As the sky began to darken, the crowds in the streets grew thicker and thicker. By the time Alessar stepped outside, there was the faintest hint of light still in the western sky, and the throng had gotten positively intimidating.
He had grown up in the largest city in Ferelden, but Denerim paled in comparison to Antiva City. In his time here, he could see how this place had shaped Zevran, Crow training aside. A certain joie de vivre, to steal an Orlesian phrase, seemed to mark all who lived here. Even if life was difficult and times were hard, there was always something to celebrate and be thankful for, even if it was simply the fact that you'd lived to see another day. It seemed to dovetail with Zevran's philosophy of taking pleasures where they could be found.
Like in the madness of a Satinalia night? the Fereldan elf thought with a tinge of nervousness. He had heard plenty of anecdotes by now -- many of the