The First Hearthweek

Amber dug through a pile of cardboard boxes tucked in the back of the closet. She tried to keep clutter to a minimum, but some stuff was too important to throw out, and too unimportant to have at the ready all the time. That stuff ended up in this closet. Her eyes fell on a particular box, and the label on its side. "There you are..." The box was at the bottom of a stack of 4. Thankfully, she was prepared for this sort of thing, and reached for the car jack she kept in the closet for these occasions.

From behind, Iekika watched. Normally the blue imp spent this time of year pacing around, wishing it wasn't so cold and snowy outside so she could release some energy. Any distraction was a welcome one.

"Are you starting a new project? A new client?" She asked. Amber turned from the mishmash of car jacks and wooden planks she was setting up, peering over her shoulder at Kiki.

"Oh, no, just getting the Hearthweek stuff out. Meant to do it sooner but, got distracted with work."

With a final cranking of the jack, Amber freed the lowermost box, sliding it out. 'HEARTHWEEK STUFF' was written proudly on the side in fat black marker. A stray length of colorful ribbon hung out the edge, and the whole box seemed to have a faint dusting of impossible to clean glitter.

Iekika watched as Amber tore down the lifter setup, dropping the rest of the stack to the floor. She seemed... happy? Enthusiastic? Iekika couldn't quite place it, but it was something positive, no doubt.

"Ah!" She exclaimed. "Right, Hearth week! I..."

She paused.

"... I don't think you've told me what that is?"

"Really?" Amber hefted the box up with a jingling sound, setting it on the workbench in the middle of the room. She turned to Iekika, arm resting on the bench, an incredulous look on her face.

"I guess... huh, yeah, you got here a little under a year ago... And it hasn't really come up since then... I take it you don't have anything similar back home?"

Iekika flinched a bit at the mention of 'home' - just reflex, at this point. She shook her head.

"I don't... think so?" She said, slowly. "What is it?"

Amber had opened the box and begun removing items - some spools of colorful ribbon, a small figurine of a group of humans circled around a bonfire, and something that looked like a jar of ash. She spoke as she worked-

"It's an end-of-year celebration, originally made by humans of the region, but other species and cultures celebrate it too." She explained, drawing out more decorative trinkets. Iekika stood next to her, occasionally picking up an item and studying it intently.

"Darue can tell you more, they know about the actual history of this sort of thing. But the idea is, it was originally a celebration of humans domesticating fire. Over time, it's come to represent more things as it's been passed along - nowadays, it's celebrated during the last week of the year, as a kind of like..."

She snapped her fingers, thinking.

"Like a bookend for things, kinda. Time for reflection, gratefulness, all that."

Iekika continued looking over the spread of holiday items. Lots of orange and white, fire motifs, images of warmth amidst the cold winter. Back on the island, they had fire, of course. But they didn't have winter - at least, nothing nearly this bad. Even just looking at a bunch of ceramic and wooden knicknacks, she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth.

"You mind helping me set these up?" Amber asked, picking up a spool of orange ribbon. "Normally I use the prosthetic for it, but it's not really dexterous enough for some of this."

Iekika took the ribbon from her, peering down at it. It was made from a slightly reflective material, and caught the light peeking in from the window, glimmering in her hands like gold.

"... Uh, yeah, sure - just tell me where to go." She said, nodding a bit. Amber's face lit up.

"Oh, fantastic - this'll go by so much faster, then. And hey, your first Hearthweek! That'll be a treat, huh? I can show you all the traditions and stuff, I'm sure you'll love it."

Iekika nodded, a bit less this time, still looking down at the ribbon. Back on the island, the closest thing they had to this color and luster was actual gold, one of the rarest materials they had. It was reserved for holy items, offerings to the island, and could only be handled by a select few blessed craftsmen. Here, gold was so plentiful as to be virtually worthless. Hell, as far as she knew, this ribbon was actually made from gold in some way.

".... Hey, you okay?" Amber asked.

Iekika snapped out of it, looking back up from the ribbon to Amber. She put on her best face-mouth smile, nodding.

"Oh, uh, yeah! Looking, looking forward to it."

Pitch dug through the cluttered boxes filling the kitchen cupboard. A mostly empty box of tea, ice cream cones, a package of lightbulbs one of them had put in there at some point and never bothered to move. The kitchen was never exactly clean in her apartment, and this one closet in particular had no shortage of clutter. Finally, her huge leafy hand landed on what she was looking for, and from the clutter emerged a box of sugary breakfast cereal. Pitch managed to slam the cupboard closed again, just as a package of crackers was about to spill out. A problem for later.

