Submission (#1943) Approved

Firefly's alarm clock started screaming and ripped him from a particularly pleasant dream about one of his first successful shows. He curled himself deeper under the blankets and waited for it to turn off.

And waited… 

Waited…….

His temper grew with every passing second of that obnoxious blaring. Why hasn’t his Pomu turned it off yet? Annoyed now, he shot up with the intention of grumpily glaring at the creature who was perpetuating his suffering, only for his gaze to meet with a slightly glowing blue hunk of crystal.

“Oh… that time of the year again, huh?” 

Somehow, he never saw this coming. Maybe because his schedule usually kept him too busy to even remember the day of the week half the time. With a half-grumble, half-sigh, he shut off the stupid alarm and hopped to his feet.  

Firefly never really cared for his Pomu. Even as a kittom, he just… didn’t take much of an interest. To him, it was kind of like having an imaginary friend, except not imaginary and who hides in your shadow weirdly and doesn’t really talk. Almost like having a pet, even - and he doesn’t like pets. Maybe it was because it didn't manifest until later in his kittomhood after he'd already lost himself in his ambitions and cared for little else.

It was a little past noon, and yet the sun would never rise here. This land of eternal night might make it hard for newcomers to tell the time, but to him, it was great being able to wake up whenever he wanted and not be bothered by annoying sunrays blinding him through the window. Plus, he had grown accustomed to the din of music and chatter and general nightlife outside his apartment so the sounds of the city didn’t keep him awake. They help lull him to sleep each night, if anything. 

He stalked over to the wash bin and splashed his face with water that was unexpectedly cold. Usually his Pomu would have heated it up by now… What a pain. 

With another heavy sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen and prepared his own breakfast that was usually already laid out for him. Today’s morning meal: uncut fruit in a bowl. He wouldn’t necessarily call himself spoiled, especially not by his Pomu, of all things… but each year he was reminded just how convenient the little thing was. 

He was an adult. He could take care of himself just fine. 

It was just annoying.

He didn’t bother cleaning up before pulling on his shawl and heading out into the city. Trailing uselessly behind him was his Pomu crystal, tucked within a dazzling lantern adorned with stars and glitter and his own name. Not made by him, of course; he had people for that. He would have just stuffed it into a plain white paper ball, but he had to keep up appearances.

Walking the streets of Silveil almost always lifted his mood. The crowds, the dazzling lights on the sides of buildings, the music. He tossed a coin to an amateur busker playing violin with a wink and a smile. He would have preferred to stay within the city proper, but today’s plans took him down the path leading towards the surrounding forest where his manager was planning a small event. 

It’s not that he didn’t like nature… he just would rather stay near civilization and revel in all the comforts and conveniences it provided. And nature could be so dirty. He watched his every step carefully through the woods, pulling a face whenever his paws almost touched something he didn’t want them touching. Not even the giant glowing mushrooms and other bioluminescent flora could make him want to come this far willingly. The one thing they did have going for them, though, was the way they bathed the path in a soft blue light that’s reminiscent of the city he loves so much. He wondered briefly if the mushrooms grew this way because of that, or if Silveil modeled its aesthetic after them. 

What’s even more annoying was the fact he had to carry his own stuff. His Pomu usually handled that, always knowing what he needed and taking it out of his shadow pouch exactly when he needed it. Now, he was the one carrying it. He shot a glare behind him at the inanimate crystal through the paper. 

He sighed for the fifth time that day as he walked into the clearing to meet his manager.