[SWE] The Festival of Lights

Vervain had been distracted by the beauty of the fire and the materials scattered about for others to make lanterns, a faint smile on her face. She'd found her daughter otherwise she might have made a lantern for her at a festival like this... but there was someone else she might quite like to see. She had moved on from Trusten, certainly - the fact that she was so wildly and passionately bound to Devrum spoke that much - but to see her first husband again for a moment, to assure him that Ashetta was alright and that she had finally found them... and to apologise. For not being fast enough... that would be nice. By the time she dragged her attention back to the present, she became suddenly aware that Remi was no longer quite with her. Once glance at the hawk told her that he wasn't well and, worried that he might stagger into the fire (and secretly, darkly concerned that he might also shift into the beast), Vervain stepped forward to grip him by the shoulders, guiding him away from the flames if she could. "Hey," she said quickly. "What's the matter? Look at me, Remi. Do you want to sit down?" vervain face the wind

"Lantern.." The alchemist muttered with an almost prophetic chill in his voice. "She had a lantern.. it was what she used and–" Trailing off Remi whirled around, eyes wide but not seeing. The lights blurred together. The voices sounded like whispers, and though it all, Remi was sure he could hear her voice again. Calling ... beckoning...promising.. Only he hadn't been alone then, but now? With his heart beating frenetically in his chest though no longer beating for anyone? Clenching and unclenching his fists, Remi vaguely was aware that Vai had spoken to him. She had, hadn't she? Whirling back to face her, Remi looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see a swamp of muck ready to swallow them up. "This is...I don't think..." Remi swallowed hard. "I do not think this is a good thing." R ? M I Since you burned me at the stake, all of my feelings went away At least there’s no feelings in my way

"A... a lantern? Who did?" It took a moment for Vai to piece together what the alchemist meant, but given their most recent interactions and what he had said, it wasn't too difficult to figure it out. Blue eyes widened a fraction and she moved to take hold of his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Okay," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder as well as if trying to see what he was looking for. But all she could make out was the sea of lanterns, and those few familiar faces that had come to join in the festivities. "Shall we go?" she asked Remi. "I'll just need to tell Devrum, but if this is making you feel uncomfortable, I'll leave with you." Like hell was she letting him walk off into the night on his own like this. vervain face the wind

Flinching as Vai took his hands, Remi abruptly pulled them away. He knew it was absurd and that Vai would never willingly lead him into danger (and even if she did, it wouldn't be the slowly sinking into a put of mud kind), but the shock and chill that raced through his bones was too much to take. The world swam and spun again. The lights were everywhere, his mothers voice singing in his ears. Glancing nervously over his shoulder, Remi tried to take a steadying breath. Instead of having the intended effect of course, oxygen flooded his brain making everything monumentally worse. The world was a blur. His heart was pounding and through the frenetic drumbeat of it and the blood in his ears, all he could hear was her. Softly calling. Just out of arms reach, begging for him to stay with her. Promising to never leave. The lanterns bloomed brightly even as the world shifted into a black madness. And Remi fainted. R E M I I followed your ashes into outer space

Vai let him go the second he flinched, holding her hands up as if to assure him she didn't mean him any harm. "Remi..." she began, trying to keep his attention or to get anything out of him - how he was feeling or what he was seeing, what he needed or wanted. But then he glanced away and she could almost see him slipping away, the huntress cursing and trying to reach out and steady him, but he was gone before she could do a thing. "Devrum !" The bear man's name left her lips without a moment's hesitation, Vai leaning down beside the unconscious alchemist, trying to check him over even as she glanced up and out across the field to where she hoped her husband would have heard. She got the impression that if Remi woke up in this sea of lights he would be far from calmed, but she couldn't exactly get him out of here alone. vervain face the wind

