Lightning Strikes But Once

The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.
~ John Stuart Mill
Thursday, December 21st ~ The Dawn of the Winter Solstice

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Snow swirled in the fury of the wind, blinding all but those with the keenest sight. For those few fortunate ones, a glimpse of a moving shadow now and then could be caught. It bestowed a gift of unusual sculpture in the form free of kingly coverings. Exuberant, almost crackling with magic, Finvar embraced the heart of Winter. For this was the Unseelie's day - his day to wrest from Summer that which should have been theirs all along. The dance of power was a celebration of sorts. In anticipation of the glorious battle to come when the sun was allowed to rise.

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Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future
Sunday afternoon

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The newscaster wrapped up the report on a minor river troll rampage and moved to a tiny bit of business news before the segue back into music:

"Enterprising mums are getting the hop on the back-to-school season by doing their shopping a bit ahead of the crowds soon to be swamping Diagon Alley. Shopkeepers report their early August sales receipts are up 5 percentile points from last year."

"Meanwhile, all the young folk, soon to be bright scholars once more, are eager to capture all the idyllic moments remaining before the carefree days of this summer are gone forever."

"And the perfect soundtrack to accompany all your summer fun is just around the corner — a little birdie has slipped the WWN the latest from the Weird Sisters! We'll be bringing it to you before it hits the shops, right after these messages."

Ride with the devil/Ride with me
He'll take your life away/I'll take you away
Friday, August 19 * Evening

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The halls of the palace rang out with the sounds of the fae of the Great Hunt returning in triumph. Several of Summer's bordertowns had been laid to ruin — their wails had long followed the riders home, and smoke from destroyed homes had hung over the land for miles around.

Now it was time to celebrate. Vasily dismissed the sprite who was to take the news of their return to the King and Queen and smiled at Kalen, clasping him on the arm.

All their hopes for the mortal had been more than filled.

The others had taken readily to the commands of the Duelist of the Shimmering Isles — both on the field and off. He'd cut quite a swath through the riders of the Slaugh over the nights they had been away.

Vasily could not but approve of his appetite.

"Another night of conquest ahead of us — or do you require rest after so many days of exertion?"

It's only forever
It's not long at all
Lost and lonely
That's underground
Monday, August 7 to Tuesday, August 8 .::. In the dark of night

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The Queen stepped unseen from the shadows at the border of the camp when the werewolf left. His frustration and anger was almost palpable; it truly was a shame she'd not get to tame it following this trip.

But there will be other harvests, Maev thought with a philosophical smile.

This one would have to be cut short — dislodging the fae would be a simple thing, if only the castle dwellers knew, and now that the wizards were roused it was no longer prudent to rely upon their ignorance.

But the fae could afford patience, though it chafed her.

The decision was made. They would leave tonight, with such prizes as they'd gleaned from these fields.

They had enough for her purposes.

Maev called for Vasily, and laid clear her instructions.

Be the best, prove them wrong
A winner's work is never done
Tuesday, July 11 ~ Morning

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The Queen had listened with interest to the reports of all her people from the garden party and their other outings. Finvar and Vasily had such fascinating details to impart — and Stigg and Aeval did not disappoint, either.

Sprites readied themselves to deliver on a moment's notice; Maev was ready to dictate a few notes.

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When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
Friday, July 7th ~ Afternoon

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The grounds of Hogwarts had never looked better. Pomona Sprout was in heaven.

The hedges had been trimmed and were bristling with pride, the songflowers were trilling softly in the breeze, the creeping vines had twined up onto the tables and were gently offering passersby cups of punch or tiny trays of appetizers.

She had never once in her life doubted that Hogwarts was fit to receive royalty, but to have it confirmed ... Oh! She nearly glowed.

The guest list had grown a bit in the planning. It was a once in a lifetime event, after all, to see the faerie-people and of course to see the castle grounds in the summer. Luckily, Minerva hadn't seemed to mind.

Everything, thought Madame Sprout as she looked around the mingling crowd, was simply perfect.

I Generally Avoid Temptation Unless I Can't Resist It.
- Mae West
Wednesday, June 28th ~ Afternoon

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Ever since Greg's birthday party, Draco had been meaning to get out and find some more of the denims he had worn - the way they fit and showcased men's assets was positively sinful but who had known they were so comfortable? Well - besides Scarhead - but his opinion hardly counted when it came to fashion.

He had just cleared one shop - he was determined to get a pair in every style he could find - he couldn't be seen in the same - or damn near same - ones too close together, and was pondering which shop to attack next. Or there was down the street for ice cream - he could really use an ice cream....

Everything Is Funny,
As Long As It Is Happening To Somebody Else.
- Agnes Repplier
Wednesday June 28th ~ Dawn

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Stigg was bored. He lay on his back, waiting for the morning duties to be assigned, trying to hit the chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the tent with a small silk pillow. He had gone out the day before, listening in on conversations reacting to their arrival. Some were suspicious - but overall the King and Queen had been pleased with his report. There had hardly been any time for fun - he had managed, yes, but not the unrestrained time he yearned for.

Can't push anyone down the well - that would be bad... moving undergarments from house to house always makes them yell - and throw things at each other... There is a lake nearby - that could be usefull...

Midsummer's Festival
Saturday, June 24th ~ Early Evening

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"This is Anastasia Witherpool, live in downtown Hogsmeade where the Midsummer's Festival is well under way. People are crowding the streets, vendors are out offering their - "

A slight scuffle is heard over the air, ending in Anastasia muffling a curse and muttering about her foot.

"Rita Skeeter here. Voting for this year's Litha Queen is still open and remember, every vote counts some more than others so be sure to come out and vote for your favorite candidate. Someone you know and trust, someone you would welcome into your homes every evening during her segment on the nightly news. Someone, for instance, like me?"

-back that microphone, woman, before I -

"Ezekiel Brunderbluss, back at the WWN studio once more. We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties with our live broadcast.

"Please remember WWN is always interested in the comments and concerns of our listeners. Feel free to, contact us by owl or floo. We appreciate the interest shown and will respond as soon as possible. The Wizarding Wireless Network will return you to Rita Skeeter and Anastasia Witherpool live at the Midsummer's Festival in Hogsmeade after these messages from our sponsors."

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
— George Gordon Byron
Saturday, June 24 .::. Just before sunrise

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Stealth, secrecy: these were the necessary tools for entering a new world — or one which had last been walked so long ago that nothing they had known of it could be trusted.

Vasily in his heart preferred outright conquest, the thunder of the hooves of the warband as the Slaugh descended upon their enemies. The thrill of the Great Hunt: flashing claws and blades, booming horns, streaming blood.

He was just as skilled in the other, however, and so no one in the village noticed when a shadowy form slipped from a well in a park.

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