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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant1" data-source="post: 7413699" data-attributes="member: 6916184"><p><strong>Journal of Etona - Seventeen</strong></p><p></p><p>The New Moon Ceremony (25 Coldeven)</p><p>“It is so dark tonight.”</p><p></p><p>Etona sees the faces around her, uncertain, fearing to open themselves even to so common a thing as hope. But she remembers. It was not long ago when she was in darkness, when Her light was withheld and She no longer looked down on her, when the moon was a rock in the sky, as the dwarves believe.</p><p></p><p>When she speaks, none can see her. She is using Thaumaturgy and also throwing her voice as she needs, both unconsciously, and so she is easily heard by everyone, not centered anywhere. At times it sounds like she is whispering in one person or another’s ears.</p><p></p><p>“Fear grips, failure clings. We are alone in a universe that does not care, our short lives a sinking island disappearing under the dark water.</p><p></p><p>“I am there now. I am that island; I am drowning with grief and hate. My senses terrify me.</p><p>I bring to you all my fear.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Eyar’i morun</em>. I am in darkness. <em>Eyar orum</em>. I am darkness.”</p><p></p><p>Etona lights a candle revealing a face wet with tears.</p><p></p><p>She is in the middle of the gathering on a little rise, holding the moment silently, head bowed. But then she looks up, looks around at Rey, Estee, Melinde, some of the people she has come to befriend among the poor by the docks whom she sees has come. She thinks of her own father, of Verdre, of cousins and close friends among her tribe, and she smiles.</p><p></p><p>“But this night, called <em>glennis i’mor’e</em>, is the end of darkness. It is Exultation-After-Trial, the celebration that I am still here. I have survived the darkest night and harshest day. I have little; I am little; but this spark is still alight.</p><p></p><p>“We are come to <em>glennis i’mor’e</em>. We have survived the darkest night and harshest day. We have little; We are little; but our spark is still alight.</p><p></p><p>Etona starts to move through the crowd. She kneels down with some groups, moves to others, reaches for hands and fingers to touch.</p><p></p><p>Off in the distance, Angivre on her pedestal begins to glow, never bright enough to draw the eye, but silvery against the dark, its outline easy to see. Up there, it takes on the appearance of a quarter moon.</p><p></p><p>“We are not hot fury like the sun; we are not the noisy trumpet call to arms; we are not the rulers. All their fires blaze for a brief time and go out. But our spark remains. We remain. We survive through the cool nights.</p><p></p><p>“She is with us even if we have never understood. Sehanine, Seline, Rhiannon, Luun, Artemis: by any name She makes shadows for those who need them. She laughs with lovers. She is the cloak of the oppressed who gather in the night to strike. She is for the survivor-who-loves. She is patience in the blackest hours. Daylight makes us civilized liars, but She sees our actions taken in secret, listens to your murmurs as you dream.</p><p></p><p>“On this rare night, <em>i’dobrun</em>, New Moon, She extinguishes Her own brilliance so that she may see the feeble spark in our hearts. If there is love there, then you are Hers.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Eyar </em>Etona. I am Etona. <em>Eyar faer’ey</em>. I am the spark of light.</p><p><em>i’Sehan aer’ey noor’ti</em>. In Her name I feed your spark of light.”</p><p></p><p>She lights Estee’s candle.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Eyar </em>Estee,” he repeats. “I am Estee. <em>Eyar faer’ey</em>. I am the spark of light.”</p><p></p><p>She lights Rey’s candle, smiling up at her, but Rey will always remember that night looking up into Etona’s beaming face somehow.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Eyar </em>Rey, I am Rey,” she says in her low voice. “<em>Eyar faer’ey</em>. I am the spark of light.”</p><p></p><p>The three of them go out into the audience and – even Rey – light candles for the rest, helping them through the Elven words as needed.</p><p></p><p>Etona herself makes sure she gets to Melinde next. She squeezes her hand and smiles. Melinde looks into her eyes and nods. Etona lights the candle in Melinde's hand.</p><p></p><p>"<em>Eyar<em> Melinde. I am Melinde." She does not go further.</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>“<em>Eyar faer’ey</em>", says Etona. "I am the spark of light.”</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>"Am I?" says Melinde. "Aren't I just the fire that goes out?"</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>"You are the fire, warming all the sparks around you including your own. You are spark right now. Quiet. Subdued. But you are still here. <em>Eyar faer’ey</em>, I am the spark of light."</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>“<em>Eyar faer’ey</em>", Melinde repeats. "I am the spark of light.”</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>Etona nods. "Yes, you are."</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>When all the candles are lit, Etona finishes the rite.</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>“We are <em>s’theay’n faer’e</em>, friends-in-light. Look for Her in the night and She will be there.”</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>Angivre flares brightly spotlighting the banquet. Other lights also come up.