Gloaming

Senna ducked down behind the hedge, giggling. Marisse was already there, and Brenac arrived moments later. The smell of baking Greenrise bread wafted down to them.   "Quick, quick," Marisse whispered, as they tossed their masks and costumes into a pile.   Senna grabbed Marisse's costume, and Brenac's mask, and the pair made quick work of the rest. Hastily fumbling with the clasp, Senna got her new outfit in place.   "See you at midnight," Brenac said, before disappearing into the darkness.   Senna gave Marisse a little wink before pulling the mask down. "Twins' luck!" she whispered before darting back out into the crowd.

  Life was not the least bit easy for the survivors of The Shattering. Numbers were few, supplies were low, despair was high. Weather had become unhinged, dumping snow on the fields in midsummer, and constantly threatening to throw a hurricane or tornado at them at any time.   The band of survivors at the Maurac Catacombs had to wait more than five years before the weather patterns stabilized enough to even study the new local climate. Finally, in 7 AS, spring came the way that spring should. The survivors cautiously planted a test field. No rains drowned it, no frost killed the tender plants. After a month passed without incident, they seeded more. One day before dawn, the colony awoke to faint green mist covering the fields. The crops had finally sprouted.   It was a measure of how hopeless and desperate they had been that this one tiny thing sparked a spontaneous celebration among the survivors. They brought out what instruments they had, improvised several others, and danced in the dewy grass. Dawn surrounded them: dawn of a new day, dawn of a new life. They praised Thirien, the Dawn Bringer, and his twin, Zharien, Keeper of the Dusk, two of the gods of their ancestors, gods they feared had abandoned them. This was the first Gloaming celebration.   Every year, that small victory was celebrated, and the idea spread along trade routes as they were established throughout what is now Polira. Everywhere, folks would rest after the planting, sharing food and blessings, singing and dancing in the twilight. When the Virelin Calendar was established, it included five intercalary days. There was one for each season's start, and one extra for Gloaming, specifically. No one in Polira would have accepted anything less.  

The gods gave one the sunrise, and one the dusk. No one knows who got which.

  As time went on, and the spring festival of Aurevalis took over more of the fertility aspects of Gloaming, the holiday swung towards the gods invoked on that famous day. The deities' ancient mythology lent itself to festival behavior. Thirien and Zharien, the twins, were known for their illusions and pranks. They were mischievous, playful tricksters who often swapped places with each other to fool the other gods. At first, they were recognized in small ways: the lighting of twinned candles around town, little street plays where the players wore masks that were mirror images of each other to play the twin gods. Soon everyone was wearing masks and costumes, leading to role-reversal and mischievous pranking.   As the Maionene Temple gained ascendancy, it decreed that the month of Maelithor should be set apart for repentance and atonement. Given that this month fell between Gloaming and the summer festival of Flamecall, many felt that the Temple might be quietly commenting on both. The imposed severity of Maelithor made Gloaming even more attractive to Polirans. Celebrations occurred, appropriately, from dusk to dawn. Now, the festivities often start the night before, and continue straight on until midnight (or later) on Gloaming itself.  

If you're still wearing your own costume at midnight, you're doing it wrong.

— Popular Bassier Valley saying

  There are regional and class variations across Polira. In the farmlands of the Bassier Valley, a costumed masquerade takes place, not in a ballroom, but in the houses and yards of the village. This provides plenty of places where people can duck out of sight to swap costumes or masks with each other. At the end of the night everyone unmasks, and a game ensues with people guessing who belonged to which costume at the start. Without fail, the villagers will find themselves with one costume too many, and no one knowing where it came from.   On Maurac Plain, there is another game that folks prefer. People pair up and the leader in each pair starts to move slowly, and the follower attempts to mirror the motions. Then they switch places. A successful round is often seen as an indication of compatibility, whether in work, home or friendship. Inevitably, the whole crowd will dissolve into laughter before the end. In Gression, celebrations are smaller, and less extravagant, but still faithfully observed by all. Sometimes, a loaf of Greenrise bread will have charms baked into it for the village to share. Each charm indicates a different fortune for the coming year. A flower, for example, means a proposal, while a skerran horn means tough times ahead.   Perhaps the most intriguing Gloaming tradition is in Auberris at the court of Valdrenn Palace. On the eve of Gloaming, the monarch "disappears", and a paper crown is left on the seat of the throne. For the duration of the festival, any one among the court and servants can seat themselves in the royal throne, and place the paper crown on their head to become monarch, for one command. By custom, these are light, trivial commands. Some festival could see the exchequer attempting cartwheels, the head cook charged with composing a sonnet, and a certain lady being forced to read that poem aloud. Meanwhile, disguised among the courtiers, the monarch gets a day off, and may even be called upon to serenade the captain of the guard.   But wherever you celebrate Gloaming, one tradition holds true. At some point in the festivities, each person will have a piece of Greenrise bread. A loaf made with sprouted wheat, it is the one last vestige of the original celebration that survives. Loaves are shared with families and neighbors, slices topped with honey or preserves are snacked on throughout the day. Dating all the way back to the Maurac Catacombs, this tradition has survived, a sign of Nature revealing the first sprouts of the year.