Esabe pulled her heavy fur cloak around herself as she looked out over the bleak courtyard that connected her chambers with the main commons area. It was barren of plants at this time of year; the open space flanked by covered walkways was dusted with a thin layer of snow, the bare branches looked gnarled and haunted, poking out from the white powder. How different it was here.

The time of the Lunar festival was upon her once again. For her people, it is a two-week festival that encompassed many things. It is a time of joy, good fortune, happiness, and a time to reflect on the past and look to the future. To paise and celebrate all the wonders the mother moon had given her people, as well as her power. A time to remember and honor one's ancestors and the wisdom they have to offer and the sacrifices made to bring about the defeat of their great enemy. Esa felt a deep, piercing prang of homesickness. She had always loved this time of year, wanting nothing more in that moment to be walking the streets filled with performers, food stalls, games, and vendors of all kinds. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the memories, the sounds of the music, the smells, and yes, even the silly little plays she'd seen thousands of times. It was to honor and celebrate the defeat of a great enemy that happened during this time. It didn't matter that the war had been drilled into her brain as a child. How boring it had all been not that long ago, now she whispered the words of the plays to the silent, empty night.

She sighed heavily and continued on her way to the main building and into the kitchens. They would no doubt be busy cleaning up from dinner, but her request was a small one. Upon entering the kitchen, only a few workers were milling about. They looked startled seeing her enter. "Ah, my lady, Was something a miss with your meal....or..I..is there something we can do for you?" the chef seemed nervous. It was only to be expected. Esabe gave the slightest dip of her head and smiled warmly. "It was wonderful, thank you. I merely came to see if you had a small portion of fruit, cheese, and wafer bread you could spare me this evening. I would like a small snack with my wine this evening." The chef stared and looked to his assistants, who were already scrambling to gather it. "Aye, anything for the lady of the house. We will have it brought up to your room." She held up her hand. "Nonsense, just wrap it for me; I will wait." she insisted. There was no room for argument, it seemed, as she excused herself to go to the smaller dining room our front and began walking around. Quietly examining the details of the room. The tables were worn, as were the floors, from the high amount of traffic that this place received. Gingerly her fingers ran over the various surfaces. Suddenly A flash of color caught her eye, red lilies. The thin, soft petals layered over one another with delicate golden stamens falling from the center. Leaning in, the elf inhaled slowly, taking in the gentle musky smell they gave off. It was captivating.

"Uhm...my lady?" a tentatively soft voice spoke out, pulling her attention from the flowers. The servant held out a neatly wrapped satchel. "A...are you sure you don't want us to bring it. It is no trouble, I assure you." they were so insistent. "Actually...perhaps you could help me with something." she looked back at the flowers. "Could I perhaps take these flowers? I have an idea for something they would be perfect for." There was a momentary flicker of confusion, then they nodded. "you want ..those?" she asked, looking at the lilies. "Surely you want some more..refined than pond lilies?" "I'm positive. They remind me of the flowers back home. If I can have them, I'll need help getting them back to my room." her smile was bright and warm. The attendant nodded and moved to gather the vase of flowers.

The walk back was a short one at least and filled with idle chatter between the pair. Once the flowers were placed on her table, she tipped the attendant and sent them on their way. Now she set about in a flurry of movement. Just because she wasn't home didn't mean she couldn't at least bring a few of her traditions with her. Gingerly she pulled the layered robes and accessories from her pack, setting them on the makeshift bed, smoothing away the wrinkles as best she could; they were of the finest silks, embroidered with gold accents. Each layer a different color, cream, lavender, and the richest of purples. Everything from The bright red sashes, the headdress with the bells, tassels, and adornments were made from the highest quality materials. Each made specifically to accentuate the elf's natural features: Only now was she grateful that her mother had insisted she learn to weave them into her headdress herself. She took a moment to inspect the flower arrangement more thoroughly. There were beautiful, Large red lily-like flowers with layers and layers of soft petals, small delicate white ones, and some with golden buds on the verge of blooming. They were perfect!

The priestess set about painting her face; makeup was not something she did often, at least not to this degree. With the soft touch to painted her eyes, lips and very lightly colored her cheeks. It wasn't much, but it was just a little bit closer to that piece of home she so desperately wanted. Esabe moved about her other tasks with a speed and excitement she had not felt in some time. Cutting and weaving the flowers together through the circlet's wire bands, and attached the small bells, making sure to ropes binding it all together were adequately secured before setting it aside. Finally, she could pull on the layers of fabric, painstakingly adjusting each robe before pulling on the next. Tucking and folding the fabrics as best she could and tieing the sash to hold it all in place. It had taken some time, but she was pleased with the results.

She gathered a few more things from her temporary room: an oil candle, some incense, and of course, her flute. Tucking the flute and the stick incense in her sash belt, and picked up the candle carefully so as not to catch the long flowing sleeves of her kimono in the flame. Quietly she made her way down the cold, dim halls and out into the small courtyard. It was all but barren in this weather, and her silks did a poor job of keeping her warm, but she pushed through even as her breath was visible in the night air. Walking around and gathering some stones to make a small alter, setting up the incense and candle with ritual care and attention. No doubt any passerby's would wonder what the strange woman was doing alone in the courtyard that late at night, but it didn't matter. The moon was still climbing to its zenith, its silhouette barely visible behind the dense clouds. It was late, but not terribly so, for people still milled about the grounds lazily. Squatting down, she murmured a prayer to her goddess, to her ancestors, for her family and people as well as all those she now called family. Rising once more, she put the instrument to her lips and began to play. The notes started soft and whispy before the pitch climbed high and trilled down into the lower rangers. It was a haunted, lonely sound the echoed about her, carrying with it the things that weighed on her spirit down the open corridors. Once more, the pitch rose, a bit faster this time, and was held there before spiraling down and keening with loss and remorse. The notes dancing like ribbons in the air painting a picture of the stories she had yet to tell. The song dipped to the lowerest range before spiking and with it reached the peak of the crescendo, Thinking of all the hopes and dreams she had, what she hoped to do and achieve with her new people, and the fear of this unknown. At last, the melody softened as she reached its conclusion.

All while she played, she hadn't realized that by putting so much of herself into the song, the goddess had heard her and responded. The full moon's light had broken through the cloud cover, bathing the small courtyard in its light. The goddess was with her as she danced about, practically glowing. Ethereal, silver flowers shimmered into existence around her as she danced. Yes, she'd begun to move with the flow of music, the memories of those theatrical retelling of age-old stories told with every step. The spirits of her homeland were with her, and she was happy.

Art by  drawing_sofa