The Mists of Albion
In a chilly haze just before dawn walked a Graeco male along a well-traveled dirt path. The wintry season in Ireland left a cold that sunk through his dark blue robes, embroidered in silver and white, but the traveler’s long legs pressed onward at a steady pace. At his right side hung a crocheted satchel bag, weighed down by its contents. Despite his advanced eyesight, his vigilant, black eyes narrowed in the dimly illuminated fog. His pilgrimage had brought him from St. Brigid’s Cathedral to the sacred Hill of Uisneach in search of a site he had read of in books and tomes. A satisfied smile sprouted on his lips as the stone wall ruins he recognized from illustrations formed within the drifting mist.
Gathering his ankle-lengthed robes further from the muddy grass, he approached the place with the wondrous fascination of a child. His relieved expression was reminiscent of discovering a long-lost friend. Though the wild had overtaken much of the site, the stone shrine of a woman rested beneath an old, weary tree before a pooled well had been lovingly preserved. He knelt with reverence, placing his right hand on his chest.
“It is an honor to meet a goddess the Church could not erase, Lady Brigid,” he spoke with pride and pleasure as he addressed the deity. “Of all the lore I read in my youth, your grace and influence especially inspired me. Without hiding from those who would silence your people, you preserved much of your domain without fear or malice. I ask that you watch over my efforts from the heavens to bring peace to our world. I believe we will all be restored one day, even if that day is not in my time.”
Reaching into his side bag, he withdrew a silken, drawstring pouch. His large hand retrieved a green apple with a red blush, two cinnamon stick rolls, a black ceramic bowl, and a corked glass vile. Placing the items at the foot of the statue, he removed the cork to pour milk into the bowl. He then pulled a woven cross of straw, stemming equal limbs from a diamond center. Resting it beside the food and drink, he lowered his head to close his eyes.
“Please accept these offerings as a gift from the Sky King to your domain as we seek healing for our world.”
The Graeco remained on his knee by the sacred well for a moment, enjoying the quiet as the sunrise began to dissolve the fog. Opening his eyes slowly, his dark pools observed his peripheral vision around him. He sensed a change in the air, a touch of something not of this plane. Smirking curiously, the male looked up at the venerated lady.
“You open the Veil to me?” He asked with a hum. Standing to look at the glimmer within the vapors, he spoke to himself this time. “The infamous Albion Vein and its enchanted mists... my calculations must have been correct. I should try not to be whisked away.”
Leaving the sacred well, he ventured into the field beyond. Unlike the muddied grass he had trekked through before, this ground was lush with vibrant green blades. His eyes widened at how the mists bounced the brilliant sunlight around him. Though visibility was still low, he could clearly see himself as if the vapors moved around him. His grin widened with curiosity at who waited ahead of him.
The clink of a bell echoed off the fog, drawing his attention. His acute hearing guided him toward the source in the white. After a slow approach, the Graeco watched an animal appear from the mist, a grazing orange and cream Irish Moiled cow. He paused when she glanced toward him, hoping not to frighten the creature. Their gazes locked as the fog cleared further beyond the cow to a barreled, caravan wagon. The dull colors of green, blue, and red peeked out of faded shades of brown. The owner appeared to have made camp there overnight. A sudden moo pulled the tall male out of his daze, blinking back at the cow. It was as if she had called to him. Had he heard her say Zeus?
“Oh ho...” A charming voice chimed from within the wagon just before the top portion of the door opened to reveal the speaker. A Human woman with a pale cream complexion leaned a forearm on the lower half of the door as she raked her left hand through her thick, raven black locks. They fell loose about her down her back and shoulders as she looked up at the 221cm Graeco. Her heavy lids hinted that she had recently stirred from her slumber, but her black orbs shimmered with fey-like intrigue at the male. A black and crimson robe draped over her shoulders barely covering the black bodice nightgown that clung to her sleek feminine form. “... our guest has arrived, Brigit. Though I wonder what manner of man would walk the Hill this morn in such thin clothing.”
The Graeco was left speechless by the alluring Human smirking up at him from her door. Her comment brought his senses back from his distractions. Feeling how heavy his robes were, he clasped his right hand over his left in front of him before answering.
“I intended to leave a meal as libations to Brigid for her Imbolic rising. The chill does not tend to bother me immediately. Do I have you to thank for this invitation, madam?”
“Brigit told me someone visited the altar today,” the amused lady replied, humming softly, “but the Mists welcome those it deems fit to walk the true Hill of Uisneach. Does the weight of those vapor-soaked robes not bother you either, traveler? Wet clothes will chill you worse than the air.”
“Our mists in the Mediterranean do not linger as Albion’s,” the Graeco confessed with a nervous chuckle. Reaching to comb his left hand through his damp hair, he realized how wet his thick locks were as well. Pulling at the silver-lined hem of his collar, he glanced at the lush grass at his feet.
What was this sensation in his chest? He sensed something whenever he met the woman’s enchanted black gaze. It wasn’t danger or fear, but the only other means to describe the feeling was anxiety. As a Graeco, what could be concerned about from a Human?
“The sun dries the air rather quickly,” he added with a slight smile on his lips, “but I confess that even the island humidity sits differently than this.”
“You’ve traveled a long way from home, wanderer,” the woman hummed as a gentleness crept into her expression. Standing upright, she arched her back, extending her arms from where they gripped the door. As she relaxed once more, she continued with a sigh, “But even Graeco need heat to live. Come closer, sir.”
At first, he hesitated, but when she did not wait for him to pivot back into her wagon, the sensation intensified. Was the Mist drawing him to this woman for something? His curiosity got the better of him, moving his left foot forward before he realized the motion. His long stride made the distance short in time to meet her return.
