[SWE] The Festival of Fiat Lux!

LOREN

Loren smiled back at Abasi. The summoner wasn’t at all bothered by the other man’s comment, by now well used to the undertaker’s rather reserved manner and unique way of viewing the world. ”We all need a break now and then. I think people are just happy to have an excuse to celebrate.” The Launceleyn’s smile blossomed into a pleased grin. ”It’s for Frey.” There was an almost giddy reverence in that revelation.

Deimos, Jigano, and Sunjata got a nod, a wave, and a smile respectively. Spotting a familiar group of people, the summoner reached out to tug Abasi forward by one hand. ”Come on.” Whether or not the undertaker followed, the Launceleyn would approach the crowd that included Phoebe, Remi, Aoife, and Sunjata if the narrator missed someone, assume he greeted them.

”Hey folks!” Smiling at them each in turn, he finally turned to the midwife. ”You and the boys, who I assume are around here somewhere, should take a break and come check out the Loreseekers’ riddle game later. Until then, I’ll take a crown as well.” Reaching forward, he plucked one of the honeysuckle crowns up and placed it at a jaunty angle on his head. Placing his hands on his hips, he beamed at the group. ”How do I look?”

light is precious in a world so dark
begin at the beginning
tell a story. make some light

Face of a saint. Lips of a sinner

It took her for fucking ever to braid her own hair. It’s a hell of a lot easier to get someone else to do it, you know, like a servant or something, than it is to do it on your own. But she’d finally gotten it into a fancy, multiple-tier sort of braid and put fresh Queen Anne’s Lace in the plaits, tied it with a shiny crimson bow, and was flying out the door, the music device in on hand and her lap harp in the other.

The first person she comes across is Phoebe and takes a honeysuckle crown with a passing “Thank you, you look lovely!” before she weaves in between the crows and eventually makes it to the music area. Half out of breath, she is more than happy to find she’s not the first one there. An older Natural pair are playing a lively jig that prances with joy throughout the crowd, giving the entertainer time to tune her own instrument and find the lyric cards she’d set away the day before.

It isn’t long before the musicians play their final song, and they happily pass the music area to the redhead, faces flushed, sweat upon their brows. They’ve earned a snack and a rest!

i wanted to be ruined —

a little more than i wanted

— to be loved

She’s arrived a bit later than the rest of them, but she doesn’t mind. She’s been up late, putting together a few extra last minute items – things of which she’d promised Deimos in the midst of mud battles and warfare, wondering if he’s forgotten about them and how she hadn’t quite let it go yet – and makes her way through the gathering crowd of those she knows and those she does not. One crown already placed on her head, of roses and dark thorns, while the base that settles along her hair has been sheered down, safe to wear.

The Harpy and Auni make it to Deimos’ side, a smirk crossing her lips as she regards the Sword briefly. “You said I had to wear one, so you have to wear this one so we match.” She states, not a request, offering the crown to him with a widening grin.

KIADA

WESSEX

the wraith

Wessex is here more or less solely for the Wheel of Fire (and Dodgeball, as a favor she is happy to perform); The Wraith might be tempted to join the revelries, but there will be no dancing, no singing, no massive amounts of movement beneath the sun until she organizes a game. Fiat Lux had always been her favorite festival when she was Accepted, paying homage to spring and the sun and all the life it brought back to the Grounds. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it now, because she does, she likes seeing her people happy. She likes seeing them more alive than ever before, more hopeful and fruitful and engaged.

She passes through the crowds quietly, cruising along behind the stalls and at the edges of the various gathering areas. Eventually she is able to get to the Wheel of Fire and takes a long match in her hand, names and wishes on her lips.

she's pullin' the trigger

cause it's me and the moon, she says

and i have no trouble with that

DEIMOS

Oh, the Sword hadn’t forgotten; rarely did, memories bounding and flickering, promises and convictions made during mud fights and quiet discussion, lacking the vitriol or the melancholy of LongNight. The endeavors of a snicker contorted along his mouth, gaze flickering immediately to the crown laden along and across Kiada’s locks, snorting at the deep, dark roses and thorns. “It is agreeable,” a tease, a taunt, as if the flowers, petals, and nettles met his approval, high standards, and distinction, gently taking the one she proffering to him in his hands before placing it along his skull too – blue and barbed, reflections of yesteryears. “Thank you.” Pleased and content, he narrowed his eyes for a singular, calculating moment, voice dropping to a colluding whisper. “Will you help me bring the catapult in?” He’d be capable of pushing and pulling it on his own, but it would take far less time with her steering and him shoving it along, especially if they hit any softer spots along the loam.

