Topic: Holly and Snowflakes

Angel of Death

Date: 2014-02-23 22:48 EST
Snow drifted softly over the grounds outside the windows of Mage house. Frost clinging tight to the windows revealing it's crystalline patterns. The kitchen fit to burst with sweet sugar covered morsels and the smell of warm drinks. Miranda and Angel had taken it upon themselves to decorate the large living room. A hearty fire crackled away while Angel sat on the couch reading and Miranda perched upon the wooden ladder making small ornaments. The apron tied around her waist had small rocks of metal; she slowly formed into festive shapes. "Angel, darling are you doing alright?"

"I'm okay. Although there are some big words." Sticking out her tongue trying to make sense of all the words, the book nestled in her hands a copy of Yule tales. Bunny flopped on the couch near by, Angel's feet dangling over the end of the cushion.

Miranda Branson

Date: 2014-02-23 22:49 EST
"Just remember, you are bigger than the words." Chuckling as she set a snowflake dangling on a limb tree.

'Sometimes,' Atticus thought as he roamed down hallways and corridors, '....the life giving magic works...too well.' Ahead of him, following as much by the rhythmic click of nails upon stone, as by tracer spells layered over the creatures, he followed two of his Pack; as far as he could determine, and the closer he drew the more certain he was, they were seeking out the smell of....cooking?

No, that couldn't be right.

They were...made things.

His eyebrows rose further as he entered the kitchen proper, and saw that only one of the creatures had come this way, and was even now snuffling towards Angel. He sighed, and muttered softly, "Rabbit....Figures."

Atticus DArcstorm

Date: 2014-02-23 22:51 EST
Looking away from his initial quarry and taking note of the more festive changes being wrought, each recorded in turn in his mind's eye until his gaze fell upon....the Shining One.

He gave his head the barest of shakes, glad not to be caught with the, if temporary, stupefied look on his face, before he addressed her, across the room, and just loud enough that he was heard, not booming, "My lady," Remember the High Speech, you learned as a Child" When you weren't playing with your 'toys'" She's noble born, offer a compliment, fool! Regard, the work she has done for this celebration her kind insists on! Say"He blinked again, drowning out the droning buzz of lessons that could never be drilled into his head, no matter the tutor, though he tried. His eyes fell upon the counter, and the sweets laid out across them, and he inhaled deeply; and now distracted, thus finished his greeting, "...smell delicious." Innocence painted his features, and it was in fact, sincere.

Angel of Death

Date: 2014-02-23 22:54 EST
"Rabbit!" Setting the book down Angel wiggled her way off the couch and hugged the dog that had walked with her the night the bad guy tired to take her. "You can have sweets too! This is ging-gerie people, fudge and snowballs and, and, bark!" She proudly held up the mess of chocolate and crushed candy canes. Angel knew not to give it to dogs, but that wouldn't stop her from sharing a gingerbread man later.

Miranda's mint green eyes looked down from her perch at Atticus. Angel chimed in before her leaving her only to chuckle. "It is good to see you again, Sir Atticus. Is there something I can help you with?" She was already starting on another snowflake. The small hunk of silver pooling between her fingers and weaving delicate crystal looking structures building out like lace.

Atticus raised a hand to brush back the hair in danger of veiling his eyes, the action providing an unconscious opportunity to focus more on what she was....his hand paused and midnight hued locks fell through his fingers as his eyes watched the silvered liquid being spun. Hearing Angel's promises to Rabbit, he addressed off hand, but not really focusing on her at the moment, "One of the benefits of them not being real do-" turning more completely to Miranda, "I....actually, maybe....I could help you?"

Miranda Branson

Date: 2014-02-23 22:55 EST
Glancing now back to Angel and Rabbit intentionally, though still speaking with Miranda, "I am afraid I am not familiar with your...Yule, custom, but it, what you're doing makes....gives it the sense of ....there's a sense of ....rightness" That's not the word, I want..."

