#event 1.

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 !

calla’s  head  throbs  as  she  presses  a  hand  to  her  forehead.  there  is  often  a  fine  line  between  the  pain  of  her  visions  and  the  pain  of  a  𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠,  but  it’s  been  so  long  since  she’s  last  celebrated  that  it’s  hard  to  discerne  the  difference  in  the  moment.  only  there  are  no  images  that  flicker  through  her  mind  as  she  closes  her  eyes.  she  knows  she  must  have  overdone  the  celebrating  -  it  isn’t  often  that  she  gets  to  let  loose  so  freely  and  openly.

she’s  settled  herself  in  a  quieter  corner  of  the  hill  top,  away  from  most  of  the  busy  crowd  and  the  loud  laughter,  but  still  a  figure  appears  before  her.  instinctively  she  shuffles  in  her  seat  to  make  room  for  her  new  company,  and  with  a  quick  gesture  to  the  empty  seat  next  to  her  she  offers  what  she  can  of  a  smile.

@newtears​ - 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 !

the  gap  between  the  two  worlds  were  seemingly  nonexistent  tonight.  wanting  only  peace  between  humans  and  elves  since  her  prophetic  powers  had  emerged  -  it  seemed  like  there  was  no  better  day  to  celebrate.  watching  her  father  light  the  fire  seemed  like  a  monumental  step  in  the  right  direction  for  both  kingdoms.

the  joy  of  it  all  filled  her  heart  to  the  brim,  and  calla  had  found  herself  celebrating  with  new  faces.  she’d  danced  in  circles  and  drank  with  women  she’d  never  spoken  to  in  her  life.  when  they’d  started  tugging  her  towards  the  tree  line  she  couldn’t  help  but  let  her  eyes  wander.  the  tradition  is  one  she  is  familiar  with,  she  has  been  𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝  for  her  entire  life,  after  all.  it  is  𝚗𝚘  𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝  that  princess  ren’layn  has  yet  to  be  swept  off  her  feet,  but  the  people  do  not  know  that  she  already  has  been.  it  is  her  little  secret,  kept  safe  tucked  inside  her  heart.

as  though  being  drawn  to  him,  her  eyes  fall  upon  viserys  with  ease.  she  can  pick  him  out  from  a  crowd  of  𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙨.  she  gravitates  towards  him,  pulled  in  by  his  presence.  she  knows  he  has  seen  her  too,  and  she  flashes  him  a  smile  that  is  reserved  only  for  his  eyes.

“  are  you  participating  ?  ”  she  asks,  hopeful.  although  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  belief  told  by  the  superstitious,  she  can’t  help  but  let  the  thought  of  being  caught  by  him  run  through  her  mind.  she  is  a  𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥  for  the  romantic,  afterall.

“  i’ve  never  been  caught  before,  ”  she  confesses.  “  we’ll  have  to  see  if  you  can  keep  up  with  me,  ”  she  laughs,  hands  lifting  to  make  sure  the  flower  crown  is  still  placed  neatly  upon  her  head.  at  the  sound  of  the  others  giggling  and  the  rustle  of  leaves,  calla  knows  its  her  cue  to  start.

There was always something comforting about the Three Broomsticks. Call it nostalgia from school of ordering butterbeer and spiking the drinks so hard that the group could barely walk straight, laughing as they walked out the door and into the street. Dorcas needed the good, ridiculous memory because "celebrating" their "win" was only a reminder that her father never returned home. He was still missing. The Death Eaters had him. She tried not to think of what they'd done to him especially since the war was over. But he was gone and he wouldn't want her to go down a rabbit hole.

Looking down, she raised her finger over the mug and swirled the heavily spiked butterbeer. She smiled, needing something but didn't know what. Maybe someone else knew, she thought, as someone seemed to linger around her booth. "If you have nowhere else to go you can sit here. I don't usually bite."

