in front of the fountain, and to the right side there are boxes of signs matching the ones that have been hung up, and others filled with pamphlets detailing why those most citizens thought of as pets were people who deserved rights, future language workshops, and testimonials that claimed to be from some of those oppressed folk. A one-armed ssashirk sits on one these boxes, heavily scarred and intimidating despite his bright blue sash over his grey tunic. Next to him on another crate is a moss amphadron, clicking and gesturing wildly as the ssashirk nods, a nearby thundergug harnessed to an empty cart decidedly less interested in the conversation.
A pig undulate rests next to the opposite side of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the music and calling out requests one occasion. Another moss amphadron, this one less expressive than the one on the other side, relaxes in the shade next to her, though it too sometimes clicks out something in the spaces between songs.
There are a few normal citizens wandering around, some clutching pamphlets while others just look on. One of them has a lunar enileaf curled around their shoulders and is intent on whatever scrap paper she had been given, an older human female in a light skirt and top that was sure not to turn any heads. A female fox mammalian is there with a rascal faeron clinging to her largely the same way as the enileaf was to the human, but she seemed bored by the proceedings, her flashy dress catching the eye with each fidgeting step as she looked around the square.
There is music too, a band of enthusiastic players trying their hand at a few of the more popular songs that one might have heard on the radio. Their instrument choices were as different from the originals as the players were from one another, a hawk-like avian on a set of marching drums, a humanish with cat ears and slitted pupils playing a violin with such enthusiasm that is almost made up for the screeches and jumps in pitch, and a deer undulate playing a flute as if she wanted nothing more than to make it suffer. They are enough to keep some of those passing by in orbit around them, and each new person joining the crowd only causes them more excitement.
The band is playing on a small stage that has been set up in front of the fountain, and to the right side there are boxes of signs matching the ones that have been hung up, and others filled with pamphlets detailing why those most citizens thought of as pets were people who deserved rights, future language workshops, and testimonials that claimed to be from some of those oppressed folk. A one-armed ssashirk sits on one these boxes, heavily scarred and intimidating despite his bright blue sash over his grey tunic. Next to him on another crate is a moss amphadron, clicking and gesturing wildly as the ssashirk nods, a nearby thundergug harnessed to an empty cart decidedly less interested in the conversation.
A pig undulate rests next to the opposite side of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the music and calling out requests one occasion. Another moss amphadron, this one less expressive than the one on the other side, relaxes in the shade next to her, though it too sometimes clicks out something in the spaces between songs.
There are a few normal citizens wandering around, some clutching pamphlets while others just look on. One of them has a lunar enileaf curled around their shoulders and is intent on whatever scrap paper she had been given, an older human female in a light skirt and top that was sure not to turn any heads. A female fox mammalian is there with a rascal faeron clinging to her largely the same way as the enileaf was to the human, but she seemed bored by the proceedings, her flashy dress catching the eye with each fidgeting step as she looked around the square.
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