The week was merely half through, but with the crown being passed in just two days time, the entire glen was already half touched with the season?s festive odds and ends. Paper lanterns that had yet to be hung were still piled beside the rough, thick tree trunks lining forest paths. The May Pole still lay on its side. Hay bales still stood in tall, neat rows on the back of the cart that brought them there earlier in the week. Posters had haunted the streets for weeks, and word of mouth set their already loud, textual proclamations to a wild buzz of here and there gossip that had nearly every soul in the city positively mad with excitement. There was still a bit to be done, but that didn?t make the atmosphere any less magical; didn?t make the air in the endless, newly green roil of the glen any less electric. Spring was here. Summer was to come. And the whole realm knew it.
There, amongst the empty night air, deeper still in the glen than the festivities were due to travel, sat the current reigning May Queen?s caravan. It?d recently been the victim of a whirlwind cleaning; the wheels were freshly sanded and painted, the shutters dusted and burnished finely, even the chimney gleamed clean and new in the bright, pre-solstice moonlight. Inside, all the shelves had had a thorough dusting of the likes they hadn?t seen in near a year. Herbs were rewrapped and restrung, stocks were sorted and circulated, rugs had been beaten and hung out to soak up some fresh air, bedding had been laundered, and every surface that could be polished now shone with the brightness of a new mirror. Surrounded by the serenity of new, green growth, a spruced up homestead, and the babble of the creek she?d settled nearby, Lilliana McClae emerged from her pristine home with a great weight gone from her shoulders. There in the pale of her face, however, despite all her recent work, a violent spark of energy still burned quite brightly. It was in the eyes you see. Molten things they were, always looked like a freshly split lava vein ready to spill over; they were one of the only things a passerby could pick up from the gypsy and see she was much more than some cherubic buxom of a woman.
Vain as any good hedonist should be, Lilli had never found the heart to glamour and mask her eyes abnormal nature. Or her hair. While it wasn?t as startling as her eyes, given the many races and all their exotic features gracing the city, it was still a vibrant bit of her that couldn?t be ignored when she was around. Voluminous, at times lion proud, and always, always fire stricken from the tips down to the deepest roots. This witch was marked by magic and fire from the day she was born, and it was that fire flickering in her now, urging her to act.
?A gif?? tha? seems in order, doesn? i??? She murmured aloud, despite her lack of company. Turning those large, feral eyes toward the quiet babble of the creek, to the shore lining the other side, Lilliana?s lips found the will to smile. There, beneath the bale of the twin moons she?d often seen the fragmented glitter of uncut stone and precious metals gleaming amidst the thick clay beds.
?? so a gif? i? shall be, m?Goddess. Yer chosen have gone t?oo long w? ou? a corona t? mat?ch yer own.? There she was, talking again with nothing but the wind to answer. And oddly, answer it did. Whispering through the trees and rushing in watery gibberish across the fresh, clear glister of the creek.
Without a care to the water, nor it?s depth, Lilliana began a slow, easy wade into the sluggish current. She could feel the rich, fertile silt and clay beneath her feet; conforming, sinking, squishing between her naked toes. After a few moments, the skirts around her waist, along with the fiery curls swarming her shoulders began to sink with the weight of the water. She was nearly there-just about in the middle of it all, and all the better, seeing as she only had a slim line of air between her nose and the cool creek. Then her eyes were on the move again, focusing down through the murk as it settled, back onto the shine of the precious, unearthed treasures loaded in the clay beds beneath.
And then? Oh then.
She dove down.
The spell was there on her lips, burning at the forefront of her mind like a prayer she couldn?t quite breathe out. The water made it impossible, yet she tried anyway. This was very difficult magic, she?d been told, but with her spirit in the right place and her body so near the pieces she needed, failure simply wasn?t in the cards.
The leaves are budding across the land
on the ash and oak and hawthorn trees.
Magic rises around us in the forests
and the wind is filled with laughter and love.
Unable to speak it, she had to will it. Be it, think it. The time was ripe, as were the moons, as were the supplies. All was aligned, all was ready and at the wait; all that was needed was her magic. Her fire. Even the most fickle and fine of blacksmiths could spout the necessities of water for their craft, and Lilli was no different. Her hands were deep in the mucky clay, her nails scraped and protested against the rich deposits of minerals, but still she prayed.
Dear lady, we offer ye a gift,
a gathering of earthen boughs picked by our hearts,
woven into the circle of endless life.
The bright colors of the soil herself
blend together to honor ye,
Queen of May,as we give ye honor this day.
