March 17th, 1888 - Celtic Street Fair
The fair had been an absolute delight so far for Theseus. Between the vast assortment of attractions and various vendors about, he hadn't the slightest idea where he should focus his attention. He knew the day would not be wasted idly walking about, so the wizard ventured to a nearby stall selling what appeared to be flutes and pan pipes. Theseus had never been too fond of instruments. It wasn't a fear of sorts, rather something he never imagined himself participating in. Plus, had he been perplexed by such an odd hobby, he may not have been able to escape from sure bullying or criticism; both most likely from the mouth of his wife.
After a brief period of browsing, the obliviator chose a little flute with a few inscriptions written into the side. He thought it looked beautiful if nothing else, glistening in the sun ever so slightly as the rays highlighted the beige that stained the instrument. All sides were examined carefully with a casual turn of Theseus' wrist, and not soon after a smile slowly crawled onto his face. He lowered the flute from the air to his lips, pressing them slightly onto the mouth piece, and blew for what seemed to be half a minute. A most harmonious sound exited the flute and entered the air surrounding, creating a sense of peacefulness the wizard hadn't felt in years. The moment was surreal and unique, causing Theseus to shut his eyes and continue playing.
The serene feeling that enveloped the wizard quickly shattered with the introduction of several shrieks and pattering of a plethora of little feet. His eyes opened and, after a brief moment of fuzziness, revealed a hoard of rats racing through the crowds right under his feet. Once shut eyes now the size of saucers with a gaping mouth to match, Theseus began breathing intensely as a swarm of brown and black began to amass right before him. He hadn't the slightest clue of what to do, though, if he had, the paralyzing fear he felt would have prevented him from acting entirely. It wasn't commonplace for him to be this close to a rat, let alone a growing mob of them, and he could only imagine what everyone had been thinking of him... "What sort of dirty man could attract this many rats?" What a horrible situation. And had he yelled for assistance, he would have appeared pathetic. What was a man to do?
The one idea that popped into his mind was to just continue playing the darned flute. Perhaps then people may associate the instrument with the attraction of the growing population of buck-toothed hairballs instead of a fowl odor or unfortunate appearance. With trembling lips placed upon the flute once more, Theseus blew and blew until someone, hopefully, would rush in and try to help.
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