It happened to be that on occasion, the Academy would host some of the more obscure festivals, or perhaps just a carnival to help folks ease stress from the pressure of projects, deadlines, meetings, funding, budgeting, and resource allocation.
Silas himself rarely participated, the whole shebang was too rowdy, the ruckus too noisy for his sensitive ears.
Excusing himself from the merriment, he had intended to take a quiet day to himself, relaxing in an armchair by the window, where the most worrisome of thoughts would be whether the high altitude winds would blow the clouds such that the sun beat too fierce and the sunlight too warm or faint.
In the end he would have neither worry.
How he ended up smack dab in the throng of it was beyond him. Meanwhile Neiro was grinning like the Cheshire cat himself.
Still, he supposed there could be worse.
"What is this for?" He found himself asking as Neiro put various cuts through a grinder and kneaded spices into the meat. From the looks of things, his flatmate intended to twist out the sausages through traditional methods.
"C'mon Sigh, lend me a hand. We're going to be the best stand for Oktoberfest!"
"By making Brätwursts."
The albino nodded enthusiastically.
"Most people are going to want a taste of the beer, but I suppose traditional food would be a nice 'up and coming' runner up." Neiro just grinned, "Hey, s' long as people enjoy it right?"
"Hn."
Everything was going pretty well until he saw the booth itself in all its glory.
A sign in elegant old script scrawled out, "Witzle Schnitzel PurWitzle McSchnitzel" and in smaller text at the bottom, "The Ol' Sausage Stand"
Silas decided he didn't need nor want to know.
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