Burning Man -- Logs

The fifth morning at Burning Man dawns clear and cool, though by now no one expects it to stay that way. There was drumming that lasted through most of the night coming from all quarters, sometimes moving closer, sometimes moving further off. There was a lot of joy in it and there were people laughing and celebrating, setting a peacefully raucous background.

Shateishael murmurs a quietly contented verse to the rising sun, standing outside, silhouetted tall and dark as he watches sunrise,

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

Then he turns back towards the tent and calls quietly, "Hey, guys, you 'wake?"

Bella has risen somewhat early and slipped out of the tent. Not long after she wriggles her way out of the pile of sleeping bodies, the smell of bacon sizzling starts to permeate the tent. Shateishael's eyebrows go up at that, and he sniffs appreciatively. He follows the scent, grinning and gently sliding his arms around Bella's waist, careful not to disrupt her cooking as he gives her a lazy, slow kiss on the side of her neck.

Rosenstern murmurs something, stretching out in the rapidly vacating space within the tent, giving a very-wide-mouthed but tiny-sounding yawn, and gives almost a purring sound as his body remembers the night before. Shateishael chuckles at the tiny squeak from the tent, then murmurs to Bella, "Hey, beautiful. Didja happen t'notice how 'xcited folks were las' night? An' all th'drummin'?"

The Bright leans her body back against Slate's and tips her head to the side to let him kiss her neck. She smiles and closes her eyes for a moment, "Mmm... I did. Was pretty nice, actually." She reaches back to touch Slate's hip lightly in place of a hug and chuckles, craning around a bit, "Sweetie, you realize you're bare-assed, right?"

Shateishael hms, looking down at where her hand is, then murmuring casually, "Oh. Sorry 'bout that... f'got. Um... yeah. Moment, 'kay?" He paces over to the tent and calls, "Yo, Rosebud? Toss me pair a' shorts?"

Rosenstern gives another yawn. "Okies, Slate," he says, a bit sleepily. A moment later a pair of denim cutoffs get offered out through the door by Rosie's hand.

Shateishael chuckles, "Thanks, pretty flow'r," accepting the shorts and ambling back over to sit near Bella, where he can watch her cooking... and the way the dawn sunlight plays across her hair and face... he blinks, remembering -- was putting on clothes, right! As he's pulling on the shorts he rumbles, "Yeah. So... guess who Rosebud 'n me met las' night, helpin' out wi'th'drummin', beautiful?"

In the meantime, Bella keeps on making breakfast on the camp stove, calling, "How do you boys want your eggs?" She herself is wearing a piece of painted silk wrapped around her body, crossing the corners just over her breasts and then tied behind her neck to make a simple dress. Smiling over at Slate, she says, "I don't know. Who? I wouldn't be surprised if you met God herself."

Shateishael says, "Mmm, close, sorta." He thinks a moment, then adds, "Poached, easy? An' y'r mom. She's callin' h'rself Electra here. Din' tell her 'bout you sp'cifically."

Bella chuckles, "Sure... grab me the saucepan and fill it with wa..." She blinks, going still for a moment, "Mom? Lilith is here?" The Bright doesn't seem frightened so much as slightly shocked.

Shateishael nods, rising to follow Bella's instructions, "Yeah. Scared th'piss outta me 'n Rosie too." He adds over his shoulder as he fills the saucepan, "Dayum but she looks disconcertin'ly like you!"

Bella smiles a little lopsidedly, "Yeah, see that's sort of my fault. I crafted this Vessel to look like one of her favorites. I admired it." She puts the saucepan on the stove and starts the water heating. The bacon is set aside to drain on a soft cotton dishtowel. The pan she used to cook it is soon home to a pair of eggs frying merrily.

Shateishael tilts his head to regard Bella thoughtfully, lightly touching her hair and brushing it back from her face, "Howzat a fault, beautiful?" Rosenstern meanders out at about this point, stretching up onto his tiptoes as he yawns. He's wearing a pair of linen short-shorts and a simple logo-less tee-shirt.

Bella shrugs her shoulders, smiling, "It's not so much a fault as it's why I look so much like her."

Shateishael smiles with quiet pleasure at Rosie, rumbling, "Hey, cuddly flow'r." He nods to Bella, "S'okay. Just startled us bit at first, y'know?" He thinks for a few heartbeats, then rumbles, "So... wuz thinkin' maybe might be smart t'make ourselves scarce f'a few days 'r so, y'know? Go wi'Miz Ayra, go t'th'Marches 'n visit th'Willow Lady?"

Bella tosses Rosie a grin. "How do you want your eggs, sugar?" she asks, before glancing back at Slate and asking with a hint of worry, "Did she offer you anything?"

Shateishael frowns, thinking carefully. Finally he says slowly, "Not that I could tell, lover, 'n I wuz tryin' t'be careful. But we offered her sump'in'. She turned it down, but we both offered t'accompany her t'Heaven."

Rosenstern beams to Bella. "Scrambled, please?" He shakes his head. "She didn't offer anything, at least that we could tell, no."

Shateishael grins ruefully, "She laughed. Said she wuzn' goin' back 'til Nicky 'n Mikey 'n Larry got off their high horses. So we said we'd work on it."

The Bright snorts and looks incredulously at the two men, glancing over just in time to flip the eggs she's frying, "You offered to take her to Heaven... wow."

Shateishael yawns, running a hand through his shaggy mane (and making it look even more unruly!) and rumbles lazily, "Why's ev'ryone seem so s'prised at that? She's not a demon after all, so should work okay, yeah?" He sighs, adding a little sadly, "Don' think she's ever gonna answer what she really is, though. S'a bummer."

Bella smiles that lopsided smile, her own hair having been twisted up into a knot at the back of her head. "She's not about to give up the best part of her mystery. She likes her secrets too much." As the water starts to boil, she begins stirring it with a long handled spoon until she's got a little funnel going. With her other hand she cracks an egg and drops it into the mini-whirlpool.

Shateishael nods, settling on the crate he was on previously, stretching out his legs, "Yeah, figgered that. Not sure whatcha call it if'n y'never Fell, though... is it Salvation, if it ain't Redemption?"

The Bright puts a lid on the pot and starts scrambling another pair of eggs in the fry pan, "I've just heard it called Redemption."

Rosenstern pads over to beside the cooking spot, kneeling down and resting his hands on his knees. Shateishael reaches out and casually runs his fingers through Rosie's hair as he rumbles to Bella, "Well, 'ccordin' t'her she cain't Redeem 'cause she never Fell." He mumbles a bit wistfully, "Still wouldn' min' 't'all 'scortin' her Home..."

Bella thinks on it for a moment, "I suppose she might just call it changing her mind." She grins and scoops the first of Slate's poached, easy eggs out of the pot. The vortex-drop is repeated for the second one. Shateishael sits up, brightening a bit as he accepts the plate and digs in with enthusiasm. He eats surprisingly tidily, considering he's wielding a piece of bread and his fingers instead of regular utensils. After a moment of quiet thought, Bella says, "Going to the Marches might not be a bad idea."

Shateishael grunts in affirmation, chewing busily, and raises an inquiring eyebrow at Rosenstern. Rosenstern has to think about that for a mo- "Sure! I'd love to!"

Shateishael finishes his (large) meal and hugs Bella to thank her. He frowns thoughtfully then, rumbling, "Wonder what one takes on trips t'th'Marches?" He considers... then ducks into the tent and puts on sturdy working clothes. He glances at Rosenstern for a moment... then grins and opens the back of the truck to crawl in and get something while the others are cleaning up and preparing as well. Then he comes out and sits on the tailgate, a mischievous grin on his face. He rumbles very casually, "So, Rosebud, 'm thinkin' y'd rather not hava col' steel collar inna Marches, yeah? So... made sumpthin' else, if'n y'want?"

Rosenstern perks a bit, blinking to Slate and standing and padding over to him, hands behind his back curiously. Shateishael opens his hand to reveal a large engraved silver jingle bell. He grins, adding, "It's a combined solar/serpentine symbol circlin' th'bell... 'n inside's a compass rose. Y'like it?"

Rosenstern straightens, then beams happily. "Oh, Slate, that's wonderful! Thank you!" Bella smiles, one hand over her mouth, and works on cleaning things up.

Shateishael chuckles, giving Rosenstern a gentle hug. Then he settles Rosie between his knees, unlocking the padlock to unfasten the steel chain, and fastening on the bright jingly bell instead. His eyes are dancing as he turns Rosenstern around to study the effect, although his voice is solemn as he adds, "Heard all th'up 'n comin' catkids were wearin' 'em."

Rosenstern laughs, turning and looking rather proud and happy -- and jingly. "I've not got cat-ears, Slate. And somehow I doubt Jordi would be terribly approving if I somehow wrangled that." His grin widens. "And I don't think there's a Numinous Corpus for that...."

Shateishael chuckles again, then gently turns Rosie by his shoulders to face Bella, "Whatcha think, Bellisima? 'S it Rosie?"

Bella can't help a mischievous little smirk, "I've got cat ears you can borrow if you want, sugar. They're satin and rabbit fur." Shateishael laughs aloud at that! Rosenstern opens his mouth a bit, blinking, then glances to Slate to see if that's what he would want. Bella steps up to Rosie and runs her fingers through the hair over the top of his head. "Cute little ears and a jingly bell. And maybe a leash," she teases slightly. Shateishael grins delightedly at his lovers, enjoying their interplay immensely!

Rosenstern blushes in astonishment and rubs his head against the hand, still looking surprised at the ideas that are coming up between Bella and Slate. "Uhm... if you like..." he murmurs, visibly liking the idea.

