Summer Soirée
A mysterious card, distributed at specific strategic places through town, on the back, a map, south of town near the lake. A little spot in a cove, easy to access but secluded enough to be far from the rush of town. Only reachable on foot, no street leading there.
A few informations are added :
- Please come on foot, it’s not far
- Bring a swimsuit with you, the lake is an invitation to swim
- If ever you have a musical 🎼🎵 soul, bring your instrument along🪕🎻🪈🎷🪇🪘
- Possibility to pass the night (in a tent⛺️)
- Alcohol is not being poured, but not prohibitted
- No violence, anger, problems or concurrence allowed ! We’re all the same…
- Let the evening inspire you
The doe invites everybody to an evening without stress, everyone can come as he wants, no imposed time, no imposed dress code, no imposed nothing, only zest for life. Let anger, pressure and work at home.🫶🏿
No wifi signal, no technology, no screen, only stars✨ to look at as it will be a very starry night.
Lizbeth Redwood, that well known doe, that lives secluded in the forest, hated by some, adored by other, has made up a peaceful evening not far from her home. She was lucky to possess some money, but she doesn’t need any, so she decided to spend it for the community, that society that accepted her in its ranks the way she is. Her story doesn’t count anymore, even if still some rumors go around on her. She’s that silly doe, sometimes clumsy but always the most friendly and tender to anyone. Everybody can come along and spend some time at her place. She even got herself a total new dress, with colors and flowers (what else…)
💐🌼🌸🌺🪷🌷🌻🍀💖
The place where it all happens :
It’s a small seclude cove at that lake she lives nearby, it has a small beach. The place is very welcoming, quiet and visited by all kind of animals. But for a given time all will be different, that beach is invaded by the doe and her friend Max, they both have been working quite a few days to get all set up, with lanterns and tents, canopies to gather underteath, pillows, cushions and blankets spread all over. It almost looks like a traditional bedouin camp, without the camels, Lizbeth got it all from an arabic friend. A large fireplace in the middle, with cushions all around, some on oriental styled carpets, some right on the sand. All over hanging lights and lanterns, driven by solar energy and batteries. So no electricity to load your phone and or tablet, or whatever. Anyway, technology prohibitted📵, no vibrating humms or invading ringtones🔕, calm is key.
The way there leads through a small forest, it’s all illuminated and Max will welcome you👋🏽
The rules (unfortunately there have to be some)
IC rules :
First, Lizbeth is always right
Second, if Lizbeth is wrong, first rule is law
…☝🏻
No seriously, please, no violence of any kind, no inadequate language, alcohol is not prohibitted, but the abuse of it is, ❌as well as drugs. If you find a mushroom🍄, don’t eat it! If ever you bring some ‘stronger things’ along, don’t get drunk or high, that’s of no fun. You can come as you want, but decency is demanded (naked might not be the right idea). Absolutely no weapons🛑 allowed in site, no harm!! You can leave all at the entrance of the forest. Magic is allowed, but only for entertainment and if it doesn’t destroy or harm anyone or anything. Games are allowed of course, but no gambling, bets or tournaments. Any language is allowed, if I can’t read, I ask for translation, this means that rules also apply to foreign speaking (no strange insults).
Oh, please leave the local fauna in peace, their favourite spot is being invaded already enough. If you manage to carress any of the animals, you’re fine (this includes the local wild deer🦌, as there are some).
If you don’t fit to the rules, you’ve seen that one welcoming you in the alley, you’ll have to deal with him. Max is security officer.👮🏾♂️
⚠️Topic rules, very important, I want you to read⚠️
- it’s open RP, so keep it all PG13 rated, please people, even I am making a lot of efforts
- Site rules still do apply, please be so kind
- Length of post is of no matter, but just say :
might not be enoughauthor wrote:”Hi”
- Everybody makes mistkaes, don’t judge anyone on their litteracy skills
- Interaction between characters is demanded, even if you never RP’d together, one can use ‘@‘xyz to directly turn towards someone specific. If you want more privacy, please pick a tent (inform the group that for some time you’re alone in one tent, don’t be too loud). Just please don’t go into politics (IC can be allowed, but keep it on joke or simple remark)
- Typical things like ‘god-moding’ aren’t allowed, if by inadvertance it happens to you (it happened to me) please excuse and put the things right IC.
- Time Period… such a vast definition, but to keep it simple, it’s post modern world, actual OOC time (you don’t live in the past, do you?). You may come as character from another time, a parallel world or from Star Trek bringing back home a whale, please specify…
- NPC characters are allowed, I have some too, but limit the number, we don’t need the entire town, the beach is small and coziness might suffer.
Food and beverages… This is difficult.
As said, no Alcohol on site, you can bring some, but watch out, don’t give to possibly present minors. Lizbeth and Max can’t forbid all, so they ask for your goodwill. Lizbeth has made some teas, cold or warm. Fruity iced tea or if you want special mixture, ask Lizbeth. She even made some handcrafted lemonade, the bottles will be plunged into the lake to keep them fresh.The lake contains crystal clear water, it’s Lizbeth’s daily source of water.
You will find fruits and vegetables to eat, no meat. Lizbeth and Max are vegan (naturally, not a choice), you could maybe find a cookie with dark chocolate chunks, but there will be no eggs or milk used in them. Else, the forest has a lot to offer, but remember, don’t eat the mushrooms you find. Lizbeth can manage a barbeque spot for you, but will surely not cook anything meaty🤢, you’ll have to let it calcinate all on your own, and please not on the central fireplace. Marshmallows🍡 can be allowed, as this means fun, especially when lost into blaze or burnt one side and melted the other, quite sticky thing huh? Chocolate may be allowed, but don’t let Lizbeth know.
Phew… if ever you still want to come to Lizbeth’s, she’ll have a very warm welcome for you, beware, she’ll call everyone ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’, it’s her party after all.
Dusk is settling in, the cove becomes more and more enlivening, the solar lights are about to lighten up. The choice not to bring some electricity was a marvelous idea, as it would mean some irritating humming of a stupid generator, no, nothing has to disturb the peace on this place. As quietness there is, a very soft pleasant gurgling sound of the lake, birds are singing, some wild deer are curiously watching a doe being busy at their beach. That doe buzzing around, arranging last details of her spot, is Lizbeth, Lizbeth Redwood, initiator of this hopefully wonderfull evening.
Summer Soirée “Unconditional Disconnection“ is awaiting first guest, Max is at outpost. Max that big draft horse, always wearing red, is welcoming everyone and guide them through the little forest to the happening. He might be impressive, but he’s as gentle as a lamb, if you don’t irritate him. The place looks like some typical bedouin camp, with tents and canopies, a big fireplace in the middle. Cushions and pillows all over the place, inviting to sit and relax, blankets spread or folded, carpets covering here and there the sand. All around are lanterns of paper or silk, here and there candles in wooden lanterns, Lalten lamps or light chains hanging in the trees. A snuggly soft breeze comes from the lake, the air is pleasantly heated as sun has been out all day and warmed the water in the cove. Lizbeth has difficulties to hold back, not jumping into the water right away. Nobody sees, and in contrary to all her habitudes, that doe wears a swimsuit, it’s an awkward feeling, but if she should jump into the lake, well it will not be naked this time. Lizbeth can be silly or clumsy sometimes, but tonight she’d doing her best to avoid ANY embarrassing moment.
