The Silence Of A Nocturnal Serenade

《08》Tradition of one's own

Pinecones, leaves, and flowers create delicate decorations that graced the cabin in natural adornment, weaving together handmade crafts that, in truth, weren't outstandingly made by any means, but were cherished nonetheless. A wreath of intertwined branches and wildflowers hung on the door, welcoming anyone who entered with the peaceful rattling of dangling pinecones on wood. On the table, a simple centerpiece made from a collection of colorful leaves and blossoms.

Perched over the fireplace mantle and acting as an ancient tree for the paper fauna was a silver, candelabra-like antique; metal smooth near its base of small and unlit candles, sections twisting outward with delicate branches cradling shards of gems above them.

The cabin, warm and inviting, lifted spirits with the scents of fresh golden-crusted pie, hot bread, and fluffy apple rolls wafting from the kitchen where they cooled off on the counter. They flitter about the air to mingle with the more heavy scent of simmering potatoe stew in the kitchen alcove.
A promise for a comforting meal to come.

An apple roll warmed my hands, pulled in two before soft breaths cooled one half down.
A bite taken, the flavors sweet and light, slices of apple adding a fresh quality.
But it was off in some way that couldn't compare to when Inari made them fully.

Stepping back and cooling down the other half, I approach the male affixing the small candles in their places under the silver antique.
"Nari." I call, earning his attention, and a half-smile when he noticed the treat handed to him.

"You think you made it wrong again?" The male inspects the roll speckled with cinnamon and creamy glaze, the inside embedded with thin slices of apple that swirled like a open rose missing some of its petals.
"But, Lumoon, I even helped you this time."
His tone was light - in jest?

I wave off his teasing, coaxing him expectantly.
As he took a bite, my ears flutter and droop.

"...not bad." he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful and weight was lifted. "Although...it could use a bit more cinnamon, and the glaze is a bit tart."

"The glaze...? So, what I made then?" Shoulders slump and I found myself pouting, but only for a moment before my lips purse in thought, tail swishing. "Better than last time?"

"Much better." The male nods, playing along and my ears perk. "It's delicious, Maeri."

Earlier disappointment fades with newfound pride, the cabin a comforting presence of close heat and natural light falling in from the opened windows.
I celebrate quietly, clapping my hands together in self-congratulation as the male took a box of matches from the mantle.
"Ready?"
He motions, offering a match of my own and I step close with a sense of giddy anticipation. Fingers fiddle with the small switch of wood.

"After you, Nari."

The male steps closer, raising a brow - though gazes didn't meet as I glance to the silver tree, outstretched branches swirled by thinner strands of metal and gem leaves nestled in open arms.
Each stone held some meaning I could never remember. Hope, generosity, trust, and the like.
An heirloom; a symbol of remembrance passed down to the eldest child of the Miran household, however, Inari's older brother had gifted it to him two years ago.

"I always go first." The male comments and I brush his shoulder, attention on the pretty antique.

"Go on-" I coax, sparing only a glance. "I'll go first, come next Avilence Day. Please? You always have such poetic answers."

"I'll hold you to it." He mutters playfully, thinking a moment before his match strikes and lights up with a quaint flame.
Inari smiled wistfully, his gaze fixed on the flickering element reflecting off pale eyes.
"My brother...was always the adventurous one between us. I remember one evening, we decided to explore the old forest near our hometown. We were just kids, no older than ten and thirteen. Azelo had this grand idea that we'd find treasure hidden in the woods."