neutral_omens | (no subject)

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."

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*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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Hermes let himself be unwound, but didn't move from his spot. For the angel's sake he wound himself in a soft linen chiton again. He waited, tensed to breaking, for this to play out. So far nothing had happened, but he wasn't going to leave, especially when an argument or fight was going to happen.*

_______________________

Alarmed at the abrupt escalation in tension, Ellie left her space by the fire and came up behind Hermes, touching his shoulders lightly. She couldn't guess what had him so worried, but worried and protective he clearly was, and his lingering would only exacerbate things. Surely he didn't think Crowley was going to attack Aziraphale?

"It's all right," she murmured in his ear, hoping to draw him away so that the other two could sort out their issue uninterrupted. "Aziraphale will be fine. I promise."

He didn't believe her, and it was evident in the look he turned on Crowley. It was a warning, and despite his lack of skill in combat, Hermes was determined to not let Azi come to harm--or if he did, to avenge him with all the terrible wrath of an Olympian.

Giving Azi one last hug, he let Ellie pull him away, ears perked for signs of danger.

Tugging Hermes back toward the fire, Ellie drew him in close, moving coaxingly with the beat of the drum. "Really," she insisted, "there's nothing to worry about. Before they came here, they were Adversaries since...well, probably before you existed."

The youthful god did have such a splendid, strong corporation, she thought, becoming distracted by her own effort to distract Hermes. "Aziraphale is gentle because he chooses to be. Trust me, he knows how to handle Crowley."

Sliding back under the thrall of the music, her body begged his full attention, freed from the need for restraint now that the angel was here to look after his own interests.

The comment about age stung him, but he let it go. With one last concerned thought about Aziraphale, he turned toward Ellie, trusting her judgement absolutely. His silver-blue aura turned a little rosier at having her attention.

"You're very pretty, miss Ellie," he said shyly. "Would you...?" he trailed off, blushing, then tried again. "Would you...have...sex...with me...please," he added; he'd never been well at seducing or things like that (though flirting he was well at), and he hoped she wouldn't laugh at him for not being suave and sophisticated, the way all the other males seemed to be.

Ellie actually blushed slightly as well, not quite sure how to answer such a straightforward yet clearly bashful proposition. Hermes was unfathomable to her, alien in his ways of thinking and his seemingly delicate ego; but there was no doubt he was beautiful, and sweet, and she thought she'd glimpsed a flash of steel in his eyes just now, when he'd believed Aziraphale was being threatened. She wondered what lay at the heart of it all, and just what he was looking for that he thought he'd found in a very-much-attached Principality.

Choosing to let actions speak for her, she pressed in closer, curling her arms up around his shoulders, and kissed him again, more liesurely and thoroughly this time; not pouring forth her full power, but allowing it to roll out slowly and curl around them both. It mingled with the heat from the bonfire and the god's own exotic aura in a hazy cloud of energy and want, insulating them (for the moment) from the rest of the small gathering as effectively as a thick shroud of cotton wool.

A soft hum came from Hermes, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling into her when the kiss ended. Surprised, he looked up.

"You're very soft," he commented thoughtfully, then blushed. "I've...never been with a lady, before...I mean...not a lady with...um...with human legs..."

He felt her aura brushing all the right places, and felt a twinge of familiarity at it, a purr rising in his throat.

Safe. Ellie was Safe, and that was all his subconscious had to say about that, cementing the association firmly. Hermes hadn't had somewhere (or someone) Safe for a while; his libido hoped she was the type to take charge of things in sex.

(Continued here (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/89153.html?thread=1477697#t1477697))