Stories by the Firelight (Everyone and Anyone!)

[Khiara]

2nd Day of Winter, evening

It was a true winter night as the Sapphire Pavilion celebrated the birthday of their adopted daughter. Khiara, born of snow and ice, laughed and drank with her kin as she breathed in the crisp night air. It was colder in the nights, and the young vantha had dressed in her favourite white and gold dress from Riverfall - complete with parka and fur-lined boots. She looked just as she had the day Vanator had met her, with long hair shimmering in the firelight.

She had danced and sung and frolicked with relatives on both sides of the marriage, avoiding Eamon's feet so not to have her toes crushed and whooping with laughter as Bremon lifted her into the air and swung her round. Taking a dance with her delightfully drykas husband, the brunette spun and clapped, kissing him soundly before giggling and slipping away playfully. Skipping to the fire, she had called out to the children at the party, collecting them in front of her and sitting them down. As she had begun to weave a tale for the children, some of the adults gather to listen to the story from a far away land.

"Once long ago, when the ancestors first touched the snows of Avanthal, there was a man named Svetic. Born to a Hold renowned for their prowess in the hunt, Svetic grew up with dreams of bringing home a kill worthy of greatness. He boasted with the other boys, I will capture a mighty dire polar bear, and bring forth its pelt, teeth and claws." As she spoke, Khiara's face lit up and her voice altered to the character. In her element, firelight framing her like a halo, she continued.

"You talk, but you do not act' cried the others, laughing and prodding poor proud Svetic. He scowled and left them to their foolery, knowing one day he would prove them wrong. As the seasons turned and Svetic grew, he killed everything he encountered. Bear, wolf, fox and even bird. But nothing could sate his desire for the great dire polar bear. One blizzard caught night, a stranger entered their midst's. A beautiful maiden, with hair like ice and skin like fresh snow. Her eyes were that of the palest blue and her frame slight. She was weak with hunger and shivering with cold. First to see the maiden struggling through the blowing snow, Svetic - now a young hunter - caught her in his arms and carried her to his Hold. Once inside his family warmed the maiden, and his mother asked her name. Tziani, she called herself, and she knew not where she had come from. There had been darkness, then she awoke in the bitter cold wearing nothing but the slight fur wrap she had woken in. As the blizzard raged on through the night, Svetic listened to Tziani - becoming more and more captured by her." Without pausing the story, Khiara blew through her cupped hands, making a good imitation of the wind howling during a storm, bright violet eyes shining.

[Ariel]

