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Arlyn
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Post by Arlyn on Jan 11, 2018 3:36:14 GMT
Memorial for the Ancients The time had yet arrived again. Once every few hundred years, the elves host a ceremony, called the Memorial for the Ancients, to remember where their roots have come from and the gifts of life and magic their ancestors have bestowed upon them. Majority of the elves hold this event in the highest of regards, hence the fact that many will attend, some families even make it a requirement to. All of the important elves shall be in attendance, from royalty to the council, all will come to remember where they have come from. A single, white willow tree, at the furthest edge of the Sacred Hunting Grounds, marks the center of where the ceremony will be taking place. Of course, the willow is decorated with the finest of lights, twinkling down all the way to the snowy ground below. Some other decorations are placed on the tree as well, mementos to loved ones that have long since passed. Some little notes, or maybe even some memorabilia which has important meaning to said individual. Presents also line the bottom of the tree, gifts brought from all of those in attendance. Once all of the presents under the tree have been placed, it is until sundown and after the ceremonial speech is that they can be opened. Strangers, giving gifts to each other, marking how peace has long prospered in elven culture. But it is not only the elves in attendance, even in the past, even during the war, setting aside their differences for perhaps a single day before battle was wrought again the next, the royals from all other races were invited to this ceremony. The other races of course could participate in all of the festivities, exchanging gifts, giving speeches, conversing with the other races and enjoying all the beauty this event brought about. This is the only day in the year in which hunting is not permitted, of any animal whether it be predator or prey. This is a day for peace for all beings, and to remember those who have not lived to see this day. As of late, perhaps this is more of a remembrance, for all of the tragedy as of late. Many were lost at the Royal Emberi Ball, the Plant Hunt, and the Oedir Battle Royale. Perhaps this is a final goodbye, to wish those a safe passage from this life into the next. After the speeches given by the speakers, the royalty, priests, anyone else that wishes to speak is given full reign on the small podium next to the edge of the snowy cliff, the sun setting behind them and into the cold night. Near the white willow, a river flows. Once after the speeches have ended, and those who wish to open a single present have received them, the final part of the ceremony will proceed. Every individual receives a lantern, and can write messages, draw pictures, do anything with them, before placing them into the river to let them flow with the current. Each lantern, each light, represents a loved one or loved ones lost, going from this world and into the next. After the lanterns flow down the river, near the edge of the cliff is a waterfall. The lanterns flow across the river then when they hit the waterfall, they flow off into the heavens above, the lights of the lanterns blending into the starry sky. A new year has passed, perhaps these lives will not be forgotten, and this year can be much more peaceful than the last. 
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Post by Zaos Silvaris on Jan 14, 2018 23:45:49 GMT
When the dream controls my attitude,tells me what to say and to do 285 ♦ @everyone Zaos approached the sacred willow bearing gifts, like any other elf. He hoped to see his sister there. Maybe he'd hear some news. Ultimately, he was there to honor his ancestors, not worry about the future. He had a few trinkets for his friends who had died in the war. He'd also brought some for his parents, of course. And of course he had a gift to leave under the tree. He placed the notes and trinkets in the tree and the gift beneath it, then stepped back. There wasn't much more to do but stop and think, so he did. Normally he hated to; the dreams and memories of the war and what he'd seen invaded his mind and made him sick. But there, under the willow, he felt safe. He could remember his friends and his parents. It was alright to remember them. He didn't know for sure, but maybe there was some magic from the tree that made it so.
He recalled his mother and father, how kind and loving they were. How they managed to care for him, and then his sister. They were both loved and they both knew it. Both their parents had been proud of their children for even the smallest achievement. He missed them. Then there were his friends,the ones that had died, the few that had died right in front of Zaos. Some had been closer to him than others, but they were all sorely missed by him, and their families. He had to wonder what it was like to pass on, but then... he didn't want to think about that.
He sniffed and ran his hand down his face as he heard approaching footsteps.  |
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Post by Emperor Omesh on Jan 15, 2018 19:21:58 GMT
It had been a cold and uneventful journey. Traveling above ground always made him feel uneasy. He was used to a world that had defined boundaries; the expansive grey sky above was a sight to behold for someone who spent nearly their whole life in the Airen kingdom and the surrounding mountains. In between reviewing policies, Omesh gave himself ample opportunity to absorb the world above. He spent a lot of his time watching out the windows of his royal carriage as it traveled through the winding mountain roads and into the snowy forest of the elves. He understood their beauty from an objective point of view, but bowed to his familiar love of Airen.