The deer is a bit nervous, how happy would she be if some came to her place, chilling out and have a wonderful evening. She placed her cards on strategic points in town, where she knows lot of people come or pass, but she didn’t dare look if ever there were some left. She didn’t even ask Marge, her preferred herbalist in town, whether someone took a card or not. It’s all a surprise for her. As there will also be a surprise (at least one) for every visitor.
As predicted, not a cloud to be seen in the sky, yes, stars will be out, « little stardust » is happy, all seems to indicate that it will be a perfect evening for the doe.
The fire is lit, will there be people, music, dancers....?
For every guest, Lizbeth has a greeting date, offering food is a very high valued symbol of hospitality in bedouin tradition. Lizbeth has an arabic friend, Yassin Ghazal Jamilah, bedouin camel, commercial in oriental food (dates, seasonings and spices, fruits and vegetables) he lend her all these tents, in fact his complete mobile camp when he tours through the Sahara to get new suppliers.
Summer Soirée “Unconditional Disconnection“ is awaiting first guest, Max is at outpost. Max that big draft horse, always wearing red, is welcoming everyone and guide them through the little forest to the happening. He might be impressive, but he’s as gentle as a lamb, if you don’t irritate him. The place looks like some typical bedouin camp, with tents and canopies, a big fireplace in the middle. Cushions and pillows all over the place, inviting to sit and relax, blankets spread or folded, carpets covering here and there the sand. All around are lanterns of paper or silk, here and there candles in wooden lanterns, Lalten lamps or light chains hanging in the trees. A snuggly soft breeze comes from the lake, the air is pleasantly heated as sun has been out all day and warmed the water in the cove. Lizbeth has difficulties to hold back, not jumping into the water right away. Nobody sees, and in contrary to all her habitudes, that doe wears a swimsuit, it’s an awkward feeling, but if she should jump into the lake, well it will not be naked this time. Lizbeth can be silly or clumsy sometimes, but tonight she’d doing her best to avoid ANY embarrassing moment.
The deer is a bit nervous, how happy would she be if some came to her place, chilling out and have a wonderful evening. She placed her cards on strategic points in town, where she knows lot of people come or pass, but she didn’t dare look if ever there were some left. She didn’t even ask Marge, her preferred herbalist in town, whether someone took a card or not. It’s all a surprise for her. As there will also be a surprise (at least one) for every visitor.As predicted, not a cloud to be seen in the sky, yes, stars will be out, « little stardust » is happy, all seems to indicate that it will be a perfect evening for the doe.
The fire is lit, will there be people, music, dancers....?
For every guest, Lizbeth has a greeting date, offering food is a very high valued symbol of hospitality in bedouin tradition. Lizbeth has an arabic friend, Yassin Ghazal Jamilah, bedouin camel, commercial in oriental food (dates, seasonings and spices, fruits and vegetables) he lend her all these tents, in fact his complete mobile camp when he tours through the Sahara to get new suppliers.
Francis Riggs stood at the edge of the forest, blue eyes narrowed skeptically at the whimsical glow bleeding softly through the trees ahead. The fur on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably as he watched that big, burly draft horse in red, Max, if he recalled, welcoming each newcomer with easy warmth. Riggs scratched irritably under one floppy ear, grumbling low in his throat. His instincts, battered and bruised from years of chasing the worst humanity had to offer, screamed that this was all far too idyllic, too pristine to be genuine. But damn it, he was on forced vacation, and sobriety was gnawing at him like an itch beneath his fur. Maybe a night in some doe's forest-side fantasy would keep his fingers off the bottle for a couple of hours.
He fingered his beard thoughtfully, feet planted apart in an uncertain sway that was more a habit of intoxication than current reality. Tonight, Riggs was painfully sober, each sensation sharper, the cool evening breeze pricking his dirty gray-brown fur. His scarred hands twitched slightly, missing the familiar weight of his flask, though the sight of the quaint lantern-lit path and the soft, inviting gurgle of water tugged reluctantly at something inside him. With a grunted sigh of resignation, he straightened his spine and began the slow trek down the softly glowing path, boots crunching quietly over fallen leaves and pine needles.
"Just don't screw this up, Riggs," he growled quietly to himself, his voice rough and dry. His sharp blue gaze lifted as the serene, secluded cove gradually came into full view. Despite his usual skepticism, even he had to grudgingly admit it was beautiful, almost hauntingly so. His eyes found the doe who'd set all this up, bustling about nervously, flowered dress fluttering with every anxious movement. She looked innocent, earnest. Far too good for a washed-up old wolf like him to be anywhere near. Still, his ears lifted slightly despite himself, some part of him quietly hoping he could, for once, avoid being the source of the trouble tonight.
He fingered his beard thoughtfully, feet planted apart in an uncertain sway that was more a habit of intoxication than current reality. Tonight, Riggs was painfully sober, each sensation sharper, the cool evening breeze pricking his dirty gray-brown fur. His scarred hands twitched slightly, missing the familiar weight of his flask, though the sight of the quaint lantern-lit path and the soft, inviting gurgle of water tugged reluctantly at something inside him. With a grunted sigh of resignation, he straightened his spine and began the slow trek down the softly glowing path, boots crunching quietly over fallen leaves and pine needles.
"Just don't screw this up, Riggs," he growled quietly to himself, his voice rough and dry. His sharp blue gaze lifted as the serene, secluded cove gradually came into full view. Despite his usual skepticism, even he had to grudgingly admit it was beautiful, almost hauntingly so. His eyes found the doe who'd set all this up, bustling about nervously, flowered dress fluttering with every anxious movement. She looked innocent, earnest. Far too good for a washed-up old wolf like him to be anywhere near. Still, his ears lifted slightly despite himself, some part of him quietly hoping he could, for once, avoid being the source of the trouble tonight.
The evening was still young, there was no worry to think about those who might still come or not, so Lizbeth was confident and talked a bit with her close friend, Marge, that panda herbalist, they know each other since long.But someone arrives, lead through the forest by Max, a grey wolf, a canine imposing respect through only his presence. But today, no fear, that doe doesn’t step back, panicked.
No, she walks towards the grey wolf with a warm smile, her bowl with dates in her arm.
“Hello Sir”, she speaks without hesitation in her voice, welcoming, "welcome, I’m Lizbeth, your host, please come on in and feel at home. Choose a welcoming fruit, a little gift to everyone, an Arabian date.”, she holds her bowl towards the stranger.
Tonight nobody is a stranger, no warily behavior, no fear. That doe only wants everybody to feel as happy as herself.
Riggs paused a step before the circle of soft firelight, boots sinking slightly into the edge of a patterned rug. His eyes flicked toward the doe approaching him with that absurd bowl of dates, her dress as bright and flowery as a greeting card. For a second, he just stared, the corners of his mouth twitching in some unspoken reaction, part amusement, part disbelief.
