Post by devilinthedetails on Jan 1, 2021 2:01:50 GMT 10
Title: Roasting on an Open Fire
Rating: PG-13 for references to arson and burning at the stake.
Summary: On Longnight, Jory and Nia roast chestnuts on an open fire.
Song: The Christmas Song.
Notes: Set after the events of Cold Fire.
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”—Opening to “The Christmas Song”
Roasting on an Open Fire
On Longnight, Jory and Nia sat by the hearth in the parlor, the flames casting a bronze glow over their creamy brown skin, sparkling like red-hot embers in their brown eyes, and making the golden streaks in their hair shine like newly minted argibs as they warmed their hands and roasted chestnuts over the open fire.
Open fire, Nia thought. The blessing and bane of existence during the long, dark, and bitingly cold Namornese winter. The blazes that warmed their flesh and blood when the frigid winds whipped across the Syth, tearing through thick layers of undercoats, overcoats, hats, scarves, and gloves. The flames that gave them light on winter nights that seemed endless in their blackness. The fires that could consume their wooden homes, eating them alive beam by burning beam. The fires that could trick them into thinking that Ben Ladradun was a friend in extinguishing errant, dangerous flames instead of a foe igniting them.
The cackle of the flames reminded her of the heat and rage of the fire that had swallowed Ben as he was tied to the stake in payment for his crime of arson. The smell and sound of the chestnuts roasting in a sizzling iron skillet resting on a bed of charcoal reminded her of how Ben had sounded and smelled when his flesh burned to ashes…
Nia’s stomach knotted, and she wondered if she would be able to eat the chestnuts when they were done roasting. She hadn’t felt like eating much since Ben had been burned alive. Arson was a dreadful, deadly crime, but did that make burning a person alive for it less sickening? Nia’s gut didn’t think so. She had found herself unable to eat or vomiting up what she did eat too many times to count since Ben was roasted on the stake like a goose on a spit in Anyussa’s kitchen.
“How do you bear to cook and to eat after he was burned?” Nia’s voice sounded choked—as if she were suffocating in smoke. She knew she wouldn’t have to tell her twin whom the “he” she referred to was. Jory would understand. “Cooking smells and sounds like him.”
“I just don’t think of him at all.” Jory lifted her nose, willful and defiant as ever, and not for the first time, Nia wished with a surge of envy that she could be as fearless, as unflinching as her sister. “I’m not going to let him ruin my life and something I love doing now that he’s dead, am I?”
“I suppose I should move on with my life and try to forget what happened to him.” Nia felt as if fresh milk had curdled on her tongue because it was impossible to forget arson and a man being burned alive at the stake. She was certain in her blood and her bones as she smelled and heard chestnuts roasting over a Longnight fire that she would always remember what had happened this winter in Kugisko. It would be the story she told her children and grandchildren, urging them to be wary of open flames and the people they allowed to convince them were friends, not foes.
Rating: PG-13 for references to arson and burning at the stake.
Summary: On Longnight, Jory and Nia roast chestnuts on an open fire.
Song: The Christmas Song.
Notes: Set after the events of Cold Fire.
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”—Opening to “The Christmas Song”
Roasting on an Open Fire
On Longnight, Jory and Nia sat by the hearth in the parlor, the flames casting a bronze glow over their creamy brown skin, sparkling like red-hot embers in their brown eyes, and making the golden streaks in their hair shine like newly minted argibs as they warmed their hands and roasted chestnuts over the open fire.
Open fire, Nia thought. The blessing and bane of existence during the long, dark, and bitingly cold Namornese winter. The blazes that warmed their flesh and blood when the frigid winds whipped across the Syth, tearing through thick layers of undercoats, overcoats, hats, scarves, and gloves. The flames that gave them light on winter nights that seemed endless in their blackness. The fires that could consume their wooden homes, eating them alive beam by burning beam. The fires that could trick them into thinking that Ben Ladradun was a friend in extinguishing errant, dangerous flames instead of a foe igniting them.
The cackle of the flames reminded her of the heat and rage of the fire that had swallowed Ben as he was tied to the stake in payment for his crime of arson. The smell and sound of the chestnuts roasting in a sizzling iron skillet resting on a bed of charcoal reminded her of how Ben had sounded and smelled when his flesh burned to ashes…
Nia’s stomach knotted, and she wondered if she would be able to eat the chestnuts when they were done roasting. She hadn’t felt like eating much since Ben had been burned alive. Arson was a dreadful, deadly crime, but did that make burning a person alive for it less sickening? Nia’s gut didn’t think so. She had found herself unable to eat or vomiting up what she did eat too many times to count since Ben was roasted on the stake like a goose on a spit in Anyussa’s kitchen.
“How do you bear to cook and to eat after he was burned?” Nia’s voice sounded choked—as if she were suffocating in smoke. She knew she wouldn’t have to tell her twin whom the “he” she referred to was. Jory would understand. “Cooking smells and sounds like him.”
“I just don’t think of him at all.” Jory lifted her nose, willful and defiant as ever, and not for the first time, Nia wished with a surge of envy that she could be as fearless, as unflinching as her sister. “I’m not going to let him ruin my life and something I love doing now that he’s dead, am I?”
“I suppose I should move on with my life and try to forget what happened to him.” Nia felt as if fresh milk had curdled on her tongue because it was impossible to forget arson and a man being burned alive at the stake. She was certain in her blood and her bones as she smelled and heard chestnuts roasting over a Longnight fire that she would always remember what had happened this winter in Kugisko. It would be the story she told her children and grandchildren, urging them to be wary of open flames and the people they allowed to convince them were friends, not foes.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!