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“Frieren, are there any ways you like to celebrate the new year?”
“You’ve never asked me that question,” Heiter said pointedly from across the fire.
“Yours involves finishing that bottle, you corrupt priest.”
“Ah, if happiness is corruption, I simply must partake in it!” Heiter held up the bottle to toast the air, and Frieren smiled as her ears rung with the sound of Himmel and Eisen's laughter.
She couldn’t recall any traditions, let alone any sort of celebration like this. Long ago, Flamme often rose for the sun, but by the time Frieren would join her, the sun had already been risen for many hours.
“I’ve never done anything like this," Frieren said. It was the passing of a mere year after all, and she was getting sleepier by the minute. "Is it important to stay up so late?”
Himmel thought for a moment, then smiled and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, if you won’t make it until sunrise...” He crossed to where she was sitting and knelt at her side, lifting her hand from her lap. “May I borrow this?”
Frieren stared back at him, glancing to her hand held gently within his own. Whatever he could do with her hand, she saw little harm, so she nodded, and he brought her hand to his lips.
“Your traditions are quite strange,” Frieren said after a moment. Her skin tingled with a pleasant warmth as his fingers traced over the spot he touched before letting go. “Will you kiss Eisen and Heiter’s hands as well?”
“Ah,” Himmel’s cheeks flushed. Behind him, Heiter choked on some of his ale. “No, this tradition is not celebrated by dwarves or drunks.”
“I see…” Frieren said, not understanding in the slightest. After all, it was also not a tradition celebrated by elves.