Midnight Midwinter
On Olua, days and seasons are not marked by rotation and revolution, but by her proximity to the nearest star. When the space turtle runs low on stored starlght and grows hungry, she turns and sets her sights on the brightest speck in vicinity. This turning motion creates quakes and tsunamis, jostles felt by the whole planet. Though its inhabitants have long since adapted to this periodical disturbance, it remains neither pleasant nor comfortable. Lives and structures are disrupted, especially in harder banks and drifts, and a period of reconstruction must follow. Rebuilding must happen quickly, for though the next springdawn is approaching, it will be some time before the star's warmth and magic can be felt. For now, the world is growing stiller, and any changes must be swift and decisive to beat the cold. These are the conditions for Midnight, (my temporary name for) this world's winter solstice. Different cultures and species have different traditions, but one common image is a community coming together to repair, maintain, and strengthen something -- and making a party of it. The feeling is much like a barn raising. After the work is done, each group does something fun, creates and shares warmth, and feasts on whatever sustenance can be spared. For the species who hibernate, Midnight is followed by a period of winding down, as they prepare for their torpor until the approaching star's warmth can be felt.
