THE young May moon is beaming, love,
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love;
How sweet to rove
Through Morna's grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake!—the heavens look bright, my dear,
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear;
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Thomas Moore said that, at the turn of the century. It still applies today...and especially at Beltane.
Last night, magical night, mystery of love and stars above, and all dancing as the needfire burns. I have rarely felt more in tune with my gods and other beings than I was last night.
I have no pictures, I have no great commentary; all I'd do is point you towards the many, many journals of the Caledonian and Steelhead aether that have covered this in detail. I'd just like to say I had great, great fun dancing with Lord Bardhaven, Mr. Drinkwater, Miss Qlippothic, Miss Elytis, a scattering of Duchesses, Mr. Wormser, my very dear friends Edward and Miss Christine, Miss Christensen and Dr. Mason, and everyone else I didn't notice due to dancing with a large Maypole ribbon!
Afterwards, I lit my little Beltane lamp at the needfire, carrying it carefully home and installing it in one side of my fireplace, upstairs in Rivula. And I contacted a very dear one to tell him of my evening, and he offered to help me bring in the end of Beltane in traditional fashion.
All acts of Love and Pleasure are My rituals, She has said, and that night, we listened, hearts in hands and souls in sequence, seeing the dawn in safe in each others' arms.
As the grid counted down to swinging all residents into limbo, and we swayed on the black marble floors of my home, I sent my essence through the shadows to House Bloodwing, to leave a gift upon the side table--another Beltane lamp I'd lit at the needfire, for any who needed its light.
Dr. Mason needs to be reminded, magic is not only baneful in this place. I hope the memory lights his Paths well...
HOWEVER. Before any of THAT happened...there were nuns in Steelhead.
The nuns begin to filter in to the town meeting.
What, you thought I was kidding?
A group photo of the all-nun SWAT team under a poster of their founders, the Sisters of Perpetual Adversity (Cleveland).
I never kid about nuns...
A closer group photo, with Sister Mary Misanthrope leaving the gathering.
Tch. Think I'd make nun jokes...NUNS. HONESTLY.
Also attended this dance a while back, wherein there was a Grecian theme...
...so I came Greek.
The Grand Ballroom had gotten quite the facelift for the evening.
And everyone had a great deal of fun.
Later on, Lunar decided to build a certain statue a pedestal, and somehow--through ancient Elven magics, I have no doubt--managed to convince him to hold a very large globe. While on the pedestal.
Afterwards, I tried to talk him down. Thankfully, I'm very persuasive when I want to be...
*smiles and spins by herself in a field of green, waiting for blossoms to appear*
Merry Beltane, everyone!