Midsummer Fire Festival

By request, a digital watercolor painting to go with this post.

Ashti had drawn her to the bonfire in the Stormwind square.  "Time to dance," it had whispered.  Flames flickered at the edges of her vision as the whisper grew more insistent.  "Summer fire flickering dance!  No more cold, blaze hotter hotter spinning!"

She tried to hold herself back, to watch the blue bonfire, the torch jugglers, and the dancers around the decorated pole from the edge of the square.  But her fire wouldn't allow it.  Her hooves would not be still, and a strange heat began to rise from her fingers, and all the time, the whispering voice in her mind demanded, "Dance!"  Feeling like an interloper, as she often did when confronted with Azerothian customs, Hadeel stepped forward and grasped one of the ribbons hanging from the pole.

    I never thought I'd come back here, ever.

    Eilwen crouched behind a hedge along a simple wooden fence.  The leaves were still moist from the night she discovered while pulling back a few branches.  As she looked through the gap, she immediately spotted two guards at the main gate.  It looked as if they were inspecting all visitors before granting them entry into Stormwind.

    The harbor guards may be less suspicious of anyone coming from there she thought to herself.  It would require traveling half a day to Westfall and if she couldn't get a boat, she'd be stuck swimming.  The frontgate was her best option but how, she thought to herself.

--The paper of the book seem fragile, the edges a little crisp to the touch. Each word looks more like a scorch mark rather than ink, though there are a few drops of the smooth black liquid at the top of the page.--

Dear Journal,

Of all the times for something strange to happen to me, I wish this one could have waited until after the festival of flame. After every odd iccident, after all the mishaps, this ... curse should stop invading me! I can't even write properly!

By Risael Salvius

Silvermoon, I'm telling you, this is one grand season for us.  Midsummer is here, the fires are burning, and it's one more reminder of why we do what we do and why we are who we are.  If anything, it's one more opportunity to show the Alliance and the Horde alike that we've got our place.  Fire is a national symbol for us in all practicality, take one look at the gold phoenix on our flag and tell me otherwise, I dare you.  As the flames roar up to show the world they won't be extinguished, it's a living reminder of Sin'dorei tenacity.  We were pushed to the brink, we were down to the wire, and not only have we flourished in adversity, we've rebounded and we're on the brink of surpassing the old glory days.  There's not a single race that can claim that.

July 4

The Fire festival ends tonight. If the shaman are right about the nature of my ailment problem, it should end at midnight. The festival, whatever else it may be, has been anything but restful, and I will be glad to see it end.

It's amazing how much you realize you rely on something when you are forced to live without it.  I have only been without my frost magics for a few days now, and yet it feels like so much longer. The heat bothers me, especially. After years of never really being forced to endure it, the summer sun is nearly too much to bear.

Adrian Warner.  I could have lived not knowing that.

Sara, my love,

It seems that the Light has an excruciatingly dry sense of humor.

It decided, in its wisdom, to let there be a Scourge invasion while we were having our Midsummer Fire Festival.  So, while I was running about trying to dance around streamerpoles and find hidden fires throughout the land, I had to dodge insanely aggressive, entirely-too-powerful for me Scourgelings.