neutral_omens | (no subject)

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Date: May 1, 2000
Setting: The Manor grounds
Status: Public
Summary: The new year dawns for the pagan calendar, and you know what that means...

Hermes had been gathering wood all day, depositing it in a large pile in a very clear spot on the rolling lawns. He'd gotten up very early, and had spent most of the morning making little flyers. They were on plain white paper, decorated with a box of crayola markers that he'd produced*; still, Hermes was rather a good hand at doodling (he inherited some art in his blood from Apollo), and soon flyers were posted in the most commonly frequented places of the manor. The godling made it all the more mysterious and fun by simply disappearing the flyers off to their appointed place as he finished them. So he didn't even have to leave his room.

There will be a bonfire starting
at dusk to celebrate the new year.
Please come! There will be music
and other fun things!

All the rest of the day, Hermes was outside, running around with Dog and whatever other creatures were outside, and frolicking about the grounds, laughing and generally having what grown-ups would call 'way too much fun'.

As the sun was setting, he lay on the grass to watch it, hands behind his head. Sunsets always reminded him of his brother, and thus made him a bit serious.

"Someday we'll celebrate the new year in Hawai'i," he said, speaking to Apollo, Eros and Dionysus in the manner that mortals spoke to dead or far-away loved ones. "We'll have a big luau with drums and dancing and lots of fun...someday, I promise."

______________________________
*Unlike most people who could just make things appear from thin air, Hermes literally teleported them from somewhere else. He was the god of thieves, after all.

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Mesmerized, Crowley watched the firelight softly caress Ellie's gracious curves as she slid through the night, carelessly erotic. Forget being male or male-shaped. No one could have seen that dance and been unaffected. In Crowley's case, it manifested in his body as a coiled throbbing in his groin that matched the beat of the drums. Vaguely aware of being addressed, he looked at the white snake near his foot.

"No. I want to dance."

Feeling powerful and energetic, he stood, kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket to the ground and loosened his tie before stepping close to the succubus and matching her rhythm with his own sinuous moves.*

Crowley hadn't been out dancing for a couple of years, but it wasn't the kind of thing that one forgot. He remembered the smoky nightclubs where he'd seduced so many young men and women by the simple sway of his body, inducing lust while siphoning his own tension away. It was really no coincidence that he'd usually gone dancing after he'd left the angel's shop. Memories of brushed fingers and wine soaked lips had been danced away until he was so exhausted that he could no longer dwell on them.

But for now, he moved seductively, twining his limbs with hers so that it was difficult to see in the dim light where one of them ended and the other began. Their hips undulated in close proximity, making it impossible for her not to notice his erection.

They were beautiful together and they knew it, long, lean shadows gliding through the velvet dark. As the drums sounded a quick staccato beat, Crowley smoothly sped up his movements, dancing with graceful abandon as he caught her short denim jacket and snaked it down her lithe arms, pinning them momentarily. Then he seized her tiny skirt, a mere strip of fabric, and held it firmly while spiraling her out wildly. As the skirt tore off, Crowley flicked it through the air, looping it around her gyrating waist and pulling her in close once again.

*Anyone who says that a demon moves like a white band on Soul Train never saw Crowley dance.

The kiss had stunned him, and when he came to (so to speak) he saw her dancing with Crowley. A pang went through him--so I was just someone to be distracted? He shook his head to banish the thought. No, he wouldn't think that.

Travelling to the other side of Ellie, he joined the two, his build making it easy to match Ellie's undulations. Me too he thought, trying to forbid any angry thoughts at Crowley--after all, he wasn't really angry, he was hurt and that was only because of a flittering 'maybe'. He wasn't Eros or anything, getting miffed at trifles. Softly he crept his hands up and down her back, enjoying her smooth skin. Soon his hands settled on her hips--beating Crowley's there.

The Messenger leaned agaisnt Ellie as the beat became less frantic, nuzzling the nape of her neck and shadowing her hips with his own--but never touching.

Slightly breathless at the unexpected intensity of Crowley's response--of the three of them, she honestly hadn't expected that, not from him, though she couldn't help a small thrill of triumph; she hadn't lost the old touch after all--Ellie was also keenly aware, as Hermes nuzzled up behind her, of the bruised feelings she had inadvertantly caused.

She didn't want that; nobody should be hurt here. Including those not present, she reminded herself with a pang. Such pitfalls were unfamiliar and unsettling. She wasn't used to having friends, in the plural, with hearts of their own to be mindful of.

Giving way to old, bad habits had painted her into a corner. She wanted them all, achingly so, each powerfully desirable in his unique way. But one of them she simply couldn't have, period, and none of them deserved to be used so carelessly. Particularly poor Hermes, who had somehow come down through the centuries lacking the emotional armor the rest of them had so painstakingly acquired.

How to extract herself without causing further injury, though...thinking quickly, she tugged at Crowley's necktie, drawing him down to whisper, "I think I know an angel who'll be very happy tonight," and deliberately shoved away from him--not without a pang of regret, and not hard; just enough to put a little bit of distance between them and snug her up closer against Hermes. Mischievously, she flipped the loosened tie over his head and took it with her, just because she could. Sky-clad was all well and good, but she'd liked that skirt*.

