Open Chronicles A Festival of the Lights

[Arkobold]

At some point or the other, or maybe it was the point in between, Arkobold had scrambled away from the strange man, so strangely by himself and away from the party.

He hoped, as he often did, that good things found the man. Or, at least that nothing bad came from his being around.

But as he hunched and sniffed with his snoot close to the snow, his mind could think of only one thing. The Cold Heart.

It did not help that the snow well, made it hard to smell much of anything. That was probably part of what made the magical mushroom so hard to find! Most shrumps liked the warm and the wet! Not the cold and the freezing.

Still, the little squire stalked through the frozen woods, at the edge of the Monastery grounds, snuffling for- He bumped into something soft and just as small as him! A big floppy hat pokin up from a wide brim.

He blinked, and shook his head. "Sosi?" His voice scratched out.

When a white light flit by, spurred on by the hum of tiny wings. Arko screeched and jumped back. "Bug!" he cried out. Then remembered. Most bugs were tasty. "Come, lets go!" he rasped to Sosi and followed after the glowing bright bug, trailing its luminescent tail of pollen dust.

Sosi Gnax

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

"She's right you know," Ophelia spoke now to Kaige.

"I was not exaclty an outstanding member of society before I joined the organisation."
Ophelia did not know much about the other Knights, she had not been around long enough yet the elf was certain they could not all have been men or women of honour before they became who they were today.

"Nice to make your aquintance Sabine," she offered her a simple nod and took another sip of her wine before placing it back into her satchel and stood up ready to leave.
"If you'll excuse me, I believie its time for me to get a stone before all the good ones are gone."

Sabine Fenvaris Kaige Severos

 

[Petra Darthinian]

From over Faramund's shoulder, Petra reached and placed down a single hot honey cake in front of him. Leaning closer, she whispered conspiratorially into his ear, "If you don't wish to see the funniest tantrum your mortal eyes have ever seen, then I suggest you never speak of this to Norvyk. For he would be most put out to learn why his favorite holiday treat was one pastry short." As quick as she was there, she was gone again in a flourish of sparkling fabric and laughing charisma. Waving to her friend goodbye, and with a promise to return at some point for merriment and ale, she trekked off closer to the alluring melody of magicked music. Making her way steadily toward the edge of the festival.

On her way, the song-weaver passed through the dense crowd of merry festival-goers. The energies and effervescent vibrating music that made up each person felt like a glowing symphony in her chest. The warm joy around her was almost enough to fill the hibernating void that never left her. Almost.

"Now now. Tonight is not a night for sorrow." Came the gentle admonishment from inside her head. She could feel her dragon taking his own fortress of a mind and tucking away that sorrow within him. Shielding her, without letting her forget. And the absence of that weight, which she didn't even realize she carried so heavily until it was gone, was such a stark difference that she inhaled a sharp breath of relief.

"A handy trick that... I will be mindful that I don't encourage it too often. Better to feel something, than nothing at all."

"Just for tonight, Rider. Now... as for cakes. I sense one is missing..." An unspoken threat rumbled in his voice.

"What's that? What? Did you say something? I can't quite hear you. You're breaking up! Meet you at the edge, bud!" And ignoring the resulting tirade from the overgrown lizard, Petra laughed and danced off to meet him at the edge.

Faramund

 

[Killian Grey]

It was same to say Killian found Margot amusing, a pearly smile formed on his face.
"Lass, I'd never go out seeking an a squabble. I think most are just intemmidated by a handsome rapscallion!"

His tone was light and playful and once Margot accepted his offer for a dance he took her hand light in his as he placed his other on the small of her back and stepped so close their faces were nearly inches apart.

"You will have to excuse me," His eyes focused on her own, "Still have my sea legs so I'll be in need of a bit more stability."

Killian winked at her before he began to dance, fortunately for the two of them he had rhythem - his childhood at court was to thank for that and the sea legs? Most definitely not a problem.

