The old wooden chair sounds out in protest to the pressure put on it by its current occupant. Esme raises a mug of chamomile tea to their lips and takes a sip, continuing to sway back and forth in their rocking chair. This is the perfect kind of night for them - stargazing from their chair, warming their toes on a roaring fire, whistling a homely tune, and of course, a relaxing cup of tea.
Creak.
The only thing missing is some company to enjoy it with. Now, where is-?
"Oh hey, there you are!" says Esme to the approaching visitor, their face becoming even more wrinkled as a smile forms on it. The visitor walks across the wide clearing towards them. "The others radioed me you'd be coming by tonight. Chester didn't give you too much trouble, I hope? They can be a little... talkative."
The visitor sits down on a particularly mossy log next to the fire, reaching into their pack and pulling out a bag of marshmallows. It opens with a pop, and both companions gingerly place a marshmallow on the end of their own stick, roasting them above the fire.
Creak.
"Hey, watch out! Yours is already burnt black! Oh stars above, you're eating it like that? You're just like Gael..." Esme shakes their head in disapproval before munching down on their own mallow. Roasted to a perfect golden hue, its brittle exterior easily gives way and they savor the soft, sweet, gooey fluff within. They lean back in their chair and see the glittering stars bedazzling the dark sky.
Still staring at the stars, Esme swallows and says, "How many constellations do you know, young one? And I don't just mean their names, I mean their stories. Ah, here's one..." Esme points a long, wrinkled finger at a cluster of stars, half blocked from view by a pine tree. "That's the Sovereign. Here's a little cheat: you see those three bright stars, extending out on the right? That's his scythe, it's often very easy to find."
The visitor cranes their neck to see through the branches as the elderly Esme scans the sky for another constellation. "And look there! That bright star marks the center of the Dahlia constellation. Around it are the petals, and right there is its stem..."
They glance down at their companion, who has a look of confusion spreading across their face. "Ah, have you not heard of her? She's one of the more ancient incarnates. She was the incarnation of the air element, back when those folk still got their own constellations... Ah, speaking of, there's old Iggy."
In Esme's mind, a group of stars just above a faraway tree connect to form the shape of an eye, a fire blazing within the iris instead of a pupil. "Iggy, or rather Ignatius of the fire element, may be the oldest incarnate still alive today. That is," and here Esme leans forward, looking the visitor in the eye as they were about to dunk another mallow into the flames, "if you actually believe they exist."
The two hold this pose for a brief second, staring intensely, before Esme rocks back in the chair laughing.
Creak.
"Of course, no one knows the whereabouts of the water incarnate. But you see," Esme continues, ignoring the marshmallow-related tragedy occurring before them, "Ignatius is a special case. The story goes that he actively travels the world, mingling with humans. The only incarnate known to do so. He keeps a journal full of names and keepsakes, memories of all the friends he's made. How else would he remember them? He's lived a very long life, you know."
Esme sighs, smiling to themself as they bask in the glow of the stars. The fire crackles peacefully, the heat keeping them warm on this chilly night.
"I've actually met him, you know."
A blackened marshmallow is spat onto the ground, settling into a gooey, moist heap.
"Haha, was that a spit take? Or did the taste of that burnt marshmallow reach your tongue? It's true, though. Now, you won't find my name written in that old journal of his, but I've seen it with my own eyes. It's huge and delicate, yellowing pages sticking out from when he has to glue more in, pressed leaves, flowers... hair. Hey, it's a good choice when you have no other option. That's how he explained it, at least."
Creak.
"Then there was Theo. A sort of student of Iggy's. He had his symbol emblazoned on his shoulder - an eye with flame in it. He was a boxer I believe. Or a martial artist? That part's a bit fuzzy, but - and this I remember clearly - he told me Iggy's blessing had made him stronger when fighting, referring to the mark on his shoulder. Said something about how it was Iggy's "wish". Didn't stop him from getting his teeth knocked out though, heheh. Ah, my throat's getting a little dry from all this talking."
Esme took another drink from their chamomile tea. "Aw sardines, my tea's gone cold. Well, it was nice speaking to ya. Thanks for giving an old geezer like myself some company. I imagine you have more important things to get on with." That last sentence had ended with a wink.
The visitor stood up, offering the bag of marshmallows as compensation for the anecdotes. Esme graciously took the bag - it would be well taken care of, they assured. Shouldering their pack, the visitor exited the clearing, leaving behind the gentle creaks of the arthritic rocking chair.