Season of the Witch/John, The Baptist
“Who is she who comes forth as the morning rising? Fair as the moon, bright as the sun, more terrible than an army set in battle array?”- Song of Songs 6:10
"So, why can't I imbibe again? Something about pigswill? Or was it "the Devil's piss"?" I'd asked, agog as her blue veil swirled around her body. "A little libation wouldn't hurt, and it isn't like I have that many worldly pleasures to my name anymore. Pardon me for asking again, but with the new cognizance on it being blessed--yes, presence of a meal and such...but why plant within me such a desire? It looks pleasant with company around, too. Why that choice of words, if it is blessed wheat or something?" The smile caught me off guard again, as did everything today, but I waited for my answer anyway, rather patiently. "Why do you think I have supplied other addictions in place of it? Like John the Baptist, I do not wish you to drink strongly, for I hear what you would do under the spell of it, leading farther away from my family. Besides, wouldn't you like to be charmed by my charisma instead, hm?"