Bella hmms and grins over at Slate, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Oh, I know I'd like."

Shateishael grins, sliding one big hand along Rosenstern's hip, "Soun's like fun t'me. When we come back we c'n try that!" He chuckles, "But f'now, le's go see Soma, yeah?" Rosenstern smiles and nods cheerfully.

The angels soon find themselves headed toward the fae encampment. The dome can barely be seen and seems to show what any early morning camp would show. Once they cross in, Bacchus in his human guise greets them almost immediately, wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and nothing else. Shateishael's smile looks almost sleepily contented, although it's not truly sleepy at all, "Hey, Bacchus. Wuz wond'rin' if'n we c'd talk t'Soma? Were hopin' t'go visit th'Marches t'day, if'n y'r daughter's okay w'that?"

Bacchus smiles, hands shoved casually in his pockets, "Well, you'll need to ask her. I think she's..." He turns around, squinting his eyes as he tries to remember a tent's location, "She had walked off with Seamus... so she's probably in that little brown pup-tent back there."

Rosenstern considers. "We, ah, won't be interrupting anything, would we?"

Bacchus laughs and shakes his head, "Mmm, no, likely not. She's a lusty lass, but she does like to sleep." He motions at the tent, "Go on over and ask if she wants to come along. I'll be in Soma's tent. We've got some things to discuss about next year's court."

Shateishael chuckles at Rosenstern, then nods to Bacchus, "Thanks." To Rosie he adds, "If'n we hear anythin' we c'n come back later, yeah? C'mon, silly flow'r." Rosenstern grins sheepishly to Slate and nods. Shateishael will weave through the encampment's tentage, searching for the correct tent. Once he spots it he stands next to it for a second, listening. If he doesn't hear anything suggestive, he'll crouch next to it and politely tap on the upright, murmuring, "Miz Ayra? You 'wake?"

The only sounds coming from that particular tent is deep, even breathing and the occasional little dreaming noise. At the tapping, there's some mumbling and rustling and a tousled head pokes out of the tent. Ayra looks bleary, "Warrior? Is something wrong?"

Shateishael smiles, bringing up his index finger to his temple in casual salute, "No'm. We wuz wond'rin', though, if'n you'd be up t'goin' t'th'Marches wi'us t'day?" He waves a hand to indicate the other two with him -- all fully dressed and ready.

The dryad peers at Slate for several seconds as the information percolates. "Oh! Oh, sure! Uhm... it'll take me a few minutes to get ready..." she mumbles, looking over her shoulder. The flap of the tent keeps her decent, but it's fairly obvious she's nude.

Shateishael grins again, drawling lazily, "Well now, we wuz thinkin' a' droppin' in t'talk t'th'Summer Lord 'fore goin'. That okay wi'you, ma'am?"

Ayra nods and chuckles groggily, "Yeah... that works. I'll be along in a few minutes..." She smiles a goodbye and ducks back into the tent. Soft voices start up as she starts explaining to her bedmate where she'll be.

Shateishael chuckles again, straightening and sliding his arms around his lovers, "Le's go talk t'Soma, 'kay?" He's rather curious to see how accurately built the yurt-like tent is. Rosenstern looks embarrassed by interrupting Ayra, then nods to Slate, still blushing.

Bella wraps an arm around Slate's waist and chuckles softly, "We might be there a while before she shows up from the looks of things."

Shateishael grins at Bella, nodding once amusedly as they stroll towards Soma's tent, then gives Rosenstern a puzzled look, "Whatcha blushin' at, pretty petal? Bella goose ya while I wuzn' lookin'?"

Rosenstern shakes his head, "N-no, just a little embarrassed about what we, er, interrupted Ayra in..."

Shateishael says, "Sleepin'? Her tent?" He grins.

Rosenstern looks at Slate for several long moments. "Er... no, that she was with someone...."

The yurt is made of deep green felt on the outside and the doorway looks surprisingly sturdy, as if it could hold a door of some substance. Instead, it holds a heavy curtain of some sort that looks weighted at the bottom. Shateishael grins at Rosenstern, "Well, wuzn't like it wuz a s'prise 'r nuthin', right?" He's still grinning as he taps lightly on the yurt's wooden doorframe, "Hey, anyone home?"

Bella blinks, "She didn't look mid-romp. She looked more mid-nap." Shateishael nods amusedly to Bella.

Rosenstern blinks to Bella, "Oh! Ah, okay, I guess... I just thought that if she was there with someone... right, I'll... stop now." Shateishael chuckles, affectionately ruffling Rosenstern's hair as he waits for a response from the yurt.

Soma's voice calls out, inviting the angels in. Once inside, the whole structure proves to be made in a very traditional Mongolian style. It feels as if there is some sort of planking underfoot, though it's layered thickly with rugs, as in the central pavilion. There is a low, wide bed that looks like an oaken four-poster. The dwelling is decorated as someone's permanent living place, knick-knacks and books strewn about as if it is very lived-in. Shateishael looks around approvingly -- very cozy, he thinks! He'd have been comfortable here with either his Norse or Comanche extended family. He smiles at the folks within the tent, "Hey, all. We wuz won'drin' if'n we c'd use y'all's Tether f'a few days?"

Rosenstern looks around curiously about the yurt, hugging himself and feeling happy and rather intrigued about seeing Soma's home-away-from... well, the Marches. His eyes linger a bit on the four-poster bed, but only briefly. He smiles warmly to Soma. Shateishael runs one large hand gently and reassuringly along Rosie's back as he talks to the folks in the tent.

The Summer Lord is apparently not out of bed yet and someone has brought him breakfast. Across his lap, on a simply-carved tray, is a bowl of assorted flowers and a mug with steam rising off it. Bacchus sits beside the bed on a low, padded chair. The summer lord's face brightens into a happy smile. "Welcome! For a few days? You will be traveling every day?" Soma asks Slate, but as he waits for an answer his smile slides to Rosenstern, eyes warm. Rosenstern blushes -- it's not an embarrassed blush, but rather a warm one -- as he meets Soma's gaze.

Shateishael shakes his head, "Dunno, really. No idea whut th'area's like... but we thought might be nice t'be elsewhere f'a few days." He tilts his head inquiringly at Bella, wondering if she wants to mention her mother's presence or not.

Bella smiles crookedly, "My original Superior is wandering about and it was thought lying low for a day or so wouldn't be a bad thing." Shateishael nods, glancing back at Soma.

Bacchus mmms and Soma nods solemnly, brows drawing together slightly. As he thinks, he picks up one of the flowers, holds it to his nose, and breathes in. For a moment he stays silent as if praying, and then lowers it to the tray, "What we have is yours to use, Friends. We offer what solace and sanctuary we can."

Shateishael smiles quietly, "We ain't lookin' t'draw her down on y'all, Summer Lord. We're jus' quietly gettin' outta sight f'a bit."

Bacchus smiles quietly, "That means, 'Go ahead and use the Tether, but you can stay here if you want.' But I think you had understood that."

Soma takes another of the blooms and holds it to his nose, breathing in with that prayerful expression again. Rosenstern tilts his head to the side, watching Soma curiously. Is this how he -- oh, wait. Butterfly fae? Is that how they eat?

Shateishael nods quietly to Bacchus, rumbling, "Thanks. F'now 'm thinkin' we'll jus' 'ccompany Rosie 'n Ayra 'roun' th'Marches a bit. Never been m'self, 'n allus wondered... 'n she said she'd be by inna bit."

The summer lord's eyes open and he smiles over his flower at Rosie, lowering it to join the first, "Questions are never frowned upon, petal." There's just the slightest emphasis on the first syllable of 'petal.' His gaze tracks to Slate, smiling, "There are many beautiful things there."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Glad t'hear it, Summer Lord. Allus thought humans had 'mazin' 'mounts a' imagination, y'know?"

Rosenstern ducks his head, then nods a little, "I've always wondered about it as well," he says quietly. "What's there, and how it is; what there might be there." He pauses, then asks, "If I may ask... what are you doing with those flowers?"

Soma smiles as he picks up a tightly-furled rose, "Eating, petal. I drink their essence and it sustains me. Though live are better for myself and for them." The fae smiles and strokes the bed beside him, "You are welcome to join me as I dine."

Shateishael goes still for a moment... then remains expressionless. Bacchus smiles broadly, "Wait a moment, Slate? I have something I would like to send home to my Zareh if I may?" Shateishael nods in polite inquiry to Bacchus, although his hand continues slowly stroking Rosie's back.

Rosenstern is clearly sorely tempted, but he doesn't want to hold up the journey to the Marches; he glances to Slate. His mind is already churning through the implications of Soma's relationship to flowers... and the thrill (as well as the sobering realization) of flowers sustaining Soma. And he only just then gets the implication of the emphasis Soma gave to the word 'petal' -- or rather the first syllable. Slate's touch calms him somewhat, steadying the sudden tension he feels.

Bella watches the interplay between the men with her arms crossed loosely across her stomach, a smile still quiet on her lips. When Bacchus rises to slip out after the gift she murmurs something about wanting to ask him a question, and follows him from the dwelling. Shateishael nods silently to Bella, then continues standing where he is, with Rosie next to him. He rumbles quietly to Rosie, "Maybe later, mm?" then looks after Bacchus. He's not sure why, but he feels vaguely... bristly at Soma's invite to Rosenstern. It takes him a moment to sort it out -- why didn't Soma ask him first? If Rosie had been with Soma, Slate certainly would not have assumed he could just invite Rosie away! Rosenstern nods to Slate, and smiles apologetically to Soma. He realizes this is what had bothered him.

