[open seasonal event] Got a light?

WESSEX out of the night that covers me This had once been her favorite Festival. A grand, bubble-wide effort to throw off the darkness of Deepfrost and celebrate life the way it was supposed to be lived. For a day, they all forget their fears and woes and the dead. They make a promise to each other to shine for all those who do not shine any more. The old, the young, the infirm - they are all carried and wheeled out, come rain or shine. Which means that this is one of the few days when Wessex will brave the sunshine in order to be amongst her people. She’s probably fairly recognizable, necessity demanding that she swathe herself in a cloak - again - and let’s be honest, Wessex doesn’t have a colorful cloak, or even a colorful scrap of clothing to her name. She manages to venture out in the afternoon, avoiding the strongest part of the day, though her limbs and head strongly protest. First things first: her homage to the deadly sun. Thirty seven years of tradition die hard, and to be honest, she has nothing against the fiery ball of death. It brings life to everyone else. Instead, as she weaves her way through the stalls to the Wheel of Fire on the other side of the Festival, she takes it as an opportunity for remembrance. They say you die twice: once when your body is no longer useful, and again when your name is spoken for the last time. So when Wessex takes the candle for the Wheel, she has a small list of names and faces on her tongue: Mother, Magrethe, Aedion, Kristopher, 108. Each name goes into the match, the wick and the flame. And then she steps back with a glance towards the revelry and merry-making, feeling rather outside of it all. She’s always been an outsider, but even with the New World in front of them and what seems like a thousand opportunities, Wessex knows that until she is strong enough to be able to walk amongst them during the day, she will be an other. It’s bittersweet. So the hooded and cloaked figure stands and watches for a little while longer, lost in her own thoughts against a backdrop of fire. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul