Solstice

[Dáire]

‘Winter has finally gotten its claws into the land once more’ Dáire found himself thinking, his lips quirked into a quiet smile as he strolled along the cobbled streets in the western district of Fellsgard. Large, fluffy snowflakes dusted his dark hair and worn cloak as his mind drifted to memories of that morning, ones that had his heart thrumming with emotion. The state of contentment Dáire had found himself waking in that morning was something he’d never thought to experience, simply for he had not known it existed in order to pine after such a feeling. His melda, the man who held his heart within the palm of those caring and yet lethal hands, had been curled up by his side, a muscled arm wrapped posessively around his waist as he slept peacefully on one of those rare nights the terrors didn't try to drag him into their endless darkness. Dáire wished he could wake up to that feeling every morning for the rest of his seemingly endless life, but that was not a thought he wished to dwell on, for it was impossible.

Shaking the increasingly morose thoughts from the fore-front of his mind, Dáire looked around at the shops that lined this well travelled street. By now he knew Fellsgard fairly well, the humans tended to like their traditions and order, so even through the generations the specialised shops passed down through, from father to son and so on, the premises rarely changed hands.

He knew the reason for his errand wasn't a tradition Artemis would likely be familiar with- well he may know of it but he doubted the man would be expecting anything from it this year, given how seemingly easy his birthday had passed him by. The winter solstice had been celebrated prior to Bhelest’s appearance his father had once told him, but after the mage's downfall it had developed a dual meaning. The renewal of the year and the signal for the retreating darkness, gave the citizens of Khy’reas twice the incentive to throw lavish celebrations. As a rule, Dáire had ensured he spent this particular day in the wilds somewhere, sleeping beneath the starry sky and taking simple pleasure in the flora that would soon burst to life in the coming spring. This year would be different though, he had friends he planned to see the day through with. He chuckled softly under his breath, scanning the street for inspiration as he contemplated the absurdity of how fast his life had been changed, all through a friendship struck up with a witch and meeting her then lover. He’d have been half way to the Iturean reaches by now had things panned out differently, even by just a day.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighed heavily, a puffy cloud billowing from his mouth while he gave the same old street one more glance. What could he get for Artemis? The man had no need for trinkets, although he would no doubt treasure anything Dáire gave him- it just wasn't his style. He frowned, brows almost drawing together as he stared at a cobble not that far in front of him. He ran through numerous ideas of what he thought may be considered normal gifts, but nothing fitting of the man jumped forth. Cursing inwardly,he admitted he should have asked Ksenia, the young woman seemed much more adept at such things, despite the fact he’d gathered her childhood to have been-less than pleasant. Shifting restlessly on his feet, his frown moved to his own boot covered feet. They were going to need repairs soon he admitted to himself, the soles were thin and an icy cold had begun creeping its way through to his feet in the short time he’d lingered. An image of the battered, seen too many winter’s boots Artemis had left lying on the floor of his room the night before, hurtled to the forefront of Dáire’s mind and he grinned.

With new found purpose, he breezed into the neighbouring streets and quickly focused his attention on the delicately painted sign hanging above one door, declaring it ‘Rolfe’s finest footwear’. As he approached the old residence, the disrepair of the small shop became more apparent, the paint on the sign was beginning to peel, the windows were dusty and moss had begun growing along the join of glass and wood. ’I might be heading north at this rate’ he grumbled inwardly. Twisting the somewhat rusty handle, Dáire stepped over the threshold to be met with the smell of warm leather and strong dyes, a small bell tinkling above his head as the door swung fully open. His gaze swept the small shop slowly, taking in all that the shopkeep had deemed worthy of showing off and he found himself a little disappointed when nothing immediately jumped out at him. Shelves were lined with all manners of foot wear, from loafer type work shoes to heavy work boots and then the small selection of low heeled female shoes, nothing like he had in mind though. The sounds of rustling fabric and the scrap of wood over stone announced the shopkeeper's impending appearance well before he laid eyes on the wirey middle aged human. The man eyed him with a sense of bone weary exhaustion and impatience. Dáire fought the urge to pull an equally disapproving face right back at the surly human.

“What do you want, boy?” He barked out in a deep gravelly voice, the smell of tobacco smoke thick on his breath as he spoke. The man almost appeared ill as he came closer, the pallor of his skin had a greenish tinge to it and his breathing had an unusual raspy catch to it.

“I’m looking for a good pair of boots.” Dáire said calmly, deciding it would be best to ignore the hostility.

“I don't make boots big enough for the likes of you.” The old man spat back unexpectedly, the venom in his tone barely leashed. His bushy eyebrows drew into a firm line above narrowed eyes, a look of disdain and revulsion washing his features as he looked over Dáire again.

Dáire allowed the scowl he'd been holding back to show now, and watched the man’s expression closely as the air filled with an aura of menace and hostility. “I never said they were for myself old man.” He stated, voice flat and as cold as the air outside the small shop. “I was most likely after a custom job, but as I doubt my coin would be good enough for you, I think I will just take my business elsewhere.” The old man actually looked mildly surprised for a brief moment before the unpleasant expression settled back into place.

“Good, be gone with you and tell the rest of your ilk they’re no longer welcome here either.”

Perplexed and somewhat irritated with the rude human, Dáire left the shop as quietly as he had entered, the hinges on the door creaking slightly as the lock clicked back into place behind him. It wasn't a secret the elves were not exactly loved within the city, but it had been quite some time since Dáire had met with open hostility, and where no apparent motive could be found either. Brushing the encounter aside, he set off at a brisk pace through the streets and headed for the lavish Northern district of the city.