Ariel followed all the noise to an area in which everyone was singing and dancing and having fun. Her eyes bugged out wide, as soon as she had realized what she stumbled upon, a party! Ariel loved parties. Hoping she wasn't being too intrusive, she walked right into the crowd, dodging frantically out of the way as a woman's foot beat back down on the ground. Note to self: avoid dancers too oblivious to notice you exist. That was the one downside to being such a tiny entity: just about everything and everyone was a threat to your existence. As Ariel stumbled through the throng of people, dodging feet, occasionally clinging to a long dress and climbing as it fluttered about in the heated movement of dance, laughter and various merriment, just to get out of the way for a little while, the beat of the music started to catch on in her ears. Ariel didn't recognize the tune, but then again, the few songs she could vaguely remember from her childhood were few and far between, and of an entirely different nature than this. Either way, she didn't mind the new sound, in fact, she kind of liked it. But then, she saw a woman, she seemed out of place to Ariel. Not necessarily in nature, but more in appearance, she was dressed differently than most if not all the others that were gathered around. She was wearing a white and gold dress complete with parka and fur-lined boots. She had straight black hair that fell to her shoulders, and from where Ariel was standing, low to the ground, constantly having to dodge people's feet so she wouldn't be smushed, Ariel found that she didn't have much more time to look. All she knew was that, for some reason, this woman was gathering all the children she could around her- there always being a few stragglers clinging to their mothers or fathers, or other family members- and took a seat around the fire. At times the woman would bend down a little, lean into them, as she spoke, but what the woman said, Ariel couldn't be sure of. She was still far away. So as she dodged a few feet, and got closer, Ariel started to make out words, what appeared to be a story, coming from this mysterious woman. "He boasted with the other boys..." a murmur from the back of the crowd, and Ariel missed what came next. She wished her tiny legs could carry her closer, faster, and despite the fact that she was tall for her race, she silently cursed herself for not being "of normal size in these lands." Eventually, Ariel got close enough to the woman, and the fire, to hear her words perfectly. She was standing next to a girl who was sitting Indian-style in a small patch of well-trodden grass and dirt. The girl's hazel eyes were wide as she stared up at the storyteller, her long dark hair tied up in a braid. When Ariel poked her knee and asked if she could sit on her lap so she could see and hear better, the girl hardly spared a moment to take in the fact that there was a 3 inch clay woman, a woman of a race she probably hadn't noticed before, talking to her. Instead, the young girl simply obeyed, placing Ariel on her knee, which was surprisingly bony in feel. Ariel curled up in a ball. Lying down, as though she were being told a bedtime story by one of her aunts. Sometimes, she missed being told a story. Ariel was only five, and had left home ages ago, her need for adventure pushing her forward. Her knowledge of how young her people were, on average, when they died, and her knowledge of the probability that they would be squished well before that, propelled her forward. Yet, despite this, despite her apparent rapid aging, her constant thirst for higher knowledge and adventure, she was still a child in age, at least in relation to others of mizahar, and even in regards to most of her own people. And as a child, she still, on occasion, acted as one, wanting to be told bedtime stories, and to be read to, to want to at least, on occasion, do the things your average child would do. So as Ariel lay on the girl's knee, she listened to the woman weave a tale of a faraway place. She folded her wings beneath her body, hoping they wouldn't be too sore when she got up. She watched as story-books and words that she didn't comprehend swirled around her head. "The woman's aura," she whispered to herself, "a true storyteller," as the next length of the woman's tale hit her. "There had been darkness," the storyteller began, with such a slight pause it was barely noticeable, "then she awoke in the bitter cold wearing nothing but the slight fur wrap she had woken in. As the blizzard raged on through the night, Svetic listened to Tziani - becoming more and more captured by her." Without pausing the story, the woman blew through her cupped hands, making a good imitation of the wind howling during a storm, bright violet eyes shining with an inner light and intensity, it almost hurt Ariel to look up at her. But instead, she merely closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the words to sink in, allowing herself to imagine the story in her mind's eye. Before she opened them again, eagerly awaiting the next portion of the tale. OOCI know you didn't mention it, but when I hear "dancing," and "wedding," I think music, so I hope you don't mind my adding it, if it doesn't fit, I can change the post up a bit, if you want. =)

[Vanator]

Khiara was enjoying herself, everyone was. Vanator moved through the crowd, laughing as his Vanthan wife twirled, dancing with Kashik's brothers after gracing her father-in-law with a more respectful traditional step. Van had had a few mugs of mead, and though he was by no means drunk, he was sufficiently loosened up. The Drykas seized Kashik, the two embracing and dancing suggestively with grinding hips for the length of a song before he laid a sloppy kiss on his first wife and moved to dance with the birthday girl. He enjoyed a dance with Khiara, spinning and dipping her, the woman simply beaming with joy. But she was a feather on the wind that evening, and after their dance and a kiss, she was off again. Van's gaze followed the graceful Vanthan to where she gathered the children, moving in the same direction. He knew she was ready to tell a tale, and he did not want to miss it. Leaning against a pole off to the side, the horseman smiled as his wife began to spin her story. Then his eyes caught the slight movement near the children. A mouse, some vermin? He questioned, taking a step towards it, ready to stomp on it with a booted foot. It scurried up near his cousin at the front of the group. The girl saw it, and let it jump into her lap! Vanator moved closer, trying not to distract from Khiara's storytelling. He could now see the creature, relaxing on the girl's lap. It was a small clay figurine of a winged woman, and it was moving. A Pycon. Vanator had encountered the magical species while on a hunt. A whole troop of them raided the camp and stole items from the tents. But this single, small one appeared not only harmless, but almost child-like as it listened intently to Khiara's story. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes on her and he listened as well.

[Khiara]

Khiara watched the children as they listened, enraptured already by her words and the atmosphere. A chill wind blew through the party as the adults stood around listening also, adding a touch of reality to her story. Lowering her hands from her mouth, the violet eyed vantha continued.

"From that night on, Tziani lived with the Hold that saved her, trying her hand at being one of Morwen's Children. Of what people she came from, no one could say. Made of ice and snow almost, she seemed surreal. Her beauty and her grace made her welcome and beloved in their midst - but by none was she more loved than how Svetic loved her. The young hunter adored Tziani, and with blind eyes to all others he served only her." Her tone had turned loving and tender, and for a moment the brunette's eyes flicked toward Vanator. The drykas had moved closer, settling near one of his young cousins. The little braided girl had a peculiar doll on her lap, carved or maybe sculpted of clay. And if she looked hard enough, it could almost be listening too. Smiling, she continued.

