a festival of lights
For reasons unknown, the Dawn Court has always been particularly reverent of the fall. Perhaps it is the smell of change in the air; or the brilliance of the forest’s changing colors; or maybe it is the spirits said to walk the earth each night.
They say magic is stronger around the equinoxes, that the land itself comes alive when the earth comes into balance. According to legend, the tenuous threads separating our world from the spirit realm begin to fray around the autumn solstice, allowing the two to blend together. Sometimes, ghosts of loved ones can be seen wandering the meadows at night, said to be looking for family, friends, and the things they left behind. But just as the spirits are allowed to walk in the land of the living for the night, so too can the living become trapped in the spirit world if they are not careful… or so they say.
Regardless, the entire Court has been decorated for the festivities. Lights hang from every building, every tree, every fence, turning Delumine into a blaze of color and firelight. In Illuster Meadow the flowers seem to have been replaced with lights, and citizens and guests alike can come forward to weave together grass-lanterns and braid light-flowers in their manes. In the Gardens of the court they can carve all manners of statues and jack-o-lanterns. Along the Rapax, an odd game of firefly catching seems to have started, fueled by the music of a lute. And somewhere in Viride, a strange trail is waiting to be explored.
This event will be open the entire fall season, until July 31st! Participating in this event will allow you to claim IC Event Experience, as well as some event-specific prizes. There will be three prompts for you to participate in, as well as an interactive quest. Simply post a new thread in the corresponding board with [fall] in the title!
There is almost no darkness to be found in the meadow tonight. Even the sky, with its layers of bruise-blue, seem faded above the brightness of the meadow.
Between the tall end-of-summer grasses there are no red flowers to be found. There is only brightness blooming, face up like moon-petals, as far as the eye can see. Each flower and each stalk of grass is frosted in star-dust. Each chimes out a bell-song as the horses gather to stroll between the not-stars. Where perhaps other courts revel in the darkness, and the constellation stories waiting to be told, Delumine revels in the brightness.
And as the night goes on it's almost easy to pretend the meadow is waiting to be explored beneath the dawn instead of the moonlight.
There are strange shapes cut out of the grass. Trails perhaps, or symbols of an arcane religion almost everyone has forgotten. Perhaps the wondering takes over, but there is not a single soul in the meadow who knows what the shapes mean. But perhaps it takes only stumbling across the first bowl of fruit surrounded by small lavender scented candles to decide to live only in the moment. Whatever the reason there is to all this--- well surely it must be something vital?
Somewhere there is singing. The notes rise up like bird-flocks. Crowds are dancing between the light flowers. Children are gathered off to the side, each braiding strings of light-flowers in another child's mane. Their laughter hums below the music like a pulse. Winter seems so very far away here in the meadow with the laughter and the poetry.
Maybe it'll never come.
Tonight is not the night for worry, but rather to dissolve into the strange air of celebration that hangs over the entire meadow like a thick, magic fog.
The garden is full of more than darkness, and sunshines, and hours, in the autumn. Between the foliage and flowers there are echoes. Some are made of bone. Others are made of driftwood, or squashes, or marble chiseled with tools sharp enough to carve words into the bones of their wielders. There are no names to grace the bases of the echoes, only leaves woven around the stone, and wood, and bone, and lights shining from their carved eyes.
At the start of the path, one twisting between the gardens scattered around the court proper, is a single statue of a horse. The horse is carved from marble with lines of blue and golden glitz running through it. His head is thrown back and his teeth flash in the sunlight and shimmer in the moonlight. Some say it looks like he’s screaming and others say he’s only bellowing a hallelujah. One child thought he looked like a singing angel.
What everyone can agree on though, is that the curl of his neck and the length of his lashes sparks a memory that they all seem to share.
Who is this mystery stallion?, the question turns the air in the court electric as the start of a late summer storm.
Perhaps the answer lies in discovering the pattern of other statues hidden in the garden. Perhaps the stallion is the end of the story rather than the beginning. Perhaps it’s the bear rearing up on his high legs with a fish caught between his teeth that should be the start of the story. Or maybe the story begins in the middle somewhere between the stag with the gemstone antlers and the bird with wings woven out of pearls.
Maybe there is no pattern at all. Maybe the story is in the suggestion of order in the way stone and wood rise from the flowers like creatures not yet named.
Whatever the story, it’s clear by the placement of the banquet table with bits of stone, wood, and bone scattered across it (under which lay baskets of tools), that each horse wandering through the path surely has something else to add to the weaving, wonderful tale.
At first it seems as if the river is stitched together with strands of stars instead of lines of white-froth water. The rocks seem nothing more than bits of dead stars caught in a current of light, or perhaps they are stones caught in the creation of another world. Light pools upwards on the undersides of the leaves arching fat and wide across the racing river. The leaves dance in the wind like night-moths with a whispering song too soft to understand twisting around their branches like vines.
And perhaps this is the first time that Delumine, deep in the throes of night, seems not like soft rising of the sun. Because tonight, by the river stitched of light, Delumine has become the dawn of another world (one blessed not by the gods but by wonder).
The first horses that gather by the bright-drenched river, notice only the way the light reflects off the world. And the second group of horses only notices the way the light races with the current but never seems to fade.
It’s the third group of horses that discover the magic.
A poet and his band, long weary of the dancing and the tame parts of the festival, stumble upon the shoreline. Their eyes are all watery with liquor and their tongues loose from the thick-drunk hangover of song, and merriment, and idolatry. Each inch of their skin feels like art to them, like words and immortality melded down into flesh and bones. Perhaps it’s why the flute player steps into the current and starts to hum (or perhaps it has something to do with the way his doe eyes seem too liquid for this hour of the night).
The reason perhaps, does not matter, only the effect of his soft, lilting, humming song.
It starts with a single thread of light pulling away from the river and twisting itself like a crown across his brow. More threads of light join it, laying themselves down upon his spine and between the tangles of his mane. Soon his friends join in and together they discover that the threads of light are not lights, or stars, or godsblood.
The magic is not magic at all. Each spindle of light is made of fireflies that dance together so tightly that their wings weave, and tangle, and hum like a canvas begging for creativity. The only magic it seems, is that there are millions of them, in this single patch of the river.
No one bothers to wonder at the reason for them. Each horse is too concerned with luring the fireflies to their skin.
Soon it’s discovered that song, and music, and nothing more than voice and dance, woo them into falling upon flushed skin instead of water. And so the contest begins, with each horse trying to coax the fireflies into forsaking every form but their own.
At the end of the event, all firefly-catching threads will be entered into a raffle! One winner will receive a free unique item that attracts fireflies to them whenever the wielder chooses. Completing a firefly catching thread will also award you a free accessory item, with an enchantment that allows it to glow like a firefly.
There's a tradition in Delumine, one as old as any can remember. A path stretches through the forest, a weaving, winding path that seems forgotten most days of the year. But on each autumnal solstice, the trail is revived.
Each year it is decorated with fairylights, and lanterns, and flowers. At the end of the path is an ancient tree, a tree that legend says once used to be a young woman. It’s said spirits walk the path on the equinox, when the threads between our world and the spirit world are stretched said. It is also said that walking this sacred trail can reveal visions, and ghosts of loved ones. But the line between life and death is blurred this night - those who brave the forest need be careful to stay focused on the present and not give into temptation. It is easy to become lost this night, particularly for those who wander alone...
