The treaty renegotiations had been deliberately timed to coincide with the Peldor (Gratitude) Festival, one of Bajor's most important holidays. Celebrations would begin tomorrow. He felt both nostalgia and angst while observing the week-long preparations going on around him. He arrived on DS9 two weeks ago, part of the Cardassian delegation, and would remain on the station for the duration of the treaty talks, which were expected to take six months or more.

This was the first time he had been around Bajorans since the occupation ended. He had never been a religious man, nor was he superstitious, but he recognized the role of culture and ritual in providing people with comfort, strength, and direction, especially in times of need. These were insights he'd gained during his assignment seven years ago at the Bjoran refugee camp on Taleth'kar. It was there that he first witnessed aspects of the Peldor Festival, albeit a much more scaled-down (and clandestine) version compared to the grandeur he was witnessing now on DS9. His patrol faction had stumbled upon a ceremony in progress one night seven years ago. The patrol had broken up the group of revellers - He had assisted in this process, but half-heartedly. Later, while off-duty, he snuck out of the Cardassian barracks and found the ceremony site again. The Bajorans had regrouped, as he had predicted. Settling in a protected spot amidst a rock outcrop on the hill, he sat secretly observing from a distance.

They were so peaceful, so... light. Despite their circumstances. It had felt unfathomable to him, he recalled. But perhaps - he remembered thinking - it was the simple action of externalizing one's problems, then having them symbolically disappear. Perhaps the larger circumstances didn't matter... or, perhaps they did, even more so during the occupation. Perhaps those rituals served as small assertions of individual autonomy that became a critical act of collective resistance that shored up the people's resilience, resolve and endurance... and reconstituted their identity in the face of annihilation.

But what did it mean here, now, on DS9? Rebirth? Reconciliation? Healing?

Seven years ago, he fought the urge to venture down and join them, more out of curiosity than any other motivation. His memory took him back to the moment when the Cardassian patrol had suddenly emerged from the forest adjacent to the ceremony site and opened fire on the Bajorans. He had frozen in horror at first. Then one of the Cardassians looked in his direction, maybe noticing... something. Shaken to by this, he had scrambled away around the hill, careful to stay concealed by the natural landscape along the way. Not looking back, and pretending not to hear.

He shook his head now to clear his mind, then turned into Quark's, hoping the Ferengi had finally received the shipment of kanar he had been promising.

He was anxious for tomorrow, for the opportunity to burn his renewal scroll there on DS9... Open to whatever relief and redemption it might bring him.