A festival. A festival that lasted for days. She would have spurned such foolishness a few months prior. Part of her still did. So why was she here, sitting on the docks with her ankles crossed and a fishing rod in her hands?

Hell if she knew.

The bobber crested each tiny wave as she absently dragged her baited hook through the water below. There wasn't any other part of the festivities that she really cared about. Fishing, at least, served a practical purpose. It was food, and the more land the Calamity covered, the more scarce food would surely become.

So she fished. She'd already caught several fat sea bass and flounders, stinking up the bucket she'd dumped them in. One of them might win a prize, or not. It didn't matter. Very little did anymore.