• OPEN •

[carmesi]

WHO: anyone and everyone in solvunn, some minor npcs
WHAT: mingle for the summoned, a funeral rite
WHEN: a day or two after the new summoned arrive
WHERE: in the treehouse and its surrounding area
WARNING: tba as necessary in comments

A. THE SUMMER EQUINOX

Across the different territories, the celebration of the Summer Equinox has long been awaited ever since the Spring Equinox picnics and floral decorations came to an end. Now, to celebrate the longevity of the sun, performers from different corners of the commune go about to entertain the community; sheaves of wheat and hay adorn the fields, and the drier ones are used to make decorative masks and costumes.

The days grow longer, and the settlements are decorated in ribbons of bright colors and the few flowers that are even more colorful this time of year, to decorate crowns or clothes—making bracelets to share amongst children and couples. The trees are a deep green, the branches dancing with the warm breeze that comes up from the southern coast, and the commune settles onto a festive mood as sunsets late into the day bring beautiful colors to coast over and through the clouds.

The celebration moves now towards the Primary Settlement. Trees are decorated with strings and ribbons, young girls and women in their best white dresses, dancing around to the rhythm of the music of the local bands. Young children run around in their half-finished masks and costumes, some of them even carrying a pamphlet that they give out to the Summoned, whether they're new or not. The Maypole, still erect from Spring, is being prepared to be burnt later in the night. In the meantime, people are asked to participate and add to the bonfire: twigs and flower crowns and ribbons.

Likewise, as the community waits for night to fall to culminate their celebrations, a small market has opened. Tents are raised under the eaves of trees, different items to barter: precious gems, produce, smoked meats, clothes, yarn, tools—the list is endless, as traders from across the different settlements have come to this particular spot. Come and join in the spirits of the celebrations and on the commune’s intent to bond together.

B. THE LOCAL TASTE

When shadows start to fall onto the commune, the market takes a different nature. No longer is there trading, necessarily, but rather the owners of pubs and makers of brews are excited to take part in this year’s ‘brew crawl’. Locals and Summoned alike are welcome to participate, both in providing the brews they have concocted over time and to partake in the drinking.

From one ‘stand’ to the other, ales of all colors from golden yellows to mauve browns, there is not a single individual who will go thirsty under the colorful lights of the marketplace. Watch out for roots that stick from the ground or a change in the ground’s level, and be sure to have at least one partner to make the most of the brew crawl.

At one point, the sound of drums and wooden flutes will signal to a rise as the shadows deepen. Men and women alike are invited to dance as the bonfire flares up into a white, hot blaze; the children who have managed to remain awake join as well, wearing their masks and chasing each other around. The atmosphere is electric, the buzz of ale thrumming through people’s inhibitions, and the general joy of the day’s celebrations. Locals sing songs without instruments, harmonizing with one another as they dance circles around the burning Maypole.

The youths in their masks will then scatter into the dark, sneaking out towards swamps or forest, forming a ‘mini-Council’ and attempting to sacrifice or make offerings to the Cardinal Gods. One may find an Elder mage or two chastizing the youths, who run away when caught, or one may even find themselves the lead subject of one of these ‘rites’. One could either follow along or snitch on them.

C. A FOREST'S LAMENT

As the heavens blotch into inky black skies, the sun seems to gift Solvunn with a gift of colors and light even as it has already departed, as they approach midnight. Pale reds and greens decorate the sky; the perfect backdrop of darkened treetops.

A more solemn ceremony takes place some ways away from the Primary Settlement, by the Black Eye Lakes. Across the lake, the local band led by Tiril Blomare the authors of a solemn song that echoes across the trees, a concert not meant to have a public, lights above on the trees adorning the musicians. A special gift, as Tiril is so pregnant at this point that she can only stand as her husband, Declan, holds her upright.

With every new year comes death, and with every new year comes new life. The death of one of the Summoned does not go amiss to the Council and to the members of the commune, especially that of someone who was an active participant in much of Solvunn’s growth in the past two years. A few locals have come about to pay their respects to Nero. Solvunn may have other ceremonies, but this one in particular is one that both Himeka and Wanda decided on after conferring with one another. Grief is not easy, and grief is best not tackled alone.

Candles and ornaments have been set up by the shore of the lake, to be lit and set to float away. Anyone who wants to pay their respects can walk into the water, send off a quiet prayer; a few of the locals do as much.

Perhaps this will be enough.

Comments

[vecna]

To put it bluntly: It’s Complicated.

Does he have anything he wants to return to? When all that awaits him is a strange purgatory with only a lightning storm rumbling through it, striking electricity across every limb of his body? Or even the lab, its own kind of prison, filled with people who wronged him, people he hates?

No, there’s nothing for him to return to, but the ire bolsters him, makes him want to find a way back so that he can do what needs to be done. Find a way back to his home “plane.” Make the people who hurt him suffer; make the world…

Well. He’s not sure, now. Not after so long in this one. Not after what he’s learned about a future that hasn’t come to pass for him.

But the rest applies. And his pride, too, is affected by remaining in this world overlong, and he explains as much.

A hurry? Not particularly. “Home” never granted me much of anything.

But eventually, I’d like to go back. This world has afforded me more freedom than I’ve had in a long time, but we weren’t brought here by choice. We can’t leave by choice. It’s still a prison, you just can’t see the walls.

And I’d rather not be killed by an angry god to see if I can get back that way, either. I’d like things happening on my own terms, that’s all.

[wwrench]

Wrench isn't expecting to find so much to agree to in the other man's response. He's been trying to hide the particulars of his own story since the moment he arrived. Knowing Solvunn has several powerful telepaths among its ranks hasn't exactly made that easy, but they've been good not to pry. And Wrench does take them at their word when they say they haven't pried. He's still absolutely convinced that if anyone knew the man he'd been before he landed here, they would've told everyone and he'd have earned the distinct honor of being the first summoned immediately banished to the Tertiary Settlement.

Solvunn might be a prison; he can agree to that. But home was a prison as well, and at least here he isn't being actively hunted.

Have you found any evidence of that being possible?

Is that what you were trying to do, with the portal and the animals?

Wrench doesn't know if he'll ask it until the words are already being formed. Maybe there's something helpful about the brain texting. It's so easy to lose his filter when all he has to do is think in a more forward direction. He doesn't seem to fault the man. Sure, the words themselves don't exactly convey emotion like spoken ones might, but Wrench's expression is entirely curious.

[vecna]

His polite little grin skews wry. He supposes anyone who hasn't met him yet but has been here long enough to see that vision seared into their heads thanks to the Singularity would eventually ask. Henry flicks his gaze at Wrench; once blue-eyed, now one is crimson in the low light.

No. That didn't have as much intent behind it.

Does that make it better or worse? That's up for debate, but he had not gone beckoning something strange from the other side for the sake of leaping through a portal and hoping it led home. If only it were so easy.

I sensed something on the other side. And I just gave it a little tug; the consequences of that were entirely unintended. So. Sorry for the hassle.

"Hassle" is one word to describe a monster invasion, sure.