Stavanger Bay no thanks I already 8

There was a lilting accent to the woman's words that Doe found she rather enjoyed. Her voice, too, was warm and frothy, a bit like the sea on a hot summer day. (Would she ever think again in terms of her old home? Doe didn't know if she would have had a way to describe it if she had not lived the life she had now!) Still, there was sometimes danger in such honeied words. She eyed the woman - Kitku - one more time before replying.

"Doe Cairn," she said simply, seeing no reason to weave poems for a woman who could do it well enough on her own. Still, she offered a contented grin while one ear quirked toward Chusi's sad and wandering tale. "We come together to celebrate each other; that we have lived to see another starlit, sea-kissed, moonless night," the Atoll explained, eyes sweep across the gathering that'd come to her call. "It is a time to be together and share sorrows and joys - to mourn those who were at the last Den Night, but have missed this one, and to laud those who have come new, or who have come again to be with us."

There were old words to Den Nights, too, as there were old words to the Vows. But while the Vows were sometimes spoken in the Common Tongue, Den Nights had always been sacred times, and they'd used only their softer, older words. She'd never bothered to translate them, but she supposed she would have to, now.

"What do you celebrate, Kit?" she wondered.