When she turned back, her dark eyes widened at the sudden appearance, but her enchanting smile remained on her pursed lips. She raised a small vial toward him with her left hand. His eyes turned to the clear prism-shaped bottle with orange and sparking yellow flakes swirling within. The woman extended her right toward him.
"Perhaps a bottle of warmth to stave away the chill?"
"I had not anticipated a need for a purse on my walk..." He chuckled a deep rumble. Whether it was from nerves or amusement, the Graeco couldn't be sure. His conflicting experience fueled his anxiety, but he had never spoken with any woman this way before. The curiosity anchored him before the wagon door, wondering what this encounter could mean. "... so I have no coin to offer you."
"Oh, wanderer, compensation does not solely come from the coin," she whispered with a slow blink. "A handsome male can offer warmth from his lips in exchange for the cost of such a potion."
The heat rushing to his face and chest blossomed into a surprised smile on the Graeco's lips. Such audacious remarks would never be uttered in his presence before this, and yet, he was drawn deeper into her black eyes. His heart raced at the thought of kissing this Human, and while his apprehension lingered, a desire began to outweigh its warnings.
"A kiss for warmth then," he agreed to the terms, "but I insist that the terms not be retracted if you are unimpressed."
"Oh-ho!" She laughed with a girlish grin at his honest face. Covering the rosy color rising in her cheeks at the admission, the woman dropped the intense stare as she gathered her composure once more. "I shall promise not to criticize too harshly then, traveler. Come and claim your prize."
He leaned down on the cart, so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to meet him. Reaching to touch her cheek with his left fingers, the Graeco paused when he realized how large his hand was compared to her face. She pulled his hand against her skin with her right hand with a tender smile. As their lips drew into an innocent kiss, rather than part, the two were magnetized by an unseen force.
The Graeco felt heat coursing between them, synchronizing their bodies to one another. Releasing his hand, the Human snaked her arms beneath his loose hair to embrace his neck. A sensation he had never known compelled him to lift the wagon with his right arm as he reached his left for her lower back, pulling her closer to him from within the wagon. Melting into his passion, the woman grasped the back of his head as if ready to climb out of the window to reach him. Coiling her toes hanging in the air, she moaned with longing as she widened her lips to deepen the kiss. His lips responded instinctually reaching his tongue to graze hers. Pausing at the cow’s call, they opened their eyes to stare at one another.
Stunned by his aggressive behavior, the giant male slowly lowered the wagon. They both calmed to catch their breath, but neither of them let go of the other. While more experienced than the Graeco, the woman's flushed cheeks portrayed the purity of her desire for more, but the anxiety in his eyes reminded her of his lacking confiance.
"Well..." She huffed a shaken laugh to redirect her arousal. Doning a sly smile, the woman let her left hand slide down from the emamored male neck to graze his chest. His black eyes fixated on hers, waiting for her to speak. "It would seem the rumored passions of the Graeco were not unfounded. You sell yourself short, stranger."
"I don't know of the things you have heard, but..." He confessed with shame in his voice. "... I am an experienced lover. Although, it would appear I have crossed paths with a fabled human woman as captivating as a goddess. How else could I be moved to act in ways I have never known?"
The words shattered her mask as the flushed cheeks rushed to cover the rest of her pale visage. How could a man speak with such humility and ensnare her simultaneously? Searching beyond the dark eyes to the soul within, the mystic longed to discover a seed of dishonesty, but her wonder further spiraled to see a child's faith in the world. Could this be the reason the Mists invited him to enter?
Swallowing a lump bunching in her throat, the Human gripped the embroided cloth beneath her fingers. What was this sensation in her soul? Innocence could never be restored once lost, and yet, this Graeco's shameless honesty left her feeling decades younger. She flexed her arms to pull herself closer to him again, pleading an unspoken request of him. He responded by leaning down to her this time.
"Zeus!"
A distorted voice echoed through the vapors, pausing their lips just before they could touch. The Graeco gasped as if awakened from an enchantment. His gaze dropped as he remembered his reason for coming here. Furrowing his thick black brow, a grieved expression surfaced on this face as he released the Human to stand upright.
"Wait!" She let go of him, knowing she could not hold him against his will. However, the pale hands grasped his left hand, pressing the vial against his palm. He paused to meet her eyes with a surprise. Folding it closed with tenderness, the woman offered him a brave smile. "Drink up before you catch a chill, wanderer."
"I doubt that I require it now," the Graeco said with a sad smile. As he reached to graze her warm cheek with his right hand, he took one last look as she closed her dark eyes to lean into his large hand. He wanted to engrave her likeness into his memory this way. "Thank you, lady of the Mists."
Opening her eyes to take in his face one last time, the woman realized the sorrow in his voice was older than this encounter. She had never felt compelled to reach out and hold a man before this moment. As his fingers pulled away from her skin slowly, her hand rushed to touch it. A silent goodbye as she could not bring herself to speak the words, hoping without reason this would not be a final parting. He pulled his balled fist close to his chest before turning to walk back into the Mists. Fading away from her sight, her spirits sunk that a man might have been the illusion dissolving like a dream.
"Zeus..." She whispered the name she had heard from beyond the Veil. "Zeus..." Blinking, the Human reflected on their encounter and the force she felt that drew them together. "Zeu...s?"
The cling of the cow preceeded it moo. The woman's gaze turned to the beast looking back at her. Her eyes widened at the revelation that struck her in that moment. All of the color in her face paled just before she screeched down at the cow.
"That Zeus?"
