To Vernon
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
To Vernon
What does Halloween represent for the Fae?
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
As Vernon
"A true Fae's power is seasonal by nature, bolstered by his or her season's arrival and weakened by its departure. When Commoners observe the passing of the seasons, their shifts in potency occur organically. There is no ritual involved, no shaking of hands, no observances to pay heed to. As the Commoners hold no true power, however, then what is theirs to lose is scarcely noticeable, when compared to a member of the gentry's Mantle.
For myself and Lady Eirean, however, the reaping days are significant. On the day of All Hallows' Eve, just as our ancestors once observed Samhain under the watchful eye of the community's druids, we are made to observe that Fall marks the death of one season and the birth of another. We call these days the Dying Days, as the Summer Lady's Mantle withers and is reduced to a shadow of its former self - while mine begins to stir. We mark the death of Eirean's Summer and also toast to the birth of my Winter. More contentious areas skip the other procedures, but we in Hope intend to adhere to the Oath of Good Health the newly-empowered member of peerage is expected to offer to its weakened counterpart. On Halloween, we remember Eirean's Summer and all Summers past, and humbly pray for other bountiful days of warmth and sunlight in these ever-parlous times. We offer safe haven to practitioners seeking to honour the season, and do our best so that those spirits that cross the weakened planar borders are met with peace and tolerance.
Others may hold spite and choose to interfere in the proceedings, but I was made a Lord to uphold the interests of both Evergloam and Hope. Gloating over Eirean's loss, as some others are fond of doing, would not only be in poor taste - it would speak poorly of myself as a gentleman and aristocrat. Autumn, after all, is not some stark departure from poolside weather into Yuletide's chill and frost - it is a long threshold, a corridor leading to Winter.
What has to die must die, what must sleep must recede away, so that upon Yule, we may be gathered to celebrate life in the very face of Queen Mab's darkest and boldest of nights. Without this exchange in potency and the shifting of our Mantles, Eirean's own charge would never survive in the face of the one true night where Darkest Winter makes itself manifest. Similarly, my own charge would never survive without Springtime, and Eirean's maintained stand against the cloying, decayed warmth of the Brightest Summer."
For myself and Lady Eirean, however, the reaping days are significant. On the day of All Hallows' Eve, just as our ancestors once observed Samhain under the watchful eye of the community's druids, we are made to observe that Fall marks the death of one season and the birth of another. We call these days the Dying Days, as the Summer Lady's Mantle withers and is reduced to a shadow of its former self - while mine begins to stir. We mark the death of Eirean's Summer and also toast to the birth of my Winter. More contentious areas skip the other procedures, but we in Hope intend to adhere to the Oath of Good Health the newly-empowered member of peerage is expected to offer to its weakened counterpart. On Halloween, we remember Eirean's Summer and all Summers past, and humbly pray for other bountiful days of warmth and sunlight in these ever-parlous times. We offer safe haven to practitioners seeking to honour the season, and do our best so that those spirits that cross the weakened planar borders are met with peace and tolerance.
Others may hold spite and choose to interfere in the proceedings, but I was made a Lord to uphold the interests of both Evergloam and Hope. Gloating over Eirean's loss, as some others are fond of doing, would not only be in poor taste - it would speak poorly of myself as a gentleman and aristocrat. Autumn, after all, is not some stark departure from poolside weather into Yuletide's chill and frost - it is a long threshold, a corridor leading to Winter.
What has to die must die, what must sleep must recede away, so that upon Yule, we may be gathered to celebrate life in the very face of Queen Mab's darkest and boldest of nights. Without this exchange in potency and the shifting of our Mantles, Eirean's own charge would never survive in the face of the one true night where Darkest Winter makes itself manifest. Similarly, my own charge would never survive without Springtime, and Eirean's maintained stand against the cloying, decayed warmth of the Brightest Summer."