The White Stag Comes.
The moon strikes the highlands beautifully. The features of stone and tree are thrown in deep relief by the brilliant light. The evening is pleasantly cool and quiet as it finds Odette here.
Odette is making her way back through the forest from her cottage, enjoying the night and the moonlight. she wears a lightweight brown cloak with the hood pulled up, carrying a large bundle of her clothes and books for the trip to Kitzeh. Her cottage packed up she is in a surprisingly good mood, singing to herself . ~Oh if I was a blackbird, and could whistle and sing. I'd follow the vessel my true love sails in ~
Guinevere rides slowly onto Odette's lands with her seneschal by her side. Emerald eyes take in the breathtaking beauty of the grove and she inhales the scent deeply. Her own green cloak blends in well with the surrounding trees. The seneschal motions toward Odette with his head, indicating to Guin that he has found the other woman. "I thank thee," she says softly to the man before smiling at Odette.
Something flutters overhead. It blots out the stars in its path. A raven. A gentle caw is issued as it passes by. In its wake, the night is silent as the grave. Something enters the ring of trees around the King Oak. The air turns chill and crisp. Breath becomes visible.
Odette lifts a hand in greeting to Guin then cocks her head following the Raven's path. She turns to the Seneschal and puts a hand up for he and Guinevere to halt their progress. Her voice carrying, far different now than it was a moment ago. It is commanding, the Priestess replacing the young woman in tone. "Stay back out of the circle, for your Mistresses safety!" Moving quickly she puts down her bundle and steps into the sacred grove, moving cautiously forward toward the King oak, her nostrils flaring as she takes in the scents on the air, her whole body alert. Sweeping a hand back over her head she removes the hood stepping forward toward the alter and Oaks, a quiet reverence settling about her.
Both Dame Brandywine and her rider stop the moment the order is issued, the pair far too devout to so much as consider disobeying a Priestess, nevermind a higher-ranking lady. Guinevere decides not to dismount, just in case, instead watching the interaction between woman and bird with sharp eyes. Her seneschal's hand is already wrapped about the hilt of his sword, ready for action at the drop of a hat.
From around the King Oak a shape emerges - pointed and dark. Then further, and dark eyes follow. Beyond that, it is as white as pure snow. The White Stag rounds the tree to regard Odette from a distance.
The wind is silenced by its majesty. Gooseflesh pricks those looking upon the beast. Surely, it is not of this world.
As for the raven, there is no further sign.
Tears spring to her eyes as Odette moves forward only to kneel in the moist grass. The beauty of the Stag taking her breath, as she smiles, not daring to move, barely breathing as she watches him closely, her body trembling.
The seneschal audibly gasps and dismounts in one smooth movement, masking a light thud beside him. When he turns to help Guinevere down, he finds she is already upon the ground; she sits upon her knees, face nearly touching the ground with her entire body shaking. The man quickly follows suit. Unlike his lady, he does not sneak a peek at the godly creature.
The beast trots forward several steps, the span of only a scant few yards from where Odette kneels. Its gaze settles upon her, glancing to Guinevere and her companion only briefly. It is as though the moon itself has a twin on earth. The milky coat of the White Stag is radiant, even in the dark of night. This singular moment stretches into a seeming infinity.
Odette lifts a hand, unable to resist reaching out toward the great beast, trembling as she smiles. She conveys with her eyes her devotion, her words spoken only in her mind for no God, beast or man needs them spoken aloud to be heard. ~I keep the word and the ways, and I remind them you are forbidden. This is your place, and I will keep it for you and for the Mother, and the Hunter, as long as my line draws breath.~
Guinevere watches Odette touch the White Stag in shocked silence. There is great reverence emanating from her features, her breath caught in her throat. The mounts themselves nearly seem to kneel as well.
Clouds billow from behind the moon, invading the starlit sky. Thunder rolls, splitting the air with its proximity. Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds. Shapes most unnatural can be seen there. Flickers and flashes fill the muddied sky. A brilliant strike of lightning blanches the grove and blinds all who look upon it.
When the light fades, all is as it was. Before it is touched, the White Stag is gone. The clouds are gone. The night is deathly still. Lyonesse sleeps this night, restlessly.
Odette stares at the sky as if seeing more than just flashes and clouds. Her head shaking she furrows her brows, tears spilling down her cheeks. With a soft intake of breath she nods then bows her head, trembling as she draws in breath to fill her lungs.