There, beneath the bubble and ripple of the water, a most glorious light began to glow-as if the sun had been swallowed by wetlands. Lilliana was the source, and the center; the product was burning in her hands, forming of it?s own accord; wrought with nothing but the will of magic to guide it?s shape. Had the gypsy witch any breath, or any thought to take a breath, she?d surely die. She?d been submerged for some time, and the whole of her was as bright and gilded as the gift being birthed between her clenched hands.
Spring is here and the land is fertile,
ready to offer up gifts in thy name.
We pay ye tribute, mine lady
daughter of the Fair
and ask ye for blessings this Beltane.
Water erupted from the creek in a violent spire, shining gold light and diamond water drops in every which way. This gave way to the overflow of magic; magic that rolled up and away in either direction from the site of it's happening in the same way a fierce wind might take to the land and touch all that found themselves in their path. The water however, it dissolved upon hitting the ground, of course, but in the place of each drop that fell, a bit of rampant growth sprung up. Rare flowers, fantastical bits of flora, fabled blossoms that came but once a millennia, seeds never to be seen again, all growing at a sensational rate. Amongst these miracle growths, a very sodden, very out of breath witch emerged from the murk of the creek, clinging at the grass. For all the light her body held but moments before, she was pale as ice now; exhausted, but thoroughly pleased. Stuffed between the white curl of her knuckles was the prize. The gift. A crown fit for a queen. The torch that would pass from May Queen to May Queen in their fair Rhydin.
Set in the strongest and finest of golds, and amethyst, and fresh water pearls. It was a gift as offered up from the ground as it was taken. A work between man and magic and nature combined; birthed between the world of fire and water. Though she only would be wearing it for a few days, Lilliana felt little sorrow. Carefully, oh so carefully, the gypsy, still soaking and very, very tired, walked back across to her caravan to find the beautiful relic a place to stay safe until the eve of the crowning...
__ ______________________~*~_________________________ _
__ ______________________~*~_________________________ _
http://www.heartsongs-crystal-wands-crowns.com/crown_floral.jpg
OOC NOTE: The May Queen Crown item was created during the 2011 May Queen voting, and is a symbol to be passed from wearer to wearer on an annual basis. Past winners will receive a token to keep, but the crown will always be a thing to be shared, as any crown well should be. As a thing of magic, the crown is very much endowed with certain gifts, and while made of gold and certain stones, the style could be subject to change based on the wearer. It's up to the player to decide, as are the 'gifts' and 'magic' that may come with the crown; it could be luck, it could be a get-out-of-jail-free-card. Roll with it. It's a wonderful honor and an even more wonderful outlet for play!]]
There, amongst the empty night air, deeper still in the glen than the festivities were due to travel, sat the current reigning May Queen?s caravan. It?d recently been the victim of a whirlwind cleaning; the wheels were freshly sanded and painted, the shutters dusted and burnished finely, even the chimney gleamed clean and new in the bright, pre-solstice moonlight. Inside, all the shelves had had a thorough dusting of the likes they hadn?t seen in near a year. Herbs were rewrapped and restrung, stocks were sorted and circulated, rugs had been beaten and hung out to soak up some fresh air, bedding had been laundered, and every surface that could be polished now shone with the brightness of a new mirror. Surrounded by the serenity of new, green growth, a spruced up homestead, and the babble of the creek she?d settled nearby, Lilliana McClae emerged from her pristine home with a great weight gone from her shoulders. There in the pale of her face, however, despite all her recent work, a violent spark of energy still burned quite brightly. It was in the eyes you see. Molten things they were, always looked like a freshly split lava vein ready to spill over; they were one of the only things a passerby could pick up from the gypsy and see she was much more than some cherubic buxom of a woman.
Vain as any good hedonist should be, Lilli had never found the heart to glamour and mask her eyes abnormal nature. Or her hair. While it wasn?t as startling as her eyes, given the many races and all their exotic features gracing the city, it was still a vibrant bit of her that couldn?t be ignored when she was around. Voluminous, at times lion proud, and always, always fire stricken from the tips down to the deepest roots. This witch was marked by magic and fire from the day she was born, and it was that fire flickering in her now, urging her to act.
?A gif?? tha? seems in order, doesn? i??? She murmured aloud, despite her lack of company. Turning those large, feral eyes toward the quiet babble of the creek, to the shore lining the other side, Lilliana?s lips found the will to smile. There, beneath the bale of the twin moons she?d often seen the fragmented glitter of uncut stone and precious metals gleaming amidst the thick clay beds.