A sudden thud nearby drew his attention, and Desmond looked away from Asavvi and over his shoulder. Bright blue eyes widened at the sight of a young man on the ground and a woman bending over next to him with a name shouted from her lips. He didn’t know the man or the woman, but that hardly mattered. The healer turned away from his conversation, trotting the short distance between himself and the unconscious man. Desmond knelt down next to him, his fingers immediately looking for a pulse. Thankfully he found one. He looked at the woman, his energy calm though his heart was racing. He didn’t remember anyone collapsing at the last festival. ”Miss, please, keep his legs up,” the man directed, not even thinking at first about the fact that Vervain would have no idea who he was. If he wasn’t stopped, he would begin to loosen all of the clothing on Remi that could have been constricting, allowing for better blood flow. He would place his finger under Remi’s nose, feeling for breath, then turn to the woman. ”Who’s Devrum? Can he bring him somewhere private?” The focused energy broke for just a moment, as he remembered himself. ”I’m Desmond. I’m, uh, a healer.” A doctor? No, but he absolutely knew what he was doing, especially on the fly like this. desmond Talk to the Moon, Heal the Soul

Golden eyes continued to watch that dark lantern, and she never moved. Her ears remained forward, the black wolf carefully listening to the festivities. All seemed quite hushed, a gentle sort of celebration she wasn’t quite sure she understood. She heard some - a way to contact lost loved ones? Her pelt shuddered at that. Facing the ones she had loved and lost would be her reckoning. One day she would be forced to truly atone for it all, but she selfishly was not eager to hurry that along, facing them: Trusten, Jasper, MJ, Harold, Felicity, Isabella… no, Ashetta did not want to contact the dead. She doubted they wanted to hear from her. She kept track of all those familiar scents of her family and friends, her eyes glancing to those she could see now and then. She avoided looking towards one smell in particular, couldn’t bear even looking at him. She didn’t have the right to. With her attention on that lantern and the mess of smells and clamour of sounds, she almost didn’t notice the small child that had caught sight of her and was moving quickly towards her. The smell hit her first, mixed thickly with wet paint, and her eyes flashed as they snapped to the form of a black-haired, blue eyed little girl making her way over. Ashe pushed up to a sitting position, massive paws digging into the dirt as her eyes went wide - no one was supposed to even see her, let alone approach her. She should have been more still, become nothing at all, but then that girl was there before she could move to run. Wide golden eyes blinked down at the little girl as her paint-covered hands pushed into Ashetta’s thick coat. Smears of bright color interrupted the unbroken black of her fur now as the little girl smiled up at her, and the wolf tilted her head down at child, ears perked forward as paint was smeared over her shoulder, her chest, over the side of her face. Who was this? A child unattended just.. Strolling up to a wolf. Ashe dropped her nose down to brush over the little girl’s shoulder, eliciting a small giggle from her as the wolf scanned the gathering of people. Her parents had to be around somewhere, right? She’d return the smile and take the excuse of being covered in pain to leave. She started sniffing the air as the girl continued finger-painting on the wolf, seeking out a scent similar to the child’s - Snowy pines and sea mist, leather and work - Her eyes settled on Kalt within moments of catching his scent, and he was heading straight for her and the little girl. Her heart suddenly skyrocketed in it’s pace and now every instinct was roaring at her to run, to get away from here - why had she stayed? She only wanted to see what all the lights were about, she didn’t need to stay.. But the little girl was dropping her hands and looking back as the man approached, and she caught the word ”Papa”. Ashe blinked up at him as a realization struck her, and she didn’t know what to make of the way it felt in her chest as she looked down at the little girl. Kalt’s little girl. She hadn’t really thought to wonder whether or not Kalt had moved on too. Ashe shifted where she sat, and there was now a raven-haired young woman sitting just in front of the little girl, looking down at her with eyes just about as curious as the child’s. The girl’s eyes seemed to glimmer up at the paint-smeared assassin, and Ashe made herself smile at her. ”I’ll bet you just made a lantern,” she said softly. She then turned her gaze back up to Kalt, and her smile wavered, her eyes guttering as she rose smoothly from where she crouched. She didn’t move forward, not back, didn’t move in any direction at all. Leave, Ashe, it’s time to go. ”I should go,” she said quietly, eyes flickering across his face before she tore them away, her heart getting too light in her chest. She was about to make true on that, to say farewell to Kalt and his.. His daughter.. But the sound of a near-panicked voice had her snapping her head around to its source. Her mother, calling out to her father and.. Her eyes locked upon Vervain, and.. Was that Remi on the ground? It didn’t matter how sure she was that her presence in the lives of her family was entirely a bad thing, she wouldn’t ignore this. Ashe flashed wide blue eyes up at Kalt then, and she wondered if he would follow as she turned back towards the commotion, breaking into a jog to close the distance. ”Mom?” Ashe called as she approached, and she quickly assessed - a healer tending to an unconscious Remi , Vervain leaning over him. Devrum had been called, and the assassin glanced about for him as she stood far enough away not to crowd the huntress and the shapechanger. Every nerve was alive, and she suddenly couldn’t take her eyes from Remi. ”What happened?” Did someone hurt him? What do I need to do? As soon as she was sure the hawk was alright, that her mother had this, that her father did, she would go. She had to leave. Still it pinged in the back of her mind, waiting to come out when whatever this crisis was passed: He had a daughter. ashetta it's live or die my way.

