This summer has a unique situation: there's a blue moon at the end of the summer, as the days grow shorter and the angle the sun grows lower, leading to cooler days. Klingsor, anticipating it, has harvested the remaining melons and has already uprooted the vines
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"What's all that?" he demands, seeing movement in the shadows...
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"What are those things?"
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"That's what I would like to know," he says. "And what... are you?"
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She's fought a thing that crawled out of the swamp and killed her grandmother and mother.
She's slain a were-leopard, and she's fought an abandoned church full of monsters, including a twisted Nephillim sent by a post-modern faery queen, intending to kill her.
She's released a tired immortal and outwitted another that tried to drive her mad.
She's destroyed a bottle containing "a thousand ways to die".
She's never seen anything like this. But she's perched on the wall surrounding the rose garden, and she's armed with the butcher knife she'd brought with her.
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But he hasn't gotten that far yet. And then, he sees Dancy. "Good evening," he says. "I don't believe we've met before."
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"No, we haven't," she says.
Then looking back at the battling squash, she asks, "What are those things...doing?"
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She freezes; her first thought is that a particularly inept night lurker has left their mobile phone on. Then she remembers that she hasn't seen anyone here using a phone of any kind, and besides, the noise is somehow more... organic than that.
And then she sees what's bouncing and tumbling across the lawn. She stares incredulously for a moment, then a broad, delighted grin spreads itself across her face.
"You have got to be kidding me."
She'll follow them as far as the house and then head for the kitchen.
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And if she looks closely, she might notice something angelic about him: he's not the vessel of an angel, but there's something there...
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She busies herself instead looking for any more suitable water boiling containers, while she eyes the man at the sink with undisguised curiosity. While she's waiting behind him to fill her pot - at least this way it looks like she came here purely to be helpful - she wrinkles her nose at him.
"Hi. You reek of angels, man."
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"You've got a good nose: a pretty one as well," he says, his baritenor voice mellow yet with a Jeremy Irons-esque nasal hum to it. "And I see you've encountered the latest vegetable intruders that rolled out of the night."
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