Touch. Something he was --entirely unaccustomed to. Were he the jittery sort, he might’ve pulled his hand away as though it was seared. As it was, however, his eyes dropped to consider where the tips made contact. This, of course, while moving toward the camp site. Heat. So whatever manner of --peculiarities the man hosted, vampirism wasn’t one of them. Unless he was aged and well fed, but the flash of, well crimson feathers? Kind of.. Yeah, they were crimson feathers… Leather wings he’d seen once while hallucinating, or had he been respectively clean that eve? The creature he met in the park, he can’t remember if fabricated him or not. Tonight though, he was painfully clean.
Through the course of his musings, the musician finally made it to the camp sites. Several tents sat in small clusters, some boasting the modern dome styles. While others, more communal, sectioned off squares of turf with canvas and tarpaulin doors flared out; open and welcoming to the fires they sat around, the squared tents convexed in a crescent that offered privacy to the site once the fires died and respective members of the party retired.
Much like the Carnival, the campsite thrummed with life. However, the atmosphere provided here --proved more intimate. Instead of the hasty bustle of tourists and sight-seers eager to get everything in, the camp site bore evidence of seasoned faces. People that helped run the place as though it were a well oiled machine and, in turn, understood how best to see out the night after a long day’s run. Each little bundle of tents had it’s own gaggle. And one could tour the fires openly finding different opportunities of entertainment at each individual site.
The group he ran with, hosted some of the larger tents. With tinier ones tucked away for those who wouldn’t be drawn to the cots when the larger ones closed. As Mish entered their site, he offered the group lead a wave then settled his case on a nearby bench. After popping it open, he plopped the collection hat on the adjacent table then, with reverence, withdrew his instrument and bow.
He sought to exit the site as his guest approached. Silent and, should the man truly want a performance, expecting to be followed. Not to say he strayed far, but moved to one of the more isolated fires --set up to warm and lend light to the dome tent situated nearby. Here, he began the first chords of a sonorous lament; warming up with a tune that taunted his mind.