nykrose

[nykrose]

"Depends on why they're lost. No helping a poor sense of direction." He glanced over, seeing that Beleg was at ease.

"The little one? Hmm." That could mean something, or it could mean...nothing! "I should have brought snacks."

"Will that help them?"

Beleg leaned on the trunk, limbs dangling like a particularly large and elf shaped vine. He felt a twinge of guilt at taking such entertainment from these people's bewilderment.

"I wonder how long they will keep going. I think the little one is in charge."

[nykrose]

Blurred

[nykrose]

"Rot? Rot is not stagnant. Rot transforms." It was not for him to judge if it were for the better. He didn't much care.

"The smells are fascinating, to put it politely." Did Nyk consider that a downside? Not really.

"I wouldn't call it a taste, but... mundanity feels like rot to me." Normalcy, security... It was to the point they felt like cruel tricks. She'd rather be in the thick of it than waiting anxious for the big reveal.

"That part I do not care for. I am not a static being. Even when I appear to be still."

[nykrose]

~ Moody Blues ~

[nykrose]

A likely ploy! How could he shovel strawberries into his grotesque maw if he was away fetching baskets?

"Leave some for me!" He darted back to the house, faster than any elf could eat all the berries. Any elf but Beleg, perhaps. Nyk came back all but sweating, threw himself and the basket down and shoved two berries in his mouth. Leaves and all.

"You think you can thwart me, you fiend?" Another berry, lost.

“Yes.” he looked over his shoulder and suddenly feared for the safety of his share of the strawberries, and his plans for them. “Grab a basket.”

[nykrose]

"Better test it." He staked the shovel and hopped into the hole. He could still see out.

"Hmm. Not deep enough for a determined corpse." Nyk climbed back out and dusted his knees. "Deep enough to plant a tree."

Hel lifted one of her cheeks in a perplexed expression, "What way is there beside shovel or hands?" It didn't stand to reason but at least, she supposed, she knew about that peculiarity now. She would.. watch how she digged? And in sight of who.

She watched him circle the edges with his shovel and smiled. She also thought of a pot being stirred. Ironic, given the conversation at hand, that she thought of a warm hearthfire and comfort foods and not classic imagery of a stirring witch's cauldron.

"Mm.. Yes. I think so too."

[nykrose]

"As do I. Usually." Being dead on occasion had its perks, like not having to think so much. Nyk rolled to his feet and hoisted his miraculously intact spear.

"Another round, then?"

“That would be better.” He put his hands on his hips, looking down at Nyk with a grin. Even if he didn’t think much of his acting, he appreciated the commitment. “I much prefer you not-dead.”

[nykrose]

[nykrose]

Midsummer Night -   Seppo Tamminen

Finnish, 1944-2012

Gouache , 100 x 70 cm.

[nykrose]

Waves -  Jeff Bellerose,  2023.

American , b.  1973  -

Oil on canvas,  20 x 25 in.

[nykrose]

Moonlight Beach - Mary Jo Van Dell

American,b. ? -

Oil on canvas , 30 x 76.2 cm.

[nykrose]

Divine messenger, Joonas Ryynänen

[nykrose]

runnin

[nykrose]

Grey as sea 

[nykrose]

"Oh? Have you so great a taste for suffering?" No adventure worthy of the name came without tribulations. Sometimes the tribulations came alone. That he did not care for.

"So long as there is a rest stop."

Hel's smile slowly widened and she blinked even slower. "Careful." She playfully replied, "A warning label like that might get my hopes up. Trouble is my favoured terrain."

[nykrose]

Oceanshades | By Frederick Judd Waugh (1861-1940)

[nykrose]

Flowering Wave