Those who tend to Her FloraFantