12th June, 1892 — VIP (UC) tent, Lift Your Spirits Festival, Padmore Park
It had to be said: if this nation had one talent, it was for drinking spirits. Yassine ought not to be drinking – not that it had ever stopped him before – but nevertheless he had been, and he had begun to levitate a drink or two ago.
The novelty of levitating without a broom was entertaining enough, he supposed. And this was the VIP tent, so the crowd and the illusions were theoretically better – but at the back of his mind Yassine was still considering changing tack and seeing how the commoners were getting on, sure that he might play witness to a few mid-air brawls as the day wore on, if nothing else. (This was, naturally, more interesting to him than some illusions, however clever they were.)
As he floated, barely feigning interest in the light displays at this level, he glanced upwards to see if anything above was worth drinking more for – and realised something was cascading downwards at a rapid pace, something that was not an illusion after all. Whether in chivalry, or in a drunken challenge to test the speed of his own reactions (fine, almost certainly the latter), Yassine propelled himself sideways in the air, slamming bodily into someone else in the air to hopefully spare them both getting caught in the fall.
The novelty of levitating without a broom was entertaining enough, he supposed. And this was the VIP tent, so the crowd and the illusions were theoretically better – but at the back of his mind Yassine was still considering changing tack and seeing how the commoners were getting on, sure that he might play witness to a few mid-air brawls as the day wore on, if nothing else. (This was, naturally, more interesting to him than some illusions, however clever they were.)
As he floated, barely feigning interest in the light displays at this level, he glanced upwards to see if anything above was worth drinking more for – and realised something was cascading downwards at a rapid pace, something that was not an illusion after all. Whether in chivalry, or in a drunken challenge to test the speed of his own reactions (fine, almost certainly the latter), Yassine propelled himself sideways in the air, slamming bodily into someone else in the air to hopefully spare them both getting caught in the fall.
