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[personal profile] sticksandleaves
The sky is a deep grey, dark but not quite black. White birch trees cut through the darkness, white crooked teeth in a gaping dark mouth. Fat snowflakes, slow and lazy fall between the birch trees and low to the ground, bigger than it should be, the full moon sits, giving just enough light to see by.

Fiona leads the procession in her gown of frost, edged in darkness. A a veil of glistening cobwebs drapes over her hair. Only the silver leaves that grow from the tips poke out from under the veil.
She never set out to lead the procession but it happened that way with Faeries falling in behind her as she made her way to the solstice ball.

The ball is held in the woods. Lanterns with soft glowing lights guide the way past the crumbling ruins of walls and they step past an arched stone gate and inside a courtyard with only two walls. The snow continues to drift down on them and as they arrive, a slightly out of tune harp starts a sad song.

There are no lamps or candles in the courtyard, just the snow to reflect the light of the moon. A few of the guests wear phosphorescent scarabs or stars for jewelry but that is a bit out of fashion right now.

A few tinny pipes join the harp as the last of the procession has arrived, and the dancing begins. Fiona has opted to walk barefoot though the snow. She plans to dance all night and even her most comfortable boots are uncomfortable by the end of the night.


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(Iníon rí) Fiona Nic'Geimhreadh

June 2016

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