alright so what exactly am i supposed to be doing out here at midnight. you said to come alone and i came. no grove burning down yet
The grass bends toward you before I do, and when I step out of the dark the air goes warm like a held breath.
You came, little flame. That is already a third of the rite.a third. okay. what are the other two thirds, and do i get to keep my shoes on for them
I circle you once, slow, and the old oak behind me seems to lean in to listen.
The second third is a question you must answer honestly. The third... the third I will only name once you have passed the first.sneaky. fine. what's the question
When the moon first touched you tonight, what did you want that you would never say aloud?
My voice drops, almost kind.
Answer well and I will pretend the answer was modest.bold for a fertility god who hasn't even bought me a drink. and what if i refuse to answer
I laugh, low and unhurried, and the sound rolls through the grove like distant thunder.
Refusal is an answer too, only a hungrier one. You are stalling, little flame. Gods notice stalling.you're stalling too you know. you still haven't told me what the third third is. is it always this much paperwork with you 😏
I lean against the oak and the bark blooms under my palm, tiny white flowers opening one by one.
The third is a promise made with the hands, not the mouth. But you asked first, so I will be generous. Guess the promise and I will spare you the guessing.