Taking the strong weather as a severe warning, Guinevere buries her face in her arms, squeezing her eyes shut. The horses rear and whinny, only held to their positions by excellent training.
Odette is making her way back through the forest from her cottage, enjoying the night and the moonlight. she wears a lightweight brown cloak with the hood pulled up, carrying a large bundle of her clothes and books for the trip to Kitzeh. Her cottage packed up she is in a surprisingly good mood, singing to herself . ~Oh if I was a blackbird, and could whistle and sing. I'd follow the vessel my true love sails in ~
Guinevere rides slowly onto Odette's lands with her seneschal by her side. Emerald eyes take in the breathtaking beauty of the grove and she inhales the scent deeply. Her own green cloak blends in well with the surrounding trees. The seneschal motions toward Odette with his head, indicating to Guin that he has found the other woman. "I thank thee," she says softly to the man before smiling at Odette.
Something flutters overhead. It blots out the stars in its path. A raven. A gentle caw is issued as it passes by. In its wake, the night is silent as the grave. Something enters the ring of trees around the King Oak. The air turns chill and crisp. Breath becomes visible.
Odette lifts a hand in greeting to Guin then cocks her head following the Raven's path. She turns to the Seneschal and puts a hand up for he and Guinevere to halt their progress. Her voice carrying, far different now than it was a moment ago. It is commanding, the Priestess replacing the young woman in tone. "Stay back out of the circle, for your Mistresses safety!" Moving quickly she puts down her bundle and steps into the sacred grove, moving cautiously forward toward the King oak, her nostrils flaring as she takes in the scents on the air, her whole body alert. Sweeping a hand back over her head she removes the hood stepping forward toward the alter and Oaks, a quiet reverence settling about her.
Both Dame Brandywine and her rider stop the moment the order is issued, the pair far too devout to so much as consider disobeying a Priestess, nevermind a higher-ranking lady. Guinevere decides not to dismount, just in case, instead watching the interaction between woman and bird with sharp eyes. Her seneschal's hand is already wrapped about the hilt of his sword, ready for action at the drop of a hat.
From around the King Oak a shape emerges - pointed and dark. Then further, and dark eyes follow. Beyond that, it is as white as pure snow. The White Stag rounds the tree to regard Odette from a distance.
The wind is silenced by its majesty. Gooseflesh pricks those looking upon the beast. Surely, it is not of this world.
As for the raven, there is no further sign.
Tears spring to her eyes as Odette moves forward only to kneel in the moist grass. The beauty of the Stag taking her breath, as she smiles, not daring to move, barely breathing as she watches him closely, her body trembling.
The seneschal audibly gasps and dismounts in one smooth movement, masking a light thud beside him. When he turns to help Guinevere down, he finds she is already upon the ground; she sits upon her knees, face nearly touching the ground with her entire body shaking. The man quickly follows suit. Unlike his lady, he does not sneak a peek at the godly creature.
The beast trots forward several steps, the span of only a scant few yards from where Odette kneels. Its gaze settles upon her, glancing to Guinevere and her companion only briefly. It is as though the moon itself has a twin on earth. The milky coat of the White Stag is radiant, even in the dark of night. This singular moment stretches into a seeming infinity.
Odette lifts a hand, unable to resist reaching out toward the great beast, trembling as she smiles. She conveys with her eyes her devotion, her words spoken only in her mind for no God, beast or man needs them spoken aloud to be heard. ~I keep the word and the ways, and I remind them you are forbidden. This is your place, and I will keep it for you and for the Mother, and the Hunter, as long as my line draws breath.~
Guinevere watches Odette touch the White Stag in shocked silence. There is great reverence emanating from her features, her breath caught in her throat. The mounts themselves nearly seem to kneel as well.
Clouds billow from behind the moon, invading the starlit sky. Thunder rolls, splitting the air with its proximity. Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds. Shapes most unnatural can be seen there. Flickers and flashes fill the muddied sky. A brilliant strike of lightning blanches the grove and blinds all who look upon it.
When the light fades, all is as it was. Before it is touched, the White Stag is gone. The clouds are gone. The night is deathly still. Lyonesse sleeps this night, restlessly.
Odette stares at the sky as if seeing more than just flashes and clouds. Her head shaking she furrows her brows, tears spilling down her cheeks. With a soft intake of breath she nods then bows her head, trembling as she draws in breath to fill her lungs.
Taking the strong weather as a severe warning, Guinevere buries her face in her arms, squeezing her eyes shut. The horses rear and whinny, only held to their positions by excellent training.