Soma watches the expressions on Slate's face and his brows draw together, concern flickering through his eyes. After a moment he says, "I have given offense. I apologize..." He lowers the bloom he was holding without breathing it in, "Sometimes my manners are not what they should be when I am newly wakened."

Shateishael nods silently and politely again... then rumbles quietly, "Not s'good at this m'self; sorry."

Soma lowers his head, saying with an oddly formal note, "I cry your pardon, Warrior. I thought only of how pleasant it would be to have Rosenstern sit with me as you waited." He raises his head and his warm smile is back, "I treated you as a friend with whom I share a lover, not as a Dominant with whom I share a submissive."

Shateishael is silent a moment, studying Soma... then he rumbles quietly, "Would y'min' if'n we both sat on th'bed?"

Soma chuckles and motions to the rather extensive amount of bed, "There is certainly room." There's no tension there, as if he truly is equally comfortable with one or both of them sitting with him.

Shateishael smiles slowly, then glances down at Rosenstern, patting his rear gently, "Y'wanna?" Rosenstern smiles up to Slate and nods, the bell jingling softly as he relaxes visibly. Shateishael grins, stroking his hand along Rosenstern's back and giving him a gentle nudge, "G'wan then, pretty flow'r." He'll wait for Rosie to move before he strolls over to the foot of the bed, leaning relaxedly back against one of the four-posters and affectionately smiling as he watches Rosie and Soma cuddle. Rosenstern pads over to the bed, and slides onto it carefully, as if not wanting to jostle it. Maybe it's the bell; he certainly does seem to move a little more cat-like.

Soma raises an arm, silently inviting Rosie to snuggle against his side, he's still looking at Slate, however, "We will make sure your travel is as smooth as we can make it... and we will keep the Tether open until you come back. Providing that is before the Solstice." Rosenstern curls up beside Soma, looking up curiously to Slate.

Shateishael grins quietly, leaning his head back against the four-poster as well. He carefully puts one booted foot on the bed's wooden runner, stretching out his other leg, and sighs quietly. Hopefully if Lilith doesn't find them for a few days she'll lose interest. It's not like there's nothing to attract her here, after all -- the place is full of beautiful distractions! He turns his ice-blue gaze back to Soma when the butterfly fae speaks, and nods, rumbling, "Barrin' problems, don' 'xpect t'be more'n few days, Summer Lord."

Soma's hand traces the edge of the bell collar before his fingers slide down along Rosie's spine, coming to rest at his hip. "We shall miss your presence while you are across the veil."

Shateishael smiles slowly, bowing his head slightly in courtesy, "Y'r too kind, Summer Lord."

Rosenstern smiles softly, "We'll be sure to tell you what we find there."

Shateishael adds quietly, "He's not wearin' 'ny steel now. Thought silver'd be nicer here." He glances at Rosenstern's wrist, amending, "Well, on th'collar, 'least."

Soma smiles at Slate, "It is much appreciated, Slate. You've been very kind." He pulls Rosie against his side, gentle but also protective, just barely touching on something possessive, though not greedy. Shateishael doesn't know how to respond to the statement that he's been "kind"... so he simply nods politely and tries not to look too bemused. Rosenstern blinks a little, looking around. He suddenly notices that both Bella and Bacchus have departed. What the...? Soma's fingers stroke the outside of Rosie's hip, his expression serious, "Even in the Marches, it may be best that most of the denizens not know how or why you came to be there."

Shateishael had been letting himself drift a bit mentally, not openly watching Soma and Rosie, but at the butterfly fae's words he shifts his gaze to Soma, "Yeah? Howso? They know 'bout th'Tether, right? You mean jus' us bein' angels, 'r sump'in' else?"

Soma nods, "They know of the Tether, but except for those that Ayra says are safe, it would be best to keep your association with this Court as a piece of closely-guarded information. I would have my people know from me rather than from another."

Rosenstern shivers comfortably with the touch, still wondering where everyone else went. "And the Tether, I imagine. That it's best not to let it be known."

Shateishael tilts his head puzzledly, "Wait... they don' know 'bout your Court neither?"

Soma looks frustrated for a moment, mouth tightening, "The Court is well known, Slate. I meant that I would rather my people hear from my lips that you and your companions are to be our envoys." Rosenstern gently places a hand on Soma's shoulder, glancing between the two worriedly.

Shateishael nods, "Ah, 'kay, gotcha." He sighs a bit regretfully at Soma's frustration, adding, "Sorry... 'm not real good at court intrigue. We c'n wait f'Bacchus t'come back if y'need someone t'speak clear f'you?"

Soma nods and smiles, turning to kiss Rosenstern's temple, "Perhaps...." As if on cue, Bacchus enters with both Bella and Ayra in tow. The satyr carries a small piece of white cloth.

Shateishael nods politely to the satyr and the ladies, then looks inquiringly at Bacchus, "That it?"

Bacchus nods and holds the cloth out to Slate, "It holds a message for her. The cloth won't pass the Tether, but the message will go with you. It will seem like a representation of the cloth."

Shateishael looks bemused again, but after a moment of studying the cloth he reaches out and gently accepts it, tucking it carefully into his pocket. Rosenstern blinks a little, "Why won't the cloth pass through the Tether?" Slate looks up with interest to hear the answer himself as well... although he can't resist also patting the edge of the bed next to him when he and Bella make eye contact. Bella climbs onto the bed and nestles against Slate's side, wiggling her way beneath his arm in much the same way Rosie is cuddled against Soma. Shateishael relaxes and beams contentedly down at Bella, shifting himself so she's comfortable and leaning his head gently against hers as he listens.

Bacchus smiles, "Because it will be in whatever limbo holds your physical body while you travel the Marches, Slate."

Rosenstern blinks to Bacchus. "Limbo...? Oh... where our Vessels are."

Soma answers the question, smiling, "Yes, petal. Your bodies will fade and you will find yourself in our realm in the Marches in a form that looks much like the one you wear now." Rosenstern nods to Soma slowly. He wonders if they'll be in Celestial form.

Shateishael looks confused, "I thought... huh. Wouldn' we be in our Celestial forms there, then?"

Bacchus shakes his head, smiling slightly, "As I understand it, no. They are not the Celestial realm, though the two Dreamers' stand half in their own lands and half in ours."

Shateishael says, "Th'Archangel 'n th' demon prince, y'mean?"

All three Ethereals nod, almost in unison. "That would be them," Bacchus confirms. Soma has gone back to drinking in the essence of the flowers, still gently stroking Rosie's hip. Ayra hasn't said anything yet. She's carrying a steaming mug that can only be full of coffee, from the smell of it.

Shateishael considers that, then mumbles quietly, "Weird. Woulda thought if'n it's not th'Corporeal vessel, it's th'Celestial form... but hey, never been m'self."

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "Will it be like when we enter the glamour here?"

Bella nuzzles her cheek against Slate, "I've been once or twice. It's like you're wearing your Vessel for appearances, but sometimes it's a surreal version. Warped by dream stuff."

Rosenstern blinks to Bella. "Surreal?" He's not sure he likes the sound of that!

Shateishael grins at the three Ethereals all responding at once, then smiles at Bella, "Cool. Wonder what we'll look like, then. Some a' th'glamours here were kinda neat."

Bella mms and nods, "I've come in from Beleth's side a time or two. I looked like..." She wrinkles her forehead, thinking, "Once I came through looking like a burn victim. It's like they sort of project your hopes or fears... but that's in the Marches that border Heaven and Hell." Rosenstern blinks at Bella, his jaw dropping a bit. Shateishael winces slightly at Bella's comment, reflexively and reassuringly stroking her hair. He wonders idly what his hopes and fears are... and how they might manifest in the realm of the fae. Bella smiles tightly to Rosie, "It was right before I got to Phoenix. While Baal's people were after me. I was very scared of fire at the time."

Rosenstern winces and nods quietly to Bella. Shateishael hugs her gently, nuzzling against her hair, "'S better now, sweetheart, yeah?"

Eventually everyone seems ready for the angel's departure. Soma rises and slides into the same blue spandex cat-suit he was wearing when the angels first met him in the streets of Black Rock City. Bacchus helps him zip it carefully around the magnificent wings. Once the summer lord is garbed, the Ethereals escort the angels to the pavilion and Soma strides to the pillar, laying his hands on the heavily carved wood. Shateishael smiles, watching quietly with his arms about his lovers, fascinated by the lovely carvings and the Tether itself. Rosenstern watches wide-eyed, leaning against Slate as he watches Soma touch the Tether.

Starting from where Soma's hands press against the pillar, the carvings begin to move, the creatures etched into the wood seeming to come to life. The shapes flow through the wood, the wave of what Soma pours into the Tether moving down toward the ground and up toward the tip of the center post. As the pillar is transformed there is a soft melody, like a wordless Song that rises around the group of beings, a magnificent many-voiced chord that rises finally to a triumphant shout as the passage between the Corporeal realm and the Ethereals' realm of the Marches is opened.

Shateishael's arms tighten slightly about his lovers, not wanting to get accidentally separated in this strange new realm. He steps forward with them, his own music thrumming strongly with that of the Ethereal Tether... and when they settle in the fae Marches he looks around with a mix of wariness and wonder. Rosenstern shivers, hoping and perhaps heretically praying that no other hears the Symphonic disturbance of the Tether opening. He hugs tighter to Slate, forcing himself to keep his eyes open as they cross. Bella and Ayra follow behind, each stepping through with a little less trepidation.