Vervain raised her eyebrows at the man who suddenly approached, having no choice but to shift back and let him get to work. The frown on her face was one of worry, and she did as he instructed though her hands were tingling with the healing magic she was getting increasingly used to tapping into. "Good to meet you, Desmond. I'm Vai - Devrum is my husband, and that was certainly my intention. It was the light and the lanterns..." She didn't really want to press further than that, looking over Remi again with concern. Ashetta's voice had her glancing quickly about, Vervain smiling reassuringly to her daughter. "It's alright," she told her. She hoped. "Remi fainted - he wasn't feeling well, so we're going to take him somewhere quieter where he can come around and get checked out." vervain face the wind

J O R Y

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Jory had always maintained that it wasn’t his fault that no one seemed to appreciate his particular brand of humor. Sometimes he would bristle a bit at the lack of appreciation for his antics but it was rare that he took the time to try an explain anything; easier, he thought, to shrug and move on to the next entertainment. Amalia apparently didn’t think a nip on the nose was a proper greeting, but her greeting had him puffing out his feathers with a haughty little birdy squawk. Still, when she dipped her shoulder, he rolled off obligingly and let himself fall toward the earth.

He’s a man again before he hits the ground, dipping in a crouch to catch his momentum before springing back up to glare at Amalia. There’s no real heat behind the gaze, and his hands found his hips as he leaned into her space and gave him all the airs of a scolding older sibling. “Who told you my full name?!” In all likelihood it had been him but that wasn’t really what was important here. He looked around at Ronin and Edrei like he expected them to sympathize and shrugged a shoulder to indicate Amalia. “You’ll want to watch out for this one lads, lures you in with pastries but she’s a canny character. Spends too much time with, you know….books.”

His face is severe for a moment (as if books are a terror inducing subject for anyone other than his illiterate ass) but it cracks into a grin again as he looks back at the Librarian and gives her a cheeky wink. Without missing a beat, Jorseval flopped to the ground, pulling in his gangly limbs to sit cross-legged in the dirt and held out a finger to the little wildcat. “You might as well eat me, apparently I have no secrets anymore.”

