[ Happy holidays, Somnus! On Christmas morning, Somnus will find a wooden box waiting on the doorstep to his treehouse. The box is made of pine and is tied neatly with a linen ribbon and sprig of holly. When Somnus opens the box, he will find a letter placed on top of a gift. (If Somnus is not presently living anywhere, the gift will be waiting at the smithy he and Alphen use.)
Written in Zelda's picturesque cursive handwriting, the letter reads as follows: ]
Dearest Sir Knight,
Warm tidings to you during this holy season.
It is customary in my kingdom to present gifts to one's friends and family in honor of our patron goddess. As She blessed us with gifts of light and love, even in the darkest days, so too do we share our blessings with our loved ones.
As we celebrate this season away from our families and homelands, that is all the more reason to treasure the friendships we forge in Songerein. I hope you will accept this gift.
May the Goddess smile upon you, Zelda
[ Inside the box is a linen scarf, hand sewn by Zelda. It is a rich purple color, embroidered at both ends with cream-colored thread in an elegant iris motif. When one's aquaintence is a suit of armor given life, it's difficult to think of a gift that they will enjoy. But perhaps a nice mantle will help soften Somnus's intimidating ten-foot fully-armored stature. ]
[ She will receive the following delivery in return: ]
Princess Zelda,
The solstice moon blesses all. Carried by the Light, the Glacian delivers Her tidings.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
[ In a package attached to the letter, Zelda will find this set of handcrafted earrings. His earlier adventures into the clifflands and caverns had been fruitful enough to find ore and precious stones. Crafting the bounty into something else had been a leisurely task. ]
[ It takes Zelda a little while to realize who sent her this beautiful gift. Surely she would remember someone who introduced themselves with such a regal-sounding name. Only after reading the letter several times does she recognize this particular manner of speech.
She wasn't entirely sure if Somnus would accept her gift to him. It's hard to get a read on whether or not a looming suit of armor considers you a friend or an annoyance. So receiving a gift in return makes her feel a bit better about herself. ]
[It's been several, several weeks since Tifa had lost the courage to reach out to some of those people who had tumbled into her dreams. She had resolved, afterwards, to find each of them and thank them for helping her through those recurring nightmares, but when the time had actually come for her to find a gift and go knocking on their door, she found herself paralyzed before she could even go out and find something.
So it won't be for at least another month until Somnus gets a note from Tifa, her neat handwriting reaching out to him in the journals, because once that's out there, there's not going back.]
Hi Somnus. It's Tifa. Are you free for me to stop by sometime? Or we can meet somewhere if that's better for you. Let me know.
[ Somnus receives the letter via the magical dream-journal. He replies with the following, his handwriting exhibiting an archaic, elegant flair to it. By modern standards, it might be considered a bit much. One might question how a giant suit of armor is able to pen such delicate script. ]
Maiden Tifa,
I have no pressing matters to attend. Visit at your leisure.
[Neat writing isn't the craziest thing she's seen him do!
It won't take long for Somnus to hear the timid knocking at his door and will find an even more demure Tifa standing outside with a small, neatly wrapped gift in her hands when he opens it. And now that she's standing there with it, Tifa isn't even sure it's a good one and she stares down at it in her palms before she puts on a nervous, crooked, but no less genuine smile.]
[ Tifa will find him in the smithy, standing next to one of the work benches. When she enters, he stops what he was doing-- setting the latest pommel he had been working on down-- and stands for her presence. ]
The smithy is open for all.
[ With an iron-covered hand, he slowly gestures towards one of the stools. ]
[ Given that Somnus never seems to use the magic journal network, he's not the easiest person to contact on the fly. So Somnus will find a polite, if enigmatic, letter from Zelda at his home. ]
Somnus,
I hope this letter finds you well. An unexpected situation has arisen and I would value your counsel on the matter. At your earliest convenience, I ask you relay to me when and where we might meet.
