Riggs listened to Lizbeth's story with a tight stillness, something unreadable in his expression softening with each word that spilled gently from her lips. The sincerity, the quiet dignity with which she honored her past, tugged at something inside him that he'd long since abandoned. He watched the candle drift gently out onto the water, its reflection rippling as if carrying her story further than her voice ever could.
His thumb traced the rim of his empty glass again, restless and hesitant. Lizbeth's vulnerability had cracked open the night, setting a strange kind of permission floating alongside her candle. Riggs exhaled slowly, eyes flicking from the doe's thoughtful figure back down to the sand beneath his boots. Quietly, almost without deciding to move, he stepped closer, just enough to be noticed. His voice, when it came, was meant for him and the wind rather than the gathered crowd.
"Alright, I suppose it's only fair I put someone out there too," he rasped, gaze fixed firmly on the water rather than anyone present. "This one's for Cooper. He was the first guy I ever trusted on the job, and probably the last. Big damn bear, had a laugh that could shake the dust from the ceiling. We were tailing a suspect one night, middle of winter, colder than a witch's heart. Cooper swore he had eyes on our guy, rushed the alley, slipped on a patch of ice and landed flat on his ass in front of an entire street of witnesses. Took a good three minutes to roll himself upright again." Riggs paused, his jaw working slowly as if trying not to smile. "Never let him live it down... and neither did he. Told the story himself louder and funnier every damn time."
Riggs took a candle in a coconut shell from the sand, lighting it with steady fingers despite the roughness in his voice. He crouched slowly, knees creaking, and placed the glowing memory gently onto the lake's surface. Watching it float out after Lizbeth's, he murmured low, mostly to himself, "Here's hoping wherever he is, the ice ain't so slippery."
His thumb traced the rim of his empty glass again, restless and hesitant. Lizbeth's vulnerability had cracked open the night, setting a strange kind of permission floating alongside her candle. Riggs exhaled slowly, eyes flicking from the doe's thoughtful figure back down to the sand beneath his boots. Quietly, almost without deciding to move, he stepped closer, just enough to be noticed. His voice, when it came, was meant for him and the wind rather than the gathered crowd.
"Alright, I suppose it's only fair I put someone out there too," he rasped, gaze fixed firmly on the water rather than anyone present. "This one's for Cooper. He was the first guy I ever trusted on the job, and probably the last. Big damn bear, had a laugh that could shake the dust from the ceiling. We were tailing a suspect one night, middle of winter, colder than a witch's heart. Cooper swore he had eyes on our guy, rushed the alley, slipped on a patch of ice and landed flat on his ass in front of an entire street of witnesses. Took a good three minutes to roll himself upright again." Riggs paused, his jaw working slowly as if trying not to smile. "Never let him live it down... and neither did he. Told the story himself louder and funnier every damn time."
Riggs took a candle in a coconut shell from the sand, lighting it with steady fingers despite the roughness in his voice. He crouched slowly, knees creaking, and placed the glowing memory gently onto the lake's surface. Watching it float out after Lizbeth's, he murmured low, mostly to himself, "Here's hoping wherever he is, the ice ain't so slippery."
The guitar keeps silence for a moment and leans against the entrance of the bigger canopy. Max takes the chance to participate on Lizbeth’s ceremony.
He walks over to Riggs, still smiling about some slippery story, “That rear must have ached three following day, I believe,” he winks with a grin and the ‘torch’ is passed to that horse.
Max takes another coconut and starts almost laughing already before he could speak. “Oh man, Albion, my dear colleague, this is the story how you got your nickname. We were dragging logs near the river, and you were stupid enough to climb over the fallen trees as the chopper laid another down”, Max shakes his head with a mocking smirk, “the timber knocked on that tree you were climbing over, lifting you up in the air, and throw you in a high bow into the water. I can still see those struggling hooves of yours and that plunge you made on your back, ooch that smacked, but you were unharmed and called ‘Pegasus’ since then”
The shell is pushed onto the lake, joining playfully shaking the others. “Gosh Pegasus, hope you’re pulling the girls now” he laughs with his dark and quite rough voice, nevertheless a moist shimmer in his eyes.
Gently he passes that lighter to Marge, the herbalist, that panda that brought all the different teas to Lizbeth’s soirée.
He walks over to Riggs, still smiling about some slippery story, “That rear must have ached three following day, I believe,” he winks with a grin and the ‘torch’ is passed to that horse.