As they danced his movements matched the beat, when it was faster he spun the beauty he held so close and when not he lead them into a relaxed waltz like movement.

"You look lovely by the way," He would whisper into Margots ear as he twirled her slowly.

Margot Triss

 

[Hector]

Hector stared wide eyed at the construct. "A... a voice!" he called out as he took a step back, aw struck, his stick of charcoal fallen in the snow. He blinked, looked down. "Shit," he cursed, and bent low to snatch it up. When he straightened back up, he noted how his skin had puckered into goosepimples, at hearing the thing speak.

No. Felt it speak. He watched it as it walked away. It had taken the voice of a woman. Was that... by design?

He had heard stories of constructs that were fueled by the spirits of the dead. Or powered by relics crafted with energies that transcended the entropy of the afterlife, and the rest most found in such swirl and the empty dark left in its wake.

Oh, he was thinking too much.

He moved off toward where the kindly construct had pointed him off to, and saw Ophelia making her way toward him as he pocketed his stick of coal and notepad in a pocket he had sewn into his armor. "Ophelia!" he said with a smile. "Off to catch a dance?" he asked with warm smile, hot breath puffing about his lips as he looked to his fellow Squire.

He looked past her a moment, and saw what looked like, "Lady Sabine!" he called out with warm smile, and waved a hand at the proud warrior he'd helped pull from the snow alongside Syr Montbank and another wandering knight.

"My, the world sure can be small," he said to himself, his eyes falling back to Ophelia.

Ophelia Tirion Sabine Fenvaris

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia heard a familiar voice call out her name as she walking through the festival.

There were not many member of the Knights of Anatheum who knew Ophelia so her guess on who it was calling for her was limited.
Then she spotted him.
"Hector," her voice slightly more chipper then usual. At his question though the elf would fold her arms and raise an eyebrow as if to say: are you seriously asking me such a dumb question?

"I do not dance but by the looks of it," Her eyes scanned his slightly puffy face. "You do."

A smirk laced ophelias lips, "Anybody special lil' romeo?" She teased , knocking his shoulder playfully with her own.

Hector

 

[Hector]

Hector tittered. "R-romeo?" like the old Allirian romantic. "Didn't he die in the end?" he skate around the question. Anyone special. He felt his cheeks flush. The air cool around him, only made the still lingering heat of the dance all the more felt. He cleared his throat. The singing still sweet in his ears, and the glitter of lights against blue eyes.

"Special," he seemed stuck on the word. His eyes snapped back up to her, brow quirked, friendly grin on his face, "And who are you callin' little?" he put his hand to his brow and measured out to her crown, then shoved her back.

"Just enjoyed myself some dancing is all," he said, though his smile hinted at more. "You afraid of dancin?" he asked, with more tease. "Not something you did with your peoples?" his question came a little more sincere then. For he knew little of the elven cultures beyond their Monastery. And there were so few elves here for him to learn from. Many of them busy with ranging and quests, and work.

He blinked. "I recommend it," he added softly. "Dancing I mean," he said with a nod. "It's fun," he smiled at her.

Ophelia Tirion

 

[Helena]

The cold wind stirred, and her white cape of dawn trailed in the gust. Its emeberic weave shimmered warm reds and golds, like rays of sun across white clouds, pink and blues mixed in as the distant lights of magick kissed the demasque figures. Wolves, stags, and the sun of dawn, blooming at the center of rays like the petals of their chrysanthemum.

Course, that was all behind Helena's warm smile. She bowed her welcome to the proud Captain of the Black Shield's Ready 2nd. "Not since the carriage wash, I believe?" she said as she rose up, and offered her arm in sign of trust and welcome. "And it was the fields of the Bystran plane before that, yes? Diverting a warband from Lord Meinleb's hold, if I recall correctly," she was just a Pursuant then. Called to aid the old ally, who only just held on to the honor marked by the old treaties.

