She mounted the stairs as pink bubblegum fog, not as though she'd been a pink girl, and anyway, with the fog part she had no problem at all, neither with the pink one, actually... Of course, she would've rather chosen dark blue or the hues of red, or black (oh, black, yes!) but she was perceived as light by people who knew her birthday was December 21st, and that explained all, especially the part 'light' played in everything.
Yes, it did.
She was the Daughter of the Returning Light.
On that very special day - December 21st - The Granddaughter of the Returning Light (her black cat) was sitting on top of the open door, just as judgmental as always. The Daughter of the Returning Light was wearing a whimsical outfit (patterns on patterns) and anyway, where were her socks, not those unmatching ones on the ground.
She had to stumble down the stairs again, as pink bubblegum fog, to look around in the living room. This time, she descended on the backstairs. Like this:
She was planning to go to Waterford to either meet others or not, but definitely to get her crown polished, for she was supposed to circle around the water fountain in People's Park, three times, sparkling and counterclockwise, to get Winter Solstice officially - and truly - started.
It had to be a water fountain of some kind or a monument, but the actual location itself was up to her - not the date though, obviously. For a few hundred years she circled around statues of angels and saints on top of towering plinths (or grandiose spirits occupying whole towers), but then both angels and saints liked ignoring Winter Solstice altogether and act instead as though her whole purpose had been to summon them. And then, upon their glimpsing her crown and overcoming their first astonishment, they quickly ended up bargaining for it. Reason always the same: Jesus's upcoming birthday. And a crown... wouldn't it be the bestest gift to him?
'It wouldn't,' she liked to tell them, timidly, though.
'A very serious misjudgement of Jesus's character,' she told her cat while reminiscing those old times and peeking under a pillow for her socks. As the Daughter of the Returning Light, she didn't like any kind of roughness, so mostly avoided conflicts. She wasn't pink bubblegum fog for nothing, after all.
She had this lanky and hence long-legged ladylike silhouette and as someone with such vertical presence, circled around fountains with speed. Yet, secretly, she wished to be majestic as well - which she actually was, but had no idea about. She particularly liked the 21st century (her favourite one, so far) and all those non-figurative, non-angel-y fountains without old spirits (without any spirits) hanging around.
'Just quietness,' she sighed.
And boy, oh boy, how much she liked those modern humans too, never minding tall women circling around water fountains, three times, sparkling and counter-clockwise. In. A. Crown.
She found the right socks. Also unmatching ones, but this time intentionally paired. One of them had a flying pig on it reading Emily Dickinson, a fairly happy one. The other was black and red checkered.
'Don't judge me,' she said to The Granddaughter of the Returning Light, 'I'll have my crown as well, and that's all that matters when igniting Winter Solstice.'
She actually quite liked all those saints and angels, just not when she was summoning light, most of them had no sense of timing. People didn't believe in them anymore, so they were so very lonely, and as she was an empath and was feeling all of them far too deeply... it could be overwhelming.
'It could be overwhelming,' she told her cat, 'that's why I've been sticking to abstract fountains in the last few decades. Are you coming today?' she added then. 'You've got a title too, after all.'
The Granddaughter of the Returning Light jumped off the door and walked away.
'Not by birthright, that's true. And apparently not by choice either,' she frowned.
Her crown was on the top of a pile of books (about friendships) and under a pile of cards (on manifesting different - for Irish people - unseasonal food. Strawberries in January, oranges in March, Sushi all year around. She loved her cards because she was the chosen one for whom manifestation actually worked.)
She closed her eyes, drew a card and without peeking at it said, 'Chocolate birthday cake for the birthday girl. With candles.'
She'd placed her crown on her head just in time to be able to catch the flying cake entering her home through the open window.
'Amazing,' she smiled.
Amazing indeed was the cake - for it was a triple-chocolate one. With candles.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
'Uhm,' she murmured, 'not today...if you want your returning light.' And then, 'Doorknob,' she whispered.
The hence manifested doorknob was a lazy one, rusty too, that must have been the reason why it took ages to appear, and as a spirit admittedly against any kind of work and tending to resent those still persisting, always appeared at different spots of the house, just to avenge all: having to work too, but especially that it had never been polished. Now, that wasn't shocking. The Daughter of the Returning Light just simply didn't believe in polishing doorknobs. She believed in their rusty shine.
As a long-ongoing war it was - their partnership - the Daughter of the Returning Light knew the doorknob's nature quite well, and after thinking about the most likely location it would try to hide (and thinking about it pretty hard), she walked straight to her cat's litter box. Indeed, there it was, underneath it, a pretty displeased, rusty, caterpillar-shaped doorknob.
'You...' the doorknob growled, it wanted to say something starting with a 'b', but then changed its mind, because grumpy though it was, it wasn't such a bad doorknob after all.
The Daughter of the Returning Light didn't say I got you, she was just too nice. She lightly opened the door - a trap door, on the floor. Peeked down.
'Off to work. Off to a light day. Off to my birthday,' she murmured.
Smiled. Leaned. And quietly descended to summon the returning light.
(Her cat? - Stayed at home.)
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