Kol Mikaelson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itchtokill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-12-19 10:49 pm
itchtokill) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-12-19 10:49 pm
{Let tradition live on
WHO: Kol Mikaelson
WHERE: House #8
WHEN: Evening, Monday, Dec 9
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Predicting nothing warning-worthy, will update if necessary.
STATUS: OPEN
The tradition was an old one in his family, but it was something they did every year. Or, he supposed they did. He'd been gone so much of the time, daggered for more than he cared to remember, so maybe they passed some years through the centuries without. He'd done it, though. Even when he wasn't with them, even when he couldn't do the full thing of it. If it was just a wish burned in the light of a match, it was all the same to him.
Maybe it was useless, because Gods know he never got most of the wishes he'd made. But maybe it was the nature of the things he asked for, maybe they were just too impossible. Maybe it was wasteful, didn't they need every scrap of paper and wood they could keep? But it was tradition and he wasn't going to let it go. Not now, when he's stuck in some godforsaken village with no one he truly knew around. Still reeling in loss every day because he doesn't know how to get over everything that was taken from him by being placed here. Not just the people, because of course they were a large part of it, but the sense of home, the calm, the dare he say peace that Lawrence had been, had brought through the nearly two years he'd been there. In the wake of everything, this was one tradition he was determined to keep.
He'd considered keeping it to himself, or at least just to he and his housemates, but he'd mentioned it in passing to Kate once a couple weeks ago. Word got around, as it always seems to in this place. He's not bothered by it. Doesn't particularly even expect a giant turn out or anything like any of their town meetings. He's not made many friends here, but, then... Jo and Thorfinn know more people than he does, he thinks. Maybe they'll come for them instead. It isn't exactly meant to be a party, but...he'll roll with whatever comes of it.
Kol had started the fire a bit before it was set to start, and it served as a sign for people to pile into the backyard of House #8 as much as anything else might have. That was about all there was in way of set up, aside from a handful of pieces of paper and something to write with. He's minimized the amount of waste as much as possible, divided a few sheets of paper into strips for everyone that are wide enough to write something on, but means they aren't all individually taking full sheets of the stuff. As people arrive, they're welcome to mingle until Kol is ready to explain exactly what they're doing anyway.
The idea is simple enough, and once he's relatively sure no one else will be straggling in, he explains it. It's just an old family tradition, something done near the end of a year and on the brink of a new one. Wishes are written on a piece of paper and tossed into the bonfire to bring luck in the new year.
Once the wishes are all burned, people are more than welcome to hang around and chat, mingle, treat it as a party without the usual food-and-drink amenities of a party that might be expected.
WHERE: House #8
WHEN: Evening, Monday, Dec 9
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Predicting nothing warning-worthy, will update if necessary.
STATUS: OPEN
The tradition was an old one in his family, but it was something they did every year. Or, he supposed they did. He'd been gone so much of the time, daggered for more than he cared to remember, so maybe they passed some years through the centuries without. He'd done it, though. Even when he wasn't with them, even when he couldn't do the full thing of it. If it was just a wish burned in the light of a match, it was all the same to him.
Maybe it was useless, because Gods know he never got most of the wishes he'd made. But maybe it was the nature of the things he asked for, maybe they were just too impossible. Maybe it was wasteful, didn't they need every scrap of paper and wood they could keep? But it was tradition and he wasn't going to let it go. Not now, when he's stuck in some godforsaken village with no one he truly knew around. Still reeling in loss every day because he doesn't know how to get over everything that was taken from him by being placed here. Not just the people, because of course they were a large part of it, but the sense of home, the calm, the dare he say peace that Lawrence had been, had brought through the nearly two years he'd been there. In the wake of everything, this was one tradition he was determined to keep.
He'd considered keeping it to himself, or at least just to he and his housemates, but he'd mentioned it in passing to Kate once a couple weeks ago. Word got around, as it always seems to in this place. He's not bothered by it. Doesn't particularly even expect a giant turn out or anything like any of their town meetings. He's not made many friends here, but, then... Jo and Thorfinn know more people than he does, he thinks. Maybe they'll come for them instead. It isn't exactly meant to be a party, but...he'll roll with whatever comes of it.
Kol had started the fire a bit before it was set to start, and it served as a sign for people to pile into the backyard of House #8 as much as anything else might have. That was about all there was in way of set up, aside from a handful of pieces of paper and something to write with. He's minimized the amount of waste as much as possible, divided a few sheets of paper into strips for everyone that are wide enough to write something on, but means they aren't all individually taking full sheets of the stuff. As people arrive, they're welcome to mingle until Kol is ready to explain exactly what they're doing anyway.
The idea is simple enough, and once he's relatively sure no one else will be straggling in, he explains it. It's just an old family tradition, something done near the end of a year and on the brink of a new one. Wishes are written on a piece of paper and tossed into the bonfire to bring luck in the new year.
Once the wishes are all burned, people are more than welcome to hang around and chat, mingle, treat it as a party without the usual food-and-drink amenities of a party that might be expected.