"Fruit, huh?" he muttered, before scratching under his ear again, glancing between the bowl and her open expression as if one of them might bite him. Then, with a grunt that might've been agreement, he reached out and plucked a date between two scarred fingers. "Sure. Why not. Haven't had my quota of sugar today." The fruit disappeared into his coat pocket rather than his mouth. Habit. Never take food from strangers, less you're starving.
His gaze lingered on her a beat longer than he meant it to, catching the way her nervous energy masked itself behind that smile. It wasn't that she was hiding it well, it was that she was trying so damn hard. There was something weirdly earnest about her, something that gnawed against his instincts and made them hesitate. Riggs exhaled a short breath through his nose, adjusting the collar of his worn jacket. "You really pulled out all the stops here. Looks like a damn storybook caravan. But... It's nice. Peaceful." He said, almost begrudgingly, reminded of the reason he was here. He glanced toward the lake, the breeze tousling the edges of his fur. "Almost makes me feel bad for bringing bad weather with me."
"Fruit, huh?" he muttered, before scratching under his ear again, glancing between the bowl and her open expression as if one of them might bite him. Then, with a grunt that might've been agreement, he reached out and plucked a date between two scarred fingers. "Sure. Why not. Haven't had my quota of sugar today." The fruit disappeared into his coat pocket rather than his mouth. Habit. Never take food from strangers, less you're starving.
His gaze lingered on her a beat longer than he meant it to, catching the way her nervous energy masked itself behind that smile. It wasn't that she was hiding it well, it was that she was trying so damn hard. There was something weirdly earnest about her, something that gnawed against his instincts and made them hesitate. Riggs exhaled a short breath through his nose, adjusting the collar of his worn jacket. "You really pulled out all the stops here. Looks like a damn storybook caravan. But... It's nice. Peaceful." He said, almost begrudgingly, reminded of the reason he was here. He glanced toward the lake, the breeze tousling the edges of his fur. "Almost makes me feel bad for bringing bad weather with me."
The evening was delightful, the heat of the day lingers on in this cove, a soft breeze coming from the lake renewed the air, the fur of this unknown wolf only moved slightly.
Lizbeth doesn’t say anything about the fruit, it’s a wolf, a meat-eater, normally she’d be his menu, not the fruit she proposes. But she keeps on smiling, “I thank you for your compliments, it’s the very purpose to spread peace and hospitality, the theme of this soirée.” She takes a glimpse of the night sky, no sign of weather changes, no, it’s a beautiful night, just simply perfect.
She takes of her neck another welcoming gift, a self-made necklace out of flowers and one seashell. “As gift for your coming, I offer to everyone a necklace, I made them with the help of two lovely mermaids on a trip to the ocean. It’s not a Bedouin tradition, but a Lizbeth’s tradition.”, she softly giggles, holding the necklace in front of her, whether he’d pass his head through it or not.
“Feel free to explore, take something to drink or eat, but I must apologize, I don’t have any meat to offer, if ever you brought some, don’t hesitate to use one of the smaller fires as barbecue. The lake is delightfully warm to jump into, Max will soon come back and make some music. You can talk to everyone here, Marge that Panda over there, and somewhere Yassin, he’s the owner of this storybook caravan, as it almost comes right out of 1001 nights.”
The doe looks at that wolf, her warm smile on her lips, her head tilted slightly sideways, more and more confident to have a lovely night.
“If you don’t want to be disturbed, you can choose one of the smaller tents, they are very comfortable with fluffy pillows. All is free to use, I only ask for good mood and I want you to think about a funny or lovely story of someone you cherish very much.”
She wants so much to call him ‘honey’ but the respect he naturally owes is a bit too strong.
Lizbeth doesn’t say anything about the fruit, it’s a wolf, a meat-eater, normally she’d be his menu, not the fruit she proposes. But she keeps on smiling, “I thank you for your compliments, it’s the very purpose to spread peace and hospitality, the theme of this soirée.” She takes a glimpse of the night sky, no sign of weather changes, no, it’s a beautiful night, just simply perfect.
She takes of her neck another welcoming gift, a self-made necklace out of flowers and one seashell. “As gift for your coming, I offer to everyone a necklace, I made them with the help of two lovely mermaids on a trip to the ocean. It’s not a Bedouin tradition, but a Lizbeth’s tradition.”, she softly giggles, holding the necklace in front of her, whether he’d pass his head through it or not.“Feel free to explore, take something to drink or eat, but I must apologize, I don’t have any meat to offer, if ever you brought some, don’t hesitate to use one of the smaller fires as barbecue. The lake is delightfully warm to jump into, Max will soon come back and make some music. You can talk to everyone here, Marge that Panda over there, and somewhere Yassin, he’s the owner of this storybook caravan, as it almost comes right out of 1001 nights.”
The doe looks at that wolf, her warm smile on her lips, her head tilted slightly sideways, more and more confident to have a lovely night.
“If you don’t want to be disturbed, you can choose one of the smaller tents, they are very comfortable with fluffy pillows. All is free to use, I only ask for good mood and I want you to think about a funny or lovely story of someone you cherish very much.”
She wants so much to call him ‘honey’ but the respect he naturally owes is a bit too strong.
Riggs eyed the necklace like it might grow teeth. A string of flowers and a seashell, delicate and bright against the shadowed backdrop of his world-weary eyes, looked almost absurd, hovering there before him. Still, she held it out with such stubborn sincerity, her fingers barely trembling, that refusing it felt like clubbing a baby bird. With a sigh that said he knew better and didn't care, the wolf ducked his head just enough for her to loop it around his neck. The blossoms settled against the worn collar of his coat, stark against the faded fabric and scent of old whiskey soaked into his fur. "You've got a funny idea of what kind of neck this belongs on," he muttered, dryly with self-deprecation, but there was a hint of amusement on the corner of his lips.
"Two mermaids, huh?" he muttered, a faint twitch of a smirk curling his lip. "Must've been one hell of a trip." His voice didn't mock, if anything, it hinted at the distant echo of someone who used to believe in stories, before reality had beaten the fairytales out of him. He gave the lake a long look, nostrils flaring as the breeze rolled in again, warm and heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. Something about the atmosphere scraped at him. Not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar. Dangerous in a way that calm could be, when you were used to chaos.
He rubbed a hand over his beard, trying not to feel like a wolf in a children's book, wandering into a place he didn't belong. "I'll take the food under advisement," he said dryly, then glanced back to Lizbeth with a nod that was rough, but not unkind. "Thanks. For the… hospitality." That word felt strange on his tongue, like it had rusted from disuse.
Riggs's gaze drifted around while his thumb brushing absently over the seashell now resting just above his chest, as if looking for something before he huffed softly through his nose, then looked back at Lizbeth, one brow cocked. "Someone over there blending those fancy fruit drinks with the umbrella?" he asked, his voice low and edged with dry humor. "I've always wondered what one tastes like without the booze." He said with a teasing wink that looked youthful on his face, with a look of a wolf that might be willing to give this place a try.