Max takes another coconut and starts almost laughing already before he could speak. “Oh man, Albion, my dear colleague, this is the story how you got your nickname. We were dragging logs near the river, and you were stupid enough to climb over the fallen trees as the chopper laid another down”, Max shakes his head with a mocking smirk, “the timber knocked on that tree you were climbing over, lifting you up in the air, and throw you in a high bow into the water. I can still see those struggling hooves of yours and that plunge you made on your back, ooch that smacked, but you were unharmed and called ‘Pegasus’ since then”
The shell is pushed onto the lake, joining playfully shaking the others. “Gosh Pegasus, hope you’re pulling the girls now” he laughs with his dark and quite rough voice, nevertheless a moist shimmer in his eyes.
Gently he passes that lighter to Marge, the herbalist, that panda that brought all the different teas to Lizbeth’s soirée.
Marge nods gratefully to that big horse. The panda diffuses serenity and wisdom while she walks slowly to the border of the lake, one of these shells is waiting for her, waiting to cup her story, her funny anecdote of the past.
That bear holds for a moment, as if she had to choose between a thousand of different stories to tell, she had always one up when Lizbeth comes to visit her, that doe took the time to listen to any of her tells.
But one she had never told, not even to her best friend the doe.
She starts slowly, her voice full of experience, but she promised to Lizbeth to keep it short.
“I think it’s time I talk about my sifu Lānà Zhǐlǎohǔ, my KungFu Master. Even with that name she was a fighter that didn’t give up, she could beat up Max using only one finger and an arm attached to her back. There were once four armored turtles trying to mess up our home village, that lean tiger was alone against those four, they were so arrogant and thought this ‘Paper’tiger wouldn’t stand a chance against them. The scene was quite violent but in the end, those four were crying like little babies stuck in a bamboo field, every one of them, well, eh, a bamboo stick up their”, she scratches the back of her head and points at her own rear, her little bear tail wiggling playfully, “…their bum… I think that one hurt like Cooper’s.”
The bear chuckles softly and pushes her shell onto the lake. “Lana, I always think about you, sifu”.
All who want can do same, at any time of the night.
That bear holds for a moment, as if she had to choose between a thousand of different stories to tell, she had always one up when Lizbeth comes to visit her, that doe took the time to listen to any of her tells.
But one she had never told, not even to her best friend the doe.
She starts slowly, her voice full of experience, but she promised to Lizbeth to keep it short.
“I think it’s time I talk about my sifu Lānà Zhǐlǎohǔ, my KungFu Master. Even with that name she was a fighter that didn’t give up, she could beat up Max using only one finger and an arm attached to her back. There were once four armored turtles trying to mess up our home village, that lean tiger was alone against those four, they were so arrogant and thought this ‘Paper’tiger wouldn’t stand a chance against them. The scene was quite violent but in the end, those four were crying like little babies stuck in a bamboo field, every one of them, well, eh, a bamboo stick up their”, she scratches the back of her head and points at her own rear, her little bear tail wiggling playfully, “…their bum… I think that one hurt like Cooper’s.”
The bear chuckles softly and pushes her shell onto the lake. “Lana, I always think about you, sifu”.
All who want can do same, at any time of the night.
Riggs remained crouched for a moment longer, watching the flickering shell as it drifted further out, shoulders hunched beneath the loose fold of his coat. He didn't look up when Max approached, but the big horse's comment earned a quiet snort, one corner of the wolf's mouth twitching upward. "Yeah," he muttered, dryly, " sounded like a watermelon hitting the pavement." The shared grin that passed between them was brief, but genuine, like the spark of camaraderie that only old bruises and older stories could kindle.
As Max and then Marge stepped forward to share their memories, Riggs slowly rose to his feet, brushing the sand from his knee with a slow, methodical sweep of his hand. He didn't retreat, didn't slink back to the shadows, but stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the flickering shells multiply across the water like little fragments of the past, finding a place to float. The laughter, the shared glances, the way each voice seemed to tug the night a little closer together, it was disarming. Not in the way danger could be, but in the way softness could creep in when you weren't guarding against it.
His gaze drifted back to Lizbeth, catching her just beyond the firelight, her form silhouetted against the silver sheen of the lake. He didn't speak. Didn't wave. But his chin dipped once, just enough to be seen, just enough to be felt. Whatever he was thinking didn't reach his lips, but the set of his shoulders had changed, just slightly looser now. He wouldn't admit it, not aloud, but for the first time in a long while, Francis Riggs wasn't looking for the exit.
As Max and then Marge stepped forward to share their memories, Riggs slowly rose to his feet, brushing the sand from his knee with a slow, methodical sweep of his hand. He didn't retreat, didn't slink back to the shadows, but stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the flickering shells multiply across the water like little fragments of the past, finding a place to float. The laughter, the shared glances, the way each voice seemed to tug the night a little closer together, it was disarming. Not in the way danger could be, but in the way softness could creep in when you weren't guarding against it.
