The Seasons Turn

[Wysteria]

Winter is coming.

Winter is almost here.

Winter looks out, and down. To one side is the high forests of Nangwen, still deep, dark green in piney finery. To the other, the brown fields of a successful harvest in Temeris, despite the drought. Meager, yes, but still a harvest.

She wonders who will join her in her misty realm this winter. Frost covered hermits to the north? Starving peasants to the south?

We shall see.

Winter is pensive, standing there all white-robed, with her long, frost-spangled hair blowing in the wind. At this height, there is always wind.

[Lazaefaere]

Autumn is disgruntled. Autumn knows her time in this year's cycle is coming to an end and she will be compelled to give over her hold on the land, to Winter.

Not to mention the fact that this fall hadn't exactly been the most successful autumn in the millenia, either. Small harvest in Temeris, resentment festering, despite the refreshing rains late in the season. Plenty of blood in the soil in Nangwen, but that wasn't what she really wanted these days.

Did I mention Autumn is disgruntled?

Her golden hair is blowing in the wind, too, as she approaches the ledge on which a ghostly white figure broods. At this height, the snow smothers most of her manifestations of power, so she's leery. Especially around this particular goddess.

[Wysteria]

A white bird lights on Winter's upraised hand as she glances at her fellow goddess.

She smiles, though there is no emotion in the smile.

"Welcome." To Winter. To Winter's Home. To Winter's Mountains.

Welcome indeed.

[Lazaefaere]

"Oh, really?" Skepticism colors Autumn's tone, because she doubts that Autumn is ever welcome in Winter's realm.

Not that she's happy to be here either. But it must be done, this trading of seasons. Otherwise something important would probably be upset, and all the cosmic balances and so on would start crying when their little worlds are disturbed.

Looking down the mountains, she can see the ice and snow and decay creeping down their slopes and already encroaching on the first trees and fields. It hurt, to see all the brilliant leaves becoming a muted brown, and all the precious plants and animals starting to droop. And the people. The poor and unsheltered were feeling the effects of cold already.

"Well." Autumn faced Winter squarely, determined to get this meeting over and done with, and then she could sleep.

[Wysteria]

Come now, come now. Cold wasn't encroaching.

Cold loves you. Cold wants to befriend you, for all eternity. Let the cold into your heart, and it will never leave.

Ahem.

"It is winter, cousin." Do you acknowledge this?

Winter's being all cryptic. It's one of her joys in life, I'm afraid.

[Lazaefaere]

Autumn restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Bad idea to do that in front of a deity, even if she was a deity herself. She did enjoy coming back every year, and had no wish to cause Spring or Summer anger by provoking Winter to stay longer than usual.

"Winter, indeed. Cousin," she adds as an afterthought. She folds her arms, protective of her realm to the last. It's not like she's just going to hand Winter control, without Winter asking, anyway.

[Wysteria]

"Must we go through this every turn, cousin? Winter is as natural as autumn, despite your prejudices. Life needs a little death, to balance."

Persephone hasn't been this... un-caustic... in centuries. Usually, she'd be whacking Demeter in the ankles with a stick and giving orders, right about now.

"I am not evil, sister-cousin. I never have been."

Which is what Persephone was trying to prove to herself, all these long years.

[Lazaefaere]

Uh-huh. And Autumn would eat her own...never mind.

She was acting petulant and she knew it. Persephone (and why Persephone? who hadn't made an appearance in centuries?) was speaking the truth. Well, enough of it to suit Winter's own purposes, anyway.

Autumn sighed. It was time. Time to relinquish control; more importantly, to give up that which made the world bountiful and content and joyful; all the feasts and food and wine and blazing colors of autumn trees. To segue from the perfect temperature between too hot and too cold to...too cold.

Okay, okay. Maybe she was waxing overpoetic. But who could blame her? Mothers don't like giving up their children, no matter how metaphorical their children might be.

She turned away for a moment, gazed again at the land spread out beneath them, then turned back to look Winter in the eyes.

"Well, it is immaterial whether you're evil or not. It's time." She bows ceremonially, symbolic submission to the Queen of the Dead. It would have been a lot more galling if she hadn't known that Winter had to do this in her turn every Spring.

[Wysteria]

Winter smiles.

And Winter spreads her white wings over the lands (metaphorically speaking, you understand), and a cold wind springs up (not so metaphorically).

