Hello! This is @farolero-posting (AKA Fran) known for running a few other blogs. Here are the main things you should know about this blog:

Content warning: may feature discussions about death and grief.

This is set in an AU, Post-Solstice. The specifics of this AU are unknown to you. Ask her and you shall receive!

For those who follow other askblogs I have: this one is NOT compatible with them

Though it has some story elements, it is not as linear or lore-heavy as other blogs I run.

Maize can answer both serious and joking questions, don't worry too much about sticking to the timeline.

Other OneShot RP blogs are free to interact!

Other characters Will appear. You may even get some OCs even.

This blog will be text based, without sprites, but I may make exceptions.

Would you believe if I said that there were once in the past, celebrations of glenfolk alongside us spirits?

Traditions have changed with time, of course. Not because of any... strife. Rather... lack of numbers, I suppose.

The speed of our world has done its harm, one could say. Busier people, busier lives... consequences beyond our foresight.

That is... less important for the story.

Solstice celebrations were the most awaited ones, towns would journey into the deeper forests, and we'd open paths for them as well.

I was young, back then. Not strong enough to shifts paths. It was said young spirits were prone to wander off, and I was no exception. Knowing when to set your roots on the ground was a stage in my life I wasn't ready to live yet.

I tread far, far away from the gathering that day. I found a rocky river.

And I found a feathered youth. I...

Oh... my memory is weak.

I... remember that she had a huge bag on her back. woven with plant fiber and ram wool, as was common at the time. Hers had a fish pattern.

There was a cliff between us. Not on the earth, but perhaps on our lives... I could feel the vines crawling on its rocky surface, on my end. I suppose this scared her. And she ran off.

Intrigued, I went after her, crossing the gap in one leap. There was an attempt, truly, but... The landing... well. I would heal fast, but strong as my kind may be, our youth are fragile as well.

The feathered one stopped, dropping her bag, and rushed towards me. I remember her picking me up, with some struggle. She sat me by a nearby tree, and made an attempt to mend my wound. Her fear returned.

I asked her, "what would frighten her so?"

She admitted, she had never seen one like myself. She lived by the underground village, she had a small family. They grew corn, and fished by the river.

I had never seen one such thing as an underground village, or a small family when mine was so big. We grew all sorts of things, and we fed the creatures around.

As we spoke, I took in the sunlight, using my renewed energy to create wraps around my injured limb. Soon enough I was walking again... Not without trouble, but taking steps nonetheless.

My feathered companion gasped in surprise. She invited me, eager now. A bridge had been built over the cliffs of our lives... I accepted, curious and daring.

The town had two entrances, bells hanging by the gates, with stairs and gently sloped paths leading underground. Fireflies filled the place, thriving in the dim light inside.

She led me through the labyrinth of passages. Admittedly, there were many open spaces, letting sunlight shine through, but far was it from what I was used to.

Her family... was a man. Say some that a family is a chain. I would say a family is a hand being held by another. This man was not her father, her uncle, or her elder. He was a fisherman that could fish no more, aging as he was.

He said today was a pleasant day, he walked slow steps and made it to the garden. He would later go back to his nest, when he felt was time.

I asked if he ever went outside the town, if he ever missed the wind blowing over the sea of times past.

He said yes.

He said he missed the fireflies too, as they wouldn't go far from the coast. He said he'd miss the days when it was night and the night as dawn arrived.

He said he never missed family anymore. He never missed belonging somewhere.

I shared the day with the two of them. He shared stories I cannot retell faithfully. My feathered friend wove a bracelet for me. I watched over their plants, making room for each root in the fertile land.

Traditions of Solstice had been more of a distant tale for them. It was a day like many others. But the words spoken and the people met would be unique to that day.

By the underground, light finds its way. And in such a way. I eventually found myself there every time I missed the friend and the fireflies.