[ Although it's a bit rude, Zelda will not respond to confirm the appointment. Instead, she will simply show up at the smithy at the appointed time.
Zelda lingers hesitantly near the entrance when she arrives, eyes darting around the smithy to ensure that it's completely empty. Although the subject of conversation she wishes to hold with Somnus isn't one that she's kept private from other dreamwalkers, a notable change has occurred that she isn't sure how to handle. She needs the input of someone who is both clearly knowledgeable on the subject matter and will not hold back an honest answer for the sake of her feelings, no matter how ugly the truth may be. ]
[ Somnus, while not working or walking within a dream, spends most of his time at the smithy or gathering raw materials from the clifflands. When not busy with those two tasks, he simply-- well, rest isn't a precise word for it, for there is none for the dead-- exists. His abode is the suit of armor in which he resides.
Letters that come and go to his residence (a treehouse in which there are no furnishings or objects anyway), are virtually non-existent, but he makes a habit of stopping by from time to time. As a matter of fact, he's only made habit of it since she had sent a letter to him months ago. It had been the first one he'd received in millennia.
Since then, he keeps all letters... of which there have only been two. Hers. ]
[ ...But it is like that, existing within his armor, that he remains in the smithy, standing beside the glowing, diminishing embers of the fire. Patience is an obligatory virtue for those who are cursed with undeath, and watching for coals to turn to ash is a tried and true practice. As she stalls, he merely waits.
He does not bid her to enter, but when she does at last, he will turn in her direction. ]
Greetings.
[ On the table are mock-ups of a sword, spear, crossbow, a shield, and what looks to be some sort of a barrel to a firearm, but it seems he is done working for the day. There is, also, her opened letter next to the weapons. ]
[ At the sound of the door opening to the smithy, he lifts his head, looking up from where he works on what appears to be a hilt of some kind. At seeing the one who enters, he stands, setting down his tools in the process. ]
Hail, Kisara.
[ They last saw each other on the train. Today, no longer cursed to be a toy soldier, he's dressed in his usual tunic, with a black toga draped over his shoulder. ]
[She'd not responded directly to his gift; it had felt impersonal to do so, considering how... impressive it was, but she didn't have anything even remotely comparable to offer in return, so she'd been left unsure of how to reply. She is not rich in funds or talent, so her options are admittedly limited. What is fitting? More importantly, what is appropriate? Large shows of appreciation through expensive means were unheard of among her people growing up, but she knew it was done in Renan culture, which often translates to rich culture. So... maybe that's just normal for him.
She's not sure what the right answer is, so in the end she can only do what she knows best: a suitable gift for a Dahnan, one made with her own hands and heart. She enters the smithy with a tin in hand.]
Good morning, Somnus. I thought I'd find you here.
[Or she hoped, at least. She's not sure where else she'd have found him.]
[ his shop. While he notices the tin in her hand, he doesn't comment on it. She could simply be stopping by. Regardless if she stays long or not, and as if to make himself more presentable for someone coming into his shop, he adjusts the clasp at the shoulder of his toga. It's completely unnecessary. There is not a moment where this man is ever unmaintained.
Somnus walks around the workbench to be on the same side as her. ]
[ On Christmas morning (or whenever he next visits the smithy), Somnus will find a large, flat box, neatly wrapped waiting for him in the smithy. A letter is attached, written in Zelda's pristine cursive handwriting. ]
Dear Somnus,
Kind regards to you on this holiday.
Much has happened in the year that has passed since I last sent you a gift for Goddess Day. I don't believe I even knew your name then. This year, I have been blessed to finally meet you face to face.
In return for your protection and your steadfast counsel, I hope you will find this gift to your liking.