"Two mermaids, huh?" he muttered, a faint twitch of a smirk curling his lip. "Must've been one hell of a trip." His voice didn't mock, if anything, it hinted at the distant echo of someone who used to believe in stories, before reality had beaten the fairytales out of him. He gave the lake a long look, nostrils flaring as the breeze rolled in again, warm and heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. Something about the atmosphere scraped at him. Not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar. Dangerous in a way that calm could be, when you were used to chaos.
He rubbed a hand over his beard, trying not to feel like a wolf in a children's book, wandering into a place he didn't belong. "I'll take the food under advisement," he said dryly, then glanced back to Lizbeth with a nod that was rough, but not unkind. "Thanks. For the… hospitality." That word felt strange on his tongue, like it had rusted from disuse.
Riggs's gaze drifted around while his thumb brushing absently over the seashell now resting just above his chest, as if looking for something before he huffed softly through his nose, then looked back at Lizbeth, one brow cocked. "Someone over there blending those fancy fruit drinks with the umbrella?" he asked, his voice low and edged with dry humor. "I've always wondered what one tastes like without the booze." He said with a teasing wink that looked youthful on his face, with a look of a wolf that might be willing to give this place a try.
The wolf lowers his head and seems to accept her gift, at same time she can have a closer look at him, her eyes widen as she recognizes traces of severe combats this creature must have had.
Lizbeth smiles nevertheless very brightly, tonight nobody is judged and nobody refused, even if this wolf has a strong scent of alcohol. The doe understands quickly and feels a bit honored to have a guest like him, even if she doesn’t know the slightest of whoever he is. She knows Max to be not far away, but she also senses some deep settled goodness inside this wolf, she counts on that.
“Oh it was really a ‘hell’ of a trip, so calm and peaceful under the ocean.”
The doe notices his interest in the lake, always an optimistic thought in her mind she would again propose to jump into the water. But his slight rough demeanor made her hold back her words, she wasn’t upset, just slightly impressed.
“Thank you, honey, it’s a ple… oh” she holds her hand at her muzzle, the word just escaped her lips, she chuckles delightfully. In fact she knew that she’d call everyone ‘honey’ tonight, but this wolf might take it wrongly.
She lays naturally a hand on his upper arm, “I’m sorry, it’s only I’m so glad that someone stops by at my soirée.” She keeps smiling softly.
“Be free to ask for anything, Max, Marge or me will do what‘s possible. And, yes, it’s all without, ehm, booze”, Lizbeth even approaches more the wolf, “they taste deliciously” she whispers, her nose moving to the rhythm of her words.
“As soon as there might be more guests, I would love to do an oriental tradition and let float a few candles on the lake.”
Lizbeth smiles nevertheless very brightly, tonight nobody is judged and nobody refused, even if this wolf has a strong scent of alcohol. The doe understands quickly and feels a bit honored to have a guest like him, even if she doesn’t know the slightest of whoever he is. She knows Max to be not far away, but she also senses some deep settled goodness inside this wolf, she counts on that.
“Oh it was really a ‘hell’ of a trip, so calm and peaceful under the ocean.”
The doe notices his interest in the lake, always an optimistic thought in her mind she would again propose to jump into the water. But his slight rough demeanor made her hold back her words, she wasn’t upset, just slightly impressed.
“Thank you, honey, it’s a ple… oh” she holds her hand at her muzzle, the word just escaped her lips, she chuckles delightfully. In fact she knew that she’d call everyone ‘honey’ tonight, but this wolf might take it wrongly.
She lays naturally a hand on his upper arm, “I’m sorry, it’s only I’m so glad that someone stops by at my soirée.” She keeps smiling softly.
“Be free to ask for anything, Max, Marge or me will do what‘s possible. And, yes, it’s all without, ehm, booze”, Lizbeth even approaches more the wolf, “they taste deliciously” she whispers, her nose moving to the rhythm of her words.
“As soon as there might be more guests, I would love to do an oriental tradition and let float a few candles on the lake.”
Riggs's gaze flicked sharply downward when the doe's gentle touch brushed his arm, the unexpected warmth of her slender fingers seeping through his worn coat. He tensed for half a heartbeat, instincts still twitchy from far rougher encounters, but her bright smile and genuine amusement smoothed over the rough edges. His ears flicked back slightly, not in irritation, but in mild surprise at her spontaneous endearment. The corner of his lips curled into a reluctant smirk, blue eyes glinting with quiet humor. "Honey, huh?" he drawled softly, voice rough but teasing. "Been called a lot of things in my life, but only my meemaw ever called me Honey," his words spoken with certain nostalgic fondness.
Her whispered reassurance about the drinks drew him in slightly closer, almost subconsciously leaning toward the inviting scent of flowers and spice that clung softly to her. Riggs met her gaze steadily, a rare openness momentarily pushing through the habitual hardness in his expression. "Delicious without booze? Sounds like an oxymoron to me," he teased ever so gently as his lips turned up in the slightest hint of a wolfish grin.
"I'll keep an eye out for floating candles," he added, voice low but more relaxed now. "Sounds like the kind of thing I oughta see at least once." With that, Riggs gave a nod, less of a goodbye, more a quiet step back, and started walking toward the bar. He wasn't thirsty for juice, not really. But the night had a certain feel, and something exotic sounded good, and for once, he wasn't rushing to cut the music short.
Her whispered reassurance about the drinks drew him in slightly closer, almost subconsciously leaning toward the inviting scent of flowers and spice that clung softly to her. Riggs met her gaze steadily, a rare openness momentarily pushing through the habitual hardness in his expression. "Delicious without booze? Sounds like an oxymoron to me," he teased ever so gently as his lips turned up in the slightest hint of a wolfish grin.
"I'll keep an eye out for floating candles," he added, voice low but more relaxed now. "Sounds like the kind of thing I oughta see at least once." With that, Riggs gave a nod, less of a goodbye, more a quiet step back, and started walking toward the bar. He wasn't thirsty for juice, not really. But the night had a certain feel, and something exotic sounded good, and for once, he wasn't rushing to cut the music short.
Lizbeth nods with a lifted eyebrow, seems like his meemaw were a very important being in this wolf's life, he'll surely have a funny or lovely anecdote to tell about her. That is all this doe needs to make her guests feel comfortable at her place, feel free of all pressure resting on one's shoulder, if it is only for one night.
She has to chuckle again at the word oxymoron, a word not often heard, but describing some deeper going meaning to a combination of words, she's absolutely sure that this wolf has an issue with the spirits of firewater. But as said, everybody is welcome and unfortunately, or maybe luckily, Lizbeth banned alcohol from her servings.
"You will have to see that, it's heartwarming and when sincerely done it gives you some satisfaction."
Lizbeth follows the wolf with her eyes as this one heads down her made up camp. She smiles sincerely, seeing her guest wearing her flowers, so much unknown story hidden in that frame, and yet seeking some peace in her soiree. This is exactly what this doe is looking for.
