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Wintertime in Vylbrand was typically quite mild, with the ocean currents bringing warm air from the New World and keeping the people of La Noscea nice and toasty all winter long. The winter of 1578, by contrast, was marked by a biting cold; a massive winter storm barreling down from Coerthas, burying the land of Mor Dhona in fulms upon fulms of snow, before crossing the Strait of Merlthor and finding its way onto La Noscean shores, bringing a blizzard the likes of which the island-dwelling people of Limsa Lominsa had never seen before.
For Apollo, this was nothing to worry about. She was used to the cold; she spent her youth on the Magna Glacies, the icy wasteland upon which the frozen city of Garlemald was built. While today she counted herself a Lominsan, even at present she was just as home on the beaches of Costa del Sol as she was in the frost-covered streets of Ishgard. Surviving the winter in her Limsan home was an easy feat; an extra layer or two of flannel, a few logs in the previously disused fireplace, and a nice cup of hot chocolate are all that's needed to keep the cold out of the house. Really, she only had one reason to go outside and brave the biting winds and falling snow, but that'd have to wait for sunset.
Knock, knock, knock.
Welp. No rest for the weary, it seems.
Apollo got up from her seat - a ridiculously comfy upholstered chair that she worried would eventually trap her with its pure softness - and began the trek up the stairs, out of the basement and into the main foyer. Opening the double doors at the entrance revealed a familiar sight; two young Elezen in matching red and blue jackets, smiling even as the blizzard dumped ilms of snow on their white-haired heads.
"Alphinaud? Alisaie?" Apollo scratched her cheek, giving the two a befuddled expression. "The hells are you two doing here? I mean, I'm glad to see you, but I would've figured you two had somewhere warmer to be."
Alphinaud let out a soft chuckle, punctuated by the clattering of Alisaie's teeth through her smile. "A wise guess, Apollo," Alphinaud replied, "but I'm afraid our Starlight plans have gotten us stranded on this fair isle for the time being."
"We were supposed to be in Revenant's Toll for Starlight," Alisaie explained, rubbing her hands together in hopes of getting her hands warmed up. "But then the Rising Stones got buried in snow, Merlthor practically froze over, and now the port's shut down. So we're huddled in Limsa this year."
Apollo nodded. "Yeah, I heard from Tataru on linkpearl. Apparently the first night, the snow went up to the top of the Rising Stones's doorframe. But what are you two doing at my house instead of… I don't know, a nice, cozy room at the Drowning Wench?"
"It's the winter solstice!" Alisaie said excitedly. "There's gonna be a Starlight festival on Hawker's Alley. Thancred and Shtola are going to be there, and we figured you'd want to come along too!"
Alphinaud nodded. "After everything we've been through the last few months, with all the fighting in Doma and Ala Mhigo, we all deserve a nice celebration."
Ah. Starlight. That's… "Sorry, you two. I've… got other plans." Apollo looked down, her brow furrowing as a frown crossed her face.
"Other plans?" Alisaie said, a look of confusion plastered on her and her twin brother.
"Yeah, it's…" Apollo sighed, before putting on a clearly forced smile. "Prior commitments. You know how it is. But you all have fun, alright? Tell Thancred and Y'shtola I said hello."
"Oh…" Alphinaud's brow betrayed his befuddlement, but he kept a smile. "We'll keep you in our Starlight prayers, then."
"Thank you, I appreciate that." Apollo stepped back, ready to close the door, her smile kept steady. "Happy Starlight, both of you."
"Other plans?" Even raising her voice, Alisaie was hard to hear over the hustle and bustle of the festival. "What kind of miser misses out on Starlight?"
"'Tis a mystery indeed, even for a woman such as her." Y'shtola stood, quietly thinking as she idly toyed with a thick scarf covering her neck. "I doubt she could be deterred by even this foul storm, and none of the other Scions nor Warriors of Light are anywhere near Vylbrand, so I doubt her plans are any of them."
Thancred scoffed, his head adorned with a fluffy red cap that flopped in the breeze flowing through the market. "It's no mystery at all. She's Garlean, and a former legionarius besides. Not to mention her family's own military history."
The other three Scions looked up at the Hyuran rogue, an air of silence lasting an uncomfortably long time before Alphinaud mercifully ended it. "Thancred, would you perhaps want to share what you know with the rest of the class?"
The eldest Scion's mouth perked up in a slight smile as he began to speak. "Well, Starlight originated as a Coerthan holiday. Most of Eorzea celebrates, Gyr Abania aside, but it never made its way to Ilsabard."
