Syryn undressed in an empty street not too far from where the fight was taking place. Patches of cloth were ripped away when he couldn't get the dress off as fast as he would have liked to. After a short struggle, his upper body was finally uncovered to the air. Dully, Syryn stared at his half nakedness, his porcelain skin appearing unusually pale in the light of the fake moons that illuminated the night. He discarded the entire dress wishing that he had brought along a shirt. It was too late for regrets.
A black hair ribbon was then produced from the pocket of his pants. Using the aforementioned item, Syryn tied his long hair back with deft and quick movements. He then took a few steps forward, unsure of where he was going. Which direction was home?
"Sounds like they're having fun," he voiced aloud to himself at the sound of the cheers that rose in a crescendo.