What a red day that had been. A wolf's day.

"I trust your men will comport themselves during this time of celebration, Captain?" she asked, warm as daylight. "There is plenty of food and drink still to be had," the great music swelled in the distance, as lights of woven spell sailed and sizzled and sparked brilliant across the rippling shield of their monastery. "Though I wonder," she said with curious glint in the rich amber of her eyes. "Does more than merriment bring you to our humble home?"

Agatha

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Hector truly amused Ophelia, something she could not say of many. "Dead or alive, he still remained a ladies man in the tales I heard." The elf herself did not know much of the old tale but all she knew was that it involved a romantic love, something she knew to be fleeting and from her experiences - futile.

"And you sir, seem to be sailing the same ship." Ophelia winked at him, for Hectors sake though; she did hope that who ever had one his heart would treat it well.

"Me? Afraid?" She scoffed at the idea. "No, I just do not see the allure. My people dance though not like this," Her hand guestred in the direction of the party goers. "The hold more elegance."

Ophelia had not danced in a very long time and she did not plan on changing it anytime soon. Her last dance with a partner was the last she swore to ever have... he was lost now and that was there last memory, one she held dear and in that moment it was the memory elf decided to imbue into her stone.
Ophelia found herself lost in nostalgia, not hearing hectors last words.

"If you will excuse me Squire Hector," her tone changed as she bid him farewell ; it was laced in pain for the only thing that consumed her now was that memory and her desire to transfer it.

Hector

 

[Josai]

She felt his pause. His hesitation, and while she rode the warm swell of excitement that crept up her neck, she worried that- he moved. Hand cradling her head, and he pressed against her. A bit clumsy. They bumped teeth, but she smiled, still pressed to him, let her arms swim up his broad back, her fingers feel the roll of his gentle strength.

He was fit. She liked that. She liked it more when he pressed with a little more eagerness. They way his fibers flexed with a little more want. She felt the heat grow, up from her belly. Out to her limbs, fingers and toes as her skin covered with goosebumps.

His lips pulled from hers and her own pouty smile, slick and warm with kiss, felt cold between the puffs of their breath.

"I have a great interest in them," she whispered back to his playful words. "Yes," she said as their eyes met again. "I would love another taste," her straight toothed smile showed with a warm huff of breath that swirled between them as shew drew near agam. "When else would I get such a chance?" she added. Felt something tickle her nose.

Her head snapped to the side and she buried her mouth in her shoulder. A sneeze jolted through her. She sniffled some, felt her nose a bit wet. "Oh, sorry," she said with a laugh.

When she turned back to see strong and handsome Elis, long fine whiskers sprouted from each of her cheeks, the bridge of her nose covered in velvety fur.

Josai blinked, as she noticed the steam of her breath beading into dew against her changed skin. "Oh," she said with sober knowing. "Oh!" She covered her face with fingers turned more pink and raw and long clawed. "Oh no, oh no!" she said, as she pulled away, hiding her face. "I'm sorry! I! I have to deal with something!" She said, scurrying away. She stopped, looked at him once more with her face covered and bowed. "It, it was lovely meeting you!" She sneezed again and this time long, fuzzy ears popped out atop her head.

She turned, and bolted away, vanishing into the crowd.

Elis Chares

 

[Hector]

His eyes went wide at her remark. "Wha- No-no, I mean, I just-" she winked, and his worries seemed to settle some. He cleared his throat. Smiled at her. Ophelia was an odd one, but a good one. He had no doubt of that.

When she spoke on dancing, he heard the hint of insult at the efforts put on by, well, everyone dancing. He blushed some and shied some. Her pride bristling. And glib as he had known her to be, he couldn't quite make out if she was joking or not. Then she asked to be excused. Her voice suddenly raw. Hurt almost.

