The mud had definitely put a slight damper on preparations for Fiat Lux this year. Instead of preparing banners and viands for the party, most people were busy fighting off (or playing with) the strange not-quite-sentient mud that had oozed its way into their lives and seemed to determined to stay - like a particularly stubborn colony of ants.
At least the ants he could have tried to coax to a new home, though. For the fastidious bard the mud was far worse... well, usually. He had taken a day off of his professional vocation worrying and brooding to have a little fun with it, but only person knew that secret and Jigano hoped he would be discreet enough not to tell.
Today was not quite fun, but neither was it worrying, at least not for the Provost who insisted on overworking himself. Today he was going to help get ready for the party, come hell or muddy water, and he stepped lightly through the blossoming underbrush as he sought out a promising puddle. The snows were mostly melted now, the birds sang lustily, and everywhere the scent of green and growing things was filling the air with renewed life and hope again.
And then there were the giant worms.
The puddle was broad but shallow, gathered in a slight dip of the woods where a great forest giant must once have stood. One of last summer's fires had burned away the resultant deadfall, but the trough where the rootball had been torn up remained to gather rainwater from the spring storms. Jigano grinned sharply at it as it moved, an expression more carnivore than man, the back of a thick worm rolling over in the water a sure sign that he had found his prey.
Hotaru
At least the ants he could have tried to coax to a new home, though. For the fastidious bard the mud was far worse... well, usually. He had taken a day off of his professional vocation worrying and brooding to have a little fun with it, but only person knew that secret and Jigano hoped he would be discreet enough not to tell.
Today was not quite fun, but neither was it worrying, at least not for the Provost who insisted on overworking himself. Today he was going to help get ready for the party, come hell or muddy water, and he stepped lightly through the blossoming underbrush as he sought out a promising puddle. The snows were mostly melted now, the birds sang lustily, and everywhere the scent of green and growing things was filling the air with renewed life and hope again.
And then there were the giant worms.
The puddle was broad but shallow, gathered in a slight dip of the woods where a great forest giant must once have stood. One of last summer's fires had burned away the resultant deadfall, but the trough where the rootball had been torn up remained to gather rainwater from the spring storms. Jigano grinned sharply at it as it moved, an expression more carnivore than man, the back of a thick worm rolling over in the water a sure sign that he had found his prey.
Hotaru
