I SEE FIRE | candles

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

Even in the jungle, the chill of the desert's nights could be carried by the wind.  The vulpine seemed indifferent to the breeze as he sat below the steps of the damaged pyramid -- the 'throne'.  Two small, flickering candles sat ahead of him; their flames dancing in the dark.

Once he lit the windows of his home with candles during the Christmas season, but the Ardent had grown more reluctant to do so in recent times -- unwilling to frighten Aine needlessly with invited fire.  Instead, he decided the temple steps marking the Pitt's 'throne' would be the best place, given their memoriam purpose.

Other candles he set nearby; open invitation to any who possessed similar traditions.  Gael never believed in enforcing faith or ceremony on others -- whether other Pittians desired to light a candle and whether it was for religious or simply symbolic reasons, belonged to the individual alone.

Silently, he mediated on the two ahead of him, fueling the flame through careful, gentle manipulation of the surrounding air.  Merry Christmas, Salomé, Alaire.

"I AM A STONE" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / ardent / lamby

[Kold]

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And Still We Do Slumber -

The Pittian wasn't there to witness the fall of the temple. But word spread quickly and her hatred for both Vale and Chernabog had become apparent. Kold, now a bit larger in stature with her fur more grown out, had spotted Gael and the candles. Confused at first, she began to step toward her Ardent -- who was also seen as a parental figure now that both of her birth parents were gone, before she stopped by a candle that was a fair distance from him. 'We should light one. Honor your mother.'

The wolf-rottie wordlessly nodded, sitting down before her chosen candle. She drifted her black paw across the top, setting the wick ablaze with a small, blue flame. Black eyes watched with wonder as the flame turned orange and red, wax melting slowly. She settled her body down and tucked her paws under her body as she continued to be mesmerized by the flames. A sense of peace washed over her, along with a small echo of fatigue.

"SPEECH"

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[VIRGIL M.]

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XVIII - THE MOON

a monument dreams and fantasies come to life, the representation of instincts often left suppressed and a knock into our subconscious.  Virgil of the pitt is a study in beauty: a perfect understanding of that which terrifies you, a perfect picturesque of horror and delight

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The broken temple felt like a ruin. As winter breathed it's chill down into the desert the runt spotted the leader in a moment of silence. No one dared break the silence, and worst of all the spiritcaller. The pittian stepped closer towards the temple, watching gale and Kold quietly set up and light candles. Candles of remembrance- it was a tradition she hadn't seen before, but she wasn't one to snuff other's about it. Just that she had no one to truly talk to on the other side. She had no one she wanted to remember, truly.

Virgil could admire the candles- the fire though. She settled herself next to an unlit candle along the steps. Daring not step up too high into the broken thing. Instead of lighting the candle she took to watch the pair in theirs. Everyone here was here for a reason- a reason person to remember maybe- a person to mourn.

She wondered what it was like to mourn something. Sickly eyes intense switching from fox to wolf- and finally towards the small flickers of flame.

[SAINTKIT.]

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SAINTKIT

HARDLY KNOW HOW BAD IT GETS

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Saintkit had not yet experienced Christmas, nor the happy occasions that usually came along with the season. The three month old kit simply wasn't old enough to have gone through a Christmas with his family before the death of his parents, but he could remember them speaking about it. He could remember his mother and father speaking in hushed whispers, light smiles on their muzzles as they talked about what they would get him as gifts. He hadn't truly understood what the holiday was about just yet, but he had figured that there was plenty of time for explanations later, when they weren't moving from place to place. Of course, the boy had never gotten that chance for explanations. Nor had he gotten any of the gifts that his parents had been so eager to bestow upon him, their mutterings now mere grains of sand in the whirlwind that was his mind. He wished that he could think more clearly, but ever since he had joined The Pitt... it had been difficult for him to adjust, to say the least.

Feather-light steps brought the new Pittian towards the "throne" that a trio had already gathered around, but his focus was only on one of them – Gael. The vulpine was the only one of those currently present that Saint actually knew, and the kit didn't particularly want to go trotting up to strangers at the moment. Both Aine and Gael had reassured him that he was a member of The Pitt now, and the assortment of others within the territory could be considered friends, but Saint still wasn't so sure. So, taking in a deep breath to steel himself, the boy managed to clumsily find his way up the steps, slipping over the destruction that had only recently been wrought on the structure. Eventually, once he was close enough to smell the faint burn of the flickering candles that Gael had lit, Saintkit spoke up, his voice soft as he questioned, "Gael...? What are the candles for?" His question was simple, and he hoped dearly that it wouldn't be seen as disrespectful. Rather, he was just curious about what was going on.

━ GUESS I'LL JUST GO BACK TO BED┆PITT PUP. ━