|Brynhild Ingouf (brynhild_ingouf) wrote in spinningcompass,|
@ 2020-07-17 23:05:00
|Entry tags:||!open, annastasia leonhardt, ardyn izunia, blank, dan torrance, edward kenway, johnn redel, marian of knighton (oe), miguel o'hara, shepard, sophia peletier (oe)|
The bonfire had been constructed with great care. From special woods gathered from her own supply, taken from different worlds that had been opened up to them. Carefully arranged so that it would burn bright, it would burn long, and it would burn without causing harm to their environment.
There were tables set out, with a long black cloth stretched over each. Some for food, some for alcoholic drinks, and some for nonalcoholic drinks. Each table labeled when it wasn't obvious what each item was. (and for people who had not been exposed to such foods.) And then there was a table with photos of each man they lost. Mr. Darcy, Rawdon Crawley, Father Tinney, Enjorlras, Ernest Hemingway. With room for more to be added if needed.
And a freezer. Stocked full with all the ice cream that could be found.