The landscape seems not quite real, perhaps because they just stepped from the warming playa morning and are now standing on a hillside that could be drawn from a thousand fantasy novels. Thirteen trees surround the apex of the hill, and even a casual glance shows each to be different. Amidst the trees is a perfectly circular pool where the three angels and their Dryad guide find themselves standing ankle-deep. Shateishael sighs quietly and lifts folks out of the pond one by one, then steps out himself as well. He experimentally shakes one foot to see if it's truly wet or not. Once out of the pool, no one's feet are the least bit damp. Shateishael looks relieved at that. He looks around curiously to the lands past the trees -- then suddenly remembers where they are, and checks for a willow.

Rosenstern's breath catches as he looks around -- not at all what he had expected. Not at all. This is... beautiful, pastoral, serene... nothing like the chaos and murkiness that the Marches had been suggested to be: a land of eternal nocturne twilight. He glances at the others as well, secretly praying there's nothing as dreadful manifest as what Bella had mentioned.

Overhead it is deepest night. The indigo-purple sky is filled with crystalline stars that sparkle in many more shades than one can easily see in the Corporeal realm. One of the trees in the circle is indeed a willow, but it's the apple tree Ayra moves toward, touching her fingers to the bark and murmuring something softly. Here, she looks more like a tree given female form, her skin taking on the texture of supple bark, hair tumbling down her back in a profusion of leaves and blossoms. The tunic she wears on earth is not present. Shateishael wonders what tree is Ayra's. The apple, perhaps?

Bella looks much as she did on the earth side of the Tether, but her clothing has changed. In place of the uncomplicated makeshift dress she'd been wearing, she wears flowing trousers with bell-like legs and a straight-hemmed tunic with sleeves to match the legs of the pants. Her hair is done in a simple plait. The clothes match the green of her eyes. Shateishael studies Bella curiously, wondering what culture her clothing comes from. "Whut's 'at from, Bellisima?"

Bella looks down at herself with a slight, perplexed frown, "Uhm... I think it's from the natural-fiber clothing catalog I was drooling over last month..." Shateishael chuckles, lightly stroking one hand along the clothing to see what the texture feels like, then glances next at Rosenstern, wondering how he'll appear. Slate does firmly remind himself not to giggle, however, should Rosie appear to be sporting kitty ears!

Slate finds himself dressed much as he would be for working a booth at the various RenFaires. On his feet are knee-high moccasins, much like Ian often wears with his kilts. They wrap around his legs over worn leather pants that look more like they were made to protect from the elements than to be titillating. The shirt he wears is a poet's shirt type with tight-cuffed blouse-sleeves and a V-neck laced with what feels to be rawhide. The cloth is the natural color of unbleached cotton. He raises a curious eyebrow, fingering the cloth and wondering if the fae realm has a certain motif to it, much like cultures have clothing motifs. Still, he thinks pragmatically as he tests the leather of the pants and shifts his weight experimentally, at least the motif seems to be practical rather than dew-drippily fanciful!

Rosie is clad most simply of anyone other than Ayra. He wears the collar and bracelet that Slate gave him, but that seems to be exactly all he's wearing. There's no sign of cat ears or a tail, but neither is there any clothing. Rosenstern blinks, then feels really very vulnerable and exposed. He tries to casually position his hands so he has some attempt at modesty, trying not to duck and crouch too much. Shateishael raises another eyebrow very high, studying Rosenstern! His drawl is a bit more pronounced than usual, "Weeeell now...!"

Rosenstern gulps a bit at Slate's drawl. "I've no idea how this could have happened...." he says, admittedly lamely.

Shateishael grins, taking pity on poor Rosie, and rumbles, "Here, don' panic, pretty flow'r. You c'n have m'shirt." He pulls it off over his head -- it should be long enough for the mortified Mercurian!

Bella blinks upon realizing how Rosie is clad -- or rather how he is unclad. Ayra wanders over, smiling slightly, "Oh... oh, dear."

Shateishael hands the shirt to Rosie and grins at Ayra, "This happen often hereabouts?"

The dryad murmurs, "Sometimes one comes through clad as they feel... practical or comfortable or..."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, finishing the sentence as he grins at his pretty friend, "Or wishful, 'm guessin'."

Rosenstern swallows a bit, blushing -- an all-over-body blush, as it turns out -- and really can't bring himself to disagree.

Shateishael pats Rosie's rear gently, rumbling, "'Least y'din' come through with a cute li'l furry tail, Rosebud!" Once pulled out of the waist of Slate's pants, the shirt is actually quite long, covering the Mercurian modestly if somewhat precariously. It's much like wearing an extremely short dress. Shateishael grins cheerfully at Rosie as the slight Mercurian pulls on Slate's shirt, adding, "Soma'll be bummed he missed this, 'm thinkin'!"

Rosenstern laughs softly, bit by bit coming to grips with being quite bare, and finding it not at all unenjoyable. He pulls the shirt on, and experiments with just how much freedom of movement he has, and how much shows more than enough. He's not quite ready to be completely bare-nekkid... though he felt a wonderful little thrill through himself when he realized he was. He'll have to remember that. It reminded me of how I was essentially flashing the entire dance floor at the ball. I wonder if I'm a closet exhibitionist, at that...

Shateishael adds cheerfully, "Now, if'n y'wanna be buck nekkid, 's fine wi'me! Jus' han' back th'shirt, 'kay?"

Rosenstern blushes again. "Nono! No, it's... it's fine! I'll... stay like this just for a little while longer I think thanks...."

Shateishael chuckles rumblingly, giving Rosenstern a gentle one-armed hug... then he looks around at the others, "'Kay! So, where to next, Miz Ayra?"

Ayra raises a hand and points toward the west -- or at least it would be west on earth -- judging from the position of the moon overhead, "That way. Mother has a little grove and garden down in that valley over there."

Bella smiles and wraps her arms around Rosie from behind, murmuring, "Feeling a little vulnerable lately, hon?"

Rosenstern takes in a breath as Bella wraps her arms around him. "Uhm... j-just a little bit," he says, blushing. "But... rather liking it, really." Bella nods and hugs the Mercurian tight for a moment.

Shateishael's hair and teeth gleam silvery in the moonlight as he grins excitedly, looking in the direction Ayra indicates, "Cool!" Then, at Bella's comment, he pauses and gives Rosenstern a concerned look, "Y'okay, pretty flow'r?" Ayra disappears through the ring of trees very discreetly, leaving the three angels the illusion of privacy.

Rosenstern gently squeezes Bella's hands, smiling to her, then he beams to Slate, bobbing his head. "I'm fine, Slate, thanks. Just dealing with living that old dream of finding yourself naked in public...."

Bella smiles, "Naked in public can be sorta fun, though. Remind me to take you to Folsom some year, Rosie."

Shateishael tilts his head curiously at Rosenstern, "Y'useta dream 'bout gettin' t'be nekkid in public? Um... didja not really want th'shirt then?" It's clear he's never had that nightmare.

Rosenstern shakes his head, "Nono, I need some time to get used to it! Uh, being naked, I mean!"

Shateishael blinks, considering that... then smiles and shrugs, "'Kay. Um... are y'sayin' y'never been nekkid in public b'fore?" At that he draws in a slow breath of understanding, "Ooooh... this is a scary thin'! I get it." He paces over and hugs Rosenstern too, "Don' worry none, li'l flow'r... won' let nobody hurtcha." He smiles, gently nuzzling the top of the slight Mercurian's head.

Bella smiles, "I suspect it would be something like having no access to your blade, lover."

Rosenstern blinks and looks oddly at Slate, then grins, hugging him back. "No. I've never been naked in public before. Not counting that dance..."

Shateishael stiffens slightly... then relaxes a bit and nods to Bella, "Gotcha, lover." When he checks, the sword is still there, and even just a casual touch reveals it to be bone-chillingly cold here in the heart of the fae realm. The air itself is not quite balmy. Shateishael is quietly relieved -- cold he doesn't mind as much as losing access to something that's supposed to be part of him. He chuckles quietly at Rosenstern, his arms strong and warm around the smaller angel, "S'okay then. Din' unnerstan' b'fore. But like I said, won' let anybody take 'vantage a' ya."

The walk to Ayra's mother's grove is hard to judge. It seems simultaneously like moments have passed and like days have passed before the crown of a truly enormous weeping willow can be seen down in a small hollow. The tree sits with its roots in a slow, clear stream, which seems to sing and chuckle over its bed. The scent of flowers is heavy in the air even here. Shateishael looks around intently, both happy to be here and slightly, automatically wary in such a new realm. Long before they arrive at the Willow grove, he discreetly takes a moment to reach for his sword, making sure it's still to hand.

Rosenstern quickly gets over his lack of dress under Slate's shirt, idly running his fingertips along Slate's arm as he walks with the taller angel, looking around curiously and in wonder. It's all so beautiful! And the scent of flowers... intoxicating! Shateishael smiles with quietly affectionate warmth at the slight Mercurian walking close to him. If Rosenstern doesn't seem to mind, Slate will drape a companionable arm about the other angel's shoulders. He grins happily at Bella, enjoying the moment. She seems to be just drinking in the air and the feel of the ground beneath her feet. Her eyes have that heavy-lidded look of someone feeling languorously aroused but in no hurry to bring an end to it. Shateishael blinks curiously -- interesting reaction Bella's having! He looks down thoughtfully at Rosenstern, wondering if the little Mercurian's also in that dreamy half-state.

When the little group draws near enough, Ayra calls out, "Mother? I've brought some visitors!"

In response to Ayra calling out, a sweet and somehow whispery alto voice calls out, "I'm down in the rose garden, darling!" The words carry a deep green undertone. It's almost as if the scent of moss carries on them.