His last comment was muttered, as the drone once again sounded in his mind's eye, The Celebration of Winter Solstice, Atticus. Were you not paying attention' Remember your people, at all" Or were you too interested in the Puhra Dahli machines" ....We, the Kroatoan called it, 'The Long Night'. Again, he dulled it to a muted buzz. "We had....my people had similar celebrations, I guess. I just....they didn't interest me as much, then. "My People weren't exactly as accepting as this Coven is, either, though." "I don't think that will stop my daughter from feeding Rabbit a cookie or two and she is right. You are welcome to what you like. There is still some hot cocoa in the kitchen if you need to warm up with your sweet tooth." Miranda hung the snowflake and made her way down the ladder pondering over his words.

Atticus DArcstorm

Date: 2014-02-23 22:57 EST
If he had never had interest in his own celebrations then why Yule? Saying nothing of it, her feet nimbly landed on the ground, the metal chiming in her apron pockets. "Help is always welcome though not expected. If you have other things to do, please do not let us hold you up with our merry making. If you are curious about the customs ask away and Angel and I will do our best to answer." She nodded her head as she looked between Atticus and Angel, keeping an ever watchful eye on her daughter.

"I can get the chocolate drink for you!" Angel was scratching between Rabbit's ears while the creature chewed on a gingerbread man. "I can try to read you the stories in my Christmas book too! I was reading about the battle." Beaming up from her new place on the floor in the center of it all. Her own stuffed bunny looking down at her.

His eyebrows rose again at Miranda's words, and it was only the most basic drive to be polite that fended him from interrupting her; Angel on the other hand completely rolled over him, metaphorically, in her exuberance. His shell broke, more than momentarily, for every time it -did- break....it was for a little longer. It wouldn't last the night, but a few moments, perhaps. He smiled, quite whole heartedly. "....I can tell, you don't expect...help."

Angel of Death

Date: 2014-02-23 22:59 EST
She hadn't expected it when they'd first met either, now had she, "But....I'd still," his eyes slid down to Angel again, and he shook his head momentarily at her feeding Rabbit, before looking back to Miranda and meeting her eyes, mint greens meeting his own deep blue, almost violet, "I'd like to be a part of, whatever...this is," his breath caught hesitantly, "....I think I'll be staying here, for....a while. I've never had that opportunity, to stay, in one place. So I'd like to..."Help" He realized he'd been rambling, somewhat, and glanced again down to Angel, shaking his head at the fast friendship between her and the....'Dog', the blasted thing made friends more affectionately than he could.

Perhaps the Master had a slight hint of jealously somewhere under all those healed over emotions, but he smiled anyways, "It's fortunate for him he has a stomach of cast iron," said too earnestly to be a lie, or even exaggeration, much the same as what would follow, "....what?s chocolate?"

"I'll go get it! With whipped cream and a peppermint stick dipped in chocolate and sprinkles!"

Poor Atticus.

He had unleashed the sugar hound.

Miranda Branson

Date: 2014-02-23 23:01 EST
Leaping up from the floor Angel raced for the kitchen and then turned around waiting for her mommy's approval. When it was given her shadow swallowed her whole. The clink of ceramic and mixing was heard briefly before Angel reappeared next to Atticus. Pulled out of the inky depths, her little hands full of a Santa mug with a whipped cream cap. Red and green sugar sprinkles all over and stuck to her fingers. The peppermint stick poked out the top of the cream awkwardly. "It's nummy. Try it!" If Atticus didn't Rabbit was slinking up to take a lick for him.

Moving closer to Atticus in case Angel miss placed her shadow, she picked up her own mug and took a drink. "Forgive me. I didn't wish to imply that you were unwanted. I simply didn't wish to intrude upon work or any personal matters you might be handling." Taking a sip to hid her chuckle, Miranda watched as Rabbit crept slowly towards Angel's hands. "Hot chocolate is a milky drink with melted chocolate and all sorts of delightful things can be added to it. There are other drinks of Yule, but this one is age appropriate for Angel."

Miranda was trying not to struggle with herself. This was only their second Yule after the death of Morgan and in small was she was still adjusting to being a single mother again.

Atticus DArcstorm

Date: 2014-02-23 23:03 EST
Rabbit had already fouled up his night once tonight, though in retrospect, listening to Miranda, getting to enjoy Angel's unusual energy....maybe he actually owed Rabbit something, quite the opposite of his initial thoughts when following the 'beastie'.

Still.

He wasn't taking Atticus's cocoa.

