fabled foreign tongues [Seasonal Event]

The glade: beautiful, pristine, a classic locale for luxere charming and escaping the turmoil of their chaotic world. It is the only place Amalia will happily venture in the cold; she feels at peace here, and despite the looming terror of Long Night, as though the world will one day again be bright. There was a time when she came here with others, when the grove was warmed by the laughter of family and friends... when family and friends were something she had. Despite her enlightening conversation with Safrin, the girl cannot shake old beliefs. To her, the glade is Rae's domain, an oasis of beauty and nature in their decaying home, and though she doubts the Old God can see her she brings Them offerings: bread and grain for Their hungry children, slices of salvaged apples for the luxere who linger beneath the trees. They are scant today, dispersed among the laden boughs, though the baker spots flickering antlers here and there, and fresh prints litter the frostburnt ground. Her own footsteps are hushed, a quiet crunch in the soft new snow as she drifts and dances beneath the pines, looking for the perfect place to make her stand. There- and Amalia pauses all at once, her dark eyes taking in the scene with curious interest. Somebody has been here already, somebody has made this place their perch. Telltale fruit rests on the ground, waiting for a hungry scavenger to pick it from its place. She takes a step toward it, then pauses, quiet, almost deer-like herself as she stands in the snow, head tilted slightly and long limbs frozen between steps of a dance. "Hello?" the girl softly calls, her deep voice glistening in the icy air. Perhaps the stranger does not wish to be disturbed- but Amalia's heart beats a fluttering hope. She has had good luck here, after all. Deimos amalia i've been watching your kindness keep a lonely company - look at the fire and think of me