"Thank you, cousin." And Persephone smiles, "One of these days, I really must show you the beauty of my season. It isn't all dozing in front of a fire waiting for Spring to come."

Icicles and frozen waterfalls and the pristine shine of a first fall of snow - winter is beauty.

Winter raises one white, slender-fingered hand, and a steed approaches - a slim and shining white stallion, caprisoned in silver and bleached leather. The bells on his harness sound like snow falling. His hooves ring thinly, as if they carry a silence with them.

He is a very other-worldly horse. Persephone smiles, stroking his nose.

She hasn't paid much attention to him, these past few centuries.

"What would you say to a Wild Hunt this winter, Cousin?" The baying of hounds, the calling of crows, the lightning and thunder of their passage - it's been a long time since they did such a thing.

[Lazaefaere]

Indeed. Demeter had been Xilonen then, and she'd left Xilonen behind a long time ago. She preferred walking, being close to the earth.

In the back of her mind there was a faint echo of wild laughter, baying hounds, and a sudden impulse (still slumbering but there nevertheless) to just ride without a care in the world, ride with a ferocity not seen in Autumn since Xilonen disappeared, ride with the intent to see blood at the end of the hunt.

Yes, it had been a very long time ago...

She raised her eyebrows. "Why this offer now, Cousin?"

[Wysteria]

Winter smiles. "I feel like celebrating this little world of ours."

Her fingers make patterns in her horse's mane. She starts braiding it, thin strand over thin strand, the mane just a few shades paler than her fingers.

"Above all, however?" She grins, and there's a faint rememberance of a crotchety old woman in that grin, "Why not?"

[Lazaefaere]

Hmmph. There really wasn't a reason not to go on a Wild Hunt. Demeter grudgingly admitted that.

Besides, they were deities, and deities didn't always need reasons to do anything.

Despite reminding herself that Persephone was manipulating her yet again, Demeter could feel her blood stirring already. She stood lost in memories for a moment, and then smiled a smile to match Winter.

"Very well, Cousin."

Out of the mists, but in the opposite direction Persephone's horse had appeared from, another horse made its way to Autumn's side. Glossy chestnut, and its mane a pale gold, a brightly lit contrast to the snow that surrounded them.

[Wysteria]

ooc: I want our other gods in on this, Hades and Wodens, so let's hold off on continuing the thread for the moment. Multi-god rp is lovely, wouldn't you say?

ic: Winter? Manipulative?

Maybe just a tad.

She's really a sweetheart, you know.

Well.... No. I can't even say that with a straight face.

But come now, would she lie to you?

(The answer? Yes she would. With a smile, even.)

[Lazaefaere]

((More gods? Fine by me!))

[Rayla]

As though with the horse (though he would like to state they came seperately and several dramatic seconds apart) the god of death himself appeared out of the mist surrounding the area atop the mountain. He appeared different than usual, more ageless and a little less hagard, robes that fit slimmer and made more of a velvety texture than silk, wicked grin fixed firmly on his face. We'll call him Adriel. With him was a rather gangly brown hound, with long wirey fur and a rather heavy looking golden collar (the hound he had temporarily misplaced mind you. His horse will show up sooner or later, its still startled that he actual remembered it exsisted).

"I take it I'm invited as well cousin?" Adriel said devishly, smirk still instilled on his face. Then just to prove he's in an overly rambunctious mood he reached over and played with a strand of Demeters hair before greeting her with, "Hello dear sister, lovely day on the mysterious mountian top no?"

Why he would be in such a good mood when he had just handed his seasonal rights over one can only guess. He has a funny way doing strange things after all.

[Akedhi]

And here comes Wodens to join the party. It does count as a party, does it not?

He's a big bear... or maybe that's a bear of a man, as it is a tad hard to tell the difference. Perhaps he's not yet decided on a shape for the moment, and isn't bothering to settle on one or the other.

"Hello, sister. Cousins."

Ah, there he is. Big man, huge black beard, dressed in bearskin, with the bear's head over his own, rather like a hood.

He's always been the least violent of the gods.

A glance around.

"Hunting, are we?"

Wasn't the last one of those a long time ago? Three or four naps?

[Lazaefaere]

Whereas Adriel had a wicked grin fixed firmly on his face, Demeter's smile was just fixed onto her face.

But since she was presently in the company of both deities of death, one of whom was Winter and the other of whom was the brother she was feuding with, we will excuse the marked lack of enthusiasm with which she greeted said brother.