His gaze drifted back to Lizbeth, catching her just beyond the firelight, her form silhouetted against the silver sheen of the lake. He didn't speak. Didn't wave. But his chin dipped once, just enough to be seen, just enough to be felt. Whatever he was thinking didn't reach his lips, but the set of his shoulders had changed, just slightly looser now. He wouldn't admit it, not aloud, but for the first time in a long while, Francis Riggs wasn't looking for the exit.
Before anyone could say anything, a dark voice roams out of the canopy, a camel, not yet heard talking, a person that is very quiet normally has to say something.
“ il dib fihem w inte, used my grandfather to say”, he winks to Marge the Panda, “I mean this literally my sweet deer Lizbeth. You are a tremendous host and I’m very honored to be part of your guests. But we Bedouin people do not cherish the past with a swimming candle, water being more worth than gold where I come from.” He steps out into the fire lit night, watching the candles float over the lake, he smiles even if his walk is intimidating and like infused with great pride.
“So I only have this to say : ‘man kanat yadah fi alnaar falays kaman kanat yadah fi alma', those who have their hands in fire are not those who have their hands in water. I will not light a candle into the water, but I’d be pleased to let one fly into the sky.”
The camel smiles brightly, as he knows that the doe has another ‘ceremony’ pending, honoring the future. And he looks over to Lizbeth, which was already running to that big trunk.
(OOC: il dib fihem w inte : the bear knows, but you don’t)
“ il dib fihem w inte, used my grandfather to say”, he winks to Marge the Panda, “I mean this literally my sweet deer Lizbeth. You are a tremendous host and I’m very honored to be part of your guests. But we Bedouin people do not cherish the past with a swimming candle, water being more worth than gold where I come from.” He steps out into the fire lit night, watching the candles float over the lake, he smiles even if his walk is intimidating and like infused with great pride.
“So I only have this to say : ‘man kanat yadah fi alnaar falays kaman kanat yadah fi alma', those who have their hands in fire are not those who have their hands in water. I will not light a candle into the water, but I’d be pleased to let one fly into the sky.”
The camel smiles brightly, as he knows that the doe has another ‘ceremony’ pending, honoring the future. And he looks over to Lizbeth, which was already running to that big trunk.
(OOC: il dib fihem w inte : the bear knows, but you don’t)
Lizbeth blushes heavily as Yassin starts to talk, she knows that without him all this could never have happened. All the camp belongs to him, graciously lend to that doe, in honor of their friendship.
This camel has always a phrase or a poetry to voice, a man loaded with knowledge and ancient wisdom, inherited from his ancestors. This is why he is called Ghazal, which means not only gazelle, or deer (the reason why they became friends), but also a Persian Literary Genre translated as ‘love lyrics’ poems. Jamilah means beauty.
As if that camel initiated the next ‘activity’ at his words, Lizbeth leaps in all joy to her big trunk, one could hear a ‘wooohohohooo’ as her robe flatters behind her, with a joyful deer tail wiggling to keep it all decent.
The doe happily comes back with another sort of lanterns, sky lanterns.
“Thank you so much Yassin, yes, fly a candle into the starry night, this is what we are going to do, all those who want to write down a wish and let this one touch the stars.”
This camel has always a phrase or a poetry to voice, a man loaded with knowledge and ancient wisdom, inherited from his ancestors. This is why he is called Ghazal, which means not only gazelle, or deer (the reason why they became friends), but also a Persian Literary Genre translated as ‘love lyrics’ poems. Jamilah means beauty.
As if that camel initiated the next ‘activity’ at his words, Lizbeth leaps in all joy to her big trunk, one could hear a ‘wooohohohooo’ as her robe flatters behind her, with a joyful deer tail wiggling to keep it all decent.
The doe happily comes back with another sort of lanterns, sky lanterns.
“Thank you so much Yassin, yes, fly a candle into the starry night, this is what we are going to do, all those who want to write down a wish and let this one touch the stars.”
The doe prepares everything, the paper lanterns, those special candles to warm the air inside those paper lanterns, which will take off as soon as enough heat is spread from that candle.
"You will have to write a wish, something you want to happen in the future, if it is for yourself, for someone else or for everybody around you, or even all over the universe. Beautiful stars show tonight so we are very lucky for our sky lanterns to be able to join them. Let them fly with your wish or your desire, if you want you can openly say or keep it for you heart. All is fine. Take a candle and light it under the paper bag, hold it until you feel it starts to fly. Let your wish float high, high above it all, high to touch the stars. You can write on anything, a paper, a piece of wood, the lantern itself. I have some pens of all color here and a few pieces of paper, also colored of course. Make it beautiful, draw anything you like, even aaalllll over the lantern. I have mine prepared. If you want, you can even write down that you want to pause the insignificant life of your neighbor with your cooking utensil 32 times, all is allowed, only keep it gentle."