"Everyday, Svetic would go hunting, and every evening he would return to Tziani with the spoils of his kills. She would smile, savouring his gifts as in her heart she loved him too. One such evening, Svetic brought her the tooth of an old white wolf." Crouching slightly, the vantha growled deep in her throat, before cupping her hands around her mouth and howling long and low. It was a mournful sound.

"Presenting to his love, Svetic tucked her white hair behind her ear. 'My love, my snow-born maiden, gift of the Goddess. I have brought you the very fang of the Great White Wolf, so that you may know my strength and my love.' Tziani took the tooth, but looked at him with sad eyes. 'Svetic, I love you, but this wolf was old and wise. What did he do to deserve such a cruel end?' Laughing softly, Svetic looked on her with blinded eyes and shook his head. 'My Tziani, so gentle and loving. This wolf was old and cunning, and if he were to come across you in the snow, he would tear your very throat out."

[Ariel]

Ariel lay on the girl's lap, her wings tucked beneath her, her hands under her face, as though she were about to fall asleep, and she were using them as a pillow. Ariel was engrossed in the woman's story, allowing her heart to flutter as she dangled hopelessly from every word, until the story-teller came to the next. "From that night on, Tziani lived with the Hold that saved her, trying her hand at being one of Morwen's Children... he would tear your very throat out." How dark, yet beautiful Ariel thought, as she tuned into the woman's aura once more, peering deep into her violet eyes. Watching as her aura turned into a bright yellow, reminding Ariel of the sun, as it danced around her tiny frame, along with words that she didn't recognize, and books, many many books. Ariel was intoxicated by it. The woman's aura was radiant, it shone with an intensity that she didn't find in many people's auras. Drawn to it due to its many volumes, unwritten stories that swirled around to her, Ariel forgot to turn it off, or perhaps, she merely didn't want to, being to elated by how it had made her feel, how it had make her think. If everyone were like this, if she listened to this woman long enough, maybe it would satisfy her hunger, her curiosity, give her the answers she so desperately wanted. So Ariel found herself lost in both the woman's words, and the pictures that her aura depicted, beautiful things that Ariel assumed only she could pick up on, and ugly things as well, things she felt as though would consume her, had it not been for the prevalence of light at this very moment. The heart and soul that was now shining through. Ariel clung to this, held onto it for what appeared to be dear life, until it began to overwhelm her... to much knowledge trying to be absorbed in such a small amount of time, and slowly, slowly, her eyes began to feel heavier and heavier. Her body like lead, as though she were being pulled down into the center of the earth. But she fought it, not wanting to close her eyes, let go, fall into oblivion, or wherever it was that she appeared to be going. She just wanted to hang onto the words... the aura, yet, the longer she fought the need to stop, the need to let go, the more and more exhausted she felt, the heavier her eyes felt until she was actually blinking, until she couldn't open them anymore. Ariel was unconscious, on this strange girl's knee, having drunken in too much sensory information in one go. Everything was black, then bright, and black again, everything was swirling around her, nothing made sense, everything was disjointed, and her heart seemed to be pounding in her chest, for her breath was caught deep in the bottom of her throat, behind some sort of knot that was blocking its way out.

[Vanator]

His curiosity divided between his Vanthan wife's story and the curious Pycon guest, Vanator dropped to kneel next to the girl on which the clay woman now slept, his gaze turning from the small creature back to Khiara as she unraveled her tale. The woman's olive skinned glowed in the light of the fire, candles and lamps set about the pavilion, her deep hued eye's beaming with excitement as she looked into the gaze of her child listeners. Khiara was immersed in the storytelling and had captivated her audience. The story was beautiful, and though it originated in a distant land far to the north, the theme and emotions of the tale could cross cultures without losing its simple, elegant beauty. Van loved to watch Khiara speak, her soft features alive with emotion, her lilting accent sweet and exotic. He caught his wife's eyes, flashing a wide grin and a wink before she glanced back to her audience. His own gaze fell again to the Pycon, a small delicately detailed figure of a lovely long-limbed woman with feathered wings. Where she came from, or where any Pycon comes from, was still a bit of a mystery to Van. But apparently the clay people can sleep, as this one demonstrated. Further inquiry of the small creature could wait until she awoke. In the meantime, Van turned his attention back to Khiara, gratefully taking a tankard of mead from a cousin who offered him the fermented honey drink.