Edy #nofilter Amalia answers and that answer absolutely thrills the teenager, her pleasure displayed in a bright and glistening array of teeth. Closer now with the firelight contouring Amalia's features in a way that was almost pointless, Edy all but purred as her dark eyes took in the topography of the woman's face. Even as she dropped down to look at Bobi Edy's eyes scoured the lines of her body with a hungry approval that she wouldn't have tried to hide even if Amalia had eyes in the back of her head. At their feet, Bobi broke her stare aware from Jorseval to eye Amalia for a moment. Despite having been all but found in a pool of blood, the kitten did not know fear. Without a parent to teach it the healthy respect for human-kind that it should probably have, it knew nothing but the predatory dominance bred into it. And so as Amalia stared, Bobi stared right back...though her eyes were wide and not focused. Well, not focused on Amalia anyways. With a tight coiling of her muscles, the kitten pounced! Paws outstretched, eyes intent on the crow and --! --and! With a frightened hiss of outrage, Bobi fled behind Edy's legs, looking up at the no-longer-crow with flat eyes made wide given her dilated pupils. Glancing at Ronin, Edy grinned and nodded. "Yep. Turned up in the infirmary. Something locked its mother away with some others..." Carelessly the former-guard shrugged. "Isla was going to look into it." She said by way of casual explanation. Edy wasn't a guard anymore, and so if Ronin wanted more details than that, he could chase them down himself. That Jorseval was a shapechanger was only mildly surprising really. That Amalia was a baker was the real interest. "Ahh, sweets during the day, trouble at night?" Edy purred delighted, watching the man-crow out of the corner of her eyes as he splayed himself on the ground. Behind her, Bobi watched this unsympathetically and through their bond Edy could feel a healthy dose of skepticism as well as hunger. "Go on then. What more permission you need?" She encouraged the little kitten (thinking nothing of the life-long damage this would probably do to Bobi in terms of hunting practices). And so, taking Edy's word as gospel, Bobi pounced at Jorseval once again.

Any other night, she might have engaged the crow-shifter and taunted him back, or, don’t know, maybe have tried to shoot him with an arrow. Fun stuff like that. Not tonight. Jorseval does, however, successfully get her attention and elicits a muttered “Fuck off…” towards the already departed bird before returning to her brooding. Wessex loses herself in the darkness, letting her eyes unfocus and her ears shut. Images run through her head; happy mornings, evenings of despair, little moments that no one else might find significant… but there are fewer now than there were last year. She sighs. Her body may virtually live forever, but she will eventually forget the specifics: the feeling of her mother’s hugs, her sister’s laugh… the pain when they died. She will be numb. The New Gods took death from her, and with it, took that which made her most alive. Wessex is nothing more than an intelligent machine now. So. Maybe it’s a good thing they’re dead. By the time she returns to the real world, there’s quite a bit of commotion from the gathered Outlanders. She scowls. The least they could do is be respectful. Lips curl up over her fangs as she turns towards the group. All are welcome. All are welcome. All are welcome. All are welcome... Ah, fuck it. Wessex quickly stalks towards the bonfire and grabs two cups of alcohol, tossing their contents on the flames, causing them to whoosh briefly upwards in front of her. The strangers may invade their land, build over what should be forgotten, and eat what precious livestock and food they have left, but Wessex would be damned if the Outlanders would take their festivals, too. Even now, they seem to overrun this important place. And this is one native who’s had enough. "If you aren't here to remember the dead, leave." WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets Books and baking and an outraged crow. This breed of ridiculousness should have made Ronin's head spin, but as a man who had once mistaken belladonna for blueberries (subsequently imagining Devrum as his fairy god bear) he took it all very much in his stride. What Edrei had to say was concerning, however, and he arched an eyebrow from the bobcat kitten to the ex-Guard. "Did she?" He wasn't a captain anymore either so it wasn't really his business to look into something not caused by a slavering monster, but... that didn't mean he wouldn't. Suddenly, somewhere behind them the flames roared higher, drawing the hunter's attention. Ronin frowned at the cold voice he heard ringing out across the gathering, his blue eyes flicking back to the lanterns Amalia had set up. "So that's what they are for? To remember the dead?"

