"Lately, we've all received letters from home, haven't we?" Ocoro said loudly to the others.
But these people, each one of them dressed in very bizarre outfits, could easily be described as a motley crew of demons.
"We've all received them, more than one. Our families condemn our actions and order us to cease the spread of new art," one person said, a mix of anger and sorrow on their face.
"I want to know what everyone really thinks of our own actions."
"Of course, it's avant-garde. It's our own behavior, our pursuit of art."
"We are the torrent of the new era; the old must be swept into the dustbin of history."
"Exactly, why should their word be right? The border nobles have accepted us already, yet these old fogeys insist on clinging to their outdated ways. Can't they see that their methods are centuries old?"
"Not just centuries old, probably millennia old. Those things are the relics of countries that have long since perished."