Lizbeth has to giggle at her words, but she's serious, it is all ab out calm, peace and love, so if you love your neighbor way too much, no hatred allowed, please people.
Lizbeth lights up a candle decorated all over with lovely hearts and flowers, if one looks close enough, she has somewhere even made a Unicorn Deer. She holds it in her hand, until she feels it starts to fly on its own. Letting loose, the lanterns starts the way to unlimited sky.
The doe holds her hands over her muzzle and cheek smiling with her lips spread, she's affected by the emotions this lantern provides in her, hoping everyone feels the same.
"You will have to write a wish, something you want to happen in the future, if it is for yourself, for someone else or for everybody around you, or even all over the universe. Beautiful stars show tonight so we are very lucky for our sky lanterns to be able to join them. Let them fly with your wish or your desire, if you want you can openly say or keep it for you heart. All is fine. Take a candle and light it under the paper bag, hold it until you feel it starts to fly. Let your wish float high, high above it all, high to touch the stars. You can write on anything, a paper, a piece of wood, the lantern itself. I have some pens of all color here and a few pieces of paper, also colored of course. Make it beautiful, draw anything you like, even aaalllll over the lantern. I have mine prepared. If you want, you can even write down that you want to pause the insignificant life of your neighbor with your cooking utensil 32 times, all is allowed, only keep it gentle."Lizbeth has to giggle at her words, but she's serious, it is all ab out calm, peace and love, so if you love your neighbor way too much, no hatred allowed, please people.
Lizbeth lights up a candle decorated all over with lovely hearts and flowers, if one looks close enough, she has somewhere even made a Unicorn Deer. She holds it in her hand, until she feels it starts to fly on its own. Letting loose, the lanterns starts the way to unlimited sky.The doe holds her hands over her muzzle and cheek smiling with her lips spread, she's affected by the emotions this lantern provides in her, hoping everyone feels the same.
Riggs stood still as Yassin's voice rolled out from the shadows like thunder on a clear day. The camel's words, sharp and poetic, hit differently. Something in the wolf's jaw tensed at the mention of fire and water, the way one could burn while the other barely rippled. It wasn't judgment. It was recognition. Riggs knew all too well the difference. He'd had both on his hands more than once. Still, as Lizbeth erupted in motion again, chasing joy like a kite on a string, the faintest ghost of a grin tugged at the edge of his mouth. That tail of hers really couldn't hide anything.
He watched her with a cautious sort of joy, the way she lit up like she was plugged into the stars themselves. She moved like someone who hadn't forgotten how to feel. That alone made her seem half-mythical to him. When she returned, arms full of lanterns and mischief, describing unicorn deer and love wishes with a gleam in her eye, Riggs could only huff a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but came damn close. "Cooking utensil thirty-two times, huh?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing at his beard. "That's oddly specific."
He didn't move at first, letting the others gather paper, pens, and purpose. But when the wind shifted just enough to stir his coat and the first lantern lifted, Lizbeth's, all flowers and innocence, he stepped forward. Slow. Steady. Like a man circling a line he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross. He picked up one of the blank lanterns and stared at it for a long, thoughtful beat. No drawings. No flourish. Just a name scratched small near the base, hidden beneath the rim where the paper folded tight. Anna. That was enough.
It felt fragile, impossibly light in his hands, as though it might collapse or combust or refuse to rise altogether because of who sent it. But warmth gathered inside the lantern anyway, defiant of his doubts, tugging gently against his grip. "Alright, pal," Riggs muttered quietly, almost fondly, to the glowing paper as it began to lift from his fingers. "Don't embarrass me." He released it, watching silently as his tiny, honest wish for someone else's happiness drifted upward, joining Lizbeth’s in the glittering sky. For once, Riggs didn't look cynical, or harsh, or even broken. He looked up like a man who’d remembered, just for a moment, that wishes were something worth letting go of, instead of just another thing you buried.
He watched her with a cautious sort of joy, the way she lit up like she was plugged into the stars themselves. She moved like someone who hadn't forgotten how to feel. That alone made her seem half-mythical to him. When she returned, arms full of lanterns and mischief, describing unicorn deer and love wishes with a gleam in her eye, Riggs could only huff a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but came damn close. "Cooking utensil thirty-two times, huh?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing at his beard. "That's oddly specific."
He didn't move at first, letting the others gather paper, pens, and purpose. But when the wind shifted just enough to stir his coat and the first lantern lifted, Lizbeth's, all flowers and innocence, he stepped forward. Slow. Steady. Like a man circling a line he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross. He picked up one of the blank lanterns and stared at it for a long, thoughtful beat. No drawings. No flourish. Just a name scratched small near the base, hidden beneath the rim where the paper folded tight. Anna. That was enough.
