Lagomorphic

Led underground by a (statuesque & smiling) white rabbit; my favorite metaphor recurrent. It is a happy omen.

Hearth

You know the stories where folk are brought through complex trajectories so they may come together, ready, at the perfect moment in time? I’m thinking about that. My home glows with fairy lanterns; around us is slung rope, burnt candles, and songs; altar and a router. I like minimalism. Wait, we can’t live together! It would be an unbelievable quotient of magic in one place. But.

The best thing about fairytales, I say, is that they’re so much better than the real world when you’re young; then when you grow up, you realize they’re just pale approximations of life. But. It is a repeated process of yearning for your fairytales, then outdoing them.

Soft crimson hemp

This rope has a story. It was tied about 10 white irises and an arrow, the sum of which was shot with precision to Artemis’ daughter’s heart. (One carnation, crimson and perfect, appeared at my door the day prior. I never found its giver, but it inspired Hades, who was new, to establish himself.) The bouquet lies on my altar, twice offered.

Mythos

Is this a fetish list or a love story?

Brother, I say. –That’s who I am; I can be whoever you need. Midhir flickers like his Étaíne.