(Untitled)

[flowers_on_skin]

It was Christmas Eve, babe...in the drunk tank, and an old man said to me, "won't see another one".

Christmas had always somewhat perplexed Eostre, if she was honest. She didn't understand. The trees were pretty. She'd always rather enjoyed the food, but it seemed to her that God got rather lost in it. The Christians had such a funny little

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[cryptogam]

Stephen had wandered into the rec room in search of more books to read, and paused to listen to the song playing on the jukebox. The singer was obviously Irish, which was what had caught his ear. The lyrics were not entirely comprehensible to him, but what he did understand made him smile wryly.

"Good day, Eostre," he said, spotting the young lady lying on the couch. "I have not seen you in some time. How goes it with you?"

[flowers_on_skin]

"Doctor Maturin," said Eostre, half sitting up and dropping a half eaten biscuit back onto her plate. "A pleasure to see you. I trust the island's been treating you decently?"

She neatly avoided the enquiry about her health. She didn't need to talk to anybody else about the constant nausea...especially when she was so enjoying her biscuits.

[cryptogam]

"Well enough," said Stephen somewhat evasively. He looked at the Christmas tree curiously. "I have never seen a tree decorated for Christmas before. I have heard it is a German custom. It seems rather heathenish to me - like the Druids or somesuch."

[flowers_on_skin]

Eostre snorted.

"Not our ways, Doctor. I was just thinking about the point of it myself." She sat up, nodding to the spare seat and holding out the plate.

"Biscuit?"

[cryptogam]

"Thank you," said Stephen, accepting a biscuit and sitting down. He was thinking about how Eostre had told him that she "used to be a goddess," and how he had thought she was speaking metaphorically at the time. Since then, he had met Death, whose claim was not at all metaphorical, and now he was not sure what to think.

"Pray, what does the tree represent? Do you know?" he asked. If anyone would know, it would be a former goddess.

[flowers_on_skin]

Eostre shrugged.

"I can't imagine. It's not my tradition, you see. We didn't do this sort of thing. Life, perhaps? Something to do with light? There's a gentleman somewhere around here who would surely be able to tell you. His name's Nick."

[cryptogam]

"Life, I suppose - since evergreen trees stay alive all winter, when everything else has died - and the lights must keep away the dark of the solstice." Stephen regarded the tree for a moment in silence, and then asked, "What is your tradition?"

[flowers_on_skin]

"One of the oldest, Doctor," she said. "The Anglo Saxon people. Eostre is an old fashioned name. None of this Christmas lark."

She gave him a look, her head leant against the back of the sofa.

"You didn't believe me when I told you, did you?"

[cryptogam]

"No. But I had not met Death, then." Stephen did not elaborate.

[flowers_on_skin]

"I've known Death's brother for a long time," said Eostre, darkly. "She scares the shit out of me."

[cryptogam]

"You are not the only one," said Stephen with unusual candor. "Though why a goddess should fear Death, I do not know."

[flowers_on_skin]

"I'm not a Goddess anymore," she said. "I'm mortal. And when I was a Goddess, she was sort of...my opposite number. I always dealt in life."

[cryptogam]

"The solstice is past, and the light is returning. Her time is over, and your time is beginning. And any naturalist would tell you that death never triumphs in the end; it only begets more life."

[flowers_on_skin]

That made Eostre laugh, her hand unconciously resting against her belly.

"My body is a circle, Doctor Maturin. The nights are getting shorter all the time."

[cryptogam]

Although Stephen was not an accoucheur, a man-midwife, Eostre's gesture was familiar to any doctor. He smiled with genuine warmth. "Give you joy, my dear."

[flowers_on_skin]

She glanced at him, and smiled.

"It's early days yet, Doctor. Still. It gives you hope. For what, I don't quite know, but it does."