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 !

stark  is  still  dripping  with  the  morning  dew  as  he  pulls  his  shirt  over  his  head.  the  bite  of  cold  nips  at  his  skin,  sending  goosebumps  across  his  flesh  as  he  hurries  to  dry  himself.  there  are  people  who  are  beginning  to  flutter  in  from  the  nights  celebration  to  partake  in  the  bathe  of  beauty  -  and  he  doesn’t  want  to  be  around  to  see  it.

the  elven  tradition  is  one  his  mother  always  wanted  to  try,  but  because  she’d  been  at  home  caring  for  him  and  his  siblings  she’d  never  even  had  the  chance  to  celebrate.  let  alone  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔  of  celebrating.  he  figured  tonight  would  be  the  perfect  time  to  do  what  she  wanted  -  at  least  for  her  sake.

he  was  still  dripping  wet  and  shaking  to  the  bone  when  someone  approached  him  from  behind.  he  doesn’t  bother  to  turn  in  their  direction,  figuring  that  although  he  was  getting  dressed  they  must  be  getting  ready  to  𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬.  it  was  part  of  the  celebration,  afterall.

@antilullaby​ - 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐧𝐞 !

stark  is  leading  elianna  towards  the  bonfire.  she’d  been  adamant  on  getting  a  good  look  at  the  fire  up  close,  and  he’d  happily  obliged.  the  child  had  as  much  influence  over  him  as  his  mother  did,  it  seemed.  one  bat  of  an  eyelash  and  he’d  𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚍  to  her  will.  not  only  that,  but  he  figured  that  atop  the  hill  would  be  the  best  place  to  scope  out  her  mother.  daphne  had  been  nowhere  to  be  found  when  elianna  had  ran  up  to  him  with  open  arms,  and  with  the  crowd  growing  ever  thicker  he  could  only  imagine  how  𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙮  it’d  been  for  her  to  slip  away  without  daphne  realizing. 

he  scoops  her  up  into  his  arms  as  elves  and  humans  alike  move  around  them,  bumping  and  pushing  with  each  move  they  make.  had  he  not  been  in  the  presence  of  the  child,  stark  is  certain  he’d  be  brooding  in  a  corner.  large  gatherings  and  social  events  were  not  things  that  he  looked  forward  to,  but  he  figured  that  trouble  could  brew  at  any  moment  -  especially  in  a  place  like  this.  his  presence  was  mandatory,  𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲.

when  they  reach  the  top  of  the  hill,  stark  finds  daphne  with  ease.  she  stands  out  among  the  crowd,  glowing  with  the  light  of  a  thousand  suns.  she  is  a  beacon  of  love  and  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎  that  he  shelters  himself  within.

troubled sea so deep, troubled home no sleep. you've been flying so high, avoiding the road, pretending to not feel alone. -- @idmilo , seasons change festival ( down time ).

it’s a nice day, at least. the sun’s bright overhead. one of those days that makes it feel like it might be summer. at least before the storm clouds swamp in and drown them all in rain and weather-affected melancholy. the fans’ll be happy. and miji’s relieved enough she won’t have to slide around the stage in heels. she rolled her ankle doing that, once. is glad whenever the company decides to spare them, throws boots or sneakers her way. who knew stilettos were a pre-requisite to dance? she catches sight of him out back, under the constructed awning hidden around the back of one of the stages.

it isn’t a surprise meeting, isn’t clandestine. she’d shot him a text a good half hour ago and mentioned meeting up. there was enough time to kill, and everyone was breaking off into chaos anyway. she figured she might as well catch up with him with how busy atlas has been lately. she’s missed him. they used to hang out more, before. when atlas and cherry bomb! were bother newer, less busy. it’s a bit different now. but they steal time away together when they can. 

“you’re looking dashing.”

it might’ve been a comment if not for the sweat sticking milo’s bangs to his forehead, or the way his sweatshirt seemed intent on toppling it’s way off of just one shoulder. a precarious situation, as far as garments went. he reminds her of an overlarge puppy. a messy toussle of hair, eyes hidden behind shaggy bangs, overlarge limbs and a proclivity to tumble headfirst into things, the size of his own limbs be damned (or forgotten). 

miji ruffles a hand through his hair when she gets close enough.