(2312) Winter Solstice

[Anatole]

Anatole rubbed at his chin.

"Nothing wrong with an ugly sweater. Yes. This is Kray. He has been in the city a few months now and at last he can be formally introduced. Here is Kray, Gristlegrinder of the Autumn Court. Yes. I have been good. No, my friend, you may perform the necessary rite with the Wyrdstone."

He let his eyes slide from the group, to Kray, and then the Wyrdstone all alone.

And then he lends an attentive ear to the conversation - especially that between his new Courtier and the Sovereign of Spring.

[Vincent Black]

Vincent walked in late, his first time since arriving into town. He walked in dressed in an Ugly Sweater, Winter pants, and some combat boots. He also wore a beanie on his head and had some gloves on his hands. He was a little tipsy holding a jug of already cracked eggnog that he opened on his way over. He still was sober enough to know what he was doing, but knew he had to attend to official matters first. He walked up to the the Wyrdstone and imbued it with his glamour, putting the power of the Solstice behind it.

Vincent then raised his jug, "I brought EggNog for everyone to enjoy!! Happy Winter Solstice to all, and here is to a hopefully uneventful winter." As he placed the drink on the table with the other alcoholic beverages. He felt the power of the Solstice, his court, and he felt the need to celebrate even more.

[Saber Sloth]

YYC's correct! If you're Courtless, or New now's the time to spend 1 Glamour into the Wyrdstone to gain, or keep Freehold Status 1!

and Seraphina you can spend your Glamour as well to facilitate the Changing of the Seasons!

[Sonnie Wu]

"Shopping is fun! Do you not have any ugly sweaters?" She nodded to Sera, but her eyes were drifting towards the food.

A nod was also given to Anatole, "I should show off my collection of ugly sweaters more often! Kinda hard outside December, though."

After a moment of waiting, for appearance's sake, Sonnie headed over to the table and started dishing up!

"Hi Vinny!" she waved to her fellow Beast as she poked through the various dishes with a fork.

[Kray]

Compliments and sovereigns doing the bowing, where have I ended up exactly? Either way he tries to bow back to Circe the heft of his gut making it a hard task, and more like he has just lent over from the diaphragm up, but he tried. Circe is the Mary Sarah mentioned in the park, got it.

'Oh. Thank you Sarah it's ... I don't actually know what it is, it just fits.' Which was a rarity that rendered colour obsolete.

Then nodding to his sovereign in acknowledgement of his words and follows his gaze confirming exactly what he's looking for. Although now having to wait his turn as the new arrival beats him to it.

When the guy with cool looking marks and glowing eyes is done and moves away Kray approaches.

Looking at the stone the red and black rock holding his gaze. Moving but still that is a thing of magic for sure. He reaches out just a single finger and with a delicacy born of practice and necessity, places the digit in contact with the stone willing his glamour into the thing.

Then straightening he turns to look at Anatole, just to check with the harvest king, that all was well.

[Seraphina]

Sapphires watch as conversations flows and Vincent makes his way into the party.

Seemed they were all there.

The numbers were…small.

Hearing Sonnie, she looks to her, shaking her head, “No, afraid I don’t. Which is why I need to get an expert to help me pick out a good one!” the expert, of course, being Sonnie.

It was time. Time for her to step up as Director, something she had seen Rhodes do before. But nothing she had done herself. Could she be as eloquent as he had been? Probably not, but she could try.

Walking over to the stone, a translucent hand hovering above it, she looks to the Freehold.

“Thank you all for gathering tonight for what is the Winter Solstice. This year we are without a member of the Winter Court, which would break the Cycle of our Courts, a protection in itself. The last time this happened, as some may remember, and some may not, the broken cycle called forth one of the True Fae to our Freehold. In order for that to not happen again, the position of Director was formed, allowing the one appointed to step forth, put their own Wyrd into the stone, and allow the Cycle to remain intact. This does not make me a Winter Monarch,” a shake of her head, “but simply a place holder, a way to keep our Freehold safe. I want to let it be known, that should a Winter come to the Freehold, I will without hesitation and without a doubt, pass the Crown on to them. This is something I swear to you one and all, here, in front of the Wyrdstone, you have my word.” She was a Spring, always had been and always will be. “With that said,” the hand presses onto the stone, her own Wyrd flowing into it, keeping the Cycle intact, hopefully keeping them safe. “Let us remember the Court of Sorrow and the part they play in each of our lives. A couple years ago, the Winter Monarch had made a Salt Well, one that everyone could reflect upon their own past tragedies. She instructed us to take the pen, and write one word that is most associated with your deepest sorrow that you can remember. You don’t need to share it with anyone else, this is your own memory. Take a moment to remember it, what happened and how it affected you. Then place the paper into the salt water. We should hold to Winter’s traditions tonight, and reflect on our sorrows.” She knows she certainly had been reflecting on sorrow a lot lately.

“Lastly, enjoy the night and the fine spread you see before, we have Harvest King Anatole to thank.” A smile and nod to him.

[Seraphina]

Forgot to add the Glamour...lol!

[Saber Sloth]

As the Glamour joins the Wyrdstone, and Sera's Verdant-spring-life! filters through, the Lost bound to the Freehold gain an echo of Sorrow-loss-cold, it feels more like artificial flavouring in cold water than what they know of the real thing. But it is enough for the Wyrdstone. Which pulses, thrumming in time, then a half beat behind Sera's heart.

Those of the Freehold feel the instinctive safety-trust, of knowing that not a one of them is one of Them. Agents, Privateers, or Loyalists. The Wyrdstone doesn't make everyone trust or even like each other, but there is something calming in knowing no one here will sell them out.

[Anatole]

A grin flashes in the burned dwarf's effusive curls.

"Oh I think you should bring out more of the ugly sweaters sometime. There is a charm about ugly sweaters..."

He was still smiling when he broke off to observe Kray make his oblations at the Wyrdstone. The wash of calming emotions, of certainty, indicated the old magic had taken hold; Anatole inclined his head briefly so that the other Ashen Courtier knew all was well.

Turning back to the larger conversation:

"No need to thank me: it is the passing Season's final gift before the Change. Harvest King, was I not?"

Running fingers through his beard:

"Tradition is good."

Breaking off, he moved to the table and the writing materials where he wrote with a flourish -

Absent friends: Gerrit, Cassandra, Jasper and above all Titania.

Carefully folding the expensive stock, he marched over to the fire and tossed the note into the flames; he glared at the paper as it danced, ever curling and shrinking away, in the heart of the flames.

[Circe]

And Vincent was starting early. "Vince," she nods to him, "Thank you for competing with Sonja."


Kray's respect gets an amused snort from the Larcenist. Clearly the Ogre wasn't built to bow. He eyes follow the noob as he swears himself in. Good. Now she could take her hands out of her jacket. That was good.


Circe doesn't stand at attention when Seraphina starts her speech. But she does position herself to keep an eye on both the Director and the entrance. Paranoia? That is the job. That said, she didn't doubt Sera would pass on the crown as she stated. And looks to Anatole whence his title is mentioned.


Circe gives him a thumbs up, "Yes you are Anatole."


She also follows him to fill out her own note. Rather than mention whom she missed or why, she focused upon the words. Words to express those she'd Lost from her Court and friends gone. Two words.


Arrogance Oblivious


Too focused upon herself to keep her court. To focused upon herself to stop her friend's worst loss. She'd ALMOST written down rage, but she felt that was wrong for a Summer. It was part of her. The note joins the pyre, sparking a few changes before turning to ash.


She gives a sad laugh as her eyes dart to Anatole, "Self-reflection. Fancy talk for admitting ta fucking up. Drinks?"