Unconditional Disconnection for all, if tormented mind or not, Lizbeth feels satisfied.
She has to chuckle again at the word oxymoron, a word not often heard, but describing some deeper going meaning to a combination of words, she's absolutely sure that this wolf has an issue with the spirits of firewater. But as said, everybody is welcome and unfortunately, or maybe luckily, Lizbeth banned alcohol from her servings.
"You will have to see that, it's heartwarming and when sincerely done it gives you some satisfaction."
Lizbeth follows the wolf with her eyes as this one heads down her made up camp. She smiles sincerely, seeing her guest wearing her flowers, so much unknown story hidden in that frame, and yet seeking some peace in her soiree. This is exactly what this doe is looking for.
Unconditional Disconnection for all, if tormented mind or not, Lizbeth feels satisfied.
Riggs felt the doe's gaze linger on his back as he walked, and for a man who usually met stares with growls, fists, or worse, he didn't mind this one. Something about it wasn't judging or measuring, it was just... present. Honest. That, more than anything, unsettled him. He reached up to scratch under his left ear, muttering to himself as he passed a low-hanging lantern.
The bar wasn't far, a thatched-together counter beneath a canopy, but no barkeep was in sight, but someone had clearly been working. Riggs leaned an elbow against the edge, peering down at the spread with a narrow-eyed curiosity. A few carved signs labeled things like Sunset Blossom and Pear Mirage, names that made him smirk. "Well, ain't this adorable," he muttered, then raised his voice just slightly. "Anyone back there? Or is this one of those help-yourself kinda deals?"
His hand hovered over a jar of muddled berries and citrus, fingers twitching with the instinct to pour something stronger. But there was no glass bottle here, no hiss of a cork or metallic jingle of a flask. Just fruit, herbs, and sweetness. Riggs exhaled hard through his nose and rolled his shoulders, glancing briefly over one as if expecting Lizbeth to appear behind him again. "Alright, juice gods," he muttered, reaching for a clean cup, "Show me what you got."
The bar wasn't far, a thatched-together counter beneath a canopy, but no barkeep was in sight, but someone had clearly been working. Riggs leaned an elbow against the edge, peering down at the spread with a narrow-eyed curiosity. A few carved signs labeled things like Sunset Blossom and Pear Mirage, names that made him smirk. "Well, ain't this adorable," he muttered, then raised his voice just slightly. "Anyone back there? Or is this one of those help-yourself kinda deals?"
His hand hovered over a jar of muddled berries and citrus, fingers twitching with the instinct to pour something stronger. But there was no glass bottle here, no hiss of a cork or metallic jingle of a flask. Just fruit, herbs, and sweetness. Riggs exhaled hard through his nose and rolled his shoulders, glancing briefly over one as if expecting Lizbeth to appear behind him again. "Alright, juice gods," he muttered, reaching for a clean cup, "Show me what you got."
Evening settles in, dusk is dimming the light continuously, the magic of that Bedouin camp, coming right out of an oriental fairytale, starts to show. They really know the meaning of the word hospitality. Flickering light of a warming fire and inviting candles stand against the soft charming steady glow of the lanterns and lampions. The lake emits its burbling sound, only waiting for someone to plunge.
Marge and Yassin are sitting under the canopy, they are surely discussing prices and sellable goods. Lizbeth shakes her head with a smile, “oh these two, always dealing about some spices or herbs, incorrigible…” she mumbles to herself.
Lizbeth waves to Max, she wants to hear his music, she wants him to pick and toss the chords of his guitar, he does that so well. Lizbeth wants to dance…
She notices that wolf a bit lost at that self-service bar and without hesitation joins his company. “Can I help, I think you need an advice, no?” She speaks very softly as she steps beside him, not wanting to impose anything to him, and her friendly smile doesn’t leave her face.
Max passes by with his guitar and Lizbeth has a soft caress on that horse’s arm with a big smile, whispering a “Thank you honey” towards him.
“So tell me, Sir, what would please the dried throat of this fierce wolf?”
Marge and Yassin are sitting under the canopy, they are surely discussing prices and sellable goods. Lizbeth shakes her head with a smile, “oh these two, always dealing about some spices or herbs, incorrigible…” she mumbles to herself.
Lizbeth waves to Max, she wants to hear his music, she wants him to pick and toss the chords of his guitar, he does that so well. Lizbeth wants to dance…
She notices that wolf a bit lost at that self-service bar and without hesitation joins his company. “Can I help, I think you need an advice, no?” She speaks very softly as she steps beside him, not wanting to impose anything to him, and her friendly smile doesn’t leave her face.
Max passes by with his guitar and Lizbeth has a soft caress on that horse’s arm with a big smile, whispering a “Thank you honey” towards him.
“So tell me, Sir, what would please the dried throat of this fierce wolf?”
Riggs's ears twitched at the soft padding of hooves before her voice followed, low and coaxing beside him. He didn't jump, just gave a short breath, equal parts exhale and chuckle, as if he'd already known she'd turn up eventually. "You really gotta stop sneakin' up on people," he muttered without bite, glancing sidelong at her.
His gaze shifted back to the lineup of colorful pitchers, letting her presence settle beside him like something vaguely familiar and unexpectedly tolerated. "Well," he grunted, scratching behind his ear again, "Some cold and sweet, I guess, with a hint of something bitter." His eyes found a jar filled with something dark, berries, maybe, or plums, and a sprig of mint floating in it, wondering how long it would take to ferment.
As Max passed by, the soft twang of strings floating into the air behind them, Riggs's ear flicked instinctively toward the sound. It was peaceful in a way that felt too fragile to be real. Still, it had its charm, like a place held together by sheer willpower and flower garlands. Riggs shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked at Lizbeth again. "Alright, hostess. Surprise me. Pick something you think will convince my throat it's worth swallowing." The words were gruff, but something in the angle of his jaw, the way he leaned in just slightly, said he meant it as a challenge, not a rejection. He wasn't sure if the drinks here could quench anything deeper than thirst, but he was willing to let her try.
His gaze shifted back to the lineup of colorful pitchers, letting her presence settle beside him like something vaguely familiar and unexpectedly tolerated. "Well," he grunted, scratching behind his ear again, "Some cold and sweet, I guess, with a hint of something bitter." His eyes found a jar filled with something dark, berries, maybe, or plums, and a sprig of mint floating in it, wondering how long it would take to ferment.
As Max passed by, the soft twang of strings floating into the air behind them, Riggs's ear flicked instinctively toward the sound. It was peaceful in a way that felt too fragile to be real. Still, it had its charm, like a place held together by sheer willpower and flower garlands. Riggs shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked at Lizbeth again. "Alright, hostess. Surprise me. Pick something you think will convince my throat it's worth swallowing." The words were gruff, but something in the angle of his jaw, the way he leaned in just slightly, said he meant it as a challenge, not a rejection. He wasn't sure if the drinks here could quench anything deeper than thirst, but he was willing to let her try.
Lizbeth would do anything possible for her guests, even trying to surprise a wolf. Quite a challenge indeed.