May the Goddess smile upon you, Zelda, Princess of Hyrule
[ Folded neatly within the box is an indigo colored chlamys, hemmed with golden thread in an intricate pattern prominently featuring the Lucis-Caelum sigil she remembers from his armor. It's hand stitched and must have taken Zelda ages to complete. ]
Believing her to be no more than a mere manifestation of guilt (among other things) as born from the power of dreams, he had been prepared to end the illusion of her by any means. But the scenery around them changes, not by his own will. There are pillars instead of hedges, crowned by a dome above them- all of it familiar Lucian architecture. He did not will this change, consciously or otherwise. Somnus suddenly halts; so too does the scenery around them, seizing with trepidation.
Enough of this farce. Enough of enchantments, of illusions. Because if this is truly her, then--
Slowly, he raises his palm to his mask. Infusing magic into it, he dismisses it into the armory. ] ...Oracle. [ Her title tastes like bitter steel upon his tongue. For the death he had brought her, hers is not a name he should speak. ]
How. [ Disbelief turns his pitch into a harsh whisper, despite knowing full well the power this realm has to summon those to it.
[For whatever reason, seeing Somnus unmasked does not lessen Aera's anxiety; quite the opposite. There is something sinister about this seeming openness: Somnus's face is uncovered, his weapon is gone - for now - and he's... closer to her than he was before. But rather than closeness between two people it feels like the proximity between hunter and prey, Aera realizes. It's terrifying... but she finds the strength to turn even that terror into anger.
Though she is still tense, the change is quite visible. She starts breathing more carefully, straightening up and folding her hands before her; there is a coldness to her demeanor that must be familiar to Somnus from the days before he lured Ardyn to the capital, from the time when they'd drifted apart. This is indeed the Oracle who did not want to tell him of the gods' decision.]
[ He should have expected to see her (rather, not the illusion of her, but the real, her), but he didn't. A year apart from his world with no one else has led him to dull, it seems.
As she straightens her posture, Somnus does the same, assessing: she is in a solid form, like him, appearing just as she had at her death. However, her appearance-- alive and well as anyone else-- could be part of a glamor granted by the "fairy godmothers" of this realm, and he wonders if she would be a phantom outside of the gala.
(Yet he questions, blasphemous: did the Draconian keep her after death? Surely, in all of his might and foresight, his Prophecy would not call for that cruelty, as it had of the Lucian bloodline...) ]
This realm dares to summon your spirit. [ His voice is strained and sharp, causing his words cut through the silence of the garden, deafening the crunch of brittle flowers beneath his feet as he continues to approach her. Within moments, he's standing before her, the frown on his lips turning into a glower. ] And for what reason? You will find no peace here.
Banquets and galas often have their purposes, whether celebrating a holiday, honoring a person, or marking an accord. While he's not unaware that parties are held just because, a defined reason for the occasion makes them easier to navigate, such as passing the time by speaking with his counsel or dignitaries. There's no purpose to this gala- not as far as he can tell- except to fulfill the criteria of the pins. Naturally, the fae would wish the dreamers to come, whether one wants to or not. As a result, the guests must make the most of their time.
Concluding that doesn't make Somnus any more capable of helping this young woman with her melancholy, and it would be in poor taste to inquire in this setting.
Thus, ]
Do you care for a distraction, then?
[ He faces her properly, offering a hand- an invitation to dance. ]
[ Even with the full length mask hiding her expressions, her body language conveys the sincerity in her words. She straightens up from her wallflowering posture and places her hand in his, accepting his invitation. ]
[ With her hand in his, he guides her to edge of the dancefloor, where it seems there are others unfamiliar with the progression of the fae’s dance. They both might have some quick learning to do, as it’s not quite as fluid as a waltz or strict as a minuet, but they won’t be be alone in working out the steps.
As for himself, Somnus doesn’t mind a challenge to learn something quickly.
Somnus steps into her space, lifting his other hand and placing it lightly upon her upper back. ] We begin like this.
