October 2010


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Nov. 11th, 2022


Blodeuwedd )

Oct. 4th, 2010


Autumn turns the treetops into brilliant reds and golds, each one like a funeral pyre, until the chill wind tears the leaves away from their branches. And with each leaf that falls and each flower that droops and shrivels, Blodeuwedd feels a part of her die while, as another (never quite dormant, not yet full-woken) begins to stir. Soon, she knows, there'll be naught left of the trees but bare, black skeletons, and of herself...

Well, she too will don another face; the one Gwydion made for her. The punishment for coveting freedom.

The May Queen's reign is almost over, and Winter's Crone rises to take her place.

Sep. 7th, 2010


She wears flowers in her hair; purple asters and blushing sedums so carefully entwined and slowly wilting amid a tangle of blonde curls. She wears them while she can, while there are still blooms to be plucked - clinging to the last ebbs of summer, savouring them before they too are snatched away by the advancing autumn.

Soon, she knows, the time for flowers will be over, the leaves will fall and the ground will grow hard and it will be feathers, feathers and bones once more. The Calan Gaeaf looms heavy in her mind, and she knows that it will not be long before she feels the pull.

It is to be owls again, and soon will come the time for hunting.

But until then, Blodeuwedd wears her flowers, and dreams with dull yearning of the meadows of the old country and a springtime without end.