Atticus himself couldn't help but smile as he took it from her, it looked like the festive nature of the room dressed down into a single mug, and he raised it to his lips, hesitantly. And drank quickly, eyes closed as he took one, two, three swallows. Perhaps too much, and perhaps it was again, only his mind's eye - but he could have sworn he could feel his pupils dilating at the rich assault of creams and sugars, mints and chocolate; and suddenly....picking only one of them to pay attention to was more difficult, and he felt a little light headed.

Amazing, what a little sugar can do to someone who has not generally felt the need to indulge in such luxurious delicacies.

Angel of Death

Date: 2014-02-23 23:05 EST
"Ms. Branson," Chastising inner voice reminded him, Lady! "I....I did not take it as you implying that, and perhaps," his brow furrowed and he chose another tack, "....what you're doing, it is a personal matter to me; it's..." more quietly, though his head spun a little bit from the sugar, "I would like to build a home, here, so....I think....I had best....get used to the customs," softer still, "shouldn't I?" He was staring at her, his eyes searching....though he wasn't sure what for, and became self conscious yet again, his gaze slipping down to Angel a smile once again painted his features, though it was a little artificial, that was again - due to the sugar. He blinked repeatedly at her, each one more exaggerated than the last.

Children, so much easier to talk to. He'd never learned, when he was younger, the coping mechanisms some other, harder children did, to defend themselves, attack others; so he'd sought solace away from people, which had not blunted his emotions, but had blunted his ability further to express them as he wanted.

"You will like Yule!" Angel had pulled her book and stuffed bunny onto the floor patting the ground next to her for the dog to join. "There are all kinds of presents and trees, lights and goodies, kissing balls and bells and the battle!" Gasping a little and looking between her mother and Atticus, her purple eyes began to turn red. "Mommy can we make him the Holly king for the day?"

Miranda Branson

Date: 2014-02-23 23:07 EST
Angel did her best to hold up the book. Gilded pages showed a man with dark hair and holly around his head with a sword doing battle with a man with horns sprouting from his head. Off to the side stood a woman in long flowing robes. "Can you please?" Pouting a bit hoping it would guide things her way.

"I think that is up to Sir Atticus, darling, but yes I could make him a holly crown." Miranda chuckled, not about to tell him that at the end of the battle the Holly king dies and comes back to do battle and win against the Oak king in Fall.

Another story for another time.

Dilated eyes fixated on the book, if only long enough to take in the implications of the girls words and determine what she meant by the picture she was showing him. A warrior, it seemed, with a sword..." He'd known many, and more; among the few he could consider real friends, were men like those, from the First Sword. He smiled at Miranda, hearing her chuckle. Yes, she must see now, what the others did back home.

He dropped to a knee, in order that he could meet Angel eye to eye, smiling, but perhaps somewhat rueful, "I would, little one, if you wished but," looking to Miranda again, then back to Angel, "I don't think," glancing at the illustration, "....I think there are probably men better than me to be this, 'Holly' king?"

Atticus DArcstorm

Date: 2014-02-23 23:24 EST
Maybe, back home, he should have listened, paid attention to what they'd tried to teach him, and not waste his time in meaningless flights of fancy over magic and machines.

Been a warrior. Saved the day. Won the attention of the fair maiden.

His thoughts were beginning to grow despondent, but had no more than started down that road when - still on his knees - he watched as another animal, with silence and stealth, had made its way in undetected; the other Hound he'd been looking for, one that was frequently at his side -Stranger. Though it didn't come first for him, instead announcing it's presence by dipping its head underneath Miranda's fingers as they rested at her side, pushing his head up beneath them.

Miranda Branson

Date: 2014-02-23 23:38 EST
Mint green eyes looked at her side with a soft smile for the hound. Gently, her fingers worked behind each ear and down to the back of its neck in small circles. The weight of thought was heavier than most knew and showed in its own tell tale was. With one last circle, Miranda moved to kneel on the ground in front of Atticus. Out of her pockets came several pieces of silver, gold and copper. Warmth rolled off her sink as she reached out between them to work. "The Holly king is much more than a warrior. He is the half his brother can never be, and sees what the world needs even if it doesn't. Guiding it into a slumber and for the people to connect, to love and dream of all the wondrous things they will make while he slumbers after battle. In truth, he battles for one thing and one thing only. His heart."

