Reflections of a Satyr: Rafael | 42 | Holiday Decorations

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kassandra chirped one night as her satyr companion flickered and rolled a bit of flame between his thumb and his index.

 

Rafael’s glance flickered up to the now familiar visage of the unimpressed elf. Her eyes, of course, were aglow with magic; scouring every contour and crease in his face on the off chance that in some way, in some form, he would betray himself to dishonesty. He did not buckle under the scrutiny of that gaze, or the sheltered ignorance that kept her lips turned into a scowl and her nose pointed ever upwards. Instead, he smiled. “Why, Miss Kassie, I’m simply getting ready for the holidays.”

“Don’t call me that.” She groused, though, after that biting little retort, she quipped. “Aren’t most holidays towards the end of this month? Isn’t it a little early for that?” Besides, they were hardly in a place to decorate with any permanence. Within little more than a suite tailored to the fine taste of nobility, they were only to be staying a few days at the most. Stringing up seasonal garlands and baubles hardly sounded like it was in their current wheelhouse of permissions.

“Actually it’s right on time for Día de las velitas~.” The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he continued on unfettered. The fire rolling around his fingers manifested in hues and colors until it lit the wick of a candle he’d been holding in his other hand, brought to the light. “It’s known as the day of the little candles. He’d take the flickering light to the window, and settle it upon the sill. He watched with bated breath for a few lingering moments, before his face creased into a tender smile and he regarded her mirthfully.  “And this is nothing, a token if anything. The real thing is quite something to behold. In the village I was raised, every veranda was dotted with candles. We had a stretch of the river where we would float lanterns, and in the dark of the night, with the gentle flow of the bend and dozens of lanterns lighting the way, the line between the river and the starry sky seems to blur.”

Kassandra gave a slow, unsynchronized blink. “You’re that excited about some lights?”

And Rafael laughed, “Not just the lights, mi quereda~. There were festivals in the neighboring towns, we’d stay up all night celebrating the start of the season. It was delicious foods, tasty drinks, and, if the season was fortunate, the most beautiful women also looking to celebrate.”

The elf crossed her arms and huffed haughtily. “That sounds much more your speed.”

“Because I’m a satyr?”

“Because you’re a philanderer.”

“I prefer to call myself a lover.” He sniggered, rolling his shoulders with a shrug. “Maybe you’ve got a point. But the ideal remains regardless, mi quereda. It’s usually something to be excited about, getting to light your candles for Día de las velitas. Surely, with all of the holidays for the winter, there’s something you do to celebrate?”

“No,” She grumbled. “I don’t waste my time.”