[SWE] The Festival of Lights

Festival of Lights The time has come as Leafchange begins to draw in, promising the chill of Deepfrost in the Hollowed Grounds, the Greatwood, and especially in Halo. Torchline, however, is another matter. Tiki torches light the way along the shoreline to a stretch of the beach suffused already with lanterns of all shapes and sizes. Throngs of people walk and sit and chat and share their memories, while the stars twinkle down overhead. The evening air is warm and balmy. Music echoes, games are played. The Festival of Lights has arrived. Welcome to the Festival of Lights! As this is a global event, we have decided to host it in Torchline this year. Your character must post in this event twice for it to count as part of the SE requirements. At the end of the event (the last few days of April), Ludo will appear and select its favourite lantern.

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.

MORGAN

Morgan had ignored the Festival of Lights for a lot of years, thinking herself as almost above the mourning that everyone else had to do; yet this year when she had participated she had found herself actually finding the festivities rather calming and cathartic, the chance to speak about her father so much helping her to put him away from her mind: she had not realised how much his death was still clouding her.

The lantern she brought to hang was a simple one. White, with snow-stained mountains in the soft fabric of the sides, representing the land he had loved so well; a single red dot on one side that bled naturally down the pattern, swirls of water in the paint to mark out the grisly end her father had met, one she could not separate from her thoughts of him now no matter how hard she tried. Still, she hung the lantern with his side facing away from herself, as if choosing to see only the good parts of her father's life.

Standing back to watch everyone else hang their lanterns, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out, thinking of each soul that each light represented, how they had all once lived and thought and been just like she was.

They try to comfort me with platitudes

They don't know I'm in a real fine mood

if it doesn't burn a little

She arrives early to place her lanterns. This year, as with most years, she has three in tow. Really, there should be more, but she usually keeps it simple. There are a few there already, faces she knows, and as she passes she offers them a smile and a nod. First though, before conversations or games, she needs to do place the lanterns.

The first for John. A simple thing, covered in swirls of color. He had been a man that did not stick out from a crowd, but a good man, deserving to be remembered all the same. Second, for her mother. Shaped a bit like a fire, painted with the colors of flame. Third, for her brother, blue and green and brown, sky and earth. All three have a candle flickering within them. As she places them, she spends a moment to simply be, to remember the family she lost far too early. She was not sure if Korbin would be joining, though she does hope to see her brother at this event. Not that he had been one for leaving Halo.

For now, she simply stays with the lanterns, watching as others arrive and waiting for the festival to get going. The beginning was for remembering the dead, for mourning lost loved ones, and so she does not interrupt the others.

-- weaver

then what's the point in playing with fire?

Photo by Allef Vinicius | Quote by Bridgett Devoue

everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow

They come, and Remi wonders why they haven't decided to stay at home even though OOC we all know the answer is for SWE completion. He doesn't have to wonder when it was he became so bitter, or what roads led him to become the man he is now. His mind holds those memories tightly just as his body bears the scars.

Funny how no one ever asks how did you become so happy? why are you always smiling? quite the same way they do with lives cast in shadow. It's always when did you become such a jaded man, and never how are you so filled with light? Or at least, Remi had never been ask the latter question when he indeed had been.

The lantern brought for Aoife was a messy creation. It looked nothing like the meticulously made and beautiful things already hung about, but that didn't mean it was any less carefully constructed. Aoife's memorial was a thing of jam, stars drawn on paper, and endless amounts of glitter. He and Ronin had painted and drawn things they thought best represented her, and had let their memories of their daughter do the rest of the work: a dragon tail here, a stream of stars there. It was a mess to be sure (and highly flammable), but beautiful in its own way.

"Where do you think?" Remi asked softly, glancing towards Ronin (and likely Seren as well, who was probably in tow).

THE ALCHEMIST

i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

He didn't have a lantern. Had stopped making them a long time ago, when he realized that no amount of wishing would bring back any of the people he loved and lost. Korbin wouldn't have come at all, if he hadn't promised Weaver he would let her show him Torchline, and it was still with a good amount of reluctance he crossed the portal to join her in the sand.

It was too warm, really. Soft and cushy, just like he thought it might be. But as he settled in beside his sister, the young man's face was carefully neutral, betraying none of the resentment he felt towards this place, or the strangers that milled about.

It wasn't about him and his feelings tonight, after all, and he was but a bystander.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Quanil walked along the beach. They planted a hooked staff as close to the tides as they reasonably could. She'd've liked that.

The lantern was a simple thing, childish: white waxed paper cylinder, seashells and waves in different shades and tints of blue pasted to it. But they hoped Miss Maea would've liked it. Because this was how they remembered her: stepping out into the ocean waves to retrieve a seashell for them to give to Freina, to cheer her up. Miss Maea Valair saying that all she wanted as for them to learn how to defend themselves and others.

They cleared their throat and spoke as they carefully lit the lantern. They were quiet, speaking to the lantern made in memorial of their all-too-brief friend. "I'm doing what you asked, Miss Maea. And Ludo's helping me. You disappeared from the world once, and then came back. I... I guess you won't be doing that again. But I remember you. Lots of us do. So, I guess, in that sense at least, you won't ever disappear. Never ever again."

They stepped back to look at their lantern, and to listen to the waves breaking so close by.

Despite the great deal of trepidation Loren felt about heading back into Torchline, he figured it'd be safe enough to do so at the Festival of Lights. Arriving, he spotted Morgan and immediately made a beeline to the woman, figuring there would be safety in numbers and wanting at least some company, even if it wasn't exactly friendly. "Captain." It was as professional as most of the times he spoke to her.

