On the way home

"You're far from home," casually says the innkeeper. His bride's got the cauldron over the fire- the smell of stewing curry through the day and sinking into the brick walls. "Too far in fact. The cat tails of autumn will soon be upon us." "I know. That's why I'm heading back as soon as possible," Valentine says. He sits down. Looks through the menu set on the back wall. The innkeeper huffed, puts out the pipe on his hand. Rings of smoke drift up into the air before fading away. "Younglings like you can't keep track of time at all." Valentine does not point out that he has his own reasons for coming out so far from Dormiente. Does not bring out the ring slowly being thumbed over his palm. "Yeah, yeah," he drawled bored. "So you still have grilled takoyaki or is frog curry all that's left to eat?"
The Feast of the Resting Souls takes place at the end of autumn every year. It is when the border between life and death grows the weakest. Magic becomes more difficult to be controlled for the living and inhibitions are lowered more than ever. Not to mention that the undead are able to cross back into the world. Thus in order to prevent being possessed or dragged into the afterlife early, people hide in their homes with their loved ones. Travel comes to a complete halt and business is put on pause for the day. Reflective surfaces are covered for the whole day and very little gets down. It's considered a tradition to bake round cakes- representing the sun which frightens the dead. Traditional flavors include fruit, cream, and tea. Another tradition is storytelling. Being able to tell stories in the dark signifies strength and the determination to keep going.