"Um, of course, O'," he said clumsily. "I, well... maybe you can teach someone about your dances one day," he said earnestly. "Think it would be lovely to learn." he gave her a nod, and a polite bow. "May your festival be full of light, Squire Ophelia," he said with formality he'd heard lace the voices of the Sworn and Pursuants, then rose with a smile, and carried on.

He had to learn about the construct tonight. For who knew when Lady Sabine would next appear.

His feet crunched gently against the snow as he approached the fierce woman he had pulled from the snow, and met the eyes of a beguiling man beside her. He cleared his throat in anouncement. "Lady Sabine," he said with an eagerness he could not hide, and bowed to her and her companion in turn, rose up, pleasant, if not a bit nervous smile on his face. "I hope I am not disturbing anything?" He said, and his teeth showed some.

Ophelia Tirion Sabine Fenvaris Kaige Severos

 

[Valborast Valchek]

Valborast smoothed his hair back slick with a gloved hand as a minor cantrip set into action that set his locks into shimmering blackness free from all signs of age, his eyes glowering in the illumination from the canopy of stars that had presented themselves. That same blackness that dyed his hair now with all the seriousness of his character into his clothes, the Crimson Knight now adopting that most formal of attire for this dance. The dance he and his son had devised, one that Valborast's senses flared with all memory of those distant days. Days of violence, of loyalty, of fierce training, of moments where they both fought the horrors of the dark with every skill they had at their disposal. Against beast of blood and fanged lord who set themselves in pitted combat against the terribly bestiary that the aristocracy commanded. Setting humans against the impossible, to see them win, to amuse the deadened crowd and hear the jeers and scorn of betting nobles as the Valchek's did their bloody work. Better, darker, nights, Valborast thought with a small shudder of his all too mortal soul as he mourned the passing of time he had seen his son last. He would be eighteen this year...if he still, if he still...

The thought was shirked as one might shirk a dagger throw in the dark, side stepping for fear piercing one's heart.

As the blackness consumed his hair and gloves and boots and belt, his robes flickered, the blood red draining of all it's palor as it faded into that most purest of colour, that sunlight kissed pearl white, with silver trim of sigils marked in vampiric text that swam about themselves as they blessed the Knight with all the skill of the light he knew. Of sunlight and of darkness did the knight represent, his shoulders shimmering with the power of sunlight, his boots of purest black, his shadow cast thin and long behind him as he took the lady's hand and gripped it with a firmness that spoke silently the words, 'Follow my lead.'

At first a simple passing of footwork, a circling motion as the two discovered each other's movement and placement. A dance was a communication of body language, and Valborast's eyes locked onto the lady's with dark allure. His shoulders dipped and angled themselves as they circled, and the Riven spoke a single word, it's voice a harmony of the vampires and his own wrenched soul, politely declaring with all foreboding tone, “FORTHWITH.”

Around the two as they danced a number which Valborast guided the Seer with his hand, leaving it unaccompanied for a moment. Riven's word set about shadow magic that spiralled blackness from the silver scabbard downwards, setting a circle in which the two danced. A ring of shadow encircled them, and Valborast allowed the lady to spin and express her own motion within the circle.

And then, in a moment of dramatic flare, did Valborast and Riven summon the shadows to rise up in ghoulish form of the visages of winged demonic forms that were puppets of the creator's dramatic whim and fancy in this moment. Valborast exchanged hands from right to left with the lady who he danced with, and drawing the longsword with a flourishing orbit behind his back, did strike out as he defended the Seer from the shadow creatures who loomed terrible and sinister. Their eyes were blood red, and they represented all that which the Valcheks had defeated together. A parry and repost as claws were sheared, and a heart pierced deftly, Riven striking true as he danced the dance of blades. Four creatures were deftly struck down, the black circle growing wider, as Valborast did display his utter mastery of the blade and Riven glowed with purest silver as it did defeat the entities born from vicious memory. Not once did Valborst's hand leave the Seer's as he did deftly strike out to defend his lady.

