Festooned with the heraldry of doom, a gilded, wainscoted room, whose occupants drink ale in an oozing swarm while harpers harp a solemn tune.
The lioness gives obeisance to the new king with an offering of suffering, and warm droplets of water... Two fates inseparably soldered by misfortune, on this, the longest night then toward the light and not beyond.
Again, backwards, repetition, turning. A yule tide with no pull from the heavenly orb, burning.