</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>“Our sparks keep the darkness at bay. Let us shine brightly together. Let us sup together as friends.”</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>Music, light and lively, starts up. Etona’s last words are quiet, directed skyward, lost in a crowd now moving, some running, to the food and pure water.</em></em></p><p><em><em></em></em></p><p><em><em>“We welcome anew Her precious gaze</em></em></p><p><em><em>Playful and joyful for all our days.”</em></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Alexander Bryant1, post: 7413699, member: 6916184"] [b]Journal of Etona - Seventeen[/b] The New Moon Ceremony (25 Coldeven) “It is so dark tonight.” Etona sees the faces around her, uncertain, fearing to open themselves even to so common a thing as hope. But she remembers. It was not long ago when she was in darkness, when Her light was withheld and She no longer looked down on her, when the moon was a rock in the sky, as the dwarves believe. When she speaks, none can see her. She is using Thaumaturgy and also throwing her voice as she needs, both unconsciously, and so she is easily heard by everyone, not centered anywhere. At times it sounds like she is whispering in one person or another’s ears. “Fear grips, failure clings. We are alone in a universe that does not care, our short lives a sinking island disappearing under the dark water. “I am there now. I am that island; I am drowning with grief and hate. My senses terrify me. I bring to you all my fear. “[I]Eyar’i morun[/I]. I am in darkness. [I]Eyar orum[/I]. I am darkness.” Etona lights a candle revealing a face wet with tears. She is in the middle of the gathering on a little rise, holding the moment silently, head bowed. But then she looks up, looks around at Rey, Estee, Melinde, some of the people she has come to befriend among the poor by the docks whom she sees has come. She thinks of her own father, of Verdre, of cousins and close friends among her tribe, and she smiles. “But this night, called [I]glennis i’mor’e[/I], is the end of darkness. It is Exultation-After-Trial, the celebration that I am still here. I have survived the darkest night and harshest day. I have little; I am little; but this spark is still alight. “We are come to [I]glennis i’mor’e[/I]. We have survived the darkest night and harshest day. We have little; We are little; but our spark is still alight. Etona starts to move through the crowd. She kneels down with some groups, moves to others, reaches for hands and fingers to touch. Off in the distance, Angivre on her pedestal begins to glow, never bright enough to draw the eye, but silvery against the dark, its outline easy to see. Up there, it takes on the appearance of a quarter moon. “We are not hot fury like the sun; we are not the noisy trumpet call to arms; we are not the rulers. All their fires blaze for a brief time and go out. But our spark remains. We remain. We survive through the cool nights. “She is with us even if we have never understood. Sehanine, Seline, Rhiannon, Luun, Artemis: by any name She makes shadows for those who need them. She laughs with lovers. She is the cloak of the oppressed who gather in the night to strike. She is for the survivor-who-loves. She is patience in the blackest hours. Daylight makes us civilized liars, but She sees our actions taken in secret, listens to your murmurs as you dream. “On this rare night, [I]i’dobrun[/I], New Moon, She extinguishes Her own brilliance so that she may see the feeble spark in our hearts. If there is love there, then you are Hers. “[I]Eyar [/I]Etona. I am Etona. [I]Eyar faer’ey[/I]. I am the spark of light. [I]i’Sehan aer’ey noor’ti[/I]. In Her name I feed your spark of light.” She lights Estee’s candle. “[I]Eyar [/I]Estee,” he repeats. “I am Estee. [I]Eyar faer’ey[/I]. I am the spark of light.” She lights Rey’s candle, smiling up at her, but Rey will always remember that night looking up into Etona’s beaming face somehow. “[I]Eyar [/I]Rey, I am Rey,” she says in her low voice. “[I]Eyar faer’ey[/I]. I am the spark of light.” The three of them go out into the audience and – even Rey – light candles for the rest, helping them through the Elven words as needed. Etona herself makes sure she gets to Melinde next. She squeezes her hand and smiles. Melinde looks into her eyes and nods. Etona lights the candle in Melinde's hand. "[I]Eyar[I] Melinde. I am Melinde." She does not go further. “[I]Eyar faer’ey[/I]", says Etona. "I am the spark of light.” "Am I?" says Melinde. "Aren't I just the fire that goes out?" "You are the fire, warming all the sparks around you including your own. You are spark right now. Quiet. Subdued. But you are still here. [I]Eyar faer’ey[/I], I am the spark of light." “[I]Eyar faer’ey[/I]", Melinde repeats. "I am the spark of light.” Etona nods. "Yes, you are." When all the candles are lit, Etona finishes the rite. “We are [I]s’theay’n faer’e[/I], friends-in-light. Look for Her in the night and She will be there.” Angivre flares brightly spotlighting the banquet. Other lights also come up. “Our sparks keep the darkness at bay. Let us shine brightly together. Let us sup together as friends.” Music, light and lively, starts up. Etona’s last words are quiet, directed skyward, lost in a crowd now moving, some running, to the food and pure water. “We welcome anew Her precious gaze Playful and joyful for all our days.”[/I][/I] [/QUOTE]
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