The four minions of shadow thus defeated in a display of prowess that communicated that the seer was safe in his company against the shadow of memories that did haunt him, did he sheath his sword with quick military precision, a dramatic bow, and a lean in to the lady as he took both her hands in his own for but a tender moment, and then did bow his head and kiss her hand respectfully, and then, he peered into her eyes, his own fierce with memory, his soul ablaze with the memory of his loved and lost, the gift she had imparted to him...and perhaps, just perhaps...

Seluria Estel'Narqua

 

[Seluria Estel'Narqua]

Seluria blinked as the Crimson Knight took her hand- a brief flicker of an image passing over her gaze before the pale maiden began to move in tandem with Valborast. Like a bright star stained by darkness, he led her into the beginning of their dance as a pair of ghosts might on a winter's eve.

In the back of her mind, the barest hint of something rose to the forefront; a man and a woman slowly moving through mist-laden twilight. Her head was down, her arms wrapped around a bundle clasped to her chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, a limp in his gait.

A deck of cards and a silken blanket, worn about the edges from love. A sturdy basket, woven so tightly together that even a blade would struggle to pierce it.

Robes fanning about Seluria in an arc- a crescent moon encircling Valborast's star, it took but only a moment for her crimson gaze to meet his dark one. And then the path became clear. A shock of sunlight twisting and winding between the trees to carve a path in grass woven by moonlight.

Featherlight steps wove and dodged the rippling shadows as they emerged and encircled the pair, Seluria's eyes briefly flicking to one of the demons as it took ghastly form behind Valborast- only to snap back into focus on him as his stronger leading movements tugged her out of harm's way, and the first stroke of the blade fell.

Her hand released, the Seer danced in a seemingly slower and yet purposeful gait in comparison to the Crimson's Knights rapid movements- her white robes flowing about her and creating a backdrop that cast the shadows in stark relief. And then as his hand took Seluria's once more, her steps changed- matching his to the exact second as they moved as if one entity, the claws of a ghoulish fiend raking down but a hairs-breath away from her body, only to be cloven by her guardian's blade in the next breath.

From confusion to control, their movements became ever more rapid and frantic until finally, the last beast was cloven in twain. A streak of silver was left behind in the light by Riven as the shadow crumbled, and faded, before it too vanished. And then the blade was sealed once more.

Chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, the Seer's eyes sparkled as the Crimson Knight finished his display, her pale skin a bit flushed from exertion. Looking into Valborast's eyes, Seluria quickly realized just how much he had both revealed and not revealed- his gaze clear of all the thoughts that so often muddled his head.

Smiling softly, the Seer leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek in gratitude, before politely stepping back, her hands still entwined with his. Her words, quiet as a breeze over a creek, were just able to be heard over the din of the festival around them.

"That was wonderful, Syr Valborast. I shall remember this for as long as I live."

 

[Wesley Argent]

Wondering around for a little, Wesley decided on a patch of grass with not to many people around and lay down on his back with arms folded behind his head; eyes wondering the night sky. Between the fireworks he would focus on the constellationions.

They were much different here then back home. In his mind he would from lines between the stars, each turning into their own drawing and he would come up with stories to match the imaginary images.

The hum of instraments and the voices accompanying them was not far, setting a lovely scene for the tunes accompaning his stories.

Wesley felt at peace, and for the first time in a long time ; his guard was down as he simply enjoyed the moment.

 

[Agatha]

'Mind's as sharp as ever, I see,' Agatha replied, accepting Helena's arm in the age-old warrior greeting. "The Plane" as it had come to be known had been a long time ago indeed. Agatha had only been a sergeant back then. But damned if she hadn't earned her keep that day... along with half the company.

Letting go of her friend's arm, the Blackshield Captain gave the dawnling a wide, toothy smile. Time made the heart grow fonder, after all, and Agatha wasn't half as fond of anybody as she was Helena of Dawn. 'Ceptin', of course, a certain other knight of the Order.