Rosenstern seems to be in some sort of state. Flowers... flowers... flowers! Of such wonderfully delicious scents that it would make him weep if he wasn't so enthused! And of course, being around these many flowers is thrilling to him. At the voice's words he perks up even more. Rosies! Shateishael tilts his head, rather interested in the reactions of his companions... he looks around curiously, wondering if it's something in the air. At the voice he grins, glancing at Ayra and following her.

This close to the Willow Lady's grove, there are flowers of all sorts running riot. It's an impossible garden, since the blooms that are bursting all around are from all times of the year, from summer's Black-Eyed-Susans to early spring's daffodils with snowdrops nestling around them. Shateishael glances around a bit bemusedly, wondering how all the flowers grow out of season like this... maybe there aren't any seasons here? He grins, stooping to pick a bright scarlet bloom, then tucking it behind Rosenstern's ear. Rosenstern blushes almost as deeply as the rose, and smiles shyly up to Slate, before leaping up to wrap his arms around Slate's shoulders and kissing him full on the lips.

Shateishael blinks, then grins and leans to return the gentle hug and kiss... with interest. He looks up, drawing a slow breath to clear his head, a few heartbeats later... then grins down at Rosenstern, "C'mon, pretty flow'r... don' wanna get lef' b'hin'!" He takes Rosie's hand and hastens after Ayra and Bella. Rosenstern grins and scurries after Slate, holding his hand tightly as he rushes to catch up. Ayra skips down into the hollow, leading the angels into something that is less a rose garden and more a rose labyrinth. Shateishael wanders after Ayra with his lovers, looking around in quiet wonder and inhaling the lovely scents. Now if only there were a few lovely, crumbling stone ruins...

Following the apple dryad brings the angels to something that can only be called a bower. The stone gazebo here looks as if it might once have had quite an ornate roof over it. Now, however, it is simply a ring of caryatids with stone benches on the cracking marble floor. Shateishael looks around at the gazebo and sighs contentedly, rumbling, "This is one a' th'mos' beautiful gardens I ever seen." Bella is still moving dreamily, smiling silently as she follows Ayra.

Sitting on a bench in the gazebo is a woman that can only be the Willow Lady. Her skin has the texture of her tree, but moves as though it were normal flesh. A cascade of leafy-green hair reminiscent of fronds falls from her head, half-concealing her from view just as the drooping fronds of the weeping willow conceal its trunk. She rises and that whispery voice murmurs, "Child... I'm glad to see you home safe, but isn't court still going on?"

Shateishael slows, straightening and watching the Willow Lady with wary fascination. Ayra almost skips over to her mother, hugging the older dryad tightly, "It is, but Soma and father wanted you to meet these three." Rosenstern looks on at the woman in wonder. She reminds him very, very strongly of how he appeared the first time in the court... Shateishael paces forward very slowly, discreetly returning Ayra's previous favor by giving her a bit of private time with her mother.

The Willow Lady takes a step back, a broad smile on her face, "Then I'm sure I'll love to meet the...." She glances up and catches sight of the angels, several emotions chasing across her face. First startlement, followed by a moment of anxiousness -- she holds very still for a moment and her expression relaxes, perhaps as she realizes that her love and her king would not send dangerous beings into her grove.

Shateishael pauses and bows politely, then waits for the woman's expression to show she's calm again. Rosenstern also bows deeply, smiling politely and warmly to the lady. Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Ma'am? 'M Slate, 'n these're Bella 'n Rosie. Pleasure t'meetcha."

Ayra smiles and takes her mother's hand, leading the more mature Ethereal forward, "Mother, this is the Warrior, the Flowerkin, and the Seductress... but they don't seem to be called by their names." She murmurs quietly, "They're going to speak to Bran for Soma."

The willow dryad blinks slowly and a smile of relief moves across her features, "You are? Oh... oh that's so very kind..."

Shateishael gives Ayra a puzzled look, wondering what her statement about their names means. He can't help grinning suddenly at the Willow Lady's comment -- the hesitation speaks volumes about the Winter Court! "We're gonna 'least try, ma'am."

Rosenstern bobs his head, trying to put on a brave face about it. "Yes, ma'am, we are! Er, going to talk to the Winter Court, that is."

The dryad moves forward, offering her hands to the angels, "You may call me Zareh."

Rosenstern gently takes the dryad's hands, bowing over them. "Pleased to meet you, lady."

Shateishael smiles, taking her other hand and bowing gracefully, murmuring, "Y'r too kin', Lady." He releases and steps back smoothly for Bella. He studies the woman with honest interest, trying to spot the different eyes, to mentally map them on Bacchus. With close study it's not very hard to see how the brown eyes in all the green and gray could have belonged on Bacchus' face once. Shateishael smiles slowly, quietly touched at seeing love can still exist amongst the Ethereals. He mentally promises himself to do his best to protect that ability for them.

Bella steps forward and curtseys with a smile, "I see now why Bacchus gave his heart to you."

Ayra puts a hand on Rosenstern's shoulder, smiling, "Rosenstern has been helping me care for your flowers, mother. They really like his touch."

Rosenstern blushes, smiling shyly at Ayra's praise. "She's been teaching me how to properly take care of them."

Shateishael nods, "That he does. Wuz wond'rin' if'n he c'd see y'r, um... think they're called Hera's Tears?"

Zareh smiles and looks Rosie over carefully, "Star-Rose or is it Rose-Star?"

Shateishael looks curiously at Rosenstern, wondering that himself. He'd always assumed it was the compass rose... but maybe Rosie meant it to be something else? Rosenstern blinks, looking rather startled at the question. "Ah... S-star-Rose, lady. When... when I was a Reliever I would lie in the rose gardens beside the Rhine and look up at the stars... but how... how did you know?"

Zareh laughs softly, "I am an old, old woman. I have studied much." She smiles at Slate, "The Hera's Stars?"

Shateishael says, "Um... think so, Lady? Must've heard wrong, 'guess... thought it was Tears, not Stars?"

Zareh smiles, "They are called both. I have visitors that say they're far too lovely to be called something sad."

Shateishael thinks for a moment... then rumbles quietly, "From whut I've seen, beauty ain't always joyous... 'lthough I wisht it could be."

Zareh smiles softly at Slate and her resemblance to Ayra is very obvious for a moment, despite their different barks and foliage, "Very optimistic."

Shateishael smiles a bit wistfully, then sighs and gracefully shrugs one shoulder, "'S whut we try t'work t'wards. 'S our natures, 'guess."

Zareh smiles, nodding her head as if Slate had said some sort of passcode, "Indeed... are you hungry Friends, or thirsty?"

Rosenstern blinks. "I'm... honestly not sure, lady. This is our first time in the Marches...."

Shateishael smiles faintly as they're once again referred to as 'Friends' -- he wonders if the Ethereals can just tell, or if it's more like sympathetic magic. He nods in agreement with Rosenstern, glancing at Bella to see if she's still looking euphoric. Bella does indeed still look happily dreamy. Shateishael smiles, holding out an arm in silent invitation to Bella -- if she doesn't look like she's about to wander off and sniff flowers.

Ayra chuckles softly, "You needn't accept. It's an offer of hospitality, but truthfully saying you aren't hungry or thirsty isn't an insult."

Bella nestles herself against Slate's free side. Shateishael's face warms for a moment as he tucks an arm warmly about Bella... then he looks up and rumbles to the Willow Lady, "Is food 'n drink in plentiful s'pply here f'r y'all?"

Ayra and Zareh both nod, smiling those almost-identical smiles, "Oh yes," the older woman affirms, "It is a safe place for us here."

Shateishael smiles slowly, putting his other arm around Rosenstern, "Then... 'm thinkin' we'd be honored?"

Rosenstern smiles, nestling against Slate and nodding. "We'd be very honored, yes!"

The dryad doesn't seem to so much have a house as just live in the shelter of her willow. The enormous tree is as wide around as twenty people holding hands could encompass. In the gnarled roots there is something like an eating nook, and here Zareh serves the angels herbal tea in colorful glass mugs and cookies that taste of nuts and dried fruits. Rosenstern curls up his legs beneath himself as he sits, holding the glass mug of tea in both hands.

Shateishael enjoys the cookies tremendously -- they bring back good memories. He sips his tea and murmurs curiously to Ayra, "So... whut'd y'mean, Ayra, 'bout us not bein' known by our names, please?" Bella cups her glass in both hands and breathes in the fragrant steam, the sweet-earthy scents of catnip and mint and possibly clover carried on the steam. Shateishael blinks, taking a closer look at his tea as the wonderful scents drift past... then smiles and savors it a bit more slowly.

Ayra is drinking just water and sitting with her feet tucked beneath her, almost more a kneeling posture than sitting, "Names are important. Very important. At least among the Ethereal folk. Knowing a being's true name can give you much power over them. It's considered something of a compliment to allow someone to call you buy your true name."

Shateishael nods, "Yes'm, I figgered that. But... oh, y'r sayin' the titles a' Warrior, Seductress, 'n Flowerkin are..." He pauses, his eyes widening a bit at a sudden thought, "Wait... 're we fillin' archetypes for y'all?!"

Rosenstern closes his eyes with the scents, then opens his eyes at the mention of archetypes from Slate, blinking a little. "Or there are archetypes that we fit into?" he adds.

Zareh smiles, "Mmm... not exactly. Most of us take names that describe us as our everyday names. Somhairle, for instance, is the Summer Traveler. But only a handful of beings know his true name."

Shateishael rumbles curiously, "What does Zareh mean, ma'am?" He smiles and adds to Ayra, "Th'names we gave y'all t'call us aren't our True Names neither, Miz Ayra."