It felt fragile, impossibly light in his hands, as though it might collapse or combust or refuse to rise altogether because of who sent it. But warmth gathered inside the lantern anyway, defiant of his doubts, tugging gently against his grip. "Alright, pal," Riggs muttered quietly, almost fondly, to the glowing paper as it began to lift from his fingers. "Don't embarrass me." He released it, watching silently as his tiny, honest wish for someone else's happiness drifted upward, joining Lizbeth’s in the glittering sky. For once, Riggs didn't look cynical, or harsh, or even broken. He looked up like a man who’d remembered, just for a moment, that wishes were something worth letting go of, instead of just another thing you buried.
One by one, lanterns lighten the sky, flickering lights shimmering against the steady shine of a billion stars, the Milky Way in all its glory. All lantern has a wish, a desire, something happening in the future, astrology Lizbeth's way. That doe has a special bond with the stars, her Mom called her affectionately 'Little Stardust' as her back was littered with uncountable white dots when she was a fawn, some of them still visible now. As if dust from the stars had fallen on her, illuminating her fur in millions of shades when few rays of the evening sun caressed her.
Lizbeth always kept this bond with the stars, she could watch them for hours and fall asleep on her bench in her garden. So connecting other people with this feeling makes her emotions overwhelm her, she doesn't speak, she doesn't move and watches with everybody those lanterns float upwards. Max knows this feeling and plays a comforting tune (Redwood Trail
.
Joy and confidence are there, knocking on Lizbeth's door to invade her.
Marge takes the doe in her arms.
Yes the evening is a success for the doe, and she sincerely hopes all guest feels the same.
She lets the emotions and feelings take over for a while, leaving everyone in their thoughts, letting everyone profit of the evening, profit of the supplied beverages and infrastructures. The hum of conversations filling the places, that guitar tune floating through it all, englobing the place like an audible mist, always present but not invading.
One can see that doe walking towards everyone, giving that big horse a kiss on his forehead, hugging that panda intensely again or sharing some tea with a camel.
She even arrives at that wolf called Riggs, "I saw a smile on your face while I explained the lanterns, oddly specific, hm?" she giggles as she speaks her thought "It seems you experienced those 32 times already, right? I hope you have a nice evening, as I can't do else than admit that I have a marvelous evening, thanks to all present." She looks down on that glass hanging nonchalant between his fingers, "You want another one, or maybe something else? Or shall I take the challenge to surprise you once more?" Lizbeth does not and will never ask what he might have written on the lantern, she knows that it affected him, same as everybody sincere enough to participate fully at that doe's ceremony.
On the lake small lighting dots make their way, if it is on water or in the sky, past and future mixed up, good memories and hopeful wishes.
There's only one more thing to be honored, the present, the here and now. but this is for a little bit later, around midnight....
Lizbeth always kept this bond with the stars, she could watch them for hours and fall asleep on her bench in her garden. So connecting other people with this feeling makes her emotions overwhelm her, she doesn't speak, she doesn't move and watches with everybody those lanterns float upwards. Max knows this feeling and plays a comforting tune (Redwood Trail
.Joy and confidence are there, knocking on Lizbeth's door to invade her.
Marge takes the doe in her arms.
Yes the evening is a success for the doe, and she sincerely hopes all guest feels the same.
She lets the emotions and feelings take over for a while, leaving everyone in their thoughts, letting everyone profit of the evening, profit of the supplied beverages and infrastructures. The hum of conversations filling the places, that guitar tune floating through it all, englobing the place like an audible mist, always present but not invading.
One can see that doe walking towards everyone, giving that big horse a kiss on his forehead, hugging that panda intensely again or sharing some tea with a camel.
She even arrives at that wolf called Riggs, "I saw a smile on your face while I explained the lanterns, oddly specific, hm?" she giggles as she speaks her thought "It seems you experienced those 32 times already, right? I hope you have a nice evening, as I can't do else than admit that I have a marvelous evening, thanks to all present." She looks down on that glass hanging nonchalant between his fingers, "You want another one, or maybe something else? Or shall I take the challenge to surprise you once more?" Lizbeth does not and will never ask what he might have written on the lantern, she knows that it affected him, same as everybody sincere enough to participate fully at that doe's ceremony.
On the lake small lighting dots make their way, if it is on water or in the sky, past and future mixed up, good memories and hopeful wishes.
There's only one more thing to be honored, the present, the here and now. but this is for a little bit later, around midnight....
Riggs didn't hear her approach at first, not until her voice slipped in beside him like a breeze he hadn't braced for. He glanced down at her, one ear tilting toward her laughter. That same soft, insistent energy pulled him gently back into the gravity of her world. "Thirty-two's a hell of a number," he muttered, lips twitching at the corner. "Let's just say I've seen cookware used in ways the manufacturer probably didn't intend." He said with a coy little wink that would leave her wondering if he was joking or not.
