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.