|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2025 7:10 pm
Backdated to 12/04/2025!
School was over for the day, and, for once, Keesh found herself without anything to really do. She didn't have a ton of homework to do tonight, her youngest cousin Yasmeen had been picked up by Yasmeen's mother, Keesh's Aunt Thuraya, for some holiday shopping, and Yasmeen's brother, Khaz, had gone with them.
Leaving Keesh on her own.
Wandering through town, the teenager found herself wandering past a lot that sold wreaths and Christmas trees and even sprigs of mistletoe. Pausing to let herself wander through, Keesh inhaled the scents of pine and fir and even cedar. It was rather pleasant and earthy. Grounding, even. But still very Christmassy. Frankly, the scents reminded her a bit of the Chapel. Which she hadn't visited in a bit, though she'd been meaning to go since getting back from the tournament.
She could go. There was nothing stopping her, except for a convenient place to transform. Keesh peered around, but mostly found a few discounted sprigs of mistletoe and an armload of very plain wreaths the person managing the lot said she had been the only one to even notice the existence of. On a whim, she paid for the wreaths and the mistletoe, stuffing the mistletoe and wreaths into subspace as soon as she was out of sight of the lot's customers and employees.
It took a bit longer to find a quiet spot deep among the greenery at the very back edge of the lot, where it backed up to a hillside. Reaching out to the side, she summoned her little branch of holly, feeling her knightly threads wrap themselves around her as softly as falling snow.
Transformation complete, she murmured,
I pledge my life and loyalty to Earth, and to the Green Chapel.
I humbly request your aid, so that in return I may give you mine.
Light suffused her, depositing her in the middle of the great hall of the Chapel.
In a shallow drift of snow, no less.
What the...?
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2025 7:24 pm
Green Chapel looked around. Gone were any leaves from deciduous trees, and a light snow appeared to have fallen across the landscape, albeit more thickly beyond the nebulously defined "walls" of the Chapel's hall. The page blinked in surprise and then glanced up, wondering why the snow was thinner "indoors" when there was no identifiable change in the forest density.
Above her head was the patchy, but clearly expanded, outline of a glassy ceiling arcing under the boughs of the trees. A ragged half-woven construction of branches and greenery hung from the ceiling, having apparently managed to avoid getting snowed on. Deeper within the hall, she heard a spectral voice singing,
Down in yon forest, there stands a hall,
The Stars of Cosmos, I saw them gleam,
Cover'd all over with verdure and gold,
And I love my lady fair above anything!
The page tilted her head, and followed the spectral voice to a big redwood behind the dais, pulling aside the slightly-more-substantive-than-last-visit ragged and threadbare tapestry that hung over it. Behind it was an enormous hollow, outfitted as befitting the lord of a manor, although clearly in disrepair. Sitting on the thick fur rug beside the great four-poster bed sat Sylvain, singing in a minor key.
"Hello, Sylvain," she said softly, stepping inside and pulling one of the wreaths out of subspace. "Early Merry Christmas to you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2025 7:46 pm
Sylvain looked up startled, song abruptly cut off. "Keisha," he said, rising and bowing. "'Tis indeed early, but a very Merry Christmas to thee, too." The dead knight looked around mournfully. "Alas, I cannot show thee the Chapel in finer fettle, as this was of old the most important time of the year for the Chapel. I have not the substance to decorate properly, but," he said, offering a crooked smile, "it would appear thou hast come prepared for such eventuality."
"I mean, I didn't bring much, just some mistletoe and some wreaths the owner was having trouble getting rid of," the page admitted, pulling the rest of her holiday swag from subspace to show him. "If nothing else, it's green, and it smells nice."
Sylvain shook his head as he cast an approving eye over the small assortment. "It might not have sufficed in days gone by, but it will do for this, our first Christmas together as knight and page," he said in a slightly pompous tone, before laughing ruefully. "Thou art right, it is not very much. But, whoever crafted the wreaths incorporated holly and ivy," he pointed out, tracing a spectral hand along the leaves so green amidst the evergreen needles. "For the Chapel, this is particularly fitting. Come, I can show thee where we might best place what thou hast brought for decoration. I think the Chapel will be most pleased with thy contribution to the spirit of the season."
