American Heroes and Irish Voices

The Renaissance Faire! It had been so long since I last went to the Ren Faire. It was such a lovely time. It was primarily lovely because of the friends who joined, but the Faire itself holds so much charm.

At the end of the day, after the joust and coronation, the actors took some time to honor real-life, brave, American heroes. On the left side of this picture, you'll notice a USMC lady. There were three others that I captured in different pictures; this picture, however, also contains a man (kneeling in the center) who had long been a firefighter as well as serving in many other capacities. Just to his right (hidden behind the tree—I'm sorry) is the king knighting him. Just to his left is the queen holding a sword that he was given.

I'm not even sure what I'm trying to articulate, but it was a joyful experience.

Also, Irish lullabies get me. There's something enthralling about those mournful, gentle tunes. Most music passes over my life as a garnish or an optional lining; Irish voices, though, are some magical kind of quieting.

Besides the basic necessities, that's probably the highest on my list of desired traits.

Yet again, the world is too big, too full of heavyheartedness. Yet again, I am too small, too full of hesitations. I'm not yet sure how it's going to unfold fully, but Jalek (the rabbit dad in my book) suffered a great loss because of some vague hesitation. So far, I believe he had another daughter years ago who was killed by some brigand. His heart breaks. My heart breaks. There are broken hearts.

I know that Werbel has to go to the mines some time; he has to meet up with his dad, but, so far, Chirrratka's reason for sending him there makes nearly no sense. Even then, I wouldn't know why the slaver would keep him much longer; they'd have nothing plot-progressing to do.

I can always figure it out later I suppose. Write first; smoothen later.