The Willow Lady draws the first two fingers of her right hand down her right cheek, smiling, "Tears."

Shateishael looks back at Zareh a bit startledly... then pauses, considering... then nods slowly, "Gotcha, ma'am."

Ayra chuckles softly, "Well, that would explain why you go by the names of a type of stone and a word meaning beautiful. And the Flowerkin already explained his own name."

Shateishael nods, "Friend a' mine named me so, 'cause I needed a name inna language a'th'white men." He grins, "And Bella's name suits her!"

Bella laughs and elbows Slate playfully, shaking her head, "It's just a shortening of my name."

Shateishael grins down at Bella, "S'th'truth, sweetheart. Y'r soul sings a' beauty... 'least t'me." Rosenstern smiles, bobbing his head in agreement with Slate.

Bella just smiles and shakes her head, still sipping her tea, "Biased." She murmurs into her glass.

Zareh smiles, "Of course, it is also a compliment among us to give your familiar name."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, but doesn't tease Bella with the obvious -- that he can't lie. He looks instead back to the Willow Lady and nods, "Happy t'do so, ma'am." He hesitates, then politely asks, "Ma'am... is there anyplace in p'tic'lar y'd suggest we see here? Anyplace that might help us with talkin' t'th'Winter Court, p'raps?"

Ayra nods, "Of course, everyone knows everyone else's name any more." Shateishael glances at Ayra inquiringly. The apple dryad explains with a smile, "The community is very small. Standing on formality is now considered almost an insult."

Shateishael rumbles, "Ah, gotcha." He grins, wondering if Gaelach stands on formality much despite convention.

Zareh chuckles softly, "I am, of course, going to say see the gardens here, but if you're wishing to learn to deal with Bran and his lot..." She shakes her head and shrugs, "Things are still very Summery right now. You won't find much to train you for Winter."

Shateishael rumbles curiously, "How does one train f'Winter, ma'am?'

Zareh continues to smile, warm eyes smiling out from their etching of crows' feet, but her voice is serious, "By being there, mostly, Slate."

Rosenstern frowns a little. "How much... how much time would we have before the Winter Court convenes?"

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "'Kay." He falls silent, musing a bit... perhaps he should make sure to take both Rosie and Bella someplace snowy before they meet with the Winter Court. That way they can purchase appropriate clothing for the weather, and know a bit better what they'll potentially be facing. He'd guess Rosie's been in some bitter winters, but he's not sure Bella ever has.

Zareh chuckles and shrugs apologetically, "Time is different here." She glances at her daughter, "Darling? Could you tell them?"

Ayra nods and smiles, "The court comes into power in mid to late September. On the Autumn Equinox. That's the day that Soma will go into his chrysalis and emerge as Bran. Bran is something of a traditionalist -- he holds his court from the Winter Solstice until Candlemas."

Shateishael thinks a bit, then rumbles, "Jus' b'fore th'christian holiday, then. Gotcha."

Rosenstern bites his lip and nods slowly. "During the time before, will there be any way to... I'm not sure, gauge the court before going there? Shateishael grins amusedly, thinking, [If only!]

Ayra nods, face serious, "You can arrange to meet some of the courtiers, perhaps. If you give me some time, I can perhaps compile a list of those that would allow you to visit before the court convenes."

Rosenstern nods slowly. "What of the courtiers who exist in both courts?

Shateishael rumbles to Ayra, "Much 'ppreciated, Miz Ayra."

Ayra thinks for a moment, as if trying to parse the question, "Do you mean those such as myself and Bacchus? Those that don't change at the change of the year?"

Rosenstern nods to Ayra. "And the ones who... who change. Are they approachable beforehand?" Zareh is still smiling quietly, sipping her own water, nibbling at the cookies. Shateishael listens with interest, holding the tea so he can breath the lovely scent as he sips.

Ayra nods, "They are, but they may not be immediately recognizable after the Equinox. Some don't change much, though. Heath is almost the exact same, but he's also a bit... off."

Shateishael says, "Who'zat?"

Ayra smiles, "He's one of the guardians -- one of father's charges. He's fairly harmless, but he is also one of the least magically powerful of the Sidhe."

Shateishael looks curious, hoping she'll explain further. Zareh nods, smiling gently, "He is also not overly burdened with brains, but that has sweetened his nature somewhat. Even his Winter self is almost gentle."

Shateishael says, "Er... whut is he, please?"

Rosenstern sets his mug down, frowning in thought. "Who is he?"

Ayra blinks, looking surprised, "A Sidhe... like Soma... the butterfly-winged ones -- at least on the Summer side."

Shateishael mentally runs through all the large, strong warrior types he's seen so far, trying to place this 'Heath' person. Rosenstern says, "Why do you recommend him, if I may ask?"

Ayra smiles to Rosenstern, "Because he will give you a sample of the Winter changes without being such a shock. Once the Equinox happens, he is still quiet and stolid and honor-bound. He is simply less happy. He has a very dour seeming."

Shateishael says, "Ah... gotcha." He nods slowly, remembering someone he thinks fits that description, "'Kay... but 'm thinkin' th'Rosebud's tryin' t'find someone who might be able t'tell us 'bit more 'bout whut t'expect... I think?" He looks inquiringly at Rosenstern. Ayra also looks to Rosenstern for confirmation on that.

Rosenstern nods to Slate quietly. "That's what I was asking about, yes." He considers Ayra's words and nods again. "Okay. I... would he be able to remember us, then?"

Ayra smiles softly, "You would have to remind him. But for those that exist in both worlds... Karl, of course. The leprechauns are largely unchanged."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "Miz Peony then, maybe. Karl 'n Ajax, definitely. But gotta say, ladies, 've already asked several folks 'bout whut t'xpect, 'n never get straight answers... jus' that things're... diff'rent."

Rosenstern lets out a breath and nods. "Slate is unfortunately right. We ask so many times, and all we're told is... it's different. I worry about what will happen when I see Bran. Will I feel the same attraction for him that I do Soma, on sight alone?"

Shateishael says, "'N whut kinda formalities we s'pposeta know 'bout, 'r do, 'r whut?"

Ayra takes a deep breath, bracing herself, "Bran is beautiful and sensual and... very hard to resist. He doesn't look all that similar..." She glances at her mother, "Can you show him, mother?"

Zareh nods and rises, returning after a few moments with a large silver bowl painted black on the inside and filled almost to the brim with water, "I can show you his face, Rosenstern. And then we can discuss etiquette."

Rosenstern perks up immediately, and nods. "Yes, please, Lady. I would appreciate it greatly."

Shateishael rumbles with some relief, "Thank y'kindly, ma'am."

The Willow Lady places the bowl on the ground and kneels over it, using her hands to pull her flowing tresses out of the way as she blows across the still surface of the water, creating ripples. Between long, slow breaths, she murmurs something in a fluid tongue. Shateishael sets his mug aside, watching with interest. He's not seen this among Celestials at all, and rarely among humans. The ripples spread across the surface, first obscuring the black inner curve of the bowl and then clouding, looking like the vessel is full of clouds. The seeming of mist solidifies and then begins to form into a figure. Lines become clearer as the countenance of the Winter King becomes visible. Skin of basalt is surrounded by hair of hair that looks almost silver. His eyes are opalescent, pale and shining.

Shateishael raises an interested eyebrow at the skin and hair color combination, rumbling quietly, "Strikin'." Rosenstern nods mutely at Slate's comment, staring at the image. The face itself is compelling, and the lines are familiar, looking much like Soma's older, squarer-jawed brother. Shateishael grins, putting a hand gently on Rosenstern's shoulder, "'S jus' a seemin', Rosebud. Don' sweat it." He glances curiously at Bella, wondering how she finds the Winter Lord as well.

Zareh murmurs softly, "They haven't wings in Bran's court."

Bella is looking at the seeming, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn't say anything, thinking she can see how he would be difficult to resist. Shateishael nods to Zareh, somehow unsurprised at that. "Been tole once wings take a light heart."

Zareh smiles wryly, the gentleness of her face fades slightly, "Oh, some of them are light-hearted."

Shateishael waits silently for Bella and Rosie to recover. As he does so, he muses thoughtfully... is it because he's faced David that this being doesn't stir him so? Or... maybe he's just not as sensitive as his companions? That'd bother him, but he does have to admit it's a possibility. Rosenstern nods again to Slate, placing his hand on the Stone Angel's. He winces a little at Slate's mention of wings. Shateishael glances silently at the Willow Lady, studying her reaction... then finally rumbles quietly, "Y'say that like it's a bad thing, Lady?"

Zareh chuckles softly, looking kindly at Slate, "Light of heart doesn't mean kind of heart, Warrior."

Shateishael considers that for a moment... then rumbles, "Funny. Always equated light-heartedness wi'some kinda innocence. Guess I'm wrong, then." Bella chews on one of her knuckles thoughtfully. Shateishael adds politely, "Thank ya f'showin' us his seemin', ma'am." He looks at Bella, then rumbles gently to her, "Whut's both'rin' ya so, lover?"

Zareh smiles at her daughter, "Dear heart, could you go see if you can find pears somewhere in the gardens?" Ayra nods and obediently slips away, looking for fruit.

Shateishael glances amusedly at Zareh, thinking that was likely a dodge to be alone with the three angels... then looks back at Bella a touch worriedly. Bella smiles at Slate, "Just thinking that he's beautiful, but it's cold beauty. Like an iceberg."

Shateishael nods to Bella, "Good way a' describin' him, yeah." He thinks, then adds, "Like th'fairy tale, where th'guy's heart wuz frozen inta ice."

