[ It's harvest time; a season not alien at all. So even this world had its turns of days and nights, the cycle of life that bloomed and wilted each year. Even if they are in another realm, these are things that still call to home.
Lord Light sits upon the well-worn bench, the wind weaving briefly through his long white hair while he surveys the festivities with calm eyes of grey. He seems a little out of place - a monotone figure in the midst of a whirl of colourful shirts and dresses, and yet there's a certain radiance to his presence that sets him as one tile in a mosaic of many. He may lack colour, but he did not lack life. ]
A youth with eyes of the blue sky.
[ The deity's voice is calm and even as he turns to regard her with an expression of mild neutrality. ]
yooo
Lord Light sits upon the well-worn bench, the wind weaving briefly through his long white hair while he surveys the festivities with calm eyes of grey. He seems a little out of place - a monotone figure in the midst of a whirl of colourful shirts and dresses, and yet there's a certain radiance to his presence that sets him as one tile in a mosaic of many. He may lack colour, but he did not lack life. ]
A youth with eyes of the blue sky.
[ The deity's voice is calm and even as he turns to regard her with an expression of mild neutrality. ]