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It's a week or two after the harvest has been brought in, late in the month of Reaping. The moon sits full and fat in the midnight-blue sky, like a well-fed white cat on a plush rug, stars faintly spangled about it.
Framed by the moon are two eshen women, standing at either side of a stage. Wide-bladed swords glitter in their hands.
In the audience below, a dwarven woman is hustling down the rows, crimson vestments flapping as she moves towards a blond elven woman.
"Here y'are, hen," the dwarven woman says in hushed tones, taking her seat. "It's nowt so fancy, but it's warm."
She hands over a thick-knit cardigan which the elf shrugs on.
In an equally soft voice, the elf replies, "Thank you, Inquisitor Gruksdottir. I'm terribly embarrassed to have left my cape at home..."
"Dinnae fash, lass," Meredith says, waving away the concern. "Did I miss anything?"
The elf shakes her head. "They haven't started yet."
At her word, there comes a drum-roll, segueing into a defined, heavy beat which is joined by the sighing of a stringed instrument. The women on the stage start to move, dancing with deliberate flowing steps as the blades flash.
Meredith leaned closer to the elf. "Remind me, Nula, what's yon dance about again? Elowyn doesn't communicate well when she's anxious."
Nula whispered back, "It's a dance Lady Auriana learnt from the Scytheran lizardmen to honour Lunara."
Nula broke off as a ripple of applause passed through the audience, the dancers having performed a tricky and impressive move.
"They've been practising for months," she continued. "Lady Auriana insisted the dance must be performed with all the other tributes on this holy day."
On stage, the women performed a complicated manoeuvre: Auriana threw her swords into the air in a spinning pattern, her footwork taking her low to the ground. Elowyn jumped over her, twisting gracefully through the airborne blades, her own swords and the mirrors on her costume catching the light and turning her into a living beam. She landed gracefully to gasps and enthusiastic applause.
"Galana be praised," Nula murmured. "That's so hot."
Meredith snorted and grinned at Nula, but the other woman was too entranced with the performance to notice – leant forward, chin cupped and eyes glued to the sparkling movements. Meredith's grin softened, gaze more on Nula than the stage as the dancers performed yet another stunning feat, watching as she twirled her hair, shining eyes wide and lips parted.
The dance ended as the the pair defied gravity to perform one last insanely intricate jump, landing to a crescendo of drums, and the roar of the audience.
Elowyn and Auriana left the stage, stagehands rushing out to prepare the stage for a Holy Choir from several deities, and Nula and Meredith took their seats.
"Ye really like her, don't you?" Meredith asked.
"Who, Elowyn?" Nula glanced over, a happy smile growing. "Yes. I do."
Meredith pursed her lips, and Nula frowned.
"Is that... a problem?"
"No. No." Meredith fiddled with her holy symbol. "I jus' need you t'understand... She's lost a lot, has Elowyn. Done things, and seen things, and had things happen that should ne'er have happened to someone as good as her." She took a breath and looked Nula in the eye. "What I'm tryin'ta say is, she likes you too, so if things get too hard or you get tired o'her, you need to let her down gentle-like. Don't you dare be the thing that breaks her."
"Are you... warning me away?"
"No. The opposite. She needs someone normal, stable. But I know some elves get bored easily, and her job is hard. So I'm just saying, when you want to leave, don't break her heart."