"I trust your men will comport themselves during this time of celebration, Captain?"

'Scout's honour,' Agatha promised, shooting her men a meaningful look. Redbad nodded quietly, removing his felt cap as he always did when addressing his captain. Mender grinned, nodded also. The others, men and women who had drawn lots to be here, voiced their assent. The night was full of promise, after all, and the Blackshields were nothing if not courteous.

Least when their Captain was afoot.

'It does, though, I dare say we wouldn't have missed this opportunity for the world.' Stretching out her hand, Agatha's smile brightened as a firm weight pressed down against her upturned palm. 'A gift,' Agatha said, extending the satchel Mender had given her towards Helena. 'For the most hospitable of hosts, on what I assume is the most auspicious of nights?'

Helena

 

[Sosi Gnax]

"Arko!" Sosi shouted gleefully. "Sosi is so glad to see you!" She hugged him tightly for a brief moment before releasing him. Finally! Somebody at the festival her own size! Sosi loved talking to the Tall Ones, but constantly having to look all the way up to do so hurt her neck!

Sosi's large golden eyes lit up as a glowing bug zipped past. She reached out her arms to grab at it, but nearly jumped out of her skin when Arkobold screeched. "Arko?" Her concern was clearly visible on her face, though it was swiftly replaced with a toothy grin. Sosi fell back into the snow, kicking her feet in the air as she laughed at the little kobold. "S-Sosi is sorry." she picked herself up off the ground ad brushed the snow off her coat. "She shouldn't be laughing at her friend."

Arkobold seemed unperturbed as he motioned for Sosi to follow him."Wait! Where are you talking Sosi?" Sosi asked, reluctantly following a few steps behind Arkobold. Did he expect the little bug to lead them to treasure or something? Whatever it was he was looking for, Arkobold seemed intent on finding it.

Arkobold

 

[Kaige Severos]

Kaige eyed Sabine for a moment. It seemed he was about to speak, but what words he intended would forever be unknown. He glanced upward at the sound of a harsh cry, and a raven dropped down. Kaige lifted his arm and the bird landed upon it. It fluffed its ebony feathers as it croaked once again, and Kaige untied the tiny piece of paper strapped to its leg. Unfolding it he read his next assignment and shook his head.

He procured a small piece of coal from one of his armor’s compartments and made a cross over the paper, tying it back onto the raven’s leg before releasing the bird to the air. The raven circled once overhead before disappearing.

Kaige never knew how they managed to find him, but find him they always did.

He stood up and bowed to Sabine. “Forgive me, my Lady, but I must go. Duty calls, after all. Perhaps we will meet again. It has been a pleasure.”

Then he was gone, melting into the crowds. He found his way to the stables without much trouble; used to traversing the dank sewers, finding his way here was simple. He checked his bags, patted his horse, and off they went in a hard gallop.

It was not until they reached the Falwood they would stop, and there more great things awaited Kaige.

If he survived.

*exit Kaige*
Sabine Fenvaris

 

[Helena]

Helena smiled at the Captain's vow. "Scout's hold the highest honor," she said with a smirk. "Upon their word does the battles fate lay," she nod, and looked to the sergeants and officers of the proud mercenary's company. Mischief and foulness only hidden neath the skin that hid their teeth. But, she trusted the one who lead them. And a few of those she gave trust to in turn.

She nodded to Mender. The woman had patched her up on the Plain. Her winsome smile and gentleness a thing she remembered long after. Not that she would ever tell her now. She nod her head to the healer, and took up the gift. "Most auspicious indeed, Captain," she said with a slight bow as she held close the bundle. "To have the Blackshields bare gifts,"

She looked down at the thing, and tilt her head. "What hides behind these wrappings, a wolf asks the boar," she said with wide smile. And her fingers began to peel back the layers that hid the gift from her sight.