Despite that, he hung his lanterns up almost gingerly next to the one she'd made. "That's beautiful. I hope you don't mind if mine join yours." It came out softly, and his motions were hesitant. The first, for Edrei, was a depiction of a flame, vibrant and bright and hungry as she had been in life.

It was only as he hung the second that he realized the irony of the placement. Because the second was made with markings unfamiliar to most in this world, hieroglyphics to represent the afterlife, with a god with the head of a jackal adorning the top of it. It was clearly for Abasi, whose life had been tragically cut short by fire.

Perhaps there was some poetry in the two lanterns. Still, all Loren felt was sadness as he stepped back and regarded them. However, it was a dull ache, nothing like the fresh and raw wound his grief had been right after the undertaker had died.

you are lost, hope is gone

but you must go on

Loren

Base Code by Sky!

When we can’t control fire,

we name it “wild”

Even with her dislike of outsiders, Alina wouldn’t miss a celebration of the old gods. So she flew from the portal to the Festival, lantern in one hand, staff that she was pretending was a walking stick in the other. Even at an event like this, she was cautious.

Landing a short distance away, she walked slowly to the gathering, a grimace on her lips the entire time. Practically glaring at anyone who got too close, she managed not to threaten anyone with her weapon. Still, her wings fluttered uneasily as she hung the lantern she'd made in honor of her parents. Stepping back, she regarded the intertwined trees drawn almost crudely in charcoal, with animals and weapons hidden in its leaves, branches, and roots.

when we can’t control God,

we name it “war”

ALINA

Base Code by Sky!

amun

Amun hadn't intended to participate in the Festival of Lights, given that it was a celebration for Ludo, who the potter imagined wouldn't be Amun's biggest fan. However, after Maea had died, he'd been despondent with grief. So he ended up going, alone, wearing his sadness like a cloak.

Not bothering to greet anyone or even see if he recognized anyone in attendance, he just held the lanterns he'd made in his hands. It was simple, really, just a series of tattered paper draped carefully over a candle. However, he'd designed it specifically to resemble the shawl Maea had always worn, which resembled the rags that Ludo itself was known for. Finding an empty spot for it, he hung it, then stepped back to just stare it it, still as only an Ascended could be.

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Coding base by Sky!

Saiden obviously wasn’t going to miss the Festival of Lights when it was actually in Torchline. So he’d arrived, nodding at those who greeted him, which was a lot more than he was used to. Then again, he'd become much more popular after the volcano thing, so maybe this was the new normal.

The rest of the crew of the Ark was probably lurking somewhere around here, as were his friends and acquaintances. However, he didn't look for any of them just yet. Instead, he just moved to hang the lantern he'd made for Vanya. It was an osprey in flight, a candle clutched in its talons instead of a fish.

Coding base by Sky!

Seren

I am magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
Destined to seek, destined to know

It was her very first Festival of Light, and Seren had brought for it her very own lantern. It was simple, made of paper and wire, a little lopsided and painted to look like the night sky... A brave attempt, at least, that held all the wishes of a little girl who wanted nothing more than to meet the sister she never got to see.

Sticking close to Ronin, she carried the lantern with a serious expression. While the games and the music and familiar faces in the crowd tugged at her, begging for attention, she didn't wander off. Just waited quietly to see where they would put their lanterns, and whether Ludo would like them enough to grant a wish.

I am a princess on the way to my throne
Destined to reign, destined to roam

DEIMOS

the resurrected sword

Back to the ocean, back to the sea, no longer caught amongst Fae boughs or Grounds requiems’, solemn, stoic gaze cast upon the reel of tiki torches lining their pathway, people either crowded together or ambling off, mourning in their silent stead. He paid no attention to the music or the games, seemingly incapable of corresponding with ebullience along the subject matter at hand.

Instead, he sighed and followed, eyes catching upon nothing and no one in particular, before swallowing down the traces of other filaments, fragments, and melancholy. His palms held the lanterns he’d made prior – for his mother, of the water, surf, and swell herself, for his father, of the fire, the flames, and the glory of life. Within a moment, he’d finessed embers to rest upon the candles rendered in the middle, granted and given light to echo and glow amongst the others. The beast had a lengthy amount of time to mourn them, years and lives and haunting measures - but the pain and the weight of loss never lessened. It just built and continued, and he walked along the lights by himself, striving not to fall back into those mires.

under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

He was pretty proud of the lantern he’d made for Peter. Using the blown glass from Hotaru, edged in frosty white and patterned and designed with stripes to mimic Peter’s hyena shift, decorated with bats to hold up the lantern from the Launceleyn’s bat shift… It was probably one of his favorites. However morbid that thought might be. Regardless, the Festival of Lights leaves him feeling heavy, constantly, this year arriving with two of them. Peters, and Maea’s.

Maea’s isn’t as fancy as Peter’s is, mostly because he didn’t have access to the glass that Hotaru had shared with him. But he’d still tried – pale white with streaks of blue veins, a candle in the center that seems suspended by some form of bendable metal wire. And beneath it? Encased with a clear sheen to ensure it doesn’t catch fire, bits and pieces of the wisteria she had loved so much from the house they’d found. He’d also placed the feather he’d given her so long ago within it, the little pieces of her within the base of it.

And with both in his hands, he glances to Nate at his side, offering a small awkward smile. “Last Festival of Lights, I only had Lusea’s lantern.” He rumbles a bit offhandedly, awkwardly, clearly unsure where that left him… He’d kept it, at least. It stayed within the walls of his home – hanging on a shelf nearby because he certainly couldn’t part with it. The others? He’d likely keep Maea’s as well – but imagines Peter’s might suit a bit better back at the Guild.

He glances to the two lanterns in the Ascended’s hands, too, before he bumps his shoulder with Nate’s and offers another small smile. “Let’s go hang them.”

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire