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kallian_endrisThere was a nip in the air, but a festive spirit came with it. Satinalia had come to Denerim's alienage. Children laughed and ran and played games in the narrow streets. Even the adults seemed to have lost much of the downtroddenness so common in the alienage.
Elder Shianni was directing everyone in preparation for the feast, such as it was. Everyone brought something to the table to share. While the alienage in many ways was an extended family of sorts, on Satinalia, everyone truly came together with one spirit.
It was 9:43 Dragon, and the first Satinalia that Kallian had faced alone. As a child, her mother would always bring out a bottle of oh-so-precious Orlesian wine. Kallian never knew where it came from, but she treasured the tiny sip her mother would allow her for the festival. Then, they would make masks together, from bits of bark and leaves, dried-up flowers and scraps of leather or string. Her mother had a beautiful porcelain one trimmed in lace and silk ribbons that she had brought all the way from Orlais before Kallian was born. Every other day of the year, it was carefully packed at the bottom of a chest, and only brought out for the festival. Her mother would put it on and sing Orlesian carols while Kallian danced around their little wooden table wearing hers.
After she had lost her mother, she and her mentor would typically exchange small gifts, and tell each other what they felt most thankful for during the holiday season next to a crackling hearth. There was no making of masks, no Orlesian wine, no singing and dancing, but it was cozy and heartwarming all the same. But, she had passed away earlier in the year, and now Kallian was 24, and this year would have no masks and songs, no tales told by firelight. Still, she would go to celebrate with the other elves.
Kallian headed to where they were to gather, bringing along a few small pies, exactly like the ones she used to beg off the vendor when she was a child, ever since Lillian had told her about them. This time, she had bought just a few with the little bit of coin she was able to spare. Just a few coppers, but it would be enough to delight the children. There was a wonderful homey din in the makeshift banquet hall, and though the human nobles would probably find the elves' feast a laughable mock-up of their lavish spreads, it seemed rich to them. Alarith brought toys to give to the little ones from his store. Songs were sung, and a few danced, though Kallian chose to just sit and watch and smile at them.
Returning home at last, after the revelry had died down, Kallian found a dusty bottle of Orlesian wine, not yet turned to vinegar, and took a small sip. She fished the precious mask from the bottom of the chest, and put it on. She sat next to her fire, which was burning low, almost ready to go out.
"Joyeux Satinalie, Maman," she murmured aloud. "This year, I am most thankful for the memories I keep."
Elder Shianni was directing everyone in preparation for the feast, such as it was. Everyone brought something to the table to share. While the alienage in many ways was an extended family of sorts, on Satinalia, everyone truly came together with one spirit.
It was 9:43 Dragon, and the first Satinalia that Kallian had faced alone. As a child, her mother would always bring out a bottle of oh-so-precious Orlesian wine. Kallian never knew where it came from, but she treasured the tiny sip her mother would allow her for the festival. Then, they would make masks together, from bits of bark and leaves, dried-up flowers and scraps of leather or string. Her mother had a beautiful porcelain one trimmed in lace and silk ribbons that she had brought all the way from Orlais before Kallian was born. Every other day of the year, it was carefully packed at the bottom of a chest, and only brought out for the festival. Her mother would put it on and sing Orlesian carols while Kallian danced around their little wooden table wearing hers.
After she had lost her mother, she and her mentor would typically exchange small gifts, and tell each other what they felt most thankful for during the holiday season next to a crackling hearth. There was no making of masks, no Orlesian wine, no singing and dancing, but it was cozy and heartwarming all the same. But, she had passed away earlier in the year, and now Kallian was 24, and this year would have no masks and songs, no tales told by firelight. Still, she would go to celebrate with the other elves.
Kallian headed to where they were to gather, bringing along a few small pies, exactly like the ones she used to beg off the vendor when she was a child, ever since Lillian had told her about them. This time, she had bought just a few with the little bit of coin she was able to spare. Just a few coppers, but it would be enough to delight the children. There was a wonderful homey din in the makeshift banquet hall, and though the human nobles would probably find the elves' feast a laughable mock-up of their lavish spreads, it seemed rich to them. Alarith brought toys to give to the little ones from his store. Songs were sung, and a few danced, though Kallian chose to just sit and watch and smile at them.
Returning home at last, after the revelry had died down, Kallian found a dusty bottle of Orlesian wine, not yet turned to vinegar, and took a small sip. She fished the precious mask from the bottom of the chest, and put it on. She sat next to her fire, which was burning low, almost ready to go out.
"Joyeux Satinalie, Maman," she murmured aloud. "This year, I am most thankful for the memories I keep."
