There's smoke hanging in the air in delicate plumes, and the breeze that eventually comes to carry them away brings with it something fresh and sweet and delicate; the first hints of spring already making themselves known.
It's only early evening yet, but it's already loud. Revellers are out in droves, some drunk off the excited atmosphere, others just plain drunk.
Dozens of different stalls of swindlers, from local tinkerers to big-time traders, have popped up overnight to pawn their wares and herald in an auspicious new year. They're arranged haphazardly at best, and the disorganisation of it all really adds to the excitement.
It's all kinds of chaotic and messy and fun and Jinx _loves it_. This time of year has always been her favourite; the one time of the year when the chaos around her is enough that she doesn't have to go out of her way to blow something up. Well, maybe only something small. Or a few small somethings.
It probably helps that the air is almost constantly filled with the muffled explosions of fireworks that leave the air heavy with smoke and a delicious ozone tang that soothes the fires in her chest.
They do have an end-of-year festival back home in Zaun, which is not entirely unlike the Lunar Revel above (what use is a _moon _ festival to those who cannot see the sky), but the celebrations are, like most things in Zaun, noticeably _darker_. More sombre. Less _fun_.
It is more a celebration of having survived another year than welcoming the coming year. Besides, there are no fun Wardens to play with in Zaun and sometimes it’s just nice to feel like someone cares.
It's well known that Piltover has the best Revel celebrations and every year it brings in tourists from far and wide. During the week-long celebration the population of the entire city pours out onto the streets and loses themselves in dancing and feasts and raucous conversations with friends and strangers alike. The music and fireworks only cease just enough for the people to sleep, and even then, just barely. If at all.
Piltover was known far and wide as the city of progress and ingenuity. But, most importantly, they knew how to throw a party.
She remembers (kind of) the first time she'd been allowed to stay up the whole night out in the Revel, just for the night of the New Year itself. She was-(6? 8?) shorter than she is now and Fishbones (it could have been Zapper, but she thinks it was Fishbones) had bundled her up in her warmest coat (maybe it was her mother?), even though the chill in the air had already begun to thaw some weeks before, and pressed a few coins into her small hands with a smile (_her sister?_). It wasn't very much, but to a gleeful child giddy with Revel it might as well have been enough to buy the world.
She had made herself sick on candies and fried food from the street vendors (a lot of them had been giving her extra for free, but she didn't know that). She'd danced in the street with a bunch of loud Revellers to the tune of some-or-other Bilgewater dirge and fallen asleep in (Fishbones'?) arms well before midnight, but she'd had so much fun that she didn't really mind. At some point in the evening she'd bought a sack of fireworks from Old Man Corki's colourful dragon-shaped stall and spent the next three days setting them off anywhere and _everywhere_.
She buys a sack (or five) of fireworks from Corki's stall for old-time’s sake. The sharp, chalky smell of gunpowder lingers around his obnoxious red-gold-purple stall so thickly she can just about feel it in her bones, and it's probably her favourite scent ever. Or maybe fire was. Or explosions. Or- well it was definitely in her top ten at least.
She giggles as she liberates a few kebabs of something from a much more _boring _ looking little stall across the way while its owner pays a bit too much attention to a couple of cute Vastaya girls with pretty tails and pointed ears. She leaves a firecracker - fuse-lit and merrily burning down – on his counter for payment.
Pleased with the success she skips joyfully down the street looking for a good place to sit and go through her haul, idly chatting with Fishbones and Pow-pow (Zapper was still giving her the cold-shoulder since she forgot to charge his power core last week).
In the corner of her eye she catches a flash of furred ears and goggles ducking through the crowds and she smirks to herself. It wasn't the first time she’d run into her fluffy compatriot Ziggs at the Lunar Revel and it wouldn't be the last.
It really is a pity the festivities keep the Wardens so busy this time of year. A pity for everyone else, that is.
So far she’s kept it fairly tame (hey, it’s a holiday, cut a girl some slack!). It’s less fun when there’s nobody around to enjoy her antics anyway. Caitlyn always gets pretty reticent at this time of year – probably all of that stupid _planning _ and _ thinking_ stuff she loves to do – like an absent wraith pulling the Wardens’ puppet strings. And _~~bestest-buddy-super-favourite-don't-tell-Pow-pow~~_ Vi is off somewhere doing, like, _Very Important Warden Stuff_, or whatever. _Pfft_.
Still, Jinx has never been one to let the absence of an audience bring the mood down. She spent the morning setting of paint-keg-bombs (thanks Ziggs!) until half the private marina was covered in a sickly combination of hot pink and puke green (the way they dripped together into a disgusting brown mess was _to die for_), and when that got boring she explored the streets – replacing every apple she found with a grinning flame chomper. She may or may not also have found time to _weld her name into the Sun Gate_... Maybe.
By mid-week she's growing a little bored of the festivities. She is only human (probably) after all.
Zapper makes a stupid joke about the people enjoying the Revel (in a way that relates them to ducks swallowing grapes) and she has to hold in a snort so she doesn't encourage him. Sometimes his jokes don't even make sense to her, and she's crazy. (At least they're on speaking terms again - Zapper has always been bad at holding grudges... _Pop-pow_ on the other hand...) She hasn't slept in a few days (no rest for the ~~wicked~~ insane) which probably isn't helping.
The stockpile of fireworks and small explosives she's been amassing in her dingy little studio apartment above a clock-maker's workshop (it's dusty and nearly devoid of furniture but it's cheap and they don't ask questions and it's hers…kind of) is burning a hole in her proverbial pocket. There's an echo of _pop-pop-pop-bang-plink-pop!_ as firecrackers go off just outside her window and she huffs; the breath she expels makes the long fringe of her hair dance in front of her nose.
Her skin is starting to get all static-y and itches something fierce, just the way it always does before she goes and does something explosive (fun!).
Eventually she decides that holing up with a literal pile of explosives and weapons probably isn't helping her keep a lid on it, so she changes into her favourite red Revel dress (so what, she's allowed to dress for the occasion, and it really brings out the green in her hair and the crazy in her eyes) and slips back out into the mayhem.
Oh well, time to have a little _fun_.