He was traveling with a couple of his trusted advisers, some statesmen, and the Emperor's Hand, an elite group of dwarven warriors who swear an undying fealty to the Emperor. They busied themselves either with work or discussion throughout the journey which provided Omesh with plenty of time to admire the elven forests. This was interrupted when a scribe addressed the emperor and asked about the nature of the gift he was bringing to the Memorial for the Ancients for the official record.
Emperor Omesh chided the scribe playfully and reminded her that it would be a betrayal to reveal a gift before it is given even to those who aren't to receive it. In order to put something to parchment, she instead asked him to recount the last time he attended the Memorial for the Ancients. He recalled the memory of his first attendance as dorn of the emperor who was his father. He stayed silent for the majority of the event. He reminded the scribe that tensions during this part of the war were particularly high; the lands of men were degenerating once more into feudal in-fighting and their individual alliances were causing ripples throughout the world. He did remember that he did meet a merfolk royal who he found to be a great joy. He had never met most of the other races at that time let alone a merfolk. All in all, he remembers the Memorial very fondly.
For the remainder of the trip, Omesh kept to himself as he reminisced and recalled, occasionally remembering something good and relaying it to the eager scribe.
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The Emperor walked through the snowy fields of the hunting grounds, flanked by his personal guard and his statesmen. His eyes remained focused on the solitary great tree that laid before him, adorned with twinkling lights (much in the style of elves, he would think to himself). The dwarven warriors cleared the Emperor a path to the tree and he walked up reverently, cradling a small metal box in the bend of his arm. He looked up at its brilliance and admired how the lights played off the snow, creating symphony of glowing and gradient colors. A part of him felt strange standing before the same tree that stood here three hundred years ago. It looked very much the same, but he looked very different. His hair, once a dark red, was not a dull grey. His face bore wrinkles like cracks in some old stonework. He moved a little slower (and slept a little longer). However, in that moment, it had felt like no time had passed at all.
He knelt very stiffly and placed the metal box at the base of the tree. His fellow dwarves followed suit, placing small notes and items. This was a moment of respite for him. His party would be busy placing their items or saying their well-wishes. He cherished these moments as it allowed him to feel like a regular dwarf and not emperor of the dwarves.
Here he found Zaos at the tree who, Omesh had noted, had recently been crying. Omesh broke the silence and said, "Da'laesh sh'lar ein... thulvyas, (may the Ancients smile upon your gift)" in very stuttered and unfamiliar elvish. He chuckled. "I've been told that dwarven tongues are too clumsy to speak elven properly but, I always try." He smiled at the elf.
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Post by Earindil Wavesplitter on Jan 15, 2018 22:00:33 GMT
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Earindil Wavesplitter
Fish in a bowl
About halfway through the journey, Earindil decided that he much preferred traveling by boat. The swim from Dorsina to Drythwood was easy. Riding in a carriage was terrible. Bumpy, uncomfortable things, carriages. Walking would have taken much too long. That's what he was told, anyway. The ride seemed to take forever. He spent most of it leaning against the window, fidgeting absently with his beard or his hair. The last time the elves had celebrated this event had been about a century before Earindil was even born. His father had been the one to attend. Now, three hundred years later, Earindil was coming in his place.
There were periodic rest stops for Earindil and his company in the carriage to stretch their newly-formed legs. That was probably the best part of the journey for Earindil. The air was cold even in the carriage. The snow irritated him. If he got it on his legs, he broke out in scales. Thankfully, he had boots to combat that. He didn't like being able to see his breath. He supposed he was too used to life under the waves.
At long last, they made it to the carriage's final stop. Earindil and his company could walk from there. He was glad of it, but, again, the air was much too cold for his liking. With every exhale there was a fog of breath. The snow crunch beneath his boots. He was still a bit clumsy on land but he walked with his head high and with a long stride, hoping to look proud and kingly. As he passed the other two, he smiled and nodded to them.
He was no elf, that was certain, but his aunt had been killed at the ball. He placed a small shell in the tree in her memory. When he was satisfied with it, he knelt and placed his gift. It was a simple box to begin with, but some artisan had covered it in a mosaic of shells and bits of glass. He was proud to say that he'd brought it. Finished, he joined the other two where they stood and bowed to the dwarf he recognized as Emperor. "Emperor Omesh. It's a pleasure." As he bowed, his hand moved to his chest as if to prove his sincerity.
Staring up from the ground
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Post by Zaos Silvaris on Jan 15, 2018 22:19:48 GMT
When the dream controls my attitude,tells me what to say and to do Zaos had recovered from his sorrow and placed his hands behind his back, trying to look mature and dignified in front of the Emperor. When the honored dwarf spoke to him, he smiled politely and lowered his eyes. "Thank you, your highness. It's an honor to be spoken to in any tongue." he replied, bowing. "And welcome to Aelfmann. I hope the journey was pleasant for his highness."
