skill: klutz 1/5

Beltane was the sort of fun that he felt Avon had been due for months. Seeing not only Fable bolstered at having so many of her siblings and her mother present again, but knowing how better the children would fare with the love and support of family, it settled something deeper in him. His chest relaxed a little where he'd worried over the girls and over Fable. Sure, she was plenty capable, and Foxglove had felt it wouldn't have been a question if he would have helped them any way he could. He still did now, after all, keeping a watch over the borders and working to teach any of the girls who stopped by when he was working on the garden, hunting when he found the chance in between the rest of it. He didn't mind a moment, though, it was good to have something he could see with his eyes and measure the way he could measure the growth of a plant or the path of the stars across the night sky. It wasn't like the hopeless hunt for Bee, where he could no more ensure he had looked everywhere than he could have somehow painted the path he'd taken to make sure he never retraced his steps.

Foxglove could absolutely see potential in the world. It still was far easier when he could see it clearly, rather than trying to keep up some measure sight unseen. So having Avon full of life, celebrating and enjoying a rare few hours of merriment, it was so worth savoring. They had all suffered losses and anguish, between burying Gamma, the missing pups, it had been so long since they had felt a true reason to just be happy. Green eyes had rapidly blinked when Epona had said a dance - certainly he'd heard her wrong? Foxglove swallowed heavily, looking immediately down at his paws. He hadn't danced - and not the way Epona made it sound at least - since he was much younger. That was far before he'd landed here, quite literally, a bum hip what he'd earned from the ordeal. Foxglove took a couple of steps backwards as if he might escape the notice of anyone else.

No matter what he happened to do, it would have a disaster if he ended up out on the floor. Instead, he was fine to try and hide into the crowd. All he saw was his hip twitching just wrong or getting a bit locked up and making him trip over his own feet - and certainly embarrassing whoever took pity on him and took him up for a dance. It would have been his luck, somehow breaking a leg on the opposite side of his stiff hip. Then he'd barely be able to make it around and wouldn't that be ridiculous? The Apotheca of Avon, laid out in a miserable heap for all to see. He'd tell Fable to not even waste the herbs on him - he'd just shrivel up properly.

SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

In some moments, revelry felt shallow - the type of cut that bled, almost performatively, but didn't sink further than the most superficial capillary. Outwardly, Fable was peachy keen, but on a deeper level, she could not ignore all that she had lost. She was forced to sober.

If she had been crafted from poor fiber, perhaps she would have become entirely downtrodden in her sorrows, lamenting how every hand she was given was a losing one. She never seemed to have the right pieces at the right times and what began as a surrealism painting quickly turned abstract, its aspects jagged, misshapen, and a disjointed echo of what it was supposed to be. When she had thought of herself having a family one day, it hadn't looked like... this.

Three children gone, union dissolved - one of the children would never return beyond the warm presence Fable often felt when she visited Gamma's memorial.

The profound loss and the absence it left in its wake was deafening on the days when she was not so strong - but this day was not one of them.

Fable allowed the honeyed breeze to flow directly into her veins, flitting like dandelion seeds as it scattered and energized the parts of her that were flagging. She would have loved to share this day with Kyros, Eidola, and Gamma, but it was a reality that would not come to pass.

Not in spite of, but because her daughters could not be there, she embraced Beltane for all it was worth. She saw the three of them in the bright-colored blooms, the patchwork of sunlight bleeding through the weeping branches of Aine's Embrace. While they were elsewhere physically, they were far from gone from Fable's mind.

A flower crown sat atop her head, crafted by the pale raccoon her mother had abducted borrowed from Dawnbreak, and he had even been kind enough to outfit her with some well-placed flowers - a little more organized than her usual whimsical application owed to rolling in beds of wildflowers.

She half-listened as Epona demonstrated the dance they were to perform - she knew it well. Fable was born on Beltane and, although she had last danced as a human, it was less about the footwork as it was feeling nature flow through her. It sometimes felt akin to being led by an invisible force, one's body a willing tribute to the beat of the very earth itself.

Her gaze traveled around the congregation, settling finally on Fox.

At first, he appeared greatly interested in his own paws, but not before looking all the part of someone whose greatest dread had become reality - the machinations of nightmares made corporeal against all odds. Fable's brow furrowed as a small, curious smile lit across her lips. Quietly, she dipped into the crowd and made her way to the redhead's side, tapping his tail with her own as she settled in alongside him.

Ye look like ye saw a ghost, but it's nowhere near Samhain, Fable hummed, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she looked to him.

skill: klutz 2/5

He had friends here, people he cared about, but he felt alone in a way. Seeing the Goldencourtes all together, reunited in this strange world, it just made it feel so much fresher. The wound he set aside so often ran deeper than he realized, causing these little fissures in the wake of every moment. He didn't speak on those issues, though, because to him, it would have seemed like he didn't want others to be happy. Which wasn't the case at all! Foxglove could be sad and feel joy for others, that sort of compersion almost. How could he rain on someone else's happy days? So Fox swallowed it down, better or worse, he pushed it aside to try and focus directly on the present.

Beltane was new to him in the sense of celebrating it, he knew of it, but could not remember celebrating before. He wasn't even sure if they had the previous year, but maybe it had been too hard for Fable to celebrate all on her own. Now, though, he had been watching the merriment and revelry. He saw their Diviner guide the masses seamlessly through activities, and his Matriarch had flitted from group to group bestowing her sunshine on them all. And of course, she'd find him, settled further back as if he'd be able to blend into the shrubbery and go without notice. He shouldn't have doubted she'd notice, her warmth next to him and her tail tapping against his own. He couldn't help the embarrassed smile as she called him out - just as gentle in her pestering as anything. Only ghosts there would be, would be mine once I tripped over myself and made a fool of myself in front of everyone. He explained.

He bumped his shoulder against hers, lingering a hint too long before he gestured towards Epona, who was excitedly whispering in Aisling's ear about something. Your Mama is settling so well. So natural. He said with a smile. He hadn't specified if it was in this body, or in her role as a Grandmother. Family looks good on you, Fable. He said as he turned his attention back to her, meeting her eyes again. These moments were the ones that seemed to make everything brighter, shining sunshine even through the gloom and rain. The sun always made it feel better, took some of that drudgery out of things. Don't feel like you need to sit here and mind me, you have some fun. He encouraged her, hoping that she wasn't holding herself back from enjoying things just because he wasn't being quite the life of the party. It brought up some strange sort of feeling, though, a twist of concern over who she might have danced with. He'd have other moments, certainly. Moments to feel at ease and fully involved and engaged. Moments after he had figured out the tangle of feelings he had about Fable.

He thought back to the strange tunnel and the fae wine, he could remember feeling so good - free, jubilant, he'd felt so much more too. What he could not remember, though, was things with any level of clarity. The next morning he had an impressive headache, but, he never told Fable she'd been right to warn him off the ambrosia. Instead, he'd almost been afraid to ask just what they'd actually done. He hoped he hadn't said anything too stupid, and she hadn't held whatever it was against him. Unless this was her way of calling on his debt. The mischievous look in her eyes certainly wasn't missed either, and Fox had known her long enough that he knew to be prepared for something.