He followed her gaze down to the empty glass in his hand, still cool with condensation. He swirled the last melting ice at the bottom and gave a faint grunt of consideration. "You keep tryin' to surprise me, you're gonna run out of tricks," he said, voice lower now, a little quieter. A little more real. But there was no warning in it. No wall. Just something like an invitation, rare and reluctant. He extended the glass toward her, casual but open. "Let's see what surprises you are still hiding."
His tone on that last part was dry, teasing, but not cruel. If anything, there was something oddly calm, playful even in the way he said it. And as he watched the lanterns climb higher, his, hers, everyone's, Riggs found his gaze wandering back down to her again. She was still glowing, in her own quiet way. And for once, he didn't feel like the storm on the edge of someone else's peace. Not tonight.
He followed her gaze down to the empty glass in his hand, still cool with condensation. He swirled the last melting ice at the bottom and gave a faint grunt of consideration. "You keep tryin' to surprise me, you're gonna run out of tricks," he said, voice lower now, a little quieter. A little more real. But there was no warning in it. No wall. Just something like an invitation, rare and reluctant. He extended the glass toward her, casual but open. "Let's see what surprises you are still hiding."
His tone on that last part was dry, teasing, but not cruel. If anything, there was something oddly calm, playful even in the way he said it. And as he watched the lanterns climb higher, his, hers, everyone's, Riggs found his gaze wandering back down to her again. She was still glowing, in her own quiet way. And for once, he didn't feel like the storm on the edge of someone else's peace. Not tonight.
Lizbeth has to laugh at that wolf, she can imagine some scene with an 'mis'used cookware, but maybe not what this wolf was thinking about.
"Yes, I might surprise you again, I have another idea of how making an non-alcoholic drink taste differently. I hope you don't mind spicy things. Would you mind following me." Lizbeth looks at Riggs, as soon as this one would move she'd walk over to the improvised bar and just quickly take a look. Comes up again the lemonade, the doe smiles as this one seems to have quite a good success. And there isn't much sugar in it, she adds just a spoon of cane sugar herself, some mashed apple and a bit of a red paste (Chilipeppers with lemon, thistle oil and coriander) Marge made up right here. 'This tastes like a cocktail itself' Marge said with a grin. This time she lets drop a straw into the drink to stir. To give that sweet touch, freshly cut ananas, the one that melts in your mouth with an explosion of sweet Caribbean taste. The acidity of the fruit will 'break' the oil and give it all a more homogenous look. She holds the glass proudly to the wolf, "Try this, and if it doesn't taste good, ask the Panda and tell her what is missing."
A wink to the wolf, not to be interpreted as an invitation for more but rather a playful thank you. That man is of less words, so is Lizbeth, always trying to make anyone around feel comfortable. A little bit nervous she awaits first sip.
The evening continues, calm, Lizbeth didn't yet get herself in any embarrassing moment, nor did her silliness show. She's proud of herself, she could dance and sing, be a marvelous host, joke on things that made appear some laughing, talk with anyone, her fruits and teas are appreciated, even her improvised cocktails are. Thanks to Marge that found the right things to 'improve' the doe's creations.
But that little fawn inside the doe starts to show the tip of its nose, foolishness tickles that doe.
-Not yet little one, not yet, you need to wait a bit more, grown Lizbeth is not ready-
"Yes, I might surprise you again, I have another idea of how making an non-alcoholic drink taste differently. I hope you don't mind spicy things. Would you mind following me." Lizbeth looks at Riggs, as soon as this one would move she'd walk over to the improvised bar and just quickly take a look. Comes up again the lemonade, the doe smiles as this one seems to have quite a good success. And there isn't much sugar in it, she adds just a spoon of cane sugar herself, some mashed apple and a bit of a red paste (Chilipeppers with lemon, thistle oil and coriander) Marge made up right here. 'This tastes like a cocktail itself' Marge said with a grin. This time she lets drop a straw into the drink to stir. To give that sweet touch, freshly cut ananas, the one that melts in your mouth with an explosion of sweet Caribbean taste. The acidity of the fruit will 'break' the oil and give it all a more homogenous look. She holds the glass proudly to the wolf, "Try this, and if it doesn't taste good, ask the Panda and tell her what is missing."
A wink to the wolf, not to be interpreted as an invitation for more but rather a playful thank you. That man is of less words, so is Lizbeth, always trying to make anyone around feel comfortable. A little bit nervous she awaits first sip.