Cold and sweet, something bitter.... the doe starts to mix up different ingredients in her head, best would be something imitating taste of alcohol. Then her face lightens up, almost like a bright bulb just before the incandescent wire breaks....she knows.
"Please wait here, please, I'll be back quickly" Lizbeth turns around, her little deer tail wagging happily as it follows her to the lake. She picks a string and pulls a bottle out of the lake. Returning with it she smiles brightly to Max, installing himself with his guitar at the entrance of the big canopy, she hopes to hear her favorite piece of music. Max knows...
"So, here it is, I'll give you a mixture of self-made lemonade, some blackcurrant juice, slightly bitter. I found the berries deep in the forest. And for the touch, a bit infused gentian and ginger. If you want, add a bit of cane sugar for more sweetness." She picks a little colorful umbrella into a slice of lemon and lets this one float in the drink. She hands it over to the wolf the moment her ear turns ant twitches as it picks up a well known sound, a tune on a guitar : Book of Love [Please open in another tab, and read while listening]
"Oh my, please excuse me, I can't help you further" she says with the most imaginable beautiful smile on her lips, turning away from the wolf to hop down the alley to the big canopy, Max, the little rascal, starts of his repertoire with a devilish grin in his face, Lizbeth can't resist.
The doe finds herself in the middle of that said tent, on a big carpet and starts to slowly move her hips, slightly waving them to the slow rhythm of the song, not luring to anyone, just dancing. As it is a song, one can see her lips move to the unsung words, she was singing along, far away in a selfish bubble. Her frame turns at the refrain, making her long skirt float slightly around her elegant legs. She moves gracefully, almost having wings, her arms go up, over her head her hands caressing each other.
A soft voice can be heard under the canopy, not loud, not strong, just enough to understand, "But I..huhhi iii hi I ho iiih, love it when you sing to me..."
You have never seen a doe in heaven? Just look at Lizbeth right now!
The evening is still young, but Lizbeth has everything she needs, the rest of the night will bring other happy moments, for sure.
Cold and sweet, something bitter.... the doe starts to mix up different ingredients in her head, best would be something imitating taste of alcohol. Then her face lightens up, almost like a bright bulb just before the incandescent wire breaks....she knows.
"Please wait here, please, I'll be back quickly" Lizbeth turns around, her little deer tail wagging happily as it follows her to the lake. She picks a string and pulls a bottle out of the lake. Returning with it she smiles brightly to Max, installing himself with his guitar at the entrance of the big canopy, she hopes to hear her favorite piece of music. Max knows...
"So, here it is, I'll give you a mixture of self-made lemonade, some blackcurrant juice, slightly bitter. I found the berries deep in the forest. And for the touch, a bit infused gentian and ginger. If you want, add a bit of cane sugar for more sweetness." She picks a little colorful umbrella into a slice of lemon and lets this one float in the drink. She hands it over to the wolf the moment her ear turns ant twitches as it picks up a well known sound, a tune on a guitar : Book of Love [Please open in another tab, and read while listening]
"Oh my, please excuse me, I can't help you further" she says with the most imaginable beautiful smile on her lips, turning away from the wolf to hop down the alley to the big canopy, Max, the little rascal, starts of his repertoire with a devilish grin in his face, Lizbeth can't resist.
The doe finds herself in the middle of that said tent, on a big carpet and starts to slowly move her hips, slightly waving them to the slow rhythm of the song, not luring to anyone, just dancing. As it is a song, one can see her lips move to the unsung words, she was singing along, far away in a selfish bubble. Her frame turns at the refrain, making her long skirt float slightly around her elegant legs. She moves gracefully, almost having wings, her arms go up, over her head her hands caressing each other.
A soft voice can be heard under the canopy, not loud, not strong, just enough to understand, "But I..huhhi iii hi I ho iiih, love it when you sing to me..."
You have never seen a doe in heaven? Just look at Lizbeth right now!
The evening is still young, but Lizbeth has everything she needs, the rest of the night will bring other happy moments, for sure.
Riggs stood there, watching her vanish, with that little tail bouncing behind her like punctuation on a sentence. Realizing he was staring, he quickly diverted his eyes. She'd taken off like it was urgent, like it mattered, and some small, baffled part of him couldn't believe she'd actually gone to the trouble. His hand dropped from his beard, fingers curling against the wood of the bar as he leaned in slightly, listening to the murmur of lake water and soft laughter weaving through the lantern-glow. When she returned, bottle in hand and cheeks flushed from the brief sprint, he took the offered drink with a grunt of thanks that didn't quite mask the flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
The glass was cool against his palm, slick with condensation. He eyed the contents, a deep reddish hue, mint cutting through the earthy tang of berries and citrus, and couldn't forget the useless little umbrella. "That's a lotta fuss for one mouthful," he muttered, but he took the sip anyway. Tart first, then bitter. The ginger burned just enough. Not bad. Not bad at all. His brows lifted a fraction, but before he could comment, the sound of Max's guitar bled into the space, low and deliberate.
Riggs turned to find her already halfway down the sand, pulled toward. He watched in silence as Lizbeth twirled, her skirt catching the light like the edge of a flickering fire. She danced not for anyone, but because something inside her demanded it, unguarded, lost in the music, the melody shaping her body like water around stone. For a long moment, Riggs didn't move. Just stood there, drink in hand, watching a doe dance barefoot under hanging lights and starlight, in a world he still didn't quite believe was real. His smirk softened into something quieter, a sigh barely audible.
Riggs didn't realize his feet had moved until the soft crunch of sand beneath his boots reminded him that he was drifting, taking slow, aimless steps that pulled him closer to the canopy, where the fire cast long shadows and the music wove through the air. He stayed at the edge, just beyond the warmth of the gathered crowd, half in the moment and half removed. The glass hung loosely in his grip, nearly forgotten, as his gaze stayed locked on the swaying figure at the center. He didn't join the others lounging on cushions or leaning in with murmured conversation. Instead, he stood like a sentinel guarding what lies within, letting the music bleed into the cracks of him like rain through dry earth.
The glass was cool against his palm, slick with condensation. He eyed the contents, a deep reddish hue, mint cutting through the earthy tang of berries and citrus, and couldn't forget the useless little umbrella. "That's a lotta fuss for one mouthful," he muttered, but he took the sip anyway. Tart first, then bitter. The ginger burned just enough. Not bad. Not bad at all. His brows lifted a fraction, but before he could comment, the sound of Max's guitar bled into the space, low and deliberate.
Riggs turned to find her already halfway down the sand, pulled toward. He watched in silence as Lizbeth twirled, her skirt catching the light like the edge of a flickering fire. She danced not for anyone, but because something inside her demanded it, unguarded, lost in the music, the melody shaping her body like water around stone. For a long moment, Riggs didn't move. Just stood there, drink in hand, watching a doe dance barefoot under hanging lights and starlight, in a world he still didn't quite believe was real. His smirk softened into something quieter, a sigh barely audible.