"No doubt you're at home with...this," with a gesture at the snowbound desolation around them. Well, she thought it was desolation. Mostly.

And she was going on a Wild Hunt with him in tow? It was almost enough to make a goddess want to revert back to her long-buried primitive (ass-kicking) form, if only to better deal with both of them at once.

[Wysteria]

"Darling cousin, don't sulk." Persephone is amused.

Her expression is smooth, calm. Polite.

She's laughing at you on the inside.

"Since the relevant lords and ladies have assembled, shall we?" Oh, spring and summer have their places, but not now, the first moment of winter.

Persephone swings into the saddle.

The wind from earlier has summoned the appropriate setting - storm clouds and flickering lightnings and the faint howl of wind.

The wind is far too polite to bother the gods of course. It's a well trained little breeze. So the wind howls in the distance, and the clouds darken.

This will be fun.

[Rayla]

Adriel smirked at his sister before replying with, "The mist is rather nice, but a few more trees and less wind wouldnt hurt." He greets Wodens with a nod of the head and wonders when the last time he saw the god was.

Then as if on cue his horse came trotting out of the mist. Its really a rather high strung thing, though if your master forgot about you, I'm sure you'd have the same displeasing temperment. Either way, Adriel mounted up onto the large bay just before it tried to snap at his hound.

His grin grew a bit wider as the wind died to a breeze and clouds grew ominously around the area. Between hunting and annoying his sister he was going to have a rather good time.

[Akedhi]

Wodens's horse is a dream. Literally; there's a young knight asleep in Nangwen at the moment dreaming of a huge, glossy black charger with one white hoof and a perfect star on his forehead.

(The knight cannot figure out why the man with the bemused/amused smile riding the charger frightens the whey out of him.)

The god is amused by his cousins, by his sister, and by the knight. He is bemused by the fact that he is awake.

"Where to then?"

[Lazaefaere]

Fun. Oh yeah. Never mind that she'd been the first to be invited and the first to accept. Demeter mounted her horse and said, rather carelessly for a goddess, "Oh, where the prey chooses to lead us, I suppose."

Crazy, dark eyes and cruel laughter glimmered in the back of her mind, and she asked Persephone with a trace of more interest than she'd previously shown, "Incidentally, what is the prey?"

[Wysteria]

Persephone's grin has daggers of ice hiding in it somewhere.

Metaphorically speaking.

I think.

"Whatever runs away."

People, animals, trees, rivers - she isn't picky.

She just wants to chase them all.

She nudges her horse into a slow walk - deceptively slow, as the fog blurs the landscape around them.

Gods are not bound by earthly boundaries. Their hunt will be everywhere, and nowhere. Now sand, now gravel, now water, the horses can walk on anything.

"Who picks the first prize?"

Persephone won't, not the first one, but later she has one in mind, one of the last, up in the mountains. Rarity, and fast, fast enough to be almost sporting.

[Rayla]

"Perhaps my dear sister, she was the first to be invited." Adriel replied slyly.

His horse took that moment to snort and bump its head up against his dear sisters horse. Adriel had nothing to do with it. Really. I wouldnt lie. He did however just knudge it foreward so it would follow after Persephone. The silly animal is trying to step on his hound, then again the hound should be smart enough to stay out from under its hooves.

"Coming?" he then said over his shoulder with smirk still in tow to the two other gods. And yes, Adriel is in a frightnly good mood.

[Akedhi]

Wodens shrugs.

"Fine with me."

He doesn't care. He's just following along. Mostly because, well, it is his sister. And this is a momentous occasion.

Also it will be the subject of nightmares for months, if not years.

He should be involved, if for no other reason.

[Tier]

With a bloodcurldling howl--not unlike one Rebel Yell--a woman riding a golden stallion with golden hair and golden tack reared to an impressive stop. The sharp hooves pawed the air momentarily, before settling back down to dance impatiently on the ground.

"Like hell, I'm going to miss out on all the fun! We haven't done this in ages!" The Goddess of Battle grinned at her fellow deities, taking a swig out of a hip flask hanging from her belt. She was still dressed the same way as she always did--although she looked out of place admidst the cold, bleakness. Seeing as hers was the opposing season to the current winter, her sun-like glory was diminished slightly.

But who cared? The Hunt always cheered her up. She tended to get grumpy and antsy when there were no current battles to revel in.