The evening continues, calm, Lizbeth didn't yet get herself in any embarrassing moment, nor did her silliness show. She's proud of herself, she could dance and sing, be a marvelous host, joke on things that made appear some laughing, talk with anyone, her fruits and teas are appreciated, even her improvised cocktails are. Thanks to Marge that found the right things to 'improve' the doe's creations.
But that little fawn inside the doe starts to show the tip of its nose, foolishness tickles that doe.
-Not yet little one, not yet, you need to wait a bit more, grown Lizbeth is not ready-
The draft horse knows his friend very well, they have both lived quite a few things together and he sees in Lizbeth that her childish side is eager to show. He knows there is one ‘surprise’ left, as he’s the one that accompanied that doe to the local sports store. But it’s not yet time for that ‘surprise’.
He starts to talk with his booming dark voice, Lizbeth already told him to sing.
“Hey people, before we get to the final of this soirée, it’s quite time, my fingers are like burning. ” Max chuckles he’s improvising some speech “I would love to honor our host of the evening, Lizbeth, that special doe, always friendly and caring. I never even heard her swear or yell at someone and now she got us this wonderful evening, nice, welcoming and full of surprises. So I’d like to honor her with a special tune, I learned it the last few days, somewhere between my job and the preparations of this evening, so excuses if that doesn’t sound completely right.”.
Max, while talking stands up and walks towards that overwhelmed doe and before starting to play takes her hand and leads her in the middle of the big canopy again.
He takes his guitar and starts to play, “It’s about someone’s Eden, same as Lizbeth’s little Eden” Hooverphonic Eden
Lizbeth knows that one very well too and will surely sing along again, so those who know that one, just sing with her ‘I never tried to reach your Eden’
He starts to talk with his booming dark voice, Lizbeth already told him to sing.
“Hey people, before we get to the final of this soirée, it’s quite time, my fingers are like burning. ” Max chuckles he’s improvising some speech “I would love to honor our host of the evening, Lizbeth, that special doe, always friendly and caring. I never even heard her swear or yell at someone and now she got us this wonderful evening, nice, welcoming and full of surprises. So I’d like to honor her with a special tune, I learned it the last few days, somewhere between my job and the preparations of this evening, so excuses if that doesn’t sound completely right.”.
Max, while talking stands up and walks towards that overwhelmed doe and before starting to play takes her hand and leads her in the middle of the big canopy again.
He takes his guitar and starts to play, “It’s about someone’s Eden, same as Lizbeth’s little Eden” Hooverphonic Eden
Lizbeth knows that one very well too and will surely sing along again, so those who know that one, just sing with her ‘I never tried to reach your Eden’
Riggs took the glass from Lizbeth cautiously, eyeing the deep, fiery swirl of fruit and spice within as if it might ignite right in his palm. He lifted the glass slowly, holding her gaze for a beat longer than necessary, a subtle smirk lingering on the edge of his lips. "Spicy, huh? Figures you'd keep me on my toes," he drawled, voice dry yet oddly gentle. He took a small sip, eyes narrowing slightly as the heat rolled over his tongue, sharp, sweet, then biting gently at the back of his throat. The spice was unexpected, daring him not to smile, and despite his best effort, a genuine, rare grin cracked his otherwise hardened expression. "Alright," he admitted with an amused grunt, tipping the glass toward her. "You've still got a few surprises left. Our panda friend is safe from criticism... this time."
He stepped back slightly as Max's deep voice boomed across the cove, shifting the moment's center of gravity toward the big horse and his guitar. Riggs watched silently, sipping the fiery-sweet drink with quiet appreciation, as Max led Lizbeth toward the middle of the canopy. The doe's bright embarrassment, tinged with shy pride, was impossible to miss. Her laughter and gentle blush filled the air with a warmth Riggs hadn't felt in years.
As Max began to strum, Riggs found himself leaning gently against one of the canopy supports, drink in hand, observing from the edge. He watched Lizbeth closely, the way she sang quietly along, her body swaying gently like she was part of the music itself. Riggs didn't move, just stood at the bar's edge, sipping his glass slowly, eyes locked on her. There was something about the way she lit up when she sang, he just listened, watched, and for once allowed himself to just enjoy peace.
He stepped back slightly as Max's deep voice boomed across the cove, shifting the moment's center of gravity toward the big horse and his guitar. Riggs watched silently, sipping the fiery-sweet drink with quiet appreciation, as Max led Lizbeth toward the middle of the canopy. The doe's bright embarrassment, tinged with shy pride, was impossible to miss. Her laughter and gentle blush filled the air with a warmth Riggs hadn't felt in years.
As Max began to strum, Riggs found himself leaning gently against one of the canopy supports, drink in hand, observing from the edge. He watched Lizbeth closely, the way she sang quietly along, her body swaying gently like she was part of the music itself. Riggs didn't move, just stood at the bar's edge, sipping his glass slowly, eyes locked on her. There was something about the way she lit up when she sang, he just listened, watched, and for once allowed himself to just enjoy peace.