He wasn't certain what else to say besides being polite. More footsteps caught his attention. He turned to see who must have been the king of the merfolk. More royalty to be polite to. And they weren't even elves. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Strange that the king of merfolk left something in the tree. Perhaps someone important to him had died. Either way, Zaos bowed again when the mer-king approached. |
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Post by Emperor Omesh on Jan 19, 2018 1:18:36 GMT
Omesh bowed in a curt fashion to the elf in thanks. "I appreciate your well wishes, friend. My journey was comfortable and seeing Aelfmann is a experience within it." He looked around himself. "You need not call me your highness or anything. Before the ancients, we are all children, for better or worse."
He would skip a beat in a cool silence, his breath curling at the end of his rosy and large nose. "I hope that whatever ails you wanes within your heart, O friend," he said sincerely.
When the merfolk king appeared, Omesh felt a tingle of nostalgia to the last time he attended the Memorial. When he approached, Omesh followed his lead, bowing at that particular angle and placing an open hand on his chest. "Earindil," he began. "it is always a joy to see you. There aren't many opportunities for us to meet, beyond diplomats." He straightened up and placed his hands behind the small of his back. "I hear all is well with you and your kingdom flourishes under your crown."
It wasn't long after this where the earnest scribe hurried up along the Emperor, drawing a rudimentary pen from her sash and placing it at the paper. She watched the exchange with a strange intensity. It made Omesh a little uncomfortable. He gave her a bit of a stern look. She stared back at him, awaiting whatever it was he was about to say. "At some point, Earindil, I would like to meet with you regarding a trade route one of my merchant looks is wanting to establish across the sea." Skritch, scratch, scribble, scribble. "But to be honest, I'm telling you that because I will surely forget about it as it is memories your old age will steal from your first. I pray that you come in celebration," he asked as a not-quite-a-question.
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Post by Zaos Silvaris on Jan 20, 2018 21:28:24 GMT
When the dream controls my attitude,tells me what to say and to do 228 ♦ @tag Zaos nodded. He felt almost apologetic for standing on formalities. Emperor Omesh was right; they were all children of the Ancients in this place. He found himself appreciating the dwarf's wisdom, despite his own mild racism left over from the war. The kind words from the Emperor that followed shook Zaos. The tears threatened to return, but he was determined not to fall apart in the presence of royalty, not even at this most sacred tree. He simply nodded. "Thank you, Emperor Omesh."
With the appearance of the mer-king, Zaos seemed to be forgotten. He couldn't hold such a thing against the royals; he was but an elven merchant, an ex-soldier hardly even worth remembering. Still, he did not care for most merfolk. Especially one that smirked as often as King Earindil. The elf turned his eyes back to the tree so at least his frown wasn't aimed at the warrior king from the deep.
His thoughts began to wander again. He prayed they wouldn't find their way back to the painful memories. Instead, he made himself count imaginary coins. Bored of that, he thought of all the book titles he could remember. All the books he'd purchased. The books in his humble library at home, waiting for someone to read them. Waiting for Larkin to read them.
He shook his head and went back to counting coins. |
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Post by Earindil Wavesplitter on Jan 20, 2018 21:52:46 GMT
265 Words
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Earindil Wavesplitter
Fish in a bowl
Earindil smiled that the Emperor mirrored his bow. If nothing else, at least the dwarf was polite. "And even in the deep of the sea have we heard of your great rule over your people. My father spoke highly of you when I was a boy. Perhaps you remember him?" A shrewd man, Earindil's father. And he hardly had anything kind to say. About anyone. Whether or not the dwarf knew that, Earindil did not know. But it hadn't been a lie; the old king of Dorsina had once told his son that the dwarven emperor was just and wise. It was almost an honor to finally meet him at such a casual place.
The apparently sudden appearance of a dwarven scribe caught Earindil's attention. He turned his eyes toward her, raising an eyebrow. Well, perhaps it was important work. The dwarves were so different from the merfolk. They were more organized, more interested in protocol. Strange creatures. Be that as it may, he turned his attention back to Omesh and did his best to ignore her. "I am always pleased to talk of trade routes. Any way to improve my people's wealth and prosperity is a blessing."
Earindil was a lot of things. He was a trickster, a king, a warrior, a married man. There were good things he'd been called, and bad things. But the one thing that he kept, whether he realized it or not, was a fierce love for his people. It overpowered everything else, even his desire to walk the sandy beaches of the coast and meet the humans ashore.
Staring up from the ground
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