They emerge from the crowd into, you guessed it, more crowd! This crowd is more fluid, not least because of the fountain at the center of the plaza they now stand at the edge of, with twinkling lights strung around the spouts. As they break into the sea of people, Rutile stays close to X, the better to hear his words.

"Smoked meat, new clothes..."

"Smoked meat?" Rutile notes, and their nose wrinkles ever so slightly at the thought. They're never going to understand human customs, or human food. Not that the inhuman ones of Aifaran make much more sense, but that's neither here nor there.

"If you had your way, what would everyone be celebrating?"

Rutile's pace slows, and their expression softens as they consider the question. But even as thinking of home stirs an all-encompassing ache, it is even more painful to banish those memories.

"We never had large gatherings like this," Rutile muses. "There are barely thirty of us - fewer, even, than that. We don't eat, or play instruments, or care much for the harvest. There is excitement when a new gem is born, but... other than that our days are passed in an unmarked stillness."

They half grin at X. "I suppose that must sound sad to you. It's funny; such stillness never struck me as such, but perhaps if we'd been a little more lively we would be better poised to accept disruption."