[SWE] Festival of Lights - 319PC

Theea

cause every night i lie in bed
the brightest colors fill my head

I keep searching, sipping my cider slow. The heat hums in my chest, steady and bright. I spot Deimos and lift a hand with a bright grin, and then I’m moving again—easy steps, no rush. I watch for my parents, too, greedy for every glimpse of them together like a pair of suns finally sharing the same sky.

Lanterns glow everywhere, a quilt of small constellations on the grass. I admire each one and feel… grateful mine isn’t among them. Let the light find someone who needs it tonight.

A soft feline chirp pulls my head around—little sounds that became quickly familiar. There she is: Aria, bright-eyed and barreling toward me. I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face. I crouch, dress brushing the cool grass, and rub my fingers through her thick, soft pelt. When she tumbles, I laugh out loud and scrub her belly. "Hi, trouble," I murmur, warmth flooding me like morning.

Damien must be nearby.

I stand—and my breath hitches because he’s right there, dark eyes arresting mine as he says, a simple, ”Evening." My heart stumbles in surprise. Everything else—the music, the lanterns, the gentle noise of the festival—goes soft around the edges. His voice is warmer than I expected.

I answer with a smile I can feel all the way through, "Evening," matching his quiet tone, the same warm undercurrent threading through it.

He frowns—thoughtful—and the festival rushes back into focus. My grin turns radiant. I catch one of his hands and give it a quick, certain squeeze. The words race out of me, bright and breathless. "I don’t need it. I never needed it."

My heart is pounding; I’m almost bouncing. "My father was alive the whole time, Damien," I say, joy spilling over. "He’s home!"

a million dreams are keeping me awake

// where your body hears the words of the sun //

“I thought you enjoyed mingling,” and she winked, opting to keep the mood light instead of amidst the potential for melancholy. And truthfully, she considered Zavien something of an extrovert – but perhaps the circumstances at the annual Festival were a bit too much. “There are a couple leaders here too, if you want to set conversations in motion.” Mere mentions of the latest news and information, so that at least there’d been some awareness of Zavien’s impending rise amidst Stormbreak.

But if he wasn’t comfortable with it, the Caretaker wouldn’t be pushing the onslaught, preferring the table of food and beverages. As tempting as it was to have some refreshing wine, she shook her head. “Spiced, I think,” snagging at one of the rich ciders.

Lena

// spoken in the voices of trees //

If you feel like night is falling

"Mm, of course." His lips quirk at the image of Melita pocketing every stray duck she conjures amid her naps and blasts of water, saving them up for whatever occasions required her to plant them in testament to chaos and fun. He hands his quietly to Goose, who sets into it like a toddler with a pacifier.

He glances up from the dog in time to see Deimos' wave, and lifts his hand in return, smiling back at the Sword and his boy. Oblivious to the miniature war that occurred within her as he grips her hand, his attention is drawn back to her quickly, abandoning the idea of watching over the crowd. "What?" A small laugh puffs free, more breath than sound, as he glances from the curve of her daring features to the ammunition held aloft. She would do it anyway, likely turn invisible and leave him gawking as the only apparent offender too if they caught wind of the source. She'd at least interrupt their assault while invisible too, he images, maybe stick a leg out to trip them. He shrugs, the possibilities of her chaos too endless to imagine all of them.

"Ten points for their head, five for anywhere else."

Iskra

I wanna be the one you're calling

Damien

i'm trying to run from our pride

For a heartbeat he froze, startled by the sudden warmth of her fingers wrapping around his own. He wasn’t used to that kind of ease—not from her, not from anyone. His instinct told him to draw back, to tuck his hand away where it belonged, but the joy in her face kept him still. The hesitation bled into his shoulders, but after a beat he closed his fingers around hers, careful, like he was afraid to hold on too tight.

Her words hit him like the wake of a lantern flaring. Alive. Home.

A smile pulled across his mouth before he could stop it. Genuine, though a little crooked, as if it had to fight its way through the ache her news pressed into his chest. She deserved this—her father alive, her family whole again. For her, he could be glad. But behind that gladness, a smaller voice whispered the old truth: his parents would never come walking out of the dark, never step into the lantern glow with open arms. That emptiness flickered sharp, then dulled as he forced it aside for her.