Once Ayra is gone, Zareh's face gets calm but serious and she draws her fingers through the water, stirring it and dissipating Bran's image, "You've heard the saying 'no strings attached'?" She looks at each of the angels in turn, wanting them all to answer. Shateishael nods, his hand still resting on Rosenstern's shoulder. Rosenstern looks away from the image as it dissipates, looking up to Zareh and nodding quietly. Bella also nods.

Zareh nods, meeting each angel's eyes for a moment, "Everything in the Winter Court comes with strings attached. Some of them to bind you, some to trip you up. You shan't be able to refuse everything offered without being offensive. Etiquette is much like some old human courts. Refusal of a gift can be considered an insult. Breach of hospitality, once properly offered, can be a mortal offense. But strings are just strings. You can cut them or untie them or rearrange them to your liking, if you're clever. And I think you are all somewhat clever."

Shateishael winces slightly, trying not to roll his eyes -- he doesn't want the Willow Lady to think he's exasperated with her, after all. He rumbles instead, "Well now... guess I'll be bein' quiet mosta th'time, then." He grins ruefully, "But then we already knew that."

Zareh smiles warmly at Slate, reaching out to touch the side of his face, like a mother touching a favored son, "You shan't have to be gregarious, Slate. You need only b e true and strong."

Shateishael tilts his head a bit surprisedly at the touch -- most folks are a bit shy of him usually, and it's nice to not be treated with automatic wariness. He smiles quietly at the Willow Lady, "That I c'n do, Lady."

Rosenstern sits back on his rump, curling his arms around his legs. "The letter rather than the spirit of an arrangement?" he asks quietly. He's familiar with things that way -- maybe too familiar, but it's the way that too many humans did things, especially in post-war Berlin.

Zareh's smile turns to Rosie, "Very much, Rose-Star. I think your experience there may serve you all well." Rosenstern nods -- a little sadly, a little determinedly, a little nervously.

Bella nods, looking very serious, "I know about those kinds of strings."

Shateishael smiles, running a hand gently along Bella's back, "We'll be careful, sweetheart, best we can." Bella lets her eyes half-close, relaxing quite visibly with the stroking. She nods, trusting Slate.

Shateishael continues to gently stroke Bella's back, his gaze returning to the Willow Lady. He rumbles, "Thanks 'gain, Lady. Don' hold much wi'strings 'n deceptive tricks, but 'm happy t'help folks who're willin' t'be generous... so's there anythin' we c'n do t'help you out?"

Zareh chuckles softly, eyes twinkling slightly as her demeanor lightens for a moment, "Just to enjoy yourselves while you're here." She looks to Rosenstern and leans toward him, reaching out to touch the center of his chest with one delicate finger, "Do you still fear meeting Bran, gardener angel?"

Shateishael muses thoughtfully to himself that it'd serve both Lilith and Bran right to lock them both into a room together... then grins faintly. Wouldn't be fair to poor Soma. Still, he suspects that's where Lilith falls short -- she's so scared of a lack of freedom that she can't conceive of true generosity. He smiles faintly again to himself, reminding himself that Lilith's not here now and he won't be having any further dealings with her anyway... then he looks up and nods to Zareh, "That we'll do wi'out tryin', 'm sure, Lady."

Rosenstern blushes a little, ducking his head at the direct question. He nods a little, and not looking directly at her, says quietly, "Yes. I know that some part of him is Lord Soma, and that I can love that part. And I know that I... I could get hurt if I give in to that. Get hurt, and hurt the people I love and care about -- Slate, Bella.... even Lord Soma...." Her touch is comforting, though, and soothing. Motherly, so much like the nurturing sense he feels whenever he's around Mutter. Shateishael smiles quietly at Rosenstern.

Zareh nods, murmuring softly, "Then you're wise, child." She smiles to Slate and Bella, "But I think your mates shall keep you safe. You three are obviously bound to one another."

Shateishael grins with quiet pride -- he's still thrilled about that! Rosenstern makes a quiet sound and nods. "I... I know they will, Mu- Lady."

Shateishael covers his grin at Rosie's slip, then rumbles to Zareh, "We really 'ppreciate y'r hospitality 'n 'dvice, Lady."

Zareh smiles, folding her hands together in her lap, "You're more than welcome to it. Trees have long memories. I remember long before Uriel's insanity. I have missed having the Celestial children playing in my gardens."

Shateishael draws in his breath slowly, seized with a sudden longing to simply sit here at the foot of the ancient Willow... and listen to her tell stories. Then he pulls himself together again, rumbling politely, "Thank you, ma'am; 'at's good t'hear. Hopefully we c'n help wi'th'Celestials too at some point." He's looking around casually at the lovely profusion of flowers everywhere as he speaks... then suddenly gets a funny look, glancing at Bella and Rosie. He thinks for a moment, glancing back at the flowers... then grins! To Zareh he rumbles, "Ma'am, izzit 'kay if'n we pick 'few flowers?" Rosenstern blinks, glancing to Slate, and brightens at his words.

Zareh laughs softly, eyes twinkling, "Of course you may. Flowers are meant to be enjoyed... but I do have rules, children. Never pick the last three of anything, and don't harm one plant to get to another."

Shateishael nods and grins mischievously, "Yes'm -- 'n thanks, ma'am!" He leans towards the flowers as he speaks, gathering a small bouquet of rainbow colors. Once he has a small pile in his lap, he starts weaving them together, with surprising delicacy considering the size of his strong hands. A moment later he looks up, beaming, and holds out a little flower tiara to Bella, "Y'like, sweetheart?" His demeanor gets a bit shy as he adds, "They're camellias 'n honeysuckle... f', um... camellias mean loveliness 'n gratitude, 'n honeysuckle's f'devoted 'ttention 'n generosity..."

Rosenstern more or less leans on Slate's leg, resting his head on his hands there, watching raptly and with only some surprise -- he's seen Slate make the most wonderful, delicate-seeming things in his forge. Shateishael lightly strokes Rosenstern's hair with his free hand as he holds the wreathe out to Bella. It's practically reflexive, in a way -- when his lovers touch him, he wants to return the pleasure. Bella laughs and settles it on her head, arranging her hair so that the delicate wreath sits just so. "So much sweet knowledge in your head, Slate... no wonder you're irresistible."

Shateishael beams, flushing with pleasure... then happily starts weaving another flower wreathe! Partway through he gets a thoughtful look, though... then grins and continues what he's doing. A moment later he beams cheerfully at Rosenstern, "Okay, got sump'in' f'ya too, Rosebud! Put'cher feet in m'lap, wouldja, please?" Rosenstern blinks at Slate. He'd half expected it to be another garland. Gingerly he curls his legs forward from under him, leaning back and resting his feet in Slate's lap.

Shateishael is still grinning mischievously as he weaves closed two little flower anklets for Rosenstern. There's a bit left over, and he weaves that one around Rosenstern's unadorned wrist as well, then sits back and beams, "There! Swee' pea f'delicate pleasures, 'n roses f'love, a' course -- all roses say 'I love ya.' But also, from whut I wuz taught, red's f'passion, 'n th' burgundy ones speak a' unconscious beauty. Y'like, li'l Rose?"

Bella and Zareh both watch Slate and Rosenstern as the Seraph weaves delicate floral shackles around the Mercurian's ankles and wrist. After a moment Zareh murmurs, "There's an actual rose bower here."

Rosenstern blinks a bit, blushing as he looks at the myriad of garlands... then lunges and hugs Slate tightly about the waist. "They're wonderful -- thank you, Slate!"

Shateishael chuckles, leaning to gently and warmly hug Rosenstern close -- then Bella as well. He brightens at Zareh's words, studying Rosenstern thoughtfully... then grins mischievously at Bella, "Ya thinkin' whut I'm thinkin' 'bout th'li'l Rose, sweetheart?"

Bella's eyes are half-lidded and she's smiling, "I'm thinking that he'd look delicious with that shirt off lying in a rose bower."

Rosenstern blinks a little from somewhere within the hug -- he missed something there. Shateishael chuckles rumblingly, "Ayup! Think th' Flowerchile'd look best flower-clad!" He beams at the two dryads, "Would it be 'kay with y'all if'n we sat inna rose bower 'bit?"

Ayra has just arrived and she laughs softly, "The gardens have that effect on people..." Zareh is just smiling in an almost nostalgic way, "Use it any way you need, Friends. I have work to do in my violet beds."

Shateishael is almost glowing with happiness, although he rumbles to Zareh before she departs, "Ma'am, thank ya kindly f'y'r gen'rosity!" Then he simply collects Rosenstern up in his arms, rising with easy grace, "Miz Ayra, c'n ya point us t'wards th'rose bower, please?"

Rosenstern blinks again, remembering to say, "Ah... thank you, Lady Ayra, Lady Zareh!" before he gets whisked off.

Ayra covers her knowing grin with one hand, pointing off down a winding train with the other, "Just go down along there... the bower is by the little pool in the stream."

Shateishael grins cheerfully, rumbling, "Thanks! Don' mind us..." then grins and tilts his head inquiringly at Bella, "Wanna?"

Bella laughs quietly and steps in close to Slate's side, stroking Rosie's hair, "If neither of you minds."

Shateishael mms quietly -- it's clear he sure doesn't! He glances down at Rosenstern, resting in his strong arms, "Pretty Rose? Y'mind?"

Rosenstern blinks a bit, and snuggles into Slate's arms, rubbing his head against Bella's hand. "N-no, not at all...!" he says a little breathlessly.