Lights shimmered through the darkness. What the hell? The assassin stalked closer, squinting her eyes in an attempt to make sense of the scene before her. There are so many. She crept closer still, peering through the night, taking note of the many others who seemed to be gathering. Finally, Sarya was close enough to see the source of the lights. She stopped, cocking her head to the side, a puzzle look in her eyes. "Wait... floating lights? For a few moments she merely watched, entranced. The closest lantern was made of colored glass, coaxed into a beautiful, vibrant pattern. It floated in the wind, bobbing slowly up and down, spinning lazily in an invisible breeze. It was so strange, so foreign, so... beautiful. Footsteps pulled her from her daze, and Sarya snapped her eyes away from the light, scanning the surrounding area for any threat. It was a wasted effort; no one saw her. Or, at least, they didn't care if they saw her. And why would they? She wasn't a wanted criminal here. She began to wander, for the first time in her life, toward the crowd instead of away. There were so many faces, all foreign to her, and she walked past them all. Every now and then she would stop at a lantern, admiring the handiwork that went into their creation, wondering where such glamour came from in such a desolate land. Then she would move on, allowing herself to be steered by the crowd. A familiar face appeared in a small group of people--Edrei, the bartender who had been so welcoming when Sarya first arrived in this land. Sarya hesitated--she didn't know Edy's companions, and she wasn't one to jump headfirst into social situations--but eventually shrugged. Her desire for knowledge outweighed her preference for solitude, and within moments she found herself at Edy's side. "Hello, beautiful," she purred, fluttering her lashes at the bartender. "Fancy seeing you here." Her gaze wandered briefly over Amalia, Jorseval, and Ronin--all strangers--and then back to Edy. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering... what is this?" She gestured vaguely to the lights around them, tipping her head to the side as she waited for an explanation. text. "talk" Sarya Daemenor so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing

Jorseval falls from her shoulder with ungainly grace, tumbling back into human form under Amalia's softening glare. Who could help but crack a smile, surrounded as she is by light and memory? Some find the festival morose, a time for mourning, but the young baker prefers to take this opportunity to see the good in others, including aggravating crows. She doesn't know where she learned his name - probably from her grandmother shouting it - but the wild priest does not seem to care, continuing on some nonsense about luring in and books. An eyebrow arches on her angular face. "Why are you so afraid of learning?" she teases, but the harshness is gone from her alto voice.

Edrei 's smile is a fierce light in the dark, her purr at once more frightening and thrilling than anything the bobkitten could do. Amalia flushes, her skin warming uncomfortably under the unexpected onslaught of attention, a shiver, unbidden, tracking her spine. Flirting - is this flirting? - is as far from her comfort zone as anything could be, far enough that she still treats it with skepticism when it strikes her in the face. All she manages to choke out is a strained and flustered "Mm-hm,", her attention focused studiously on Jory and the bobkitten. The crow's continued antics are a rare blessing in disguise, and Amalia finds herself soothed by their familiarity. Besides, the flirting probably wasn't even meant for her. Or flirting at all. Or anything. Or-

-Oh thank Rae someone's asking questions.

Amalia turns quickly to Ronin, thrilled to be back in comfortable territory. "Yes," she confirms as another joins their small group, seemingly intent on the flirtatious stranger. Her girlfriend? The baker mentally shrugs, trying to ignore the bitter loneliness that pricks against her brain. Dark eyes flicker across her own string of lanterns, dancing merrily in the wind. "The dead, or the gone. I hang lanterns for the Old Gods," and my family- but she does not add that last piece. Who are they to know, or care, about her loss? The Gods are for everyone, but her family... well, that is just for her.

Suddenly she shifts her pack onto the ground and kneels beside it, reaching in and rummaging around before plucking out a large package wrapped in burlap. "Would you like some bread?" she questions shyly, looking between the outlanders (and pointedly ignoring Jory) "I always make four loaves for the festival - one for each of the Gods." She unwraps the package, revealing four lovingly - if perhaps not masterfully - crafted loaves: herb, cheese, chocolate, and plain.

amalia chandrakant

we might be hollow, but we're brave

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