Merry Winsol! (Open)

[singularwidower]

Who: Daemon & everyone in line of sight that he can personally issue the invite to.
Where: Daemon's cabin at the treeline on the northwest side of the lake.
When: Evening on December 21st — the winter solstice, from sundown to sunrise
What: A Winsol party/observation (Daemon's canon Christmas/Yule/New Year's tradition)
Warnings: Blood and probably spiders (a blanket warning just in case, for Daemon's canon)

(Open) (This is a mingle, so feel free to toplevel, etc etc)

Merry Winsol

In the two weeks leading up to the 21st, Daemon personally passes a quiet invitation to anyone (and everyone) for the longest night of the year: "I'm opening my place up for Winsol, in case you'd like to observe the holiday in company. We'll drink hot blooded rum and dance for the glory of Witch." He doesn't expect anyone to stay all night—unless of course they want to—but at midnight he intends to toast Witch with anyone who wants to celebrate with him. If he catches you after the two days of freezing/boiling in your own skin, he mentions that maybe sticking around other people for the longest night of the year might be wiser than being alone.

Winsol Night

On the night of the solstice, he opens up his cabin to guests at sundown. His livingroom furniture has been pushed to the sides to make a dance floor and a fire has been laid in the fireplace. Snacks and the aforementioned spiced rum are set on the shoved-aside kitchen table. Of course the rum isn't necessarily rum or necessarily the good stuff, but he's been planning this for a while so there's a little of everything. And although he did invite everyone with 'hot blooded rum,' no blood has been included. He's a traditionalist, but that's not the kind of thing you spring on someone.

The snacks are half home-made, using some of the supplies that Gilia had so thoughtfully provided for everyone. There are little jewel-shaped cakes, cookies, and cured meats. Things he from the store that have other holiday names on them have been overwritten with "Winsol," but left otherwise intact.

There's a small pine tree set up in one corner, decorated with small shiny ornaments and gently burning witchlight in various jewel-tones. There are other pine boughs scattered elsewise, along with ribbons he's salvaged from the Christmas decorations provided, making the place look thoroughly decorated. Also there are some tasteful spiderweb motifs? For some reason?

There's also background music!
[Christmas Music | Winter Music]

A crystal (Well, "crystal." It's a rock. Maybe rose quartz?) settled on top of a woven mess of spidersilk in a wooden frame is playing music. It's orchestral-type and unobtrusive, and though the instruments don't exactly sound like flutes and violins and cellos, they're similar. But it's pleasant. A bit on the classical side. Lots of strings.

Slightly haunting.

Enough to give the evening a sense that Daemon is splitting the difference between a celebration, a religious observance, and a gentle sort of wake.

At Midnight

Daemon, as host, makes sure that anyone there with him has a glass of either the spiced rum or something else of their choice. As the deepest dark approaches, he gives a tiny explanation for exactly who and what they are celebrating:

Witch, among the Blood, is the living myth, and she is brought into the world by those who listen to the dreamers in the Darkness. The strongest dreams are plucked forth and woven into a web that binds those dreams to flesh. We celebrate the season of the dark to honor Witch, as she is both human and Other, a gift from the Darkness itself.

On the longest night of all, we toast her and offer our prayers and dreams and hopes at the time when the Darkness is wrapped mostly tightly around us and our dreams might be the strongest. And then—we celebrate.

The toast itself is to Witch, of course, but also to new friends and to avoiding the final death.

After Midnight

After the toast at midnight, Daemon invites everyone to dance. He continues to play host all the way until dawn. By dawn, the fire has burnt low and the music has all but faded out from where the crystal rests on now-blackened spidersilk.

His doors close when the first light breaks over the lake and the night has let them go.

Comments

[lethechained]

Although at first she clutches her glass carefully with both hands, soon enough she spots the opportunity to set it on the table between them. It feels like the right thing to do to avoid letting herself be distracted from the conversation itself, so presently she places the object down with a sort of gentleness that comes naturally - especially when handling stuff that doesn't belong to her. Thereafter the girl lifts her gaze to regard Daemon with a look that would probably be less obviously concerned if she were awake enough to rein it in; the big, sad blue eyes really don't make it much of a secret.

Lips pursing in a frown, she gives a small, wordless nod, as if to confirm that of course he'd still miss his wife, decade passed or not. Fully prepared to listen to however he might feel the need to voice his mourning, Naminé doesn't interrupt - nor does she feel any need to speak up about it when she realizes a beat late that he's deliberately changing the topic. Assuming it's for his sake rather than her own, she's not at all reluctant to follow his lead.

"It's no trouble," she says automatically, just after having perked at the unexpected thanks. 'Friends' is one of those words that always seems to make her bashful, but she still manages a sincere, "Thank you for inviting me. I'm, um-- very grateful to be able to celebrate with you and the others." Or to celebrate at all, really, since parties haven't exactly been in substantial supply during her lifetime. Which does bring her back to her initial curiosity, even though it takes her a second to figure out how to phrase the segue.

"Although actually... this holiday doesn't seem to exist in any of the other worlds that I'm familiar with." Looking a touch sheepish, "I know you explained a little bit before, but-- I think there are some things that I'm still confused about."

[singularwidower]

There is no reason to hide that he's studying her, so he doesn't, his gaze turning thoughtful. He really...had not meant to concern a child. This was not something she was responsible for, or should be responsible for. He does dip his head in acknowledgement of her thanks for the invitation and responds with a simple, "My pleasure, of course."

He grows a little amused at her non-question, though. "What are you confused about?" This is safer territory, and it allows him to shift in his chair and release some of the tension he hadn't consciously been carrying. "I don't know as I would expect Winsol to exist anywhere else, honestly, as it really is Blood specific. Even the landen in my world don't celebrate it. They have other midwinter holidays, as far as I'm aware. They are not the dreamers of Witch, and so have no reason to revere her."

Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his fist, he offers a small smile.

[lethechained]

Despite being a perceptive girl, Naminé's preoccupied enough at the present moment to not be overly aware she's being observed. Or at least, that's not where her focus is; instead she spends the moment after his question attempting to word her own inquiry, only for his following comments to add yet more to the list of things she has to wonder about. Lips pressing together, she resists the urge to admit a self-conscious, 'Everything you just mentioned.' With so many words she doesn't know the meaning - or context - of, it's hard to know where to start.

But he's smiling at her and so she does the same in return, flickering through it briefly, a little uncertainly, yet not without sincerity. "Well..."

Ah, perhaps there. "You've mentioned Witch several times, and in your speech you talked about what she is. I guess I'd like to know who she is...? Or-- why it is that you revere her." Because of course the name catches Naminé's attention, and when she's struggling so much to wrap her head around basically any aspect of this peculiar entity - who is apparently worthy of a holiday - she can't help but want to understand more.