CHAPTER 14 - ECHO MEETS LARRY

First Age, Echo Realm

"Well, this is new" thought Echo as the drum-beat of the tribal rhythms magnified the bazaar. Candles lit with the faint green glow of mint light made the scenery blush as the dancers faces brimmed with fortitude. The patron briefly looked towards a stage partially concealed by rows of hanging tattered cloth where a swordfight was afoot. Lively feasters passed around bowls of ordinary water, which would slosh about as the next person took hold, which they would by a communal dare imagine was sugar-water, and with every sip, grow ever rowdier like a drinking game. Intruding on their gaiety, the sound of swords wobbling enticed passersby to the stands of the bazaar. Echo continued until seeing a parting between the stands. From a hill a gaggle of kitchen whisks rolled, blending the grass into a green mush that the tribal caterers would collect and spread on slices of bread as a topping. There was one of them however, the salt-whore who wore a dress of salt, the grains of which would dislodge like spores and spice the meals of whoever was nearby. She was not a whore, but a beautiful girl helping the chefs in their endeavors. Sometimes the grains would pass directly through the skin by accident, but no-one would notice, as such was equally healthy. Further into the bazaar there was a dining lodge, by the foot of which a drunk grizzled old woman spun a bottle on the ground, every time growing bold when it landed upon herself yet again, thinking of a kiss from younger days. A door had been removed from its hinges and was being used as a rectangle of butter on one of the slices of bread, soaking into that warm wholesome texture, but only as a hallucination for some onlookers, the wood was quite intact. Inside, a group of partiers gasped as one of the feast-casters who she could see was of Mar's portion tamed an orb of blueness. Shuffling away, the woman noticed a side-room, it's feeble gray-lit interior inviting her in. "Huh, well the holiday is nice but I may just need some time alone" she thought, admiring the clutter of the storage room. Picking up a video game console hiding in a stack of parchment plump with symbolist scrawling, she hooked it into the wall and grabbed the controller. "This one looks good" the patron smiled, choosing a game cartridge then pushing it into the slot. Maybe ten minutes later the picture began to fade, perhaps due to the worn condition of the game. "Wait a second … this hasn't even been invented yet" Echo panted, retrieving the cartridge from its place. Curious, she peered at its underside, then to improve the working condition blew out the dust, going side to side. "Ha, this is just like playing a harmonica" she chuckled to herself. Dispersing from the cartridge, the amorphous cloud fiddled with her nose. "Please look where you're pointing that thing" a voice courteously replied, as a volume of the room became dazed by a swift sneeze. "Excuse me, I thought I was by myself" Echo said, then wiped obfuscation from her eyes just in time to see the puff of dust assemble into a figure like that of a person. "That's fine, as long as you don't toss me away with another one. I'm a bit more fragile than you" the figure adjured. Brushing a hand through black hair and wiping a sheathe of dust from that endeavor onto her dress-leg, the lady made eye contact with the puff, "Well then, who … what exactly are you?". "My name is Larry Cartridge-Dust. Not a lot of people know about us. Our families make our homes in cartridges, but what did you think of the game?" he wondered. "I liked it until the screen went out. To be honest I only came in here to get away from the party" she confided with vagrant weariness. "Must be boring. Is it a bad party?" Larry asked, as checking the expression on such a face of solid dust was most laborious. "No, it's more complicated. I have a lot of responsibilities. Even going to parties is one of the many things I have to do. Sometimes I think it would be great to have a different life, to be alone so I can be myself. If only that were the case, but everyone relies on me, and the more they do the more I have this one desire, like a never-ending hunger to be away. There's no time for my dreams. Every now and then I think … it's like I'm being … ruined" Echo pleaded. "Then why are you talking to me?" he asked, an objective witness to her contradiction and its expression as true emotion. Laughing with self-awareness of the brush-off, she took one step forward to the puff, "because I wanted someone to hear that secret. Maybe that means we're … friends? I know the thing about hiding in cartridges so it's not like you have a choice". "Always looking for a new friend, even if it means I'm being blackmailed … haha. What is your name young lady?" Larry jested, showing the outline of his face as it clarified from the wandering of molecules. "Echo" the gamer admitted. Prompted to sit on a bigger cardboard box with enough room for the both of them, he hooked in another controller and slapped the cartridge back in the console. In the story behind the screen they played as two knights who crossed into an uncharted domain, past forests and rivers, on the summons of rumors to where a ruin of some ancient temple stood. Exploring it they found and freed more dust clouds from their cartridges who thanked them heartily. Deeper through they came upon more happy mysteries, because that is what is hidden in a ruin, or so they say in poems that are more than rumors and more than thoughts and feelings and wishes and time.