Then, as his eyes spotted Amalia nearby, they could always deliver their manifested crowns in a far more amusing way.

You aren't afraid of throwing yourself

in the path of danger

but you're terrified of letting anyone in

AmaLIa

shield of safrin

She slips between the assembled crowd, her stand long set up and manned by the same pair of older women who took it over last year. This time they did not need to coax her out from behind the counter; she found her way into the throng easily, emboldened and bright, enthused and alight.

Like a wraith, a wisp, she flits between groups, offering a smile to Loren, a soft touch to Remi, an enthused grin and word of encouragement to Lily, who has promised to perform some of the girl's childhood hymns. Clad in purple, her long hair loose, Amalia waits with baited breath, her dark eyes glittering in excitement and delight as the festival unravels around her.

you can't choose what stays
and what fades away

Nate !

Every year, Nathaniel almost doesn't come. And every year, he finds himself drawn to the festival anyway. He skims over the crowd with dark eyes, silent, looking for someone he is happy to see. How many of them made it through another year? How many didn't? Though Nathaniel himself is yet to partake in the frivolity, he feels distant parts of himself slowly thawing. There is a kind of medicine in laughter, in togetherness. He doesn't understand it, but he is happy to soak it in.

So Nathaniel wanders, skirting one conversation and another, hoping maybe to spy Amalia, or Rexanna, or even Adam (whatever happened to Adam?). Is it too much to hope they all survive? Too much to hope for proof? Even if none of them care to see him, he just wants to know they're alive. Proof of a little light left in the world.

Jigano starts to come towards me after I wave, so I stop my mingling and wait for him, offering a bright smile as he approaches and returning the bow with a laugh, though such formalities are not usually my style. ”It seemed a good place to get acquainted with... the good apples.” I choose my words carefully, remembering our last conversation. And then my smile grows, and I poke some of my own fun towards the light haired man.. ”I suppose I can settle for some rapscallions and rogues though. If that’s all you have to offer.” My smile only grows while I speak, stretching my face in a way that’s almost uncomfortable, though I can’t stop. I can feel my eyes widen with surprise when Jigano pulls a crown from behind his back, a crown I eagerly accept and cram into my head. The petals match my tattoos tying my whole outfit together in a burst of vibrancy. ”What sort of music do you do?” I asked while I entwine my arm with the bards, waiting to be shown around. Tarasha They are neither pink nor pale; And they will never be all mine;

ABASI

"Ah, for Frey? I am surprised then that it is so..." Abasi gestured aimlessly about the families, the crowds playing games and eating food. "...Wholesome. Like this. I would have thought a celebration for Frey would be rather more salacious." Though given Loren was far more the expert than he on the matter, he wouldn't question it. Perhaps there were more sides to the God than the one he knew.

Loren seemed to recognise many of the people there, far more than Abasi. He nodded at the ones he did know and looked carefully at each person Loren greeted. Did any of them know who he was? He wondered if Loren spoke about him much: perhaps something to ask later.

As his partner gladly took a crown and put it on, Abasi reached to get one too, though he held and looked at it for a moment, wondering what the significance was. Regardless, he put it on his head, following Loren's lead. "You look like a man with flowers on his head, which would be silly if it were not what everyone else is doing. So I suppose you look handsome." He smiled, the little teasing look he had begun to give only Loren.

The gods who existed before me

rest now in their tombs

He'd been intending to join Lily with the musicians, but he couldn't quite catch her attention. That was alright, though, because he found Tarasha and it seemed only neighborly to show the friendly Fae around the Hollowed Grounds' best celebration. He grinned at their teasing, offering a wink of agreement as he gestured to the families with children, young couples walking hand-in-hand, cheerful merchants hawking their wares, and Guild booths trying to entice new members to join.