Leaning back to fit herself closely to Hermes' splendid body, she said over her shoulder as she matched her movements to his, "Don't be hurt, sweetheart. There's the whole night before us. No need for anyone to feel left out." The words were pitched to carry to where Odin watched, as well. Though he hadn't joined the dance, his interest reverberated clearly across the short distance.

Men, she thought wryly. One minute you couldn't turn their heads with a pipe wrench, and the next you were beating them off with sticks...and why hadn't the odd little blonde girl joined in? A little competition would actually be welcome right about now.

Feeling silly with nothing but a halter top on now, she took a second to peel that off as well. If the boys didn't follow her example, she'd just have to see to it herself...

---

*And was secretly and recklessly hoping it would encourage him to continue disrobing. Old habits did indeed die hard.

Hermes was delighted, and whispered, "Skin!" happily, doing away with his own clothes. "Mmm..." He nuzzled her anew, hugging her from behind. A soft kiss graced Ellie's neck. Now that he was naked, one could see (or feel) the lithe muscles of his lower body. Long hands splayed wider on her hips.

The beat grew insistent, and Hermes moved away from Ellie, sitting down to add to the music with his lyre, blue eyes glued to her. She was much lovlier than any of the goddesses or nymphs or anything...and she's kind, too! he thought with a dreamy little smile.

Luna sat and stared, fascinated by the succubus's smooth movements. She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. Of course she'd been told about the birds and the bees - her father had spent a rather ackward after trying to explain it to her before she finally realised what he had been trying to get at, and assured her father that 'she knew all about it - she'd been observing the birds and the bees for quite some time now.'

Power radiated from Ellie, self-assured, and Luna was not surprised when first Hermes, then the man(-shaped being) with the sunglasses joined her. Dark, throbbing, sinuous flows swelled and ebbed with the beat of the drum.

Luna blinked when Ellie kissed Hermes, and licked her lips unconsciously; wanting, but not knowing what or how or why or when.

Her blush came out in its full glory when Crowley ripped Ellie's skirt off, and deepened when she took off her top. Luna released the breath she did not know she had been holding when Hermes shucked off his own clothing, leaving it on the ground. Pressing her lips together, and hoping that she hadn't made a sound, Luna closed her eyes. Almost against her own volition, she felt herself stand up, and the world whirled around her.

Luna began to dance.

At first it was a dance of mimicry, seeing how much of Ellie's smooth movements she could copy, but soon she was dancing on her own. Drumbeats and the soft sigh of the strings urged her on, at first slowly, then surely as she danced the dance of the innocent, the dance of the pure, the dance of the Virgin. The dance of awakening, and of life. For what else could be more fitting, at the beginning of the new year?

Crowley hadn't cared when Hermes jumped into the dance. He had no interest in Ellie apart from the physical immediacy of the moment and was too wrapped up in himself to notice the god's jealousy. Yes, he'd admit to a temporary attraction, but there was only one being he would truly dance with and he wasn't here.

After being gently shunned by the succubus, Crowley got intimate with the music instead, feeling it flooding through him as he moved; his body playing a complicated syncopated harmony to the unheard melody. The demon left himself behind, pulling off his shirt so as to channel the music without hindrance. He was nothing more than a conduit now for rhythm, for the essence of something greater than himself. For a brief frenetic moment, it felt almost like having the Presence back again. Almost.

Horus had been watching the gods and demons from the sidelines, just out of the flickering firelight. He could see the dancing, the driving drumbeats reminding him of older times, and for once trying to remember didn't hurt. Abruptly one of the shadows cast by the fire changed shape and slid deeper into the trees. Once hidden by the trees, for the first time in centuries, Horus danced.

There were two reasons that Wednesday didn't get up and dance with Ellie. The first was: he much prefered to watch Ellie's lithe and sultry movements than to try and accompany them.

The second reason was: Wednesday didn't dance. In his pantheon, the closest things he had ever done to dancing were sex and shamanic trance. While there was nudity here, and he was hoping to get laid later, he felt that the shamanic trance bit was probably a little more welcome rather than him suggesting an orgy.

So it was through the veil with him. Behind the scenes. He went back to his room quickly, digging in the bottom of his chest. He returned to the feast practically within the blink of an eye. In his hands he held his ancient noaide drum, the one Freyja had given him when she had taught him seidre. It was not perhaps the right use for the instrument now, but somehow he figured Freyja, wherever she was, would approve of it being used in this wild dancing.

Settling himself a little ways away from Hermes (Seidre often innvolved same-sex coupling, but Odin still felt a little uncomfortable cuddling up to the blue-skined naked god) Wednesday began to play, his hands caressing the ancient reindeer skins to rhythms that hadn't been heard for centuries. As his beat blended with Hermes', he raised his voice in song:

Gáttir allar
áður gangi fram
um skoðast skyli,
um skyggnast skyli,
því að óvíst er að vita
hvar óvinir
sitja á fleti fyrir.

Gefendur heilir,
gestur er inn kominn,
hvar skal sitja sjá?
Mjög er bráður
sá er á bröndum skal
síns um freista frama. *

*Lines from the Hávamál

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