?? so a gif? i? shall be, m?Goddess. Yer chosen have gone t?oo long w? ou? a corona t? mat?ch yer own.? There she was, talking again with nothing but the wind to answer. And oddly, answer it did. Whispering through the trees and rushing in watery gibberish across the fresh, clear glister of the creek.
Without a care to the water, nor it?s depth, Lilliana began a slow, easy wade into the sluggish current. She could feel the rich, fertile silt and clay beneath her feet; conforming, sinking, squishing between her naked toes. After a few moments, the skirts around her waist, along with the fiery curls swarming her shoulders began to sink with the weight of the water. She was nearly there-just about in the middle of it all, and all the better, seeing as she only had a slim line of air between her nose and the cool creek. Then her eyes were on the move again, focusing down through the murk as it settled, back onto the shine of the precious, unearthed treasures loaded in the clay beds beneath.
And then? Oh then.
She dove down.
The spell was there on her lips, burning at the forefront of her mind like a prayer she couldn?t quite breathe out. The water made it impossible, yet she tried anyway. This was very difficult magic, she?d been told, but with her spirit in the right place and her body so near the pieces she needed, failure simply wasn?t in the cards.
The leaves are budding across the land
on the ash and oak and hawthorn trees.
Magic rises around us in the forests
and the wind is filled with laughter and love.
Unable to speak it, she had to will it. Be it, think it. The time was ripe, as were the moons, as were the supplies. All was aligned, all was ready and at the wait; all that was needed was her magic. Her fire. Even the most fickle and fine of blacksmiths could spout the necessities of water for their craft, and Lilli was no different. Her hands were deep in the mucky clay, her nails scraped and protested against the rich deposits of minerals, but still she prayed.
Dear lady, we offer ye a gift,
a gathering of earthen boughs picked by our hearts,
woven into the circle of endless life.
The bright colors of the soil herself
blend together to honor ye,
Queen of May,as we give ye honor this day.
There, beneath the bubble and ripple of the water, a most glorious light began to glow-as if the sun had been swallowed by wetlands. Lilliana was the source, and the center; the product was burning in her hands, forming of it?s own accord; wrought with nothing but the will of magic to guide it?s shape. Had the gypsy witch any breath, or any thought to take a breath, she?d surely die. She?d been submerged for some time, and the whole of her was as bright and gilded as the gift being birthed between her clenched hands.
Spring is here and the land is fertile,
ready to offer up gifts in thy name.
We pay ye tribute, mine lady
daughter of the Fair
and ask ye for blessings this Beltane.
Water erupted from the creek in a violent spire, shining gold light and diamond water drops in every which way. This gave way to the overflow of magic; magic that rolled up and away in either direction from the site of it's happening in the same way a fierce wind might take to the land and touch all that found themselves in their path. The water however, it dissolved upon hitting the ground, of course, but in the place of each drop that fell, a bit of rampant growth sprung up. Rare flowers, fantastical bits of flora, fabled blossoms that came but once a millennia, seeds never to be seen again, all growing at a sensational rate. Amongst these miracle growths, a very sodden, very out of breath witch emerged from the murk of the creek, clinging at the grass. For all the light her body held but moments before, she was pale as ice now; exhausted, but thoroughly pleased. Stuffed between the white curl of her knuckles was the prize. The gift. A crown fit for a queen. The torch that would pass from May Queen to May Queen in their fair Rhydin.
Set in the strongest and finest of golds, and amethyst, and fresh water pearls. It was a gift as offered up from the ground as it was taken. A work between man and magic and nature combined; birthed between the world of fire and water. Though she only would be wearing it for a few days, Lilliana felt little sorrow. Carefully, oh so carefully, the gypsy, still soaking and very, very tired, walked back across to her caravan to find the beautiful relic a place to stay safe until the eve of the crowning...
__ ______________________~*~_________________________ _
__ ______________________~*~_________________________ _
http://www.heartsongs-crystal-wands-crowns.com/crown_floral.jpg
OOC NOTE: The May Queen Crown item was created during the 2011 May Queen voting, and is a symbol to be passed from wearer to wearer on an annual basis. Past winners will receive a token to keep, but the crown will always be a thing to be shared, as any crown well should be. As a thing of magic, the crown is very much endowed with certain gifts, and while made of gold and certain stones, the style could be subject to change based on the wearer. It's up to the player to decide, as are the 'gifts' and 'magic' that may come with the crown; it could be luck, it could be a get-out-of-jail-free-card. Roll with it. It's a wonderful honor and an even more wonderful outlet for play!]]