Robert
Shuffling through the dense crowd, a figure with snow white hair stood out amongst the common festival-goers. They were no different from anyone else however, mostly only wishing to enjoy the festivities themselves. The festivities—while nice—were not the entire reason they came to Sanctum Mesa, but for the time they could put aside their ulterior reasoning for visiting. It had been quite some time after all since they had been to a celebration; the last time may very well have been from a bygone era. What harm could come from celebrating a little? It was a celebration in favor of the new age—something they thought very fondly of. They were able to grasp a general understanding of what the main event was from the mutters of the crowd. 

"Hunting down a fish?" A slight smirk came over their face, "It definitely _is_ O.S.A fashion, I suppose," They muttered under their breath, scanning around for other activities to partake in. They were not _entirely_ against the idea of a chaotic race for a fish, but they were a latecomer to the event. Perhaps it'd be best to find a different way to celebrate, one less... _violent_ as well. They had witnessed the initial scuffle between August and William, being dissuaded from participating in the hunt somewhat. It was not out of concern for themselves per se, more the general concept of violence as a whole. Being able to put context behind the brawl did not help their disdain for the activity either, but it definitely lifted their perception of August and William. 

Paracelsus averted their attention away from the various groups that had split up in participation of the fish hunt, instead making their way back through the crowd towards the western side of the plaza—a direction not associated with the mad dash for the fish. Maybe some less violent alternatives to celebration awaited them here.
Justin
To the west, the festivities of the Festival grow denser, with more of the critical happenings within the celebration extending westward from the central plaza — it seems that the event organizers, out of caution, made a point of intending that most of the casual participants of the event would be some distance away from the combatants in the Hunt. A spectacle is good, sure; but injured passers-by certainly are not. To those ends, the worries of the latent dangers held within hosting an in-crowd fighting event were somewhat alleviated, though not outright quelled.

That all is to say that the white-haired man was now delving into the heart of both the crowd and preparation, passing by partygoers and suits alike — festival participants and event staff dispersed throughout a great congregation each in their own proportional margins. **SOUL**S and magic had a way of becoming lost in a swirling, commensurate blur when brought together in such great numbers, their unique shapes and forms coalescing an iridescent mirage of energy and life coalescing at the heart of this collection of all peoples—those of all times and all places. Yes, the **Festival** Had something for anybody and everybody — it was merely a matter of where to look. The collective identity of that very same "Anybody and everybody" Was now manifest before him, taking form as a great convergence of inspirations, emotions, pasts and presents, natures and ways-of-life — a sumtotal of all that which could define what a person *Is* And *Could be.*
Dorothy
There amidst that crowd of life, something shimmered. It was like a pure-amethyst gemstone amidst purple quartz; like a single star amidst nebulae; like a roaring flame amidst the embers. It was a **SOUL** As pure and refined as one could think, yet of a color that was, at first, indistinct — much of the true hue of its `Spirit` hidden behind a shimmering, radiant `Vessel,` vitreous and pure in appearance, yet of such a fire that dispersed all the incident world that attempted to peer beyond the crystalline barrier into variegated, pale light. A **SOUL** Whose color only became evident once evaluated much, much closer: its aura was such that it seemed to radiate incredibly subtle, yet almost starlike formations of pure energy-of-life, hued a true amethyst that quietly dazzled the realm of spirits around itself.

 *Lueur d'Étoiles.* The host of this event, presiding as a representative of *Academiae Astra Cantum* As a whole. Her hair was as pale, and similarly as much the same color, as fresh leaves in spring; her eyes were concealed beneath the thin veil that extended beyond her long, embellished hat. She was all the image of what her **SOUL** Itself was: a gemstone so incredibly refined that it became nearly impossible to see what was beyond the surface of her character. Stood amidst an association of sorcerers of **SOUL** Colors and intensity akin to — yet never reaching the same, sheer potency as — her own, it seemed she was leading a small conversation amidst core members of the Academy overseeing the affairs of the **Festival.**
_ _

*```
"—The tailbird then should oversee the young Dioscuri."
"...Yes, the lights, I believe it was."
"And Veilleuse? Have they yet reported...?"```*

—so the pale-haired Paracelsus heard, from their distance.