WESSEX
Well, she has her audience now. It’s unexpected and entirely unorthodox, but the girls are there all the same. That’s what counts. While they situate themselves, Wessex harkens back to the day a year ago when many of them gathered around Ianto for story time, the fox weaving a childlike fairytale before their very ears. “It’s nothing remarkable,” she begins, crossing her own legs upon her large, round seat. “But as the days grow longer and the nights grow shorter, there is a great excitement amongst the Fae of the Greatwood. Our winged neighbors to the North have a most peculiar tradition, born in the belief that it is they who are responsible for light of Longheat.” Chuckling lightly, Wessex shrugs. “We know this is impossible, of course, but what can it hurt? In catching the sun they hold it here, precariously tethered by baskets and nets and anything that may hold its golden rays. They distract Safrin with prayers and songs, hoping that the lady of the stars will keep her eyes on the people instead of on her duties, thereby warding off the nights of Changeleaf and Deepfrost for as long as possible.” And with Deepfrost, LongNight - but ah, that is a dark story for another time.
“And on the longest day of the year, there is a massive party in the Greatwood. Bring your baskets and your gifts and celebrate the sun and all it has given us before they release it to resume its journey again.” The short tale comes to an end, and Wessex looks back to her unconventional pupils with a light expression, open for questions but not really expecting any.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