Mail delivery (you not being in the game isn't going to stop me from doing this ;))
[ A small package has been left in the smithy on Christmas day, neatly folded parchment sealed in crimson wax bearing the royal crest of Hyrule. Inside, gently wrapped in tissue paper, is a single, pressed sylleblossom, along with a brief note, unaddressed and unsigned. Less a gift, perhaps, and more a memorial, as the winter season is one that frequently leaves the princess melancholic. ]
This was the only bloom to survive my return to Hyrule. It is my hope that the seeds I managed to harvest from it will blossom in the coming spring.
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songerein
Mail delivery
Written in Zelda's picturesque cursive handwriting, the letter reads as follows: ][ Inside the box is a linen scarf, hand sewn by Zelda. It is a rich purple color, embroidered at both ends with cream-colored thread in an elegant iris motif. When one's aquaintence is a suit of armor given life, it's difficult to think of a gift that they will enjoy. But perhaps a nice mantle will help soften Somnus's intimidating ten-foot fully-armored stature. ]
no subject
Princess Zelda,
The solstice moon blesses all. Carried by the Light, the Glacian delivers Her tidings.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
[ In a package attached to the letter, Zelda will find this set of handcrafted earrings. His earlier adventures into the clifflands and caverns had been fruitful enough to find ore and precious stones. Crafting the bounty into something else had been a leisurely task. ]
no subject
She wasn't entirely sure if Somnus would accept her gift to him. It's hard to get a read on whether or not a looming suit of armor considers you a friend or an annoyance. So receiving a gift in return makes her feel a bit better about herself. ]
text, sender: tifa lockhart
So it won't be for at least another month until Somnus gets a note from Tifa, her neat handwriting reaching out to him in the journals, because once that's out there, there's not going back.]
Hi Somnus. It's Tifa. Are you free for me to stop by sometime? Or we can meet somewhere if that's better for you. Let me know.
sender: somnus lucis caelum
Maiden Tifa,
I have no pressing matters to attend. Visit at your leisure.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
no subject
It won't take long for Somnus to hear the timid knocking at his door and will find an even more demure Tifa standing outside with a small, neatly wrapped gift in her hands when he opens it. And now that she's standing there with it, Tifa isn't even sure it's a good one and she stares down at it in her palms before she puts on a nervous, crooked, but no less genuine smile.]
Can I come in?
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The smithy is open for all.
[ With an iron-covered hand, he slowly gestures towards one of the stools. ]
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🎀
Mail
Somnus,
I hope this letter finds you well. An unexpected situation has arisen and I would value your counsel on the matter. At your earliest convenience, I ask you relay to me when and where we might meet.
With kind regards,
Zelda
no subject
Let us meet this afternoon, within the smithy. I have no other appointments.
Somnus Lucis Caelum
-> action
Zelda lingers hesitantly near the entrance when she arrives, eyes darting around the smithy to ensure that it's completely empty. Although the subject of conversation she wishes to hold with Somnus isn't one that she's kept private from other dreamwalkers, a notable change has occurred that she isn't sure how to handle. She needs the input of someone who is both clearly knowledgeable on the subject matter and will not hold back an honest answer for the sake of her feelings, no matter how ugly the truth may be. ]
1/2
Letters that come and go to his residence (a treehouse in which there are no furnishings or objects anyway), are virtually non-existent, but he makes a habit of stopping by from time to time. As a matter of fact, he's only made habit of it since she had sent a letter to him months ago. It had been the first one he'd received in millennia.
Since then, he keeps all letters... of which there have only been two. Hers. ]
no subject
He does not bid her to enter, but when she does at last, he will turn in her direction. ]
Greetings.
[ On the table are mock-ups of a sword, spear, crossbow, a shield, and what looks to be some sort of a barrel to a firearm, but it seems he is done working for the day. There is, also, her opened letter next to the weapons. ]
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-> smithy, kisara
Hail, Kisara.