"That's good. I’m glad, Theea,” he said, voice rough but steady, “You should have him back. Your family together again. You deserve that.” He gave her hand a final squeeze before letting it go, slow enough to make it clear the retreat was choice, not rejection.

The corners of his mouth tilted again, softer this time, something like relief bleeding into his tone. He watched her practically bounce with joy, and though part of him stayed on the outside—always on the outside—he let himself stand in that glow with her.

A squeak split the moment. Damien glanced down to see Aria pawing furiously at something in the grass. A bright yellow rubber duck with a Ludo mask, half-buried in the dirt, wobbled with each swat of her paws. The cub chirped, grabbed it between her teeth, and tossed it into the air like a prize, utterly delighted.

Damien huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “Looks like she’s already finding her own party favors.” His eyes flicked back to Theea, lingering longer than he meant them to.

'til you set fire to my atmosphere

Theea

cause every night i lie in bed
the brightest colors fill my head

He squeezes back and releases me, and only then do I realize I grabbed his hand without thinking. Heat climbs fast into my cheeks; I wrap both hands around my cider and take a sip like I can blame the flush on the drink. As if I don’t know what his fingers feel like through my hair, or what his heartbeat sounds like, or how soft and tender his voice gets when he forgets to guard himself.

The warmth that settled there hasn’t really left me.

I’m about to say something—about that night, about nothing at all—when salvation chirps. Aria’s got a prize: a tiny Ludo duck wobbling in the grass. A laugh breaks out of me, bright and small, as she pounces and tosses it, all paws and pride. Relief moves through me like air after holding it too long.

“Here,” I say instead, fishing in my pocket. I hold up my own rubber Ludo-duck, give it two squeaks, and tuck it into the breast pocket of his coat—careful, but not careful enough to keep my fingers from brushing him. “Backup. For when she tears that one to bits. Or… if you get jealous of her.”

He’s got that smile—one of those hidden but true ones—and the lantern near us lines it in pale gold, a quick spark catching in his eyes, and I stare just a moment too long, letting the silence stretch just a little too far. My gaze drops to the lantern in his hand—pine trees, snowflakes, quiet and honest—and a small ache tugs at the edge of my joy. None of this is either of our faults. Still, I feel it, a twinge of guilt for having this when he doesn’t.

I look up and meet his eyes, let warmth do the talking. “Do you want help hanging it?”

a million dreams are keeping me awake

I take everything seriously,

Chuckling, Zavien shook his head at Lena's comment. "I enjoy casually chatting with people, not making a systematic approach to conversations for an intended purpose." 'Mingling' as a leader seemed like something he'd need to treat as a battlefield full of minefields, hoping he could make it across without offending someone and maybe finding himself in a better position than before. But it was something he would have to learn, and he might as well start when the stakes were lower. 

"Well, Advisor," he whispered the word closer to her ear, conspiratorial amusement lacing his question, "who would you recommend first?" He had already spotted Deimos and Sunjata, but had yet to see Flora or Hadama. Then there was the Theocrat, Dantalion, who he'd never even met before. Zavien assumed there would be benefits to approaching someone at the Festival, but he wasn't sure what the implications or considerations should be or what choice that would ultimately leave him with. 

So he let the question hang as Lena picked the spiced cider, grabbing himself a cup to sip on. It sang across his tongue with warm flavors, fighting away the chill of the night and making him hum with appreciation. "Mmm. Good choice."

Zavien

but I also take it lighthearted to recognize I can't control it.

Hotaru

Tonight, you look so lovely
It's your eyes that define me

After the gift Remi and Ronin had provided for so many of them, it had felt almost gluttonous to gather their lanterns in preparation for the journey. Not that gluttony has ever stopped Hotaru - it's why the handles of so many beloved creations are even now clasped within either her hand or Sunjata 's. There will never be too much time spent with lost loved ones. It's worth trying her hand at luck tonight, as with every year.

After seeing Enzo so recently, and her conversation with Rexanna, Hotaru is a bit fixated on the copper-brushed blackened metal frame of her firstborn son's lantern. She lingers, touching it gently with her fingertips, before smiling and turning away from where it now hangs - toward Sunjata's smile.