Alphinaud nodded. "But they still have some sort of solstice celebration, I take it?"
"They do, just like most cultures." Thancred said, looking up at the lanterns hung from the alley's ceiling. "They call it the Lamplight Festival. It's one of the rare practices in Garlean culture that even resembles anything to do with spiritualism. Every winter solstice at sunset, they put lanterns outside to guide the lost souls of the dead — typically soldiers who died defending their homeland — back to their home, so they can rest. Usually it's accompanied by a sort of… plea to the dead, I suppose. Then at sunrise, they put out the lanterns and bring them back inside."
"I never took Apollo for the sentimental type," Alisaie said, "especially not in regards to a holiday like that."
Thancred shrugged. "I imagine it's got something of an extra kick for her. The sixth anniversary of Carteneau wasn't too long ago, and it barely a year ago we were at the banquet in Ul'dah. The solstice isn't exactly a great time for her, all things considered."
Alisaie looked down, sighing in discontent, not to mention some guilt over having just called a clearly sorrowful Apollo a miser. "I don't suppose we should go back and… I don't know, offer our support?"
"I doubt she'd be receptive," Y'shtola said as she shook her head. "If she was unwilling to tell you two, the two of us she trusts more than anyone, about the true nature of her absence, I doubt she particularly wants us involved."
"'Tis a shame," Alphinaud replied. "One shouldn't be alone, today of all days."
"Indeed," Y'shtola shook her head. "But I believe, while she may be lacking for company, she won't feel truly alone this night."
The setting sun brought with it an even stronger chill. Most in La Noscea would take this time to retreat indoors, bundle up in as many layers as they own, and pray to Azeyma that the sun may someday return and banish the horrid cold. As such, it might've come as a shock for anyone looking out their icy windows to see Apollo willingly go out into the storm, carrying a small iron lantern. She walked out to the snow-covered street in front of her modest home, before turning back to the fence around her yard. Carefully, she wiped the snow from the stone wall, before setting down the lantern and lighting it. A soft orange light emanated from the lantern, a tiny flame flickering inside as Apollo shut the glass door.
"Hi, everyone." Apollo muttered to herself, smiling softly at the lantern. "I… I don't know if you're listening, but… I hope wherever you are, you can find your way back to the people who care about you."
Visions of those she had lost along the way danced through her head. "Caepio, Murena, Gemellus…" Her old unit during her Legion service, most of whom had perished at Carteneau, when Bahamut rained down unholy fire that twisted their minds and scorched their bodies. "Sorry I couldn't tell you all last year, but… I hope putting the Dreadwyrm in the ground helps you all stay at peace. And I hope there's no hard feelings about the whole 'fighting against the Empire' thing… If you knew what I knew, you'd understand, I'm sure."
Her thoughts turned to those she had met and those who had died in the last two years. A Roegadyn scholar with a fierce axe arm; "Moenbryda… I hope you're happy to hear Urianger's doing well. He misses you every day, but he's getting a little stronger with every moon that goes by." A Lalafell mage whose mastery of magic was trumped only by his cantankerous attitude; "Papalymo, you would be so proud of Lyse if you could see her now. She's grown into exactly the firebrand her people need." A Hyuran leader who Apollo couldn't help but wonder what the two of them could've done together, if things had gone differently. "Minfilia… Wherever you are, you're doing good, I'm sure of it. Some days, though… I wish I could have at least gone with you. You've been through so much. You shouldn't have to do it alone."
Finally, her thoughts turned back to home, to Garlemald, a city she fully expected to never see again. "Mother, Father… I don't know what's happened with you… I don't know if I'll ever know how things are going for you, if you're even still alive after the civil war. And I'm sure if you knew what I was doing, you'd be horrified…" Apollo struggled to hold back tears, her throat closing as she fought to maintain a smile. "But I hope one day, when all this is over, we can sit down and talk and I can tell you about everywhere I've been, everything I've done, and all the people I've met."
By this point, even the remarkably resistant Apollo had begun to feel the cold seeping into her bones, the frozen ground sucking the heat from the poor Miqo'te. Silently, she trudged through the accumulated snow, kicking her boots on the doorframe before sliding back inside to reclaim the warmth she had lost, all the while the lantern outside burned on through the night, ready to guide any wayward souls home, back where they belong.
All Apollo could hope for is that, someday, someone back home would leave a lantern out for her.