[ They last saw each other on the train. Today, no longer cursed to be a toy soldier, he's dressed in his usual tunic, with a black toga draped over his shoulder. ]
no subject
She's not sure what the right answer is, so in the end she can only do what she knows best: a suitable gift for a Dahnan, one made with her own hands and heart. She enters the smithy with a tin in hand.]
Good morning, Somnus. I thought I'd find you here.
[Or she hoped, at least. She's not sure where else she'd have found him.]
no subject
Somnus walks around the workbench to be on the same side as her. ]
Have you need of our services?
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[She's itching to talk, but not so much that she's keen on being disruptive. Clearly he's doing art in this place and she didn't realize it.]
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a belated christmas gift
[ Folded neatly within the box is an indigo colored chlamys, hemmed with golden thread in an intricate pattern prominently featuring the Lucis-Caelum sigil she remembers from his armor. It's hand stitched and must have taken Zelda ages to complete. ]
feb event overflow
for aera
Believing her to be no more than a mere manifestation of guilt (among other things) as born from the power of dreams, he had been prepared to end the illusion of her by any means. But the scenery around them changes, not by his own will. There are pillars instead of hedges, crowned by a dome above them- all of it familiar Lucian architecture. He did not will this change, consciously or otherwise. Somnus suddenly halts; so too does the scenery around them, seizing with trepidation.
Enough of this farce. Enough of enchantments, of illusions. Because if this is truly her, then--
Slowly, he raises his palm to his mask. Infusing magic into it, he dismisses it into the armory. ] ...Oracle. [ Her title tastes like bitter steel upon his tongue. For the death he had brought her, hers is not a name he should speak. ]
How. [ Disbelief turns his pitch into a harsh whisper, despite knowing full well the power this realm has to summon those to it.
He cannot tear his eyes from her. ]
no subject
Though she is still tense, the change is quite visible. She starts breathing more carefully, straightening up and folding her hands before her; there is a coldness to her demeanor that must be familiar to Somnus from the days before he lured Ardyn to the capital, from the time when they'd drifted apart. This is indeed the Oracle who did not want to tell him of the gods' decision.]
... You did not expect to see me, then.
no subject
As she straightens her posture, Somnus does the same, assessing: she is in a solid form, like him, appearing just as she had at her death. However, her appearance-- alive and well as anyone else-- could be part of a glamor granted by the "fairy godmothers" of this realm, and he wonders if she would be a phantom outside of the gala.
(Yet he questions, blasphemous: did the Draconian keep her after death? Surely, in all of his might and foresight, his Prophecy would not call for that cruelty, as it had of the Lucian bloodline...) ]
This realm dares to summon your spirit. [ His voice is strained and sharp, causing his words cut through the silence of the garden, deafening the crunch of brittle flowers beneath his feet as he continues to approach her. Within moments, he's standing before her, the frown on his lips turning into a glower. ] And for what reason? You will find no peace here.
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for zelda
Banquets and galas often have their purposes, whether celebrating a holiday, honoring a person, or marking an accord. While he's not unaware that parties are held just because, a defined reason for the occasion makes them easier to navigate, such as passing the time by speaking with his counsel or dignitaries. There's no purpose to this gala- not as far as he can tell- except to fulfill the criteria of the pins. Naturally, the fae would wish the dreamers to come, whether one wants to or not. As a result, the guests must make the most of their time.
Concluding that doesn't make Somnus any more capable of helping this young woman with her melancholy, and it would be in poor taste to inquire in this setting.
Thus, ]
Do you care for a distraction, then?
[ He faces her properly, offering a hand- an invitation to dance. ]
no subject
That would be most welcome.
[ Even with the full length mask hiding her expressions, her body language conveys the sincerity in her words. She straightens up from her wallflowering posture and places her hand in his, accepting his invitation. ]
no subject
As for himself, Somnus doesn’t mind a challenge to learn something quickly.
Somnus steps into her space, lifting his other hand and placing it lightly upon her upper back. ] We begin like this.
Mail delivery (you not being in the game isn't going to stop me from doing this ;))