(Untitled)

[palmthemoon]

In the end, he came here. Of course he did

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[flowers_on_skin]

In the shadow of her doorway, she stood and watched him. She was momentarily glad that the girls were sleeping. She herself had just woken up from a nap, her pale hair tousled on one side of her face. And she watched him. And she recognised something in him that she hadn't seen since he'd come onto the island.

"Shadow."

There was a command in there, somewhere, in that softly spoken word. There was an echo of her god-voice.

[palmthemoon]

Shadow spent another moment contemplating his blood dripping down the tree trunk before turning to her.

Yggdrasil got to drink in one last sacrifice.

But then he turned away to look at her, face expressionless, as gray eyes met ones the exact color of spring-green corn. He looked very much like the man she met in San Francisco.

"How much did you know."

It was polite, but it wasn't a question.

[flowers_on_skin]

Eostre just stared at him for a moment. For the second time since she'd met him, he frightened her, but she didn't step back. She had been a Goddess, once. One of the powerful ones. Wednesday had needed her.

"How much did I know about what?"

[palmthemoon]

"The whole thing." He shook his head and plucked one of the larger pieces of glass out of his palm and dropped it to the ground. "Wednesday. Me. The war that wasn't, the fucking Thunderbirds. The whole thing, Eostre of the Dawn."

His voice hadn't gotten louder, but he was looking at her. And these were gray eyes that remembered being beloved, and the bloom of pain that mistletoe can make. The eyes remembered even if the man behind them didn't, just yet.