In the Merry Month of May

Tales from a goblin-infested brewery (home of Jake Thrash and Badsider Brew), and a lawyer-infested sports bar (home of Kalamere Ar'Din and The Line).

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In the Merry Month of May

Post by JewellRavenlock » Mon May 04, 2015 6:06 pm

“While strolling through the woods one day
In the merry merry month of May
I was taken by surprise
By a pair of… very blue eyes
In a moment my poor heart was stolen away!”

Jewell’s sweet voice broke the silence of the wooded area as she manipulated the words of the song to playfully suit herself. “Roguish eyes” were nice but “blue eyes” were better. Perhaps roguish blue eyes were best? Yes, that seemed about right, the Faerie mused as she basked in the early afternoon sunshine. The warmth felt good on the brilliantly bruised skin of her face (thanks to Addie and Michi, specifically the latter’s spinkick) and battered legs bared by her short, summery dress.

Ishmerai had questioned her insistence on going out today after she had moaned and groaned about feeling dizzy and ill after the megabrawl last night, but The Empress could not resist spring’s sweet cadence. Its cool, refreshing breath had tickled her face and shifted her hair as it came in through the open office window this morning. It whispered in her ear, speaking of all things new, wonderful and delightful.

She decided that she had made the right decision as a shower of cherry blossoms whirled through the air and rained down upon her. The glade of her choosing was a magical little spot. Once upon a time, a cottage had stood at the middle of it, but now it was no more than a pile of stones covered in moss. Nature had reclaimed the spot, making it wonderfully charming; cherry blossom trees that had been planted by the original occupants ages ago still bloomed every spring, casting a myriad of pink petals to dance upon the small pond that had also withstood the test of time.

The only thing that would make the day complete was pleasant companionship to share the well-appointed picnic basket she had dragged through the woods, but Jewell had thought about that already and planned accordingly. There was something a little Fae-esque about how she had gone about attempting to secure the right companion for the afternoon. The poor young courier’s eyes had widened with her final instructions, “And don’t be afraid of Rath. He may be a half-ogre, but he is very nice!” She had amended the statement in a mutter as the young man had taken off down the front steps, “Unless you owe someone some money.”

If the young man proved faithful to his task, he would have delivered two things to The Line late Monday morning. First, there was a short note written in Jewell’s fine, feminine handwriting, “Come a-maying with me.” The second was a map with a path marked out clearly upon it, ending at the glade.
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