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Simril was not a festival that the Belt family typically celebrated. The patriar family tended to reserve their big parties for high holidays, where they could take advantage of the inebriation involved in feast days to angle for political advantage. A cozy reflection on the stars and one's ancestors did not fit that bill. So when Rynda and Gale retired to Waterdeep after the defeat of the netherbrain, she was delighted to learn of the custom. Stars had, after all, played a major part in their courtship. It had been under a blanket of stars that Gale had first confessed his love to her.
Despite the holiday that night, Gale was working late due to exams at Blackstaff. This gave Rynda all day to prepare. Tara helped her string lights all over the tower and she cast a bit of magic to make them twinkle like real stars. She also made an attempt at making wassail, and their kitchen filled with the scent of the season as she added cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and ginger to some hard cider she had purchased earlier that day. Dinner was not quite as fancy. Being the daughter of a Duke meant that she rarely had to cook for herself, so her skills weren’t nearly as refined as Gale’s. But she managed to pull together a simple chicken dinner with a side of green beans and potatoes. Rynda set the table with candles for ambiance and then she waited. And waited. The night dragged on and finally her stomach grumbled enough that she had to eat her meal. Afterwards, she took her mug of wassail out onto the balcony to sit and watch the stars under a warm blanket. The little lights she had set up twinkled above her as she warmed her hands on her mug.
Some time later Gale arrived home. He found the dinner she had prepared, now cold, and the charming decorations she had put up. Out on the balcony he finally found his wife, fast asleep on the bench, the blanket wrapped around her. Above her, hanging on a string of lights, was another decoration. A small sprig of mistletoe. Not wanting to let such a fortuitous decoration go to waste, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Rynda’s lips.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, my love.” He brushed the hair from her face as her eyes fluttered open. “Why don’t you make room on the bench and I will make it up to you?.”