Post by Ace of Glaives on Jul 13, 2022 5:15:34 GMT 10
Series: Only Child
Title: Festive Season
Rating: PG-13 for references to grieving the loss of a loved one
Event: Midwinter Musings
Words: 351
Summary: Petranne and Winnamine discuss Midwinter traditions.
The Copper Isles didn’t have Midwinter celebrations like in the Eastern Lands. During the long months on Lombyn, preparing for the rainy winters, Petranne had listened raptly to Aly’s stories of snow and dark winter nights and presents and kisses for luck. Petranne’s midwinter had turned out very different.
Now it was winter again, and her life was more different than she ever could have dreamed, though somehow more similar to Aly’s stories of queens and castles than anyone’s life ought to be. Alone in her rooms, Petranne dreamed of balls and festivities and crackling fires.
No one around her seemed to feel very festive, though. Mama and Dove had grown quieter and sadder as winter approached, and so had all of their friends who had known papa. Petranne hated it. She was sad too, of course, but having everyone around her looking so upset all the time only made it worse.
“Could we have a party?” she asked, flopping backwards onto the bed as she watched mama getting dressed for dinner. Mama had started wearing blacks and greys again.
Mama looked back at Petranne in the mirror, frowning in confusion. “A party?”
“A midwinter party. Like in Aly’s stories.”
Mama’s frown softened into a sad smile. Petranne hated those kinds of smiles. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling much like a party, my love.”
“But that’s why we should have one,” Petranne said. “Midwinter is about being happy even when it’s dark.”
Mama set down the earrings she had been trying on and came to sit beside Petranne on the bed, smoothing down Petranne’s hair. “Who told you that?”
“Aly.”
“Maybe next year,” mama said, gathering Petranne in her arms like she used to when Petranne was smaller. She pressed her face into Petranne’s hair for a long moment. “How about that? We can plan it together.”
“Alright,” Petranne said, slowly. That didn’t make this midwinter any less sad. But it was something to look forward to.
Mama cupped Petranne’s face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. Her cheeks were wet. “Midwinter luck, Petranne. Let’s go to dinner.”
Title: Festive Season
Rating: PG-13 for references to grieving the loss of a loved one
Event: Midwinter Musings
Words: 351
Summary: Petranne and Winnamine discuss Midwinter traditions.
The Copper Isles didn’t have Midwinter celebrations like in the Eastern Lands. During the long months on Lombyn, preparing for the rainy winters, Petranne had listened raptly to Aly’s stories of snow and dark winter nights and presents and kisses for luck. Petranne’s midwinter had turned out very different.
Now it was winter again, and her life was more different than she ever could have dreamed, though somehow more similar to Aly’s stories of queens and castles than anyone’s life ought to be. Alone in her rooms, Petranne dreamed of balls and festivities and crackling fires.
No one around her seemed to feel very festive, though. Mama and Dove had grown quieter and sadder as winter approached, and so had all of their friends who had known papa. Petranne hated it. She was sad too, of course, but having everyone around her looking so upset all the time only made it worse.
“Could we have a party?” she asked, flopping backwards onto the bed as she watched mama getting dressed for dinner. Mama had started wearing blacks and greys again.
Mama looked back at Petranne in the mirror, frowning in confusion. “A party?”
“A midwinter party. Like in Aly’s stories.”
Mama’s frown softened into a sad smile. Petranne hated those kinds of smiles. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling much like a party, my love.”
“But that’s why we should have one,” Petranne said. “Midwinter is about being happy even when it’s dark.”
Mama set down the earrings she had been trying on and came to sit beside Petranne on the bed, smoothing down Petranne’s hair. “Who told you that?”
“Aly.”
“Maybe next year,” mama said, gathering Petranne in her arms like she used to when Petranne was smaller. She pressed her face into Petranne’s hair for a long moment. “How about that? We can plan it together.”
“Alright,” Petranne said, slowly. That didn’t make this midwinter any less sad. But it was something to look forward to.
Mama cupped Petranne’s face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. Her cheeks were wet. “Midwinter luck, Petranne. Let’s go to dinner.”