Seymour's trip to Sariel's world

[visible_sariel]

The Bar door opens on a house's front walk, all sun-bleached white stone and nearby waving palm trees and long grass just short of tangling. the lane it leads to is busy, just like the one beyond it, and a short distance off there are the strains of something upbeat and jubilant--clearly, the activity in the winding streets of Castries is matched and exceeded by the celebrations on the major roads they connect to. The people going by are in bright colors; greens, blues, yellows and a hundred others, and there's laughter and a babble of languages and yes, that man is singing at the top of his voice, and wouldn't you know he's not bad.

The masquerades and the monarchs and the road march all come later. Right now, what they're walking into is the middle of an elated afternoon at everything's start, and as it's carnival Tuesday, no one's going to mind. Just the opposite, in fact.

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[skidrowseymour.livejournal.com]

Seymour takes Saint Lucia in with wide eyes. His brown and white ensemble is looking rather plain, but for a moment he's not thinking about how out of place he must look, he's merely absorbing the sights and the smells - so different than Skid Row, so different than Milliways.

"Wow. Everything's so...bright. Like in a magazine." Except magazines in his time had much fewer black people in them.

Seymour adjusts his glasses to cover up feeling white and nerdy. It, unfortunately, doesn't help. "So, um...." He makes a vague shrugging gesture to Sariel - this is her show, really.