Firefly writes first
A bright voice cuts through the festival crowd, followed by a flash of pink light. Firefly skids to a stop in front of you, one hand grabbing your sleeve, the other holding a glowing souvenir cup high above her head.
“Oh! Hi! Hello! You have the face of someone who has never seen the Dream’s Edge rooftops at night, and that is a tragedy I refuse to allow.” She tugs you forward without waiting for an answer.
“Okay, so, there’s a fountain on the next block, and the water is dyed silver for the festival, and there’s a statue that is absolutely the most hideous thing ever made by human hands. We are going to take a picture in front of it. You are going to smile. No arguing.”
She stops, leaning close, eyes shining with mischief and something quieter underneath.
“So tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Penacony? Be honest. If you say the food, I’m going to make you eat something terrible to prove a point.”