"Why wait? People hate to be the first on the floor," she points out with a smile of her own, taking his hand and pulling him into a spin that she has to press onto her toes to actually make work - and not without a good deal of bending to be done for his part.

- - -

Ru's viable lantern is for Ru'in !

Thalassa

Feeling much better about life and everything in general, Thal is actually looking forward to the Festival. She doesn't have any lovers or lanterns in tow, but neither does she have a gaping hole in her chest or the associated guilt. Her body feels light as a shadow, untethered from its anchor and given reign to slip through the field. The only sign of her physical form is the cold that catches her skin, encouraging her to pull down the silken sleeves of her ashen gown. It's a brighter color than she's used to wearing, a muted gray that hugs her form like the reflection of smoke on the ocean, but she wears it well, her dark hair and blue eyes standing in contrast as she surveys the crowd. 

Her head dips in friendly greeting to Astaroth and Dantalion, making sure to shoot him a sharp grin that says she hasn't forgotten to include him this time; however, she chooses not to approach, giving the couple some space as she drifts closer to the dance floor. Deft fingers snag a flute of cider, the drink going down easy enough as she lingers just close enough to the dancers to show interest, an invitation sealed with the elegant flick of her tail and the gentle sway of her hips, a siren song for any who cared to listen, beckoning them to lose themselves with her. The enticing image doesn't hint at the sharpness of her fangs or the daggers hidden behind the slit of her dress, security measures for those who might take more than what she's offered.

Would you like me to be smaller, weaker, softer, taller?
Would you like me to be quiet?

There were far too many lanterns this year, but a season of healing had taken some of the sting from the nightmarish time spent striving against the Family. Even so, two of the lanterns brought by the starlit demigod carried the sorrow of such passings. A glass squid lantern was hung within the waters of a chilly stream for Nysadeia, its insides glowing with water brought from the Arclight and filled with bioluminescent plankton. A separate lantern, with silver metal and playful stars beneath a dancing moon honored Seren.

Hadama paced the edges of the gathering in a flowing hanfu in black and navy, speckled with silver stars. He paused to hang his third lantern a little ways off from the rest, in a quiet place with remnants of greenery still clinging to life: it was simpler than the others, with sides of paper pressed from medicinal herbs. The light within was faint but bravely glowing, a beacon in the night for Ray Lunaria.

The final lantern he kept close, unwilling to relinquish it as tradition demanded. Crafted in green and gold, with motifs of sun and wind aglow from within, he carried it with him as he moved closer to the festivities and the familiar faces he found among them. He nodded greeting to those he knew, quiet and even more subdued than usual as he partook in the full solemnity of the night.

---

Hadama's viable lantern is for Harper

Damien

i'm trying to run from our pride

Her hand slipped the little duck into his pocket, fingers brushing the wool of his coat and the faint warmth of him beneath it. He stilled at the touch. Theea had a way of doing that—finding excuses to close the distance, to test the line he always kept so carefully drawn. It never felt like a test to her, maybe. To him, it was always one.

He didn’t move away. Instead, the corner of his mouth tugged in a small, betraying curve. The rubber squeak sat against his chest now, ridiculous and sincere, and the fact she’d thought to give one to him lit something low and quiet in him.

The lantern weighed steady in his grip, pine trees etched in the glass catching pale threads of light from the crowd. He looked down at it, then back up, catching her gaze when she asked. “Yeah,” he said softly, a nod following the word. “I’d like that.” His voice had that rough timbre again, the one that always slipped through when he wasn’t armoring it.

The crowd pressed and parted around them—laughter from children chasing one another in painted masks, a low voice singing somewhere near the food stalls, the constant hush of lanterns settling. The world was moving, busy, but he felt rooted here, in this small exchange.

He nodded toward the cider in her hands, the one she kept sipping to cover whatever she didn’t say. “That any good?” he asked, tone lighter now, almost conversational. “I could use one myself, if it is.” The implication sat between them—that maybe they’d walk over together, after the lantern was set.

