Solstice Eve

Beaker Folk wander out into the dark, holding their phones aloft against the darkness. they sing the Solstice Song.

All: Raise your banners high. Don't die, sun, don't die.

Archdruid: Solstice Eve! The year dies screaming.

All: And that's not the half of it.

Archdruid: Dare we hope that tomorrow will be better?

All: Eileen, we're in Tier 4. 

Archdruid: Does a light shine in the darkness?

All: If it does, it's somebody burning their furniture to keep warm.

Archdruid: But the New Year will bring hope. 

All: Have you even heard about Brexit?

Archdruid: There may be trouble ahead. But while there's moonlight, and music, and love, and romance...

All: Let's whistle in the darkness. It might scare off the demons.

Archdruid: Demons?

All: About the only thing the year hasn't thrown at us.

Archdruid: OK - throw the ritual scarecrow on the Solstice fire.

All: Bad news. That tatty, scruffy, badly-dressed figure with the unrealistic hair?

Archdruid: Yeah? 

All: Wasn't the scarecrow. It was the Prime Minister.

Archdruid: OK. Any ideas?

All: We could ritually burn some bread?

Archdruid: Best not. We'll need that wheat to horde in a few weeks.

All: It really is dark isn't it?

Archdruid: Yeah. But light a candle against the darkness. And the sun will still rise tomorrow. 

Overhead, an asteroid veers into a disturbing path. While beneath our feet, the sound of the Husborne Dragon stirring is heard.