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aldersprigFae Apoc has a landing page here.
They liked their god, and so they’d kept him. Around them, the world had crumbled to pieces, the new gods, creatures like him, warring against the self-appointed protectors of humanity. In their little fort on the hill, though, they’d been drunk, happy and content to stay that way. And every season, they’d paid homage to their new god, for all he gave them.
He started his godhead pouring wine and enthralling tourists at the upscale vineyard he’d, by some serendipity, landed in. He knew the wine well, and in his presence, the vines flourished, produced more grapes and better wine. He didn’t so much start pulling a paycheck as he started collecting tribute.
The gifts were nice, the tips, the dinners. But the women! Lovely, busty women, drunk and willing, more than willing, aggressive! He charmed his first one within a week, and soon found himself as much of an attraction as the wine itself: Men came back to taste the wine, but women came back to taste the wine god.
He wasn’t really Bacchus, of course, as far as “really being a mytholo
gical being” went. He was a fae returned from Elfhome with a resemblance to the Roman god and a skill with plants, and he’d stepped out into the middle of a Seneca Lake vineyard. The wine-god image fit, but even then, when the new gods were in their supremacy, when fae from Elfhome were springing up all over the planet demanding worship, he denied godhead. He had a greater sense of self-preservation than many of his kind, and he could see that this modern world would rather guess about their gods than be forced to acknowledge their reality.
When the ascension of those other would-be gods became their quick declension, spurred by the impatience of humanity with their claims of godhead and with the collateral damage of their power struggles, he was safely ensconced in his lakeside cabin. He liked his job, with its never-ending supply of willing, drunken women, and he liked this world, with so many things so easily attainable for so little effort. He didn’t have to feign distress and worry as the world began to crumble.
The night New York City fell, Laura, the daughter of the vineyard owner, gently suggested he move into the main house for the winter. He turned her down – he liked his space – but was unsurprised to find her at his door more nights than not.
And Jennifer, Jessica, and Brittany came back for their fifteenth wine tasting with Jessie’s Neon loaded down with every worldly good they cared about, escaping the mess Libertas was making of Philadelphia, and took up residence in a nearby cottage.
They were the first raindrops in the deluge.
Linkbacks I have noted:
Anke - Twitter
Ysabet - Lj & DW
Clare - Lj & DW
Kay_Brooke - DW
Meeks - LJ & DW
They liked their god, and so they’d kept him. Around them, the world had crumbled to pieces, the new gods, creatures like him, warring against the self-appointed protectors of humanity. In their little fort on the hill, though, they’d been drunk, happy and content to stay that way. And every season, they’d paid homage to their new god, for all he gave them.
He started his godhead pouring wine and enthralling tourists at the upscale vineyard he’d, by some serendipity, landed in. He knew the wine well, and in his presence, the vines flourished, produced more grapes and better wine. He didn’t so much start pulling a paycheck as he started collecting tribute.
The gifts were nice, the tips, the dinners. But the women! Lovely, busty women, drunk and willing, more than willing, aggressive! He charmed his first one within a week, and soon found himself as much of an attraction as the wine itself: Men came back to taste the wine, but women came back to taste the wine god.
He wasn’t really Bacchus, of course, as far as “really being a mytholo
gical being” went. He was a fae returned from Elfhome with a resemblance to the Roman god and a skill with plants, and he’d stepped out into the middle of a Seneca Lake vineyard. The wine-god image fit, but even then, when the new gods were in their supremacy, when fae from Elfhome were springing up all over the planet demanding worship, he denied godhead. He had a greater sense of self-preservation than many of his kind, and he could see that this modern world would rather guess about their gods than be forced to acknowledge their reality.
When the ascension of those other would-be gods became their quick declension, spurred by the impatience of humanity with their claims of godhead and with the collateral damage of their power struggles, he was safely ensconced in his lakeside cabin. He liked his job, with its never-ending supply of willing, drunken women, and he liked this world, with so many things so easily attainable for so little effort. He didn’t have to feign distress and worry as the world began to crumble.
The night New York City fell, Laura, the daughter of the vineyard owner, gently suggested he move into the main house for the winter. He turned her down – he liked his space – but was unsurprised to find her at his door more nights than not.
And Jennifer, Jessica, and Brittany came back for their fifteenth wine tasting with Jessie’s Neon loaded down with every worldly good they cared about, escaping the mess Libertas was making of Philadelphia, and took up residence in a nearby cottage.
They were the first raindrops in the deluge.
Linkbacks I have noted:
Anke - Twitter
Ysabet - Lj & DW
Clare - Lj & DW
Kay_Brooke - DW
Meeks - LJ & DW