The final ingredient gathered, she set to work cooking a gourmet breakfast for herself - a single bowl of cereal and milk.

Sat at the counter, still in her pajamas, she lazily shoveled her meal into her mouth. Her body was awake, but her brain was still playing catch up, a queue of mental functions kicking back. The part of her responsible for caring about appearances was somewhere at the tail end of that.

Breakfast finished with, she dumped her bowl in a pile of dishes in the sink - also a problem for later. She wandered over to the living room, flopped across the couch, and sat there for a bit. All of the curtains were closed, the lights were off, and the humidifier was on high. She let herself sink into the cushions, a slight smile creeping onto the tiny fae's face.

She could use a cozy, lazy day, today.

Just as she was really getting comfortable - and contemplating a second bowl of cereal - the doorbell rang. She frowned a bit. Who was here to see her? She peeled herself from the couch, walking over and opening the doo-

"Augh, fuck!" Pitch yelled, the light from a sunny day blasting through the half-open door and straight into her enormous, low-light acclimated eyeballs. She slammed the door shut, eyes burning, her vision white and spotty.

A few moments later, the door re-opened, and Pitch - now wearing sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat - poked her head out. "Guh, uh, sorry about that-" She mumbled, still dazed. She peered up at her visitor, but her vision was still a bit blurred - someone green? Another fae?

"Oh, g-gosh, are you alright?" A familiar voice asked. Pitch knew that stutter anywhere.

"Darue! Hey, sorry, didn't - uh, see you, at first. You wanna come in? For uh, my sake."

Darue nodded, stepping into the apartment. Pitch couldn't close the door behind them fast enough, doffing her hat and glasses and letting her eyes re-adjust to the dark room.

"Are your eyes, uh, your eyes alright?" Darue asked, looking down at Pitch with plain concern.

"I'll be fine, dumb mistake, don't worry about it. Anyways, what are you doing here?"

Darue reached into their messenger bag, retrieving a book.

"Fundamentals of Alchemical Processes, 3rd edition. B-borrowed it from Root a week ish ago, was just coming to r-return it."

They looked around the apartment, seeing some of the lazy mess Pitch had left out - and a distinct lack of Root's messes, which normally consisted of piles books and pages of chicken scratch. They looked back at Pitch.

"... Where is, uh, where is he, anyways?"

"Ah, you just missed them." Pitch said. "Took a train down to Tulip to see family for Hearthweek. Said they'll be back early next year. I can pass it off whenever he gets back"

Her eyes still stung a bit, but at the very least the blast of light had managed to wake up the part of her brain she used to hold conversations. More than once, Root had tried talking to her in the morning without that vital function, and Pitch struggled to recreate the sounds she found herself making in those moments.

"Ahhh," Darue nodded. "That makes s-sense. Whenever you give it uh, give it back, let them know it was super useful. So... are you here for the, um, whole week, then? Any new t-tunneling jobs coming up?"

"Nope. We finished our last project two days ago, and it's been dry since. I guess the boss was feeling generous, kindled spirit or something, decided to give us Hearthweek off."

She held her arms out, like a king showing off the glory of his kingdom - if it was a tiny, dark apartment that needed to be cleaned up.

"So, it's just me."

Darue took a seat on the couch.

"Well, that's g-good, then. You s-sounded like you needed a break, last we spoke. How l-long was that last dig, 2 months?"

"Two and a half." Pitch corrected, flopping onto the couch besides them. "And some of that was just permit talk and clearance stuff, which we still had to be on site for... guh. Yeah, glad to be rid of that."

Darue gave a quiet nod.

"So... any plans for Hearthweek, then? Since y-you have the time, I mean. I know it's not really a thing in the Deep - but, y'know." Pitch shook her head.

"Eh, not really. I think I'm just gonna take things easy until the next job rolls in. I was never all that for holidays, anyways."

"S-sure, yeah." Darue said, and they stood back up. "I'l le- I'll leave you to it, but if you change your mind, here."

Pitch looked up and saw Darue holding an envelope at her, sealed with a lime green wax seal.

"Uma's putting together a party for the final day, l-last day of the year, and all. She's inviting a bunch of, of our friends, and you're welcome to join. I know you don't k-know the others super well, what with our s-schedules rarely lining up, so I'm sure they'd be happy to see you again."

Pitch took the envelope from them, looking it over. She frowned a bit.

"B-but, no pressure!!" Darue added, seeing her look. "I know you d-don't get much time off, don't let me impose."

"I'll think about it, yeah. Thanks, Dar-" Pitch replied, still frowning. "Why... why is the envelope wet?"

"Uma insisted on writing them herself."