Agatha

 

[Valborast Valchek]

“As will I, my lady,” Valborast replied in Elven, and swiftly moved to the language of the arcane, the raw stuff of magic, “May truth be told, forever and forever still, shall I keep a promise to you forthwith. I shall speak truth to you, and not deceive, I dare ask, shall we walk somewhere pleasant and good, and bid this crowd adieu? To share the limelight with you is lovely, but, my heart, it can only endure so much...”

Valborast sealed his eyes, his form returning to the Crimson Knight, the words of the arcane sealing his fate. He gripped gently the Seluria's hand in tenderness, and gripped it as if afflicted by a great pain. In truth, there was. A lashing of pain from Riven to remind him of his place in the universe. Valborast's eyes were closed, and he endured much from his weapon of destiny.

Quiet.
Quiet.

“Quiet,” Valborast breathed, his voice ragged for a moment as he drew breath. His eyes fluttered open and he gave a gentle if terse smile, for the pain that he carried was numerous and great, despite the healing that had occoured.

“My apologies my lady,” Valborast said in common speech, and then returned to elven, “I endure much pain, of my own devices and...sins, to use such a word. Please, walk with me, I would enjoy nothing more to share more of this evening with you. If you would have me. You do my soul well to speak, you do my soul well to secrets keep.”

He returned his hands to his side, for fear of inflicting the pain he endured upon one he cared deeply for.

Seluria Estel'Narqua

 

[Innis]

Syr Bebin smiled at her, and Innis wondered if she'd ever seen the expression grace the Loch Pursuant's whiskers before. Though, she couldn't help but feel like his good mood wasn't from anything she'd done. She hadn't done anything yet, after all.

"Tell them a story, squire."

Innis nod. Well, the best she could do was not ruin the holiday cheer in the air. As Syr Bebin sat before the children that were starting to gather, Innis followed, sitting cross-legged next to him. The kids squirmed and rolled about on the bare ground, their attentions not quite caught by the river flow of light that Syr Bebin conjured above.

Innis raised her hand and let her fingers skim that aurora above their heads, feeling the swirl of magick interrupted, how it responded to her own anima. If she put her mind there, shifted that internal eye, she could give shape and depth to the colors, she knew.

Both hands raised, she tried it out. A fox running through the woods, columns of trees passing it by in its haste. It stopped in a swirl of green, yellow eyes staring out through the cover of leaves at a hound and raven that sat side-by-side, blissful in the little hollow grove that Innis carved out of the trees for them.

"Wow, what's that!" One of the kids said. He pulled a finger out of his mouth and pointed at the outline of the fox.

The illusion Innis had conjured came crashing down, disappearing into smoke and rejoining the flow of light above. She blinked at the kid. "Oh, I was just thinking about which story to tell," she said.

"I want to hear Hearth and Home!" Another kid spoke up, bundled up so well that he could hardly lower his arms.

"No way, that one's boring!" A third kid said, a little girl with curling auburn hair. "Tell the one about the demons!"

"Uh," Innis blinked, looking hesitantly to Syr Bebin. She was starting to doubt her skills with kids, unsure how to draw their attention in and get things rolling.

Bebin Theros

 

[Bebin Theros]

The light, rippling, refracted and reflected, settled and spread across the surface of the auroric mantle. Changing and flowing, colors bloomed and spread and shrunk and whirled in technicolor wonder.

Bebin remained quiet, his eyes shut to the light of the waking world, though deep in the depth of his mind, he could see them all. Feel them. Gathered together there in that small tent. Magicked as it was, with all the power of cold winter's snow around them, greedy for warmth. Greedy to turn to water and let run.

From that want. From that desire, did the Basilisk pull his magicks. And the mantle of many colors, that flowed and spread like shimmering river, shift and changed, turned to broad headed serpent.

The children ceased their prattling. Caught in the wonder of the show. The Snake wound its way toward them, and some laughed, some held their breath and one screamed in fright as the jewel eyed illusion wound its way around them. But when the serpent did not bite, but go on with its cool flowing dance, the child settled.

