The new grass is coming up well, out by the lake.

The man in green is watching his daughter play on a blanket in the shade, near where the Sheila-willow stood all winter.

Next year, he suspects, it might be him there.

So he is treasuring every moment of Georgia's babyhood, and sings to her softly in words old as the land itself, smiling as she

Outside, wisps of cloud gather from beyond the lake and the forest. They are heavy and dark, bringing with them wind that smells sweet and cool as new snow ( Read more... )

It's spring. The time of change, the time of beginnings and new beginnings ( Read more... )

( ideas, vows, etc )

Jack lies in bed, reading. There are small cuts on his hands and face from ice shards, but mostly he's just weary.

Company wouldn't be bad, though.

[ooc: millitimed to October 31st]

The Forbidden Forest smells wild tonight, silvery blue in the darkness, cool and wet.

From . . . somewhere, gather hunters and hounds, and horns trumpet.

It is time to run. The Wild Hunt is on.

Chris has made arrangements--it's a specialty of his, making things work out ( Read more... )

Fewer and fewer offerings were left to Jack as Britain became Christian and nature worship was shut out. Feeling forgotten, he retreated into the forest, which was very dense in those days, and towards the beginning of the middle ages made one last effort to be remembered: he showed himself to his descendants (yes, it is also part of my story for ( Read more... )

1. Jack cannot transform other people, only himself ( Read more... )

All,

Have gone to Londonium to do what I can. Back soon.

--me