Welcome to Gaia! ::

It had been years since Rinkini had been with her family. Her father’s blood had a stronger hold on her than on her children, thankfully. It made it difficult to be around others, always seeing them die in the most horrific ways was a curse she was glad they had avoided. She had been doing so much better lately, so she had allowed herself to be persuaded to join the small gathering to wish the old year Rum tum bi salama, to go in good fortune; and Gilien Bakshesh sing of good fortune for the new year. To be honest, Rinkini wasn’t going to sing. While she had many talented family members, her voice was one for the chorus, not the solos.



Ves’tacha smiled as she watched her children and grandchildren gather. Though some didn’t make this year’s celebration, she was sure she would see them soon, wishing them Sastimos, good health, when she did. She wasn’t accustomed to quite such an intended gathering. It wasn’t the way of her herd. Rather they often would meet in passing, traveling together for a time before again going their separate ways. But her immediate family, at least the singers among them, seemed to be closer. Perhaps because they liked to perform together. Perhaps because of their odd appearance that so few others could appreciate for the blessing it was. After all, too many soquili judged her progeny violent when seeing their chest mouths, instead of giving them a chance to show their peaceful nature.



Dijilia Tachiben nuzzled her gathered children, Bravi’os Pral, Awenyddion Pral, and Godi Dzilavava. The four had been working on a new intertwined melody for the past month, reaching new heights with music as they sang with both head and chest mouths in dizzying patterns that only close family with dual voices could hope to accomplish. Each singing two parts was a bit of a challenge, working the notes around and through in ways that met in beautiful harmony while still stretching past typical four part melodies had brought them closer to the music and each other. This had become as close to a spiritual moment for the quartet as any they knew. The shallow cave opening they stood in front of was just as much part of the performance, the resonant echoes adding depth to their songs. Leading up to the moment of the north star’s arrival, they sang many beautiful arrangements, some lyrical with others wholly comprised of nonsense sounds that seemed to gather meaning in the singing.



Latcho Churi arrived after the singing had started. He almost hadn’t managed to join his family this year. The last few years had been strange for him. He had struggled accepting himself as worthy of love, with his tentacles hidden in his mane as much as he could. But seeing his family, in all their beautiful and glorious oddity, coming together with love and a gentle blessing to bid farewell to a passing year and seek blessings for the new warmed him. He didn’t sing like his aunt and her children. He was more like his mother, though not plagued by the voices and visions, he still struggled to love and be loved. Perhaps this year his grandmother’s blessing of good health would meet the singing of good fortune and bring peace to his soul and see him through the year better able to join with others in joy and community.



As the sky darkened and the north star first twinkled in the sky, the gathered family stilled, looking up at the agreed start of the longest night of the year. They would stay together all night, gathered together to support each other, to enjoy small and tasty treats, and to share talents. This was a vigil their herd observed, no matter how scattered. The longest night of the year, the blessings sung and spoken, that would be carried into the new year as the days grew longer and the nights shorter. That others celebrated the turn of the year at other times didn’t matter to them. What mattered was joining the tradition of their ancestors as they carried the burden of the long night before greeting the sun and the new year.



After a moment of greeting the star, Godi Dzilavava’s two toned voice rose to start the one song they all sang, near and far, at the start of the endless night.



Light a candle, sing a song
Say that the shadows shall not cross
Make an oblation out of all you’ve lost
In the longest night

Gather friends and cast your hopes
Into the fire as it snows
And stare at God through the dark windows
Of the longest night of the year

A night that seems like a lifetime
If you’re waiting for the sun
So why not sing to the nighttime
And the burning stars up above?

Come with drums, bells and horns
Or come in silence, come forlorn
Come like a miner to the door
Of the longest night

For deep in the stillness, deep in the cold
Deep in the darkness, a miner knows
That there is a diamond in the soul
Of the longest night of the year

A night that seems like a lifetime
If you’re waiting for the sun
So why not sing to the nighttime
And the burning stars up above?

Maybe peace hides in a storm
Maybe winter’s heart is warm
And maybe light itself is born
In the longest night
In the longest night of the year



As the last syllable quivered in the still winter air, the family held their breath for a moment, each wish for a light born in this new year silently winging into the stars. They stayed silent for a moment longer before Ves’tacha called them to sample the honey cakes she had made while Latcho pulled out the gourds filled with sweet fruit juice he had traded for that almost made him late. Even Rinkini produced a few dried apples and dehydrated berries, treats to share with their family as they came together for comfort and hope.