Disclaimer: I do not own Bastion
T'was the night of winter celebration,
and all through the land,
not a creature was stirring,
the Calamity was at hand.
The Kid, he keeps running,
through the Walls and the Wilds,
searching for cores and for shards,
the forgotten creatures, he riles.
The ground appears under his feet,
the Skyways let him roam,
The bastion, it waits,
the place we all call home.
There's nothing to celebrate,
our world's a fine mess.
But we'll be thankful for what we got,
the Kid usually does the rest.
Our singer, her name's Zia,
a beautiful girl with pale skin and dark hair.
A Caelondian-born Ura,
bit of a rare sight there.
She bustles around the Bastion,
taking care of what she can.
The pets, the meals, the entertainment,
all done by her own hand.
For the winter celebration,
she tried to spread some joy.
Decorated from the ground up,
even used that plush Pyth toy.
The Kid was impressed,
awed by all her fine work.
Even our last resident living here,
allowed himself a small smirk.
Zulf of the Ura,
rescued from the hate of his kin.
I won't say anymore,
the Kid's forgiven his sin.
His wounds are still healing,
but he makes an effort to pitch in.
Reachin' places Zia can't get to,
the ornaments fastened neatly with a pin.
The pets are helping too,
from the Anklegator to the Squirt.
Hanging ornaments from the buildings,
the Anklegator's horn digging through the dirt.
As for me?
I sit watching, another ornament in one hand.
A carving tool in the other,
revealing the design of the old land.
The Kid, he's working too.
He's doing what he does best.
Knows how to break, how to build,
his lifelong friend up to the test.
The Armory lights up,
the ornaments a faint glow.
The Forge follows suit,
the beginning of the show.
The Memorial, the Shrine,
all glow in the light.
We've done a good job,
these will shine all night.
The Lost and Found provides the favors,
The Distillery provides the drinks.
Tonight is a night to celebrate,
and drinking will erase the need to think.
The festivities begin,
Zia sits and hums her old songs.
Two cultures sit here tonight,
and we've forgiven all wrongs.
The Kid joins in after a while,
idly tapping his fingers to the beat.
Pauses only once to glance up
as Zulf takes his seat.
The older Ura is calm,
the fire a soft glow in his eyes.
It's rare to see him so peaceful
as Zia's song slowly subsides.
With practiced ease,
he holds out one pale hand.
Zia glances at her instrument,
a soft request, not a demand.
She has no trouble handing it over,
his hands resting on the strings.
Never heard him play before,
wonder if he knows how to use the thing.
As it turns out, he does,
fingers glide and weave.
His eyes close in memory,
the cold air takes its leave.
He sang an old song in Ura,
of forgiveness and celebration.
The Kid and Zia soon fall asleep,
and I'm about to knock out for the duration.
The spell is over,
the song slowly ends.
Nearly everyone is asleep,
Zulf's eyes droop and bend.
" Thank you for tonight."
He says in a quiet voice.
" I haven't smiled in a long time."
I think we made a good choice.
He returns to the tent,
slowly ducking inside.
He then returns with soft blankets,
tucking them against the Kid's side.
He does the same for Zia,
giving the girl a pat on the head.
" Good night" he finally says,
and heads off for bed.
I get to my feet as well,
and head back to the tent.
The Kid and Zia remain,
their energy's spent.
Sleep well you two,
tomorrow draws near.
The winter celebration's over,
but we'll be right here.
As for our story,
I can find a place to begin.
It's quite a story...
Would you like to hear it again?
End.
I love the holidays! And fanfiction... stop making it hard on poetry writers!