Riggs didn't realize his feet had moved until the soft crunch of sand beneath his boots reminded him that he was drifting, taking slow, aimless steps that pulled him closer to the canopy, where the fire cast long shadows and the music wove through the air. He stayed at the edge, just beyond the warmth of the gathered crowd, half in the moment and half removed. The glass hung loosely in his grip, nearly forgotten, as his gaze stayed locked on the swaying figure at the center. He didn't join the others lounging on cushions or leaning in with murmured conversation. Instead, he stood like a sentinel guarding what lies within, letting the music bleed into the cracks of him like rain through dry earth.
Everything has an end, even this most lovely tune with a deer dancing. Lizbeth feels delighted, her smile sincere and bright, she doesn't care these moments what anyone might think of her, she just 'lives'. She has the right to, she needs it, she wants to feel free, free of any burden, unconditionally disconnected to everything around. Max couldn't have done her more pleasure than play that one song.
"Isn't he marvelous, my Max?" she says out loud, her arms spread towards that big shaft horse with his guitar. But this song not only made this doe happy, but it's also a reminder for the doe to start the evening, as everybody seems to have arrived.
She didn't prepare a speech, but she wants to 'loose' a few words to those present : "I would love to welcome everybody that found his or her way to my evening, evening of peace and tranquility, please, switch of all your devices you hide in your pockets, and profit of this perfect night. All around here is free of use and all what's presented to you doesn't cost you a dime, only a smile." The doe, delighted, makes a pirouette with her last words. "I will soon propose you an oriental tradition, so I want you all to think about someone you unfortunately won't see anymore, but not in a sad way, everyone finds a funny or lovely anecdote about that person. Beware, you'll have to tell everybody. I ask you to sincerely participate this celebration of the past, the future will come after that. Thank you. Oh, and don't mind me if I call you honey, I can't do else", Lizbeth blushes slightly, not used to talk in public like that.
And to stimulate people to think about a lost dear, Max plays another soft tune, What a Wonderful World
The doe returns to her guests, a soft wink with a smile to that wolf standing alone, as if protecting the whole thing. She whispers a soft "Thank you" to Max again before she gets herself a glass of lemonade. A trunk with all sorts of things inside is waiting for its moment to be opened. Soon, be patient...
"Isn't he marvelous, my Max?" she says out loud, her arms spread towards that big shaft horse with his guitar. But this song not only made this doe happy, but it's also a reminder for the doe to start the evening, as everybody seems to have arrived.
She didn't prepare a speech, but she wants to 'loose' a few words to those present : "I would love to welcome everybody that found his or her way to my evening, evening of peace and tranquility, please, switch of all your devices you hide in your pockets, and profit of this perfect night. All around here is free of use and all what's presented to you doesn't cost you a dime, only a smile." The doe, delighted, makes a pirouette with her last words. "I will soon propose you an oriental tradition, so I want you all to think about someone you unfortunately won't see anymore, but not in a sad way, everyone finds a funny or lovely anecdote about that person. Beware, you'll have to tell everybody. I ask you to sincerely participate this celebration of the past, the future will come after that. Thank you. Oh, and don't mind me if I call you honey, I can't do else", Lizbeth blushes slightly, not used to talk in public like that.
And to stimulate people to think about a lost dear, Max plays another soft tune, What a Wonderful World
The doe returns to her guests, a soft wink with a smile to that wolf standing alone, as if protecting the whole thing. She whispers a soft "Thank you" to Max again before she gets herself a glass of lemonade. A trunk with all sorts of things inside is waiting for its moment to be opened. Soon, be patient...
Riggs didn't move. Just stood there, steady as a stone, while Lizbeth's voice floated through the lull that followed the music. It wasn't loud, wasn't polished, just soft and clear, drifting through the firelight. He didn't smile. Didn't nod. But one ear flicked in her direction, catching every word. It was the ease of her, the honesty. No flourish. No angle. Just her, singing like the world wasn't broken. That's what held him in place.
Then came the next tune, threading its way into his chest slow and stubborn. What a Wonderful World. He hadn't heard it in years, never like this, but he could still hear the words in that raspy voice somewhere on the wind. And here it was again, reborn through a guitar and a flickering lantern, stitched to the gentle sway of her skirt. His jaw worked once, slow and tight. He looked down at his glass, the last inch of it catching firelight, then out across the quiet crowd, faces softened by some memory he didn't ask to share.
When Lizbeth passed him again, wink, smile, just enough to tug something loose in his chest, he didn't speak. Just tipped his glass the slightest bit in her direction. A nod without the nod. Not flirtation. Something closer to respect. Maybe thanks. He let a breath out through his nose, low and rough, then muttered under it, "Someone I won't see again, huh..." His thumb tapped against the rim. "Yeah... that list's long enough to drown in."
Then came the next tune, threading its way into his chest slow and stubborn. What a Wonderful World. He hadn't heard it in years, never like this, but he could still hear the words in that raspy voice somewhere on the wind. And here it was again, reborn through a guitar and a flickering lantern, stitched to the gentle sway of her skirt. His jaw worked once, slow and tight. He looked down at his glass, the last inch of it catching firelight, then out across the quiet crowd, faces softened by some memory he didn't ask to share.
When Lizbeth passed him again, wink, smile, just enough to tug something loose in his chest, he didn't speak. Just tipped his glass the slightest bit in her direction. A nod without the nod. Not flirtation. Something closer to respect. Maybe thanks. He let a breath out through his nose, low and rough, then muttered under it, "Someone I won't see again, huh..." His thumb tapped against the rim. "Yeah... that list's long enough to drown in."
The ears of a deer are even more sensitive than that of a wolf, so Lizbeth can distinctly hear the words of her guest, even mumbled into his beard. She smiles, confirmed in her presumption that this wolf is less rough than he gives himself.
He doesn't see this smile, as Lizbeth went over to that large trunk, trying to open it but it demands a bit of an effort. The cover being almost as heavy as herself she throws it open with all the weight of her frame. Inside just some necessities to realize her planned 'activities', as it is voluntary based participation. Come out a few coconut shells, and candles. The doe takes the shells and candles with her, leaving that trunk open with an inaudible murr and sigh, something like 'typical Max...'. That big draft horse sometimes forgets that not everyone is toned like him. Still she giggles of her thoughts as she heads for the beach. Max looks at her, knowing exactly that she mocks him and deliberately plays a false note that makes the doe shiver and grins. Two good friends constantly quarreling, never badly, a good amusement for all.
Lizbeth prepares the shells, right next to the waterline, the moving lake sometimes licking underneath the coconuts, they'll swim perfectly.
In every shell she puts a large short candle, this one would even swim without the shell, but the effect is less beautiful. This is an old oriental ceremony, honoring the past. Candles are left floating on a river in remembrance of passed away. The past is honored to preserve the future.
Lizbeth wants to do same, but slightly other, with a little 'Lizbeth' touch.
"These are remembrance candles, think about someone dear to you that passed away, light the candle and let it float on the lake. But not quiet, I want everyone to tell us a story about the late person you think about. Not a sad story, not why he or she is not there anymore, but a fun story, only thinking about it makes you laugh, or at least smile. This smile will be spread over the lake. I don't mind if some tears will be shed, as I will surely cry, but please, make everyone smile."