Their parent smiled and dipped their hand into the illusion, and watched the colors ripple and flow around the tips of their finger, as if dipped into gentle stream. The serpent slithered its way back to Innis, back to the front of the crowd, wound itself into smooth coil. And turned to warm and crackling hearth. Its fire glow blue and cool turned green become yellow and orange and red.

Innis

 

[Eternity]

While Raea spoke with her, they moved up step by step the line moving them closer and closer to the vendor giving out the memory stones. Stepping up to the table she looked over the stones, her eyes moving over the small, medium and large stones. “It sounds like your father did a lot to keep you busy.”

Aurora knew there were many kinds of Fae and courts like her own, some more out in the open than others, hers stayed hidden from the current world. Reaching out with her right hand, her fingers danced in the air over the stones, each playing an invisible tune as she tried to decide on which stone to take with her.

“I am exploring, I am having an adventure.” A smile appeared over her lips as she picked up a stone the size of her palm, big enough to be turned into an amulet. Looking it over, she nodded a thanks to the vendor before turning her gaze back on her friend. Stepping out of the way of others looking over the stones, she closed her hands over the orange hued stone as she held it to her chest.

“I am bending the rules of my home, and I am doing what other rulers haven’t done.” Her smile grew, as her eyes had lit up to the feel of the exchange of magic, her memory being planted into the stone.

Empyrean

 

[Seluria Estel'Narqua]

Seluria listens intently as Valborast flicks between the elven and arcane languages, and she nods. But there is a faint hint of concern, too, as she feels the strength in his hand flee- perhaps even a subtle shake as he forces his nerves to bear the brunt of something unseen, and unspoken, but certainly felt.

"I would, Syr Valborast." She speaks honestly in the language of magic. "Remember. There is no shame in admittance to what you are attempting to atone for. It is the first step of many. It takes much pain taken to repay pain given. Many men cannot even do that much, and yet here you stand."

A gentle smile touches her mouth, and as he withdraws his hands- Seluria instead offers something else. An arm looped through an arm, if he wished, so that he need not fear his own reflexes so much, while being able to draw strength from her support.

 

[Innis]

The snake curled and crackled into a hearth, and so red was the glow of the flames that Innis could've sworn she felt the heat of the imaginary fire. She realized that Syr Bebin had given her what she needed to start the story. All she had to do was focus on what was right in front of her.

"Once upon a time, there was a spirit who lived in the fire of a family's home. It slept in the ashes of their stone hearth, and when they stirred it awake, it rose and warmed them through the night. For many years, the spirit was happy. It looked forward to the dark winter months the best, when the family would gather round the fire, much like this fire, and tell stories - much like this one."

Innis closed her eyes, and held her hands out. The dancing light flickered across her open palms. She willed the fire lower, until it was but an emberic glow at their feet. She thought of ash blowing in the wind, sparks drifting as they burnt their last breath out before falling to the ground.

"Then, one day, the house was quiet. The spirit waited and waited, but no one stirred the ashes of its hearth. Its family had gone away."

Bebin Theros

 

[Bebin Theros]

As the words came from the squire, so did the dance of lights follow. The serpent coiled in its hearth, eyes wide as the tongues of fire flicked and licked and waved around for all to see.

A family, moved about. Parents and child, figures large and small that moved here and there with the ryhthms of every day life. Small motions, that showed the shapes tend and care and share in the moments that passed between them, until the cold wind came, and their forms, round and warm and welcoming to all and each other, drifted away.

Mote by mote. Spark by spark. They turned to ash. And all that was left was the spirit in the hearth. Eyes wide and open as they watched the empty space before them.

A house once filled with so much joy, crackled, hollow and alone, with but the fire there to keep the space warm.

But how long, the flame seemed to ask with its withering dance, could such a flame burn? Could such warmth carry on. Alone, with none there to tend it with their thoughtful touch.

Innis