Bella curls her fingers into Rosie's hair and pulls on it slightly, making him tip his head back so she can kiss his forehead, voice just a little throaty, "Then I'd love to..."

Shateishael grins and leans to kiss the top of Bella's head, then turns down the path Ayra indicated. He walks slowly enough that it's easy for Bella to keep up, and for her and Rosenstern both to look around and appreciate their surroundings... but he's definitely quite interested in getting to their goal! Bella actually walks a little behind the two men, loving to watch Slate's body move and smiling blissfully at the way the smaller angel snuggles into their mutual lover's arms. The path they move along is laid out using flat flagstones with some small-leafed ground covering plant curling between them. Creeping phlox spill out of raised stone beds on either side, cascading and looking like violet, lavender, and white sea foam.

Shateishael glances over his shoulder and smiles at Bella, then continues striding easily down the path, keeping an ear out for the sound of running water. The riotous, beautiful scents delight him, and he's not sure if it's Rosenstern's flowers or the ones around him... but he's very much looking forward to laying his graceful little Flower lover down in them, and sharing the slight Mercurian with his beautiful Bright lover. As the path curves on, the sound of a stream burbling over rocks starts to become audible and either the path digs down into a a cut in the earth or the beds are building up along it, creating almost a tunnel. The phlox are mixed here with bridal veil and deep green flowing vines.

Rosenstern almost but not quite purrs, even as he looks around with fascination at the Ethereal gardens. His ears perk at the sound of the brook. Shateishael draws a slow, wondering breath, looking around in some amazement at the beauty around them all. He paces slowly along the flowering, richly scented tunnel, Rosenstern held carefully close, his ice blue eyes alight with pleasure as he rumbles quietly, "Ain't this 'mazin'?!"

Rosenstern is now looking around with wide eyes. "Oh, my..." he breathes. "It's incredible!"

The flower-covered walls give way to an arch that looks woven of slender branches. An irregular lattice of the same branches replaces the earthen walls, and the phlox and greenery is first mixed with roses and then completely usurped by them. The flagstones end, and the ground is covered with soft, cool grass. The blooms of the roses are a riot of colors. White, pink, lavender, red, old fashioned and modern, tiny tea roses mixing with blooms almost the size of a bowl. At the end of the tunnel, the path opens into a bower with a domed roof and woven pillars, covered in the riot of roses. Shateishael smiles quietly, pacing slowly down the path to step into the bower and turn 360 degrees, to see everything around them. Rosenstern closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, taking in the flowers of the bower almost by scent alone, his lips curling into a comfortable and dreamy smile.

Shateishael grins down at Bella, murmuring, "Here?"

Bella smiles, eyes still half-closed as she starts to slip out of her tunic top, "Oh, yes. Definitely here..." She looks around as well, sighing softly. To one side of the bower the brook is visible, surface rippling and sparkling in the strange light of the Marches. Smooth round stones are visible through the crystal water. The rest of the bower is surrounded by a cherry orchard, the sweet blossoms in full bloom, their delicious scent mixing with the roses.

Shateishael nods, going down to one knee, then gently setting Rosenstern on the ground. Then he carefully helps Rosie remove the billowy shirt, rumbling quietly, "Lift y'r arms, sweet petal... want'cha jus' flow'r-clad..." He's quietly amazed at the rich opulence of the flower-life about them -- and considering the effect it's having on him, he's willing to bet Rosenstern's practically stunned by it.

Rosenstern's eyes flutter open and he nods, a little dazedly as if intoxicated from the storm of roses surrounding them. Still smiling dreamily, he lifts up his arms, letting the shirt be pulled from his body, shimmying out from under it. Shateishael puts a supportive arm behind Rosenstern, rumbling, "Lay back 'gainst m'arm, sweetlin'... lemme spread'ja out comfy here..." Rosenstern leans back against Slate's arm, his back arching a little as he looks up to Slate with bright, warm eyes.

Bella is quietly sliding out of her own clothes. There's something about the flowers, the stream -- the whole place really -- that makes her want to be bare except for her necklace and the flowers in her hair. The Bright settles down on her knees, eyes sparkling as she speaks, "You too, love. You're not allowed to be the only one dressed."

Shateishael smiles, slowly laying Rosenstern back and rumbling to Bella, "Will, sweetheart... jus' need 'moment here..." As he speaks he lightly runs the fingers of his free hand along Rosenstern's cheek, along his throat... down the center of Rosie's chest... along his stomach, letting Rosenstern's head lay on the grass... then curling with languid pleasure even lower, until he's traced all the way along Rosenstern's inner thigh to about the knee. Rosenstern's shivering begins small, then becomes a delicious tremor as Slate's hand goes lower, his breathing becoming shallow and quick. His eyes flutter closed as he tilts his head back, one of his hands moving to gently touch Slate's chest. Slate sighs quietly, admiring the way Rosie reacts to his touch... then smiles at Bella, "'Kay, y'r turn -- 'm gonna strip a moment." He sits back and removes his leather breeches and boots, although he does not hurry. He wants to admire both his lovers together, shining in the beautifully blooming Summer bower.

Bella laughs softly and moves over until she's kneeling beside Rosie, leaning over so that at first the only touch is her hair brushing over his skin, tickling along his shoulders and falling around his face like a curtain. She slowly lowers her face until her lips can brush over his, sharing breath for a moment.

Rosenstern murmurs softly, "Feels so nice here...." Bella's hair tickles him a little, but pleasantly, a silken brush against bare skin that serves to emphasize how bare to them both he is. Then Bella's lips touch his, and his breath catches, softly returning the kiss and surrendering to it even as he surrenders to Slate's touch. Bella lets her hand trace much the same path Slate's took, trailing down the other side of his chest and stomach, caressing the hollow of his hip before sliding down to let her nails drag along the flesh of his inner thigh. When the kiss breaks, the Bright looks almost intoxicated.

Rosenstern gives a small, not unpleasurable sound -- less a cry, more a gasp -- at the caress of Bella's nails upon his skin. His other hand moves to gently trail along Bella's arm, caressing and fleeting. His gasps become quicker with Slate's touches, and he feels himself going dizzy, already intoxicated with the scent of roses filling his senses, all the more filled with desire for Bella and Slate. Shateishael smiles lazily, his eyes glowing with euphoria, admiring the lush tableaux before him. Almost delicately he reaches out, letting his fingers trail through Bella's hair, following it down to Rosenstern's soft skin, tracing slow, languid circles of almost ticklish sensation around nipples and throat... a low, anticipatory rumble coming from deep within him. Bella shifts, letting the tips of her hair move down Rosie's body, brushing over the back of Slate's hand as he caresses the reclining Mercurian. There's just something deliciously vulnerable about the slight angel.

Some time later, after a delicious time interspaced by sounds both soft and loud of the three enjoying each other, the gentle breeze stirring the scent of roses all about them and the brook providing a quiet accompaniment, the tunnel finds the three curled up together, holding each other close about them, the warm glow not quite fading from the sweet moments of bliss and drawing them out in long, languid minutes. Bella finds herself actually giggling softly, stroking whichever lover's stomach she can reach most easily, "Mmm... definitely think Rosie coming through bare was a great big hint from someone."

Shateishael grins, rumbling lazily, "Guess we sh'd keep 'im that way, mm, lover? Maybe few more roses..."

Rosenstern gives a soft 'mmm' sound. "I won't complain ever again about that...."

Shateishael chuckles, low and warm, then rumbles, "'Kay, we'll keep ya bare more then -- y'r jus' too d'licious like this!"

Rosenstern blushes a little bit. "Not... not in the Corporeal...!" he argues... just a bit.

Bella smiles, squirming around until she can put her head on Slate's thigh, "But I want to be able to dress him up. I've got a fishnet bodysuit that's just about two sizes too small..." She grins impishly at Rosie, "Why not? When no one's around?"

Shateishael gently rests his fingers against Rosenstern's lips, whispering, "Shhhh..." Rosenstern blinks to Bella, still a touch intoxicated -- or maybe it's a persistent effect around all these flowers -- and blushes at the thought of it... then dutifully, if impishly, shushes. Shateishael rumbles amusedly to Bella, "I wanna watch, then, lover -- 'n unwrap him when y'r done!"

Bella laughs again, this time her full, rich laughter, "It's a deal." She wriggles a bit and sighs, "My god, even the ground here is soft."

Rosenstern smiles sheepishly and nods, snuggling a little. "Mmm, it is... I could almost sleep here...."

Shateishael rumbles lazily, one hand gently stroking Bella's hair where her head rests against his thigh... the other arm curled snugly and warmly around Rosenstern, "'Mazin', innit? Wonder if'n there's anyplace like this in Heaven... 'r if there's jus' sump'in' special 'bout th' 'thereals."

Rosenstern mmms again. "The Grove," he murmurs lazily. "Garden zu Mutter. 'S like this...."

Shateishael says, "'Z itta place y'c'n curl up wi'lovers'n know y'r not gonna be innerrupted?"

Rosenstern smiles a little wanly. "Not so much, I don't think... it's Heaven.... but the angels who disapprove... they don't go to that part of the Grove, I don't think. Won't be anybody stumbling upon anyone who doesn't think it's nice...'

Bella closes her eyes and smiles, stretching out happily, just feeling all her muscles work together. Shateishael nods lazily, "Soun's nice... but I still think this place has its own beauty." He sighs relaxedly, then adds quietly, "We all needta not lose it." Bella makes another sleepy, affirmative sound.

Rosenstern makes a quiet sound, nodding softly as he snuggles into Slate. "We won't. Ever. I don't know how... but I won't see that."

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Last modified: 2006-Dec-07 15:15:59

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