Lizbeth speaks to everyone present holding a lighter and one coconut shell in her hand. For sure, if nobody wants to be first, she'll be first story teller. The fire lightens half her body, the lake shimmering through the reflection of the moon and the stars, as night has arrived, giving her soiree the desired marvelous fairy atmosphere.
She hasn't yet talked about the stars, this will be for the ceremony of the future... planned for later
He doesn't see this smile, as Lizbeth went over to that large trunk, trying to open it but it demands a bit of an effort. The cover being almost as heavy as herself she throws it open with all the weight of her frame. Inside just some necessities to realize her planned 'activities', as it is voluntary based participation. Come out a few coconut shells, and candles. The doe takes the shells and candles with her, leaving that trunk open with an inaudible murr and sigh, something like 'typical Max...'. That big draft horse sometimes forgets that not everyone is toned like him. Still she giggles of her thoughts as she heads for the beach. Max looks at her, knowing exactly that she mocks him and deliberately plays a false note that makes the doe shiver and grins. Two good friends constantly quarreling, never badly, a good amusement for all.
Lizbeth prepares the shells, right next to the waterline, the moving lake sometimes licking underneath the coconuts, they'll swim perfectly.
In every shell she puts a large short candle, this one would even swim without the shell, but the effect is less beautiful. This is an old oriental ceremony, honoring the past. Candles are left floating on a river in remembrance of passed away. The past is honored to preserve the future.
Lizbeth wants to do same, but slightly other, with a little 'Lizbeth' touch.
"These are remembrance candles, think about someone dear to you that passed away, light the candle and let it float on the lake. But not quiet, I want everyone to tell us a story about the late person you think about. Not a sad story, not why he or she is not there anymore, but a fun story, only thinking about it makes you laugh, or at least smile. This smile will be spread over the lake. I don't mind if some tears will be shed, as I will surely cry, but please, make everyone smile."Lizbeth speaks to everyone present holding a lighter and one coconut shell in her hand. For sure, if nobody wants to be first, she'll be first story teller. The fire lightens half her body, the lake shimmering through the reflection of the moon and the stars, as night has arrived, giving her soiree the desired marvelous fairy atmosphere.
She hasn't yet talked about the stars, this will be for the ceremony of the future... planned for later
Riggs stayed at the edge of the firelight, glass still cradled in one hand, though the drink had long gone warm. He watched as Lizbeth dragged open that oversized trunk, all legs and determination, her body shifting with effort until the lid gave way. A flicker of something crossed his face, amusement maybe, or something like admiration, but it vanished just as quickly. He said nothing, just sipped the air and let the guitar settle into the quiet hum behind it all. She moved with purpose, collecting her little armful of floating memories, and for a man like him, whose past was mostly ghosts and bad habits, the whole scene felt unreal.
He shifted as she approached the water, the reflection of the moon shimmering in the lake like some dream held just barely in place. Candles set in coconut shells. A quiet voice asking for laughter and grief to share the same breath. He didn't move toward the group. Not yet. But he watched. Really watched. The way she held the lighter. The way the fire curled up and kissed the wick. The way she made pain into something communal instead of something you buried behind liquor and clenched teeth.
The lake lapped quietly at the shore, brushing at the toes of the ceremony like it wanted to listen too. Riggs let out a slow breath, thumb tapping again against his empty glass. His voice, low and gravel-smooth, slipped out like smoke. "You're not making this easy, lady." He wasn't sure if he meant the invitation, the memory, or the whole damned night. Probably all of it. Still, his gaze dropped to the bobbing shells, and something inside him stirred like a long-closed file being slid back open. Maybe he'd speak. Maybe not. But he was still there, and that alone said more than words.
He shifted as she approached the water, the reflection of the moon shimmering in the lake like some dream held just barely in place. Candles set in coconut shells. A quiet voice asking for laughter and grief to share the same breath. He didn't move toward the group. Not yet. But he watched. Really watched. The way she held the lighter. The way the fire curled up and kissed the wick. The way she made pain into something communal instead of something you buried behind liquor and clenched teeth.
The lake lapped quietly at the shore, brushing at the toes of the ceremony like it wanted to listen too. Riggs let out a slow breath, thumb tapping again against his empty glass. His voice, low and gravel-smooth, slipped out like smoke. "You're not making this easy, lady." He wasn't sure if he meant the invitation, the memory, or the whole damned night. Probably all of it. Still, his gaze dropped to the bobbing shells, and something inside him stirred like a long-closed file being slid back open. Maybe he'd speak. Maybe not. But he was still there, and that alone said more than words.
A meaningful silence spreads over the camp, fire flickers quietly, lanterns and lampions do their best to keep the magic in place. On the border of that camp, a doe, a smiling doe in her long flowery robe, with a coconut shell in her hands. She looks over everyone present, and would be so glad, someone would step towards her and take that burden of the first of her.
But no, nobody, not even her Max that hides behind his guitar, trying desperately to keep the tunes going without being seen.
Lizbeth chuckles delightfully, "Ok, it's easy, I will do first" She takes the shell, and carefully lightens the candle, a soft flicker emerges from the coconut shell, accentuated by the lighter inner wall of the shell.
Lizbeth breathes in, a tear already showing in the corner of her eye. "This one is for Angel, my beloved mother. I sometimes did some games with Maxwell, my father, and we did whisper stupid things to each other", the doe has to giggle, thinking about what they said, "but be aware that deer have very good ears and Mom heard us mocking humans. I can tell you, we both got a rant", she shakes her hand up and down, " Imagin a big fierce stag and a little fawn, head low, very low saying 'Yes Ma'am' at same time..." Lizbeth sighs softly a tear running down her face as she puts the shell on the water. "But Angel was such a tender doe, even a rant sounds like a beautiful song, I'll never forget her soft voice".
She pushes slightly the remembrance candle further watching the little light flicker and dance on the surface of the lake.
The past is honored.
But no, nobody, not even her Max that hides behind his guitar, trying desperately to keep the tunes going without being seen.
Lizbeth chuckles delightfully, "Ok, it's easy, I will do first" She takes the shell, and carefully lightens the candle, a soft flicker emerges from the coconut shell, accentuated by the lighter inner wall of the shell.
Lizbeth breathes in, a tear already showing in the corner of her eye. "This one is for Angel, my beloved mother. I sometimes did some games with Maxwell, my father, and we did whisper stupid things to each other", the doe has to giggle, thinking about what they said, "but be aware that deer have very good ears and Mom heard us mocking humans. I can tell you, we both got a rant", she shakes her hand up and down, " Imagin a big fierce stag and a little fawn, head low, very low saying 'Yes Ma'am' at same time..." Lizbeth sighs softly a tear running down her face as she puts the shell on the water. "But Angel was such a tender doe, even a rant sounds like a beautiful song, I'll never forget her soft voice".
She pushes slightly the remembrance candle further watching the little light flicker and dance on the surface of the lake.
The past is honored.
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