Beckoning, he led the way out into the hall, walking right through the tapestry and leaving no prints in the snow beyond.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2025 8:15 pm
Green Chapel hurried to keep pace with him, gathering the greenery to take to the high table before ducking underneath the tapestry.
"Sylvain, what was that room in the redwood?" she asked as she arrayed the wreaths and mistletoe on the high table, which was now whole, if nothing else.
"Hmmm? Oh. That is the bedchamber of the Keeper of the Chapel, the one who bears the Chapel's good name." Pausing, a thoughtful expression crossed Sylvain's face. "I suppose that means that, shouldst thou have need of it, it is thine own bedchamber, rather than mine, though I hope thou willst permit me to reside there yet a while longer as it becomes restored, as I yet harbor some small affection for the chamber. The first wreath shall hang above the tapestry to the chamber, with a sprig of mistletoe suspended from that," he added, indicating a wooden hook held to the bark by an accretion of amber.
The page retrieved a chair from the high table, climbing on top with a wreath and a sprig of mistletoe in tow. "Ummm, that's fine, I guess. I don't think it's really in a fit state for usage just yet," she replied as she placed the wreath, and found an old, stiff piece of twine to tie around the mistletoe. "What's with the weird thing suspended from the ceiling over the hall?"
"That, I believe, is the Chapel's attempt at decorating itself," Sylvain sighed dejectedly. "'Tis something we called a 'Christmas Crown,' though I fear the Chapel hasn't yet the energy to pull off such a centerpiece." Sighing, he led the way to a few other key spots around the hall, saving the last wreath for the Chapel itself.
As the page followed the ancestral knight into the Chapel proper, she said, "I think, under the circumstances, the Chapel's doing the best it can. I mean, it's not as good as the Joyeuse Garde looks yet, but that's a matter of time--"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2025 8:33 pm
Sylvain whipped around, his eyes wide. "The Garde? Thou hast visited the Garde?" he almost demanded.
"Yeah, the current Keeper of the Garde hosted the Joyous Tournament, I think maybe the first since...well, since the universe went to hell in a handbasket," she explained, hefting the wreath on her shoulder.
"The Joyous Tournament," Sylvain murmured softly. "I remember it. One of the highest points of any social season amongst the Knights of Earth. At least, if one cared for such things, and not everyone did. Didst thou compete?" he asked almost hungrily as he moved toward the central stump, indicating she should lay the wreath on the top of the stump.
"Yup. I didn't take home first place in anything, but I pretty consistently ranked highly in all three competitions," the page replied, laying the last wreath atop the stump and stepping back as the wreath somehow seemed to expand, falling snugly around the remains of the trunk and settling atop the roots, a flash of rich greens seeming to rise from the roots of the long-since fallen tree, like new growth arising from death, like a promise of better things to come. They had done more to gussy up the hall, but, somehow, this was all that the Chapel itself needed to be festive.
Sylvain nodded, as much to the statement as to the light bit of decoration for the Chapel. "I know it may not matter much to thee, but it is well for the honor of our line that thou committed thyself well on the field of the Garde. I only wish I could have gone with thee," he added, a hint of jealousy tinting his words.
The teenager turned to the older ghost, blinking in surprise. "Sorry if this comes across as rude, but, you...kiiinnndaaa don't come off as someone who would compete personally; you kinda come off as someone people would compete for the affections of."
Sylvain laughed, suddenly and merrily, a little like great bells in a church hosting a wedding. "Of old I was called 'Sylvain the Fair,'" he admitted between peals of laughter. "So thou art not wholly wrong, some fair maids and youths wouldst give of themselves their favors during the Joyous Tournament, hoping I would gift mine to them in return. But compete I did, and fancy I acquitted myself quite well."
He regarded his ultimate niece with a smile. "I know I have little to offer for company at Christmas, but I would welcome thy presence this Christmas, should thou have the time to spare for a lonely starseed."
Flushing a little, Green Chapel replied, "I'll try to drop by sometime on Christmas, I promise."
Sylvain nodded with a quiet smile. "It would be cruel to start holding thee to thy promises so soon, but, all the same, I shall look forward to thy company, dear niece."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