The doe feels delighted again, she got it all right for her 'special' beverages, those tasty mixtures her friend Marge made up, just perfect.
And then that draft horse starts to cherish his host, Lizbeth, that one delighted doe trying eagerly to make everyone feel at home. She definitely does her best to be at all places at same time, preparing drinks or offering presents. It went all mostly as wished.
Lizbeth's emotions take the lead at his words, making her cry of joy, her eyes shimmering like the starry night, tears run down over that laughing face. Yes for the moment that inner fawn is tamed, but will soon break out and nobody will hold it back.
Lizbeth's face lightens up even more when that horse starts to play that one song, dealing about a special Eden, and the struggle of two souls trying to find each other. Max meant also Lizbeth's Eden, her little place to live, with that tremendous Hortensia and the sweet scent of Jasmine. While her body moves to the rhythm of the music, her mind is away, in her Eden, unreachable Eden.
Then all of a sudden, as if the doe knows that it's midnight, her demeanor changes radically, no more soft tenderness, no more holding back, the little fawn inside shows in all its glory. Max knows....Happy Strumming
Lizbeth halts in the middle of the canopy, laughing, "People, it's time, I can't push it further anymore, I can't... " She lets her robe slide down her figure, normally she wouldn't wear anything underneath, but here, the doe appears in a bathing suite, as flowery as her dress, marrying her figure perfectly. She looks around, the most stupid but lightening grin on her face, "Whoever wants, just follow me!!"
And with a loud Wooooohoooooo, that doe childishly runs down the beach, her tail flattering behind her, her ears flattened against her head as she lifts of at the boarder of the water. As if time stood still, she hoovers over that softly splashing water and plunges head first into the lake. Water splashes, the silence of the lake is broken, foolishness becomes key.
Even Lizbeth's famous clumsiness makes its debut in this soiree, the stones and the sand are 'slippery when wet'.
Please laugh people, laugh and have fun, the soiree tilts to its end !! Lizbeth is no more host, just a happy doe in the water...
And then that draft horse starts to cherish his host, Lizbeth, that one delighted doe trying eagerly to make everyone feel at home. She definitely does her best to be at all places at same time, preparing drinks or offering presents. It went all mostly as wished.
Lizbeth's emotions take the lead at his words, making her cry of joy, her eyes shimmering like the starry night, tears run down over that laughing face. Yes for the moment that inner fawn is tamed, but will soon break out and nobody will hold it back.
Lizbeth's face lightens up even more when that horse starts to play that one song, dealing about a special Eden, and the struggle of two souls trying to find each other. Max meant also Lizbeth's Eden, her little place to live, with that tremendous Hortensia and the sweet scent of Jasmine. While her body moves to the rhythm of the music, her mind is away, in her Eden, unreachable Eden.
Then all of a sudden, as if the doe knows that it's midnight, her demeanor changes radically, no more soft tenderness, no more holding back, the little fawn inside shows in all its glory. Max knows....Happy Strumming
Lizbeth halts in the middle of the canopy, laughing, "People, it's time, I can't push it further anymore, I can't... " She lets her robe slide down her figure, normally she wouldn't wear anything underneath, but here, the doe appears in a bathing suite, as flowery as her dress, marrying her figure perfectly. She looks around, the most stupid but lightening grin on her face, "Whoever wants, just follow me!!"
And with a loud Wooooohoooooo, that doe childishly runs down the beach, her tail flattering behind her, her ears flattened against her head as she lifts of at the boarder of the water. As if time stood still, she hoovers over that softly splashing water and plunges head first into the lake. Water splashes, the silence of the lake is broken, foolishness becomes key.Even Lizbeth's famous clumsiness makes its debut in this soiree, the stones and the sand are 'slippery when wet'.
Please laugh people, laugh and have fun, the soiree tilts to its end !! Lizbeth is no more host, just a happy doe in the water...
”Huh? what?? It’s over? Really, I just got into the water!!!” But that doe had been splashing and dabbling for more than an hour now.Yes, there were no more guests, only other people swimming with her. One can see Marge float her arms spread and a smile on her face. Even Yassin, the Bedouin camel, used to the arid desert taking a dive. Max as usual shakes a big no to the invitation to join Lizbeth. The evening was quite a success, Lizbeth could do all she wanted, thanks to her best friends.
But now it’s time to close the soirée.
For those having chosen to stay, they can rest in an individual tent. They will be served coffee or tea next morning, if ever they want to see a doe in a morning robe.[Thank you all, those that played and those that only read, Lizbeth’s Summer Soiree is officially closed, with a tear of regret]
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