• 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

[suplexer]

[ No way back.

Tifa bows her head for a moment when she hears that, barely holding back a sigh. It won't do any good to spiral about it, especially when she's well aware that this man is in the exact same situation.

Her hands move almost without her thinking to continue folding the paper craft. When she lifts her head again, she's mustered up a smile. ]

I'm sure you do too. [ Especially if he's suffering some recent grief, which she suspects he might be. ] I've met others here who were also summoned, but they've made entire lives here. It's hard to imagine.

[ He'll understand, surely. And with that, she puts the finishing touches on the paper boat and gently sets it down on the grass in front of her, nodding to him as she does so. ]

[macwraith]

[ He can imagine it. At least, the reasons some might not mind -- he can't quite imagine being comfortable or happy here, but that's less to do with the place and more the circumstance. Regardless of where he is, nothing would ever be the same. ]

For some, it may not matter where they are. Not attached to a place, perhaps, or not so keen on going back regardless.

[ He doesn't have much to return to, himself. Memories. A grave. (Though here, he can't even visit her grave.)

This will have to do.

Red reaches out for the folded paper. ]

Thank you. Truly.

[ She's been very kind, to keep him company like this. ]

[suplexer]

[ While it's hard for Tifa to imagine, she knows this man is probably right. There are people who leave their homes because they decide there's nothing for them there. How many people moved to Midgar because they decided that it was where they would find their future? And she'd seen how that turned out, again and again.

Her own reason for moving had been completely different, but that train of thought won't take her anywhere she wants to go.

She almost asks him if he's one of those people he's describing — if he's not really all that keen to go back. But she doesn't want to put this man she just met on the spot, especially when he's already going through something. ]

Set the candle in it, and it should float out across the water just fine.

[ Almost there. She keeps her voice soft and encouraging. ]

And it was no problem at all, really. [ To help him with the ritual, but also to be here as some sort of moral support. Even if they don't really know each other. She lifts her hand in a small wave of greeting. ] I'm Tifa, by the way.

[macwraith]

Thank you, Tifa. [ Even if she argues; he means it. ]

You can call me Red. It's a sorry place for introductions, but I'm glad you stopped.

[ He'd felt so frozen. Now, the numbness and grief remains, stones inside his chest, but at least he's found his voice again, figured out how to move his hands enough to light the candle from the flame of another lined up by the shore. ]

...'scuse me.

[ Ducking his head, Red turns to step away for some privacy. The candle, nestled in its paper boat, feels so precarious. A fine metaphor for life, perhaps. Precarious and small, and burning so hot while it lasts.

He wades into the water, the cold a small shock cutting through the heaviness that weighs down his bones. It draws a shaky hiss of air from him, a gust of breath that catches the flame, makes it dance and flicker. He keeps walking, the water steadily lapping at his calves and knees, his hips, until he stands waist-deep in the inky darkness of the lake that seems to stretch on forever, dotted only with those little lights like stars.

Somehow, the flame has held fast. Warm in his cupped hands, when the rest of him is freezing. ]

Antea-- [ No one is around to hear him choke on her name. All he has to do is reach out. One more step, two, chest-deep now.

Ruaidrigh mac Raith places the little boat atop the water with reverent, shaking fingers, so very carefully balancing it in place. ]

Where have I found myself, my love? How can I face it without you?

[ There is, of course, no answer. ]

Wait for me, my love. [ With a gentle nudge of his fingers, the boat begins to float away. ]

I'll find you again. At the end. I'll find you, Antea.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

[ The light grows smaller and smaller. Eventually, when he stops being able to feel his limbs for the cold and the shaking makes it hard to breathe, Red turns away. He begins to wade back out. He doesn't expect that anyone is still there. ]

[suplexer]

[ Red? Tifa blinks at that, but it's a brief moment of surprise before she hides her expression with a glance away. Now isn't the time to point out that he shares yet another aspect with one of her friends, even if it was only a name. ]

So am I.

[ She lets him go then, but she doesn't leave. She isn't going to eavesdrop on this moment or intrude in any way, but she doesn't want to abandon him here either. This area near the lake seems safe enough, but it's pitch dark out now and she's heard there are creatures that lurk around outside the settlement.

That, and... he shouldn't be by himself. After.

She isn't expecting him to go so far out into the water, but she doesn't say anything, nor does she try to stop him. She can sense the heaviness in the air — that this is something he has to do. And so she waits patiently, an anchor of sorts lingering near the shore to lead him from the water once he's done.

It's too dark to see if he's been crying, and it's not her business. All she knows is that he's sopping wet.

As he wades out, she takes a few steps toward him and nods, asking no further questions about what he had to do — the soul he had to let go. Somewhere, she thinks, they've returned to the Lifestream. ]

Let's walk back into town. We can find somewhere for you to dry off.