He let her take the lantern from him so she could find its rightful place among the rest, fingers grazing hers in the handoff, steady but unhurried.

'til you set fire to my atmosphere

LUDO

The festival proceeds with drink and merriment and remembrance, with friends catching up and lovers enjoying each other's company, until at long last, the lanterns begin to dim. It's subtle at first, starting with a few on the fringes, until more and more start to snuff out, leaving pools of warm darkness amid other areas of bright illumination.

The music stops. The chatter falls quiet. Dozens cut down to a few, then three, then two, until at last only one lantern remains alight in the fields of Mourn. It belongs to Edrei Launceleyn.

The dragon's maw of the firecracker creation glows impishly, a few sparks twirling from it and up into the air, as if it is proud to be designated as Ludo's favourite this year. Perhaps because the person it is for has no shortage of pride either - and Isla will find her there, beside the lantern, as if she has been waiting all along.

---

Isla has won the Festival of Lights and Edrei has come back to visit! They may feel free to start a break-off thread from the festival.

SUNJATA

the flood

i'm suffocating the clock to keep you
i think like a saint, but swing like a thief

They hang their lanterns and the Flood is somewhat surprised to see as she takes his hand, pulling him into a spin that he definitely has to bend for. The laugh that leaves him is deep and gentle, the attuned bond filling with warmth and happiness as he spins back to face her, stepping closer to place his hand against the middle of her back, giving her other hand a gentle squeeze in his own. “You’re right.” He teases with a roguish wink, settling into an easy sway with her to the beat of the music thrumming through the party.

That is, of course, until the lanterns grow dark and one is chosen. The music stops and so too does Sunjata, though he doesn’t drift away from Hotaru in the process. Instead, he scans the lanterns to see just who’s was chosen and when he spots it as Isla’s lantern, he smiles though he isn’t sure she’ll see it, instead turning back to his fiancée and waits for the music to pick back up, slowly getting back into another small rhythm. “There’s always next year?” He hums to her, though he’s sure it could be before then if they really needed to see one of their past friends or family members. All it would take is asking Remi if it were possible – but he’s content as is. He’d seen Vai recently thanks to the Bastion, and it was something he could feel content with for what felt like forever if that’s what it took.

and inadvertently leading you
to believe i'm your prince

Hotaru

Tonight, you look so lovely
It's your eyes that define me

It's easier with each passing year to actually enjoy the festival, closure a little stronger with time, and otherwise spoiled by visitations from beyond the veil. Hotaru sways with Sunjata over the dry grass that whispers the change of seasons beneath their feet. The sorrow on other faces is a grief she knows well, but she is selfish and far more inclined to drown in Sunjata's eyes than acknowledge the pain of strangers.

It's a kindness she would want afforded to her. Though she doesn't need it with how she keeps her expression controlled when a different lantern is chosen. Still, Sunjata is the only one close enough - and keen enough - to see the slight tension in the corners of her eyes. Her smile is pristine as she confirms, "We have endless years now." Surely the odds will favor them one day.

She could just as well ask Remi, but asking to see one son as opposed to the other - the one they'd shared the loss of - feels like shaky territory. Even though she cherishes the letter the Bastion had shared that had undeniably been her son's. The faint echoes of that conflict lingers in the bond, but she tilts her head up at Sunjata and smiles through it. "No reason to stop dancing, right? They'll want some privacy I'm sure." Maybe even excessive privacy, depending on the relationship they'd had - it's Edrei after all.

SUNJATA

the flood

i'm suffocating the clock to keep you
i think like a saint, but swing like a thief

He can and does see the tension there, the way her smile is a bit too pristine to be truly her when she answers him. But with the confidence that one day it could work out, the Flood is more than willing to wait it out if it brought her a bit more happiness after everything that’s happened. And for right now? They sway and she helps him with the way this season makes it so he can hardly stand still and for a few moments longer he’s content.

“Oh probably.” Sunjata says with another warm bubbling sensation of amusement through the attuned bond, warmth flaring again as he exhales the soft laugh. “And we’re out of the way.” So if someone’s distracted by them then maybe they’d need to stick their nose and attention somewhere else.

and inadvertently leading you
to believe i'm your prince