While she spoke the metal pooled only to rise in fine strands. Fingers nimbly working to create a grapevine crown decorated in shimmering holly, mistletoe and gold ribbon. The berries deep hues of crimson, leaves with delicate details of veins and even though it was metal, the ribbon danced in the slightest shift of air. Rising on her knees, Miranda placed the crown on Atticus' head. "Holly king Atticus." Tilting and bowing her head with grace and kindness.

Atticus DArcstorm

Date: 2014-03-07 01:32 EST
Epilogue

The hounds bounded back into his quarters, all seven of them, and he was glad for the mutable properties of the Coven's interior " and not for the first time " though he doubted that whosoever had laid those initial enchantments upon the grounds and buildings had designed, or thought, that they would be used quite as Atticus was manipulating them now.

Not when the back portion of his own quarters had grown in size to a little over an acre, to give the creatures room to race about in a fashion that they wouldn't bother his work, though in general they were well behaved and not interfering with his work.

He stood, staring, towards the five doors on the far side of his chambers. At one, in particular. The only one that he hadn't opened yet.

As he looked on, Stranger pushed his head up underneath Atticus hand. The geas that lay upon the beasts let them assume normal size within the Coven, lest their mere presence alone destroy things. After much nuzzling on the Hounds part, Atticus looked down.

Come, play" the Hounds thoughts, basic as they were, filtered into Atticus through the auspices of telepathy Bluefire had allowed him to instil in the beasts.

"Not now, I'm thinking?" Atticus only response, as he stared at that doorway. The moment lingered, and he glanced then to the crown that lay on a shelf of its own, closer to his personal living area than work area. His entire quarters, to one degree or another, was dedicated to the study of his Craft " either through practical or hypothetical means, books, treatises, minor artefacts and other items that bordered just above the mundane. The crown, finely wrought by magic, and of precious metals, sat by itself.

Play. Your leash sits on the shelf. the thought came at him from Pagan, who now entered the room as well, nuzzling up beneath his other hand. Come.

"What leash?" Atticus asked almost off hand, not really paying mind.

The one you long for, with that Pagan padded over towards the shelf, and circled twice beneath it, looking up at the crown.

By this time, Atticus had followed her and taken it off the shelf, frowning at both the beasts and turning his back to them, crown in hand as he continued to look at it. "It's not a leash' it's a crown?"

Images flooded through his mind.

Stone walls...

Iron bars"

A golden cage to house an exotic bird that could mimic human speech"

Too many words, Man. Stranger and Pagan both trotted back out through the door which opened into the yard. Atticus glanced after them, a mere cursory gesture, and returned his attention to the crown.

He couldn't help but think the mutts were nothing but trouble; either that, or they were part of his salvation and could teach him more of his humanity than he had the natural instinct for " or perhaps it was to simply hone that natural instinct which had been suppressed"

His mind wandered, still he fingered the crown. And Bluefire began to glow.

As he looked down at the crown, turning it in his hands, he murmured quietly. Not words of magic, simply a name. Each turn of quiet left his lips a horizontal line, and each murmured verse of the name left them turning subtly upwards at the corners, into a smile.

The crown was turned over and over again, Bluefire's cerulean radiance flowing down through his arm to cover the item as he turned it. Each turn, the crown grew a little smaller, not losing mass or weight, but being made more dense, more compact; all the while the crown would retain all the other aspects it held before.

His eyes went to the doors again as he worked, hardly aware of what he was crafting. There was the paddock for the Hounds, and the doorway to Horizon on one side of the unopened door. On the other side a doorway keyed to the Kiergaardian gate system, and one last doorway which opened inside the city proper. That middle door of the five remained unopened, and transfixing his attention.

"It's not a leash?" he murmured quietly, the crown " the circlet of precious metals " now encircled the ring finger of his right hand, and Bluefire's glow had faded away. He wished for a moment, upon looking down to see what had been wrought, that changing the size of something like he'd just done was not quite as mundane an event for himself. Then perhaps he'd have more conscious control over it. Instead, it was autonomous. Something akin to drawing a breath.

Though many mages were, he was not usually given to using clich' affectations such as magical rings.

But the crown never sat upon the shelf again.