[SWE] It ends in fire

This time, no one on his team had died.

It was a poignant, aching sort of thought, mixing the sadness of those he had lost in the past with the joy of those he embraced in the present. Sam’s hug had been a surprise, one he hadn’t known how to respond to, but this… this was something he chose, with a whispered prayer of an apology he could never earn to Yohgel’s spirit, a world and a lifetime away.  

He was tentative, at first, unused to the gesture, much less being one to initiate it, but almost as soon as Rory leaned into him the lorekeeper’s doubts faded as he relaxed and laughed with his friends, letting their joy, their relief, their care for each other and for him fill up some of the cracked places in his heart that he had disregarded for too long.

Jigano reluctantly let Amalia slip away to greet another friend, his arms falling to his sides as a determined gryphlet climbed up his pants leg and finally hooked her claws into his sleeve. He helped lift her to his shoulder before she left bloody marks up his arm as well, scolding her gently as he shifted a little closer to Rory. It began as a subconscious lean towards the man who he had looked to for support and comfort, who he had sought to protect and comfort in turn, for the better part of two seasons. It ended with the conscious realization that he simply wanted to be near to this man who could chase away his shadows with a smile, and soothe his doubts with a touch. He started to shift his arm, to brush his hand against Rory’s once more—

But an unfamiliar woman with a very familiar name approached, and the hunter turned to her with an open joy that echoed strangely in the bard’s heart. He might not know her, but her presence made Rory happy and so Jigano found himself welcoming her with a smile as well. It was his first time truly seeing the woman whose body he had scented at the Spire, and he studied her curiously. She had no interest in him, that was obvious enough, and he arched a pale brow at her abruptness, but stayed back to let her greet his friends without interruption.

He didn’t need to, as it turned out, Amalia doing so instead as she bubbled with excitement that turned to song. The bard’s smile returned, pride in his friend warming him as she stepped forward to sing bravely, no longer hiding her lovely voice behind her shyness. He didn’t even think to look this time as he shifted his weight, somehow knowing that Rory would be there to lean lightly against as voices around them began to join in. He might not have known the words, but the melody was easy enough to pick up on, and what sort of bard would he be if he couldn’t harmonize a tenor counterpoint in pure notes? Isuma was less in tune, but she peeped cheerfully more-or-less along with the humans as she hopped to Rory’s shoulder and joined in with the rest, just glad that her companion and her friends were all happy again.

Evie fear has favourites Evie shook her head with shock, the light from the Spark Bird casting fiery light on her already coppery-hair. "I always knew if it could be done, you'd be the one to do it." She cooed towards Amalia with a widening grin. "I just ... I can't believe it's actually here." She added, biting the inside of her lip and looking up at the perch with unfettered delight. "Of all the strange things I've seen, seeing you out during LongNight I never thought would be one." Evie chimed with a grin towards Rory, nudging him with a laugh before he disappeared to force-tackle Wessex. Happily accepting Amalia's hand, Evie gave it a squeeze as she nodded. Together their voices rose up. Even though they'd sung the song so many times, actually singing it before the bird now filled Evie with a sense of wonder that she'd never experienced before. Tears shone brightly in her blue stare as her voice warbled with emotion. don't let one be you

Table made by Sky!

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Words aren’t always necessary; the first means of communication were body language and grunts from undeveloped vocal chords. The animals in them still know the meaning of a flick of an eye, a smile, a pair of pursed lips, or a hand extended in comfort and solidarity. There is no need to press it with Wessex, she is happy to keep silence in understanding that they are happy - no, utterly relieved - to see each other again. Now that they have confirmed that the other is really, truly, still made of flesh and bone, they can turn to lighter matters. Wessex takes hold of Amalia’s hands and engulf them in her own, giving the younger woman a tight-lipped smile and nod. Her hands squeeze, sending forth all the things she cannot say. Luckily for the stoic, she is saved from further emoting by Rory, whom she allows to engulf her rigid body in his arms. It is the first hug she’s had since Magrethe took to her death bed. Odd. Uncomfortable. But she doesn’t utterly despise it. After a moment, she gently eases out of the man’s grip and mumbles something like, “Just take me with you next time.” And that’s that. Matter closed until they’re alone again. She decides that news about needing new floorboards can wait till later, too. At least she tried to gather all the nails before she left - couldn’t have the dogs accidentally stepping on one and puncturing a paw. Ripping up his house is one thing - being negligent with his dogs is another. Amalia reaches for her hand again, and she lets it be taken, turning towards what is, undeniably, a rare and magical sight. She is bathed in light again, like she was when she was Accepted. And she has friends, if we’re going to be generous with the term. And she is alive. There is optimism for Flowerbirth. So she lifts her off-tune voice and begins to sing along, under her breath, just for her neighbors to hear.   black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

R E X A N N A golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer. People were singing, and Deimos was smiling, and she watched as everyone celebrated within the light of the Sparkbird. And something felt right, deep down in her chest. She stood beside Deimos and watched the merriment, a wide smile along her face that she wasn’t sure would disappear any time soon. After all the stress of Longnight it was wonderful to see everyone come together – outlanders and naturals, celebrating for the same thing. She turned to Deimos as he chuckled and spoke, and she bobbed her head in agreement. “We did.” She acknowledged, settling back in beside her friend and watch the Sparkbird. “Though I never want to do that again.” She added at the last minute with a brilliant laugh. But it was a beautiful thing, to see everyone pour from their houses and their hiding places – to ignore the scratches and pieces left behind from the monsters to spend the time at the perch with a mythical creature hovering above them, sparking and helping pour light into their lives and for some – their souls. fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.