Whee.
Three daily prompts:
"sacred" - Westmark, Rosana
The trees were taller and darker than she, and seemed to know far more, and she could not decide whether the feeling they gave her was sacred or unholy. She did not like them surrounding her.
"omen" - Greek myth., H, Epi
Epimetheus is blithely blind to omens -- being things of the future. Hephaestus, having sympathy for hindsight, does not trouble to correct him.
"ocean" - Arthurian, Mordred
When Gawain returns, against all expectations, he is subtly changed, his eyes both brighter and more thoughtful. In his voice Mordred can hear the secret sound of the forest as well as the lilt of wind and ocean, no longer as familiar as his own.
And two Arthurian slash for the luffly rainbowjehan:
Percy/Gawain
Gawain is neither tall nor shining, but Percy likes him almost the best, for his friendly smile and his hands that are as much a gardener's as a swordsman's.
Mordred/Lance
It's a night for madness. My skin prickles with the irony, but you're blinded by moonlight and wine. Your hands are all over me, your talk is all of Guinevere, but I know why you sought me out: you whom my father loves.
"sacred" - Westmark, Rosana
The trees were taller and darker than she, and seemed to know far more, and she could not decide whether the feeling they gave her was sacred or unholy. She did not like them surrounding her.
"omen" - Greek myth., H, Epi
Epimetheus is blithely blind to omens -- being things of the future. Hephaestus, having sympathy for hindsight, does not trouble to correct him.
"ocean" - Arthurian, Mordred
When Gawain returns, against all expectations, he is subtly changed, his eyes both brighter and more thoughtful. In his voice Mordred can hear the secret sound of the forest as well as the lilt of wind and ocean, no longer as familiar as his own.
And two Arthurian slash for the luffly rainbowjehan:
Percy/Gawain
Gawain is neither tall nor shining, but Percy likes him almost the best, for his friendly smile and his hands that are as much a gardener's as a swordsman's.
Mordred/Lance
It's a night for madness. My skin prickles with the irony, but you're blinded by moonlight and wine. Your hands are all over me, your talk is all of Guinevere, but I know why you sought me out: you whom my father loves.