The red elf walks with a somber, quiet gait through the revels.
All about him their is free flowing wine, tables creaking under the weight of food. People dance. Children run around, luaghing and falling in their games. Music wafts through the air from somewhere in the distance. For once, in this place, the sun shines -- an illusion -- and the world seems to have come together in celebration.
Seems.
The Red Elf only has to look to reveal the falseness of that facade.
He sees that the alcohol is downed in haste, to wipe away horrible memories. The food is eaten quickly with wary movements, as if the diners are afraid something will come and take their meals away. The dance winds feverishly, jerking, a baseless movement born of despair. The children do laugh -- may that virtue never leave them! -- but in their games they portray dead men and women.
Childish, innocent voices sing:
Dance 'round the gravestones/Say bye to mom and dad/Mourn in the morning/We all fall down...
The music is uplifting, well composed; and ultimately hollow. As hollow as that fake sun that highlights the fake scene of fake revelry and real fear.
Jand, The Red Elf, tastes sorrow in the air. He feels it in the ground.
Alas for those who live in such times...