Not lanterns left to float away this time, but those held dear from year to year. The bard arrived without fanfare, a scarf to keep away the chill of the Hollowed Grounds still wrapped around his throat and head, hiding the usual white of it as he made his way to an unoccupied spot along the sand with his small box of memories. Magic leapt to his fingertips as he created a small wooden tree for them, a construct rather than a living thing made of Earth and Creation magic, with a half-dozen branches to hold the lanterns that he placed. Last year's memorials were hung first, with a silent prayer to each, fond remembrance lightening the pain at the loss of good friends. Isla, Edrei, even 108.
This year's lanterns were hung with more solemnity, the pain still thick in his chest. Caiside, with his cylindrical lantern of paper flames upon the walls of it, the sun motif along the top edges, and the antlers spread from the handle. Adam, his rectangular lantern with its paper sides of crimson and black, silver scales painted across the darker paper, and a magpie's nest of shiny odds and ends hanging below it. Maea, a white and silver lantern of thin sheets of beaten metal and a motif of lilies picked out in pinpricks through the silver. Magic flame blossomed to life in each of them, light and shadows dancing within.
The last lantern was simple in design, but unlike the others it was made of delicate glass, black except for the pattern of snowflakes that fell down the sides from the top half. Within, hidden in the shadows, was a simple white mask upon a stylized glass crate. No candle lit that lantern, but a small light of magic fire flickered within, glowing ever-so-faintly if one managed to catch the shadows just right.
This year's lanterns were hung with more solemnity, the pain still thick in his chest. Caiside, with his cylindrical lantern of paper flames upon the walls of it, the sun motif along the top edges, and the antlers spread from the handle. Adam, his rectangular lantern with its paper sides of crimson and black, silver scales painted across the darker paper, and a magpie's nest of shiny odds and ends hanging below it. Maea, a white and silver lantern of thin sheets of beaten metal and a motif of lilies picked out in pinpricks through the silver. Magic flame blossomed to life in each of them, light and shadows dancing within.
The last lantern was simple in design, but unlike the others it was made of delicate glass, black except for the pattern of snowflakes that fell down the sides from the top half. Within, hidden in the shadows, was a simple white mask upon a stylized glass crate. No candle lit that lantern, but a small light of magic fire flickered within, glowing ever-so-faintly if one managed to catch the shadows just right.