"Only the finest rapscallions and rogues for you, I promise!" he said with a wink as he produced the crown. It might not be up to Jaio's high standards, but he thought it added a nice accent to the art Tarasha had already adorned themselves with, and his sharp eye picked out the differences between these tattoos and the ones they had worn at their first meeting. He opted to answer the question first, though, leading the shorter Fae on an impromptu spiraling promenade around the party so Tarasha could see the different foods, drinks, games, and guilds on display. "Lap harp, flute, and voice, mostly," he explained cheerfully. "I used to play others, but most of them were lost when I came to Caido, so I treasure my harp and flute." And his voice, of course, but he hoped that went without saying. "As for what kind of music? I try to provide whatever the audience asks for. Ballads or marching songs, drinking songs or laments, comic ditties and lullabies. What kind of music do you like? And how, may I ask, did you change your tattoos since I saw you last? Is it a form of magic?" He glanced down to the arm in his, admiring and fascinated by the brilliant patterns there.

so stunner don't ever move softly, you've been on a journey they can't see

The days are getting longer now, but she can also handle the remaining sunlight a bit better than she could have once before. She still covers up fully, hood over her head to make it into the shadows and awnings that would hide the remaining sun from her and Bastien – whom she’s arrived with, arm in arm, bright green gaze scanning Fiat Lux and the festivities.

This time last year, she’d still been healing from when the barrier fell. This was also where Bastien and her had danced, when she had apologized to Rory for going at him in an argument when they all stood there and watched as Ronin died. And Gods she realizes, so much has happened in this previous year. Now she stands there as Queen, Ascended and Abandoned, new eyes, a new life, a husband.

Smiling over to Bastien, she lowers her hood when she’s finally in the shadows revealing her own homemade flower crown, woven with strips of gold and moonlight electric blue, her bright emerald eyes looking up to him as she squeezes his arm. “Where should we start?”

when dancing in ballrooms, you will lead

REXANNA

i wanted to be ruined —

a little more than i wanted

— to be loved

As he places the crown, agrees to her terms, she smirks back to him. “Good.” An easy, quick response, because she knew he wouldn’t decline – she’d have made him wear it one way or another, even if it was paired with another. He wasn’t getting off scot free if she had to wear one. But she still dips her head to him slightly at his thank you, humming a quiet chuckle. “You’re welcome.” She offers with a shrug of her shoulders, stepping a bit closer to him as he whispers into her ear.

Pulling away from him with a calculating smirk, she nods her head. “Absolutely.” She says, following his glance to Amalia and how flowerless she was. And the Harpy smirks back to Deimos before she begins to bound away to where the catapult is, to help Deimos move it in and see what kind of destruction they could cause all in good humor.

KIADA

and if you want, i could tell you the truth

that this life takes a toll on you. i spend nights

There’s an accented chuckle that leaves him at Aoife’s own babbling, his dark brows rising in surprise to her, clearly putting on a show. “Really?” He tells the child in mock surprise before his gaze lifts to Remi with his own amusement, crinkling the corners of his eyes a bit. “Watch out for this one, queenhood may get to her head.” He winks to Remi before settling beside him, commenting about the gin and the bar.

“It was a surprising turn out, I guess people missed having a place to lose themselves for a few hours.” He admits with his own quiet chuckle. “I was somewhat afraid that I had offended you somehow.” He offers, steel gaze slipping over to Remi to see how the Alchemist might take that thought – how fast the man had appeared to drop the bottle and letter before disappearing. Or had it been someone else?

stitching up the loose threads of my soul

so in the morning i'm bullet proof

SuNJATA

DEIMOS

Calculations and mischief were all he required, the agreement between the pair solidified within a moment of eternal devilry. Maneuvering back along barracks thresholds, they managed to push and pull the designated object with little trial or tribulation; just the assemblage of mischief emboldening, scurrying, hurrying them along. By the time they’d come back though, others had wandered in the midst, and it took some time to reposition, recalculate, their ridiculous endeavors. The beast had managed to scramble and cobble together a few crowns and petals in their midst too, so after more machinations, they were finally ready.

Behind the catapult’s long arm, he loaded the basket, then pulling on the strings, the tethers, the lines, sent it flying – an unleashing of mayhem in petals, diadems, and circlets, one section entirely aimed at Amalia, and then whoever happened to fall in the wake. Waiting for a moment in the incoming aspects of humor and impish decorum, his eyes caught another familiar outline. “Is that Hotaru?” And then he yielded the catapult’s arm to Kiada, an open invitation, to unfurl and uphold the ridiculous irreverence.

You aren't afraid of throwing yourself

in the path of danger

but you're terrified of letting anyone in