Jack o' the Green (
jack_inthegreen) wrote2005-10-29 09:12 pm
the Wild Hunt
[ooc: millitimed to October 31st]
The Forbidden Forest smells wild tonight, silvery blue in the darkness, cool and wet.
From . . . somewhere, gather hunters and hounds, and horns trumpet.
It is time to run. The Wild Hunt is on.
The Forbidden Forest smells wild tonight, silvery blue in the darkness, cool and wet.
From . . . somewhere, gather hunters and hounds, and horns trumpet.
It is time to run. The Wild Hunt is on.

no subject
He lifts the horn to his lips and blows the avaunt.
no subject
no subject
no subject
And then they are off, into the trees, swifter than the moonlight.
no subject
The speed at which he runs now would not be possible for anything human. Laughing, Bran keeps easy pace with Herne and with the silvery, red-eared hounds.
no subject
no subject
The shadowy trees seem to fly past and behind the two Hunters and all of the hounds.
no subject
Not to intrude, though -- the Light knows its place. All things considered, it may even be better this way. Bran Davies will have the opportunity to explore this deeper aspect of himself, in full awareness and under the Hunter's guidance. And in a hunt with no prey, no quarry that must be brought to ground, there is time to learn that there can be pleasure in the chase...not merely blood-lust.
But even so, the Light will follow this Hunt.
A merlion generally has some experience in these matters, after all.
no subject
His feet are swift and sure, and he laughs with the sheer joy of speed. The Green is so sedate nowadays, with home and family.
no subject
The Wild Magic most often comes to Bran in his anger. He is not used to the warm, benign, joyful power that runs through his limbs now. It is not safe, of course, this power, but what is safe? At least it is nothing to fear.
no subject
Herne, however, just runs, laughing and howling with the hounds.
They are being joined in their run as well--wild spirits from many worlds, drawn to the tiny star that holds Milliways for this night and the chance to run again.
no subject
no subject
Herne's eyes are afire with joy. "Do we hunt the evildoer tonight? Or see where our footsteps take us?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
He is strong here.
no subject
no subject
Woe.
Meantime their feet are swift and their cries fill the night air, and the Forbidden Forest has never seemed so large or thick or welcoming.
no subject
Bran raises his head, staring.
no subject
"How do you feel, my son?"
no subject
"Life," Bran whispers. "Full of life."
no subject
"And I wish nothing more than to celebrate with my love." He lets out a long breath--and there is Jack again, mild and merry and far more civilized.
He smiles at Bran. "It begins again."
no subject
The bar is faintly visible in the distance. Bran turns in that direction and begins to walk. He is not tired, not now, but he cannot run as he did wearing the Hunter's mask.
"Yes."
Bran takes in a long breath and lets it out again slowly.
"Thank you. Diolch yn fawr. Thank you."
no subject
"Ahhh . . ." He stretches out his arms as he walks. "I haven't run like that for I-don't-know-how-long."
He turns back for a moment and looks at the forest, the retreating hunters who had joined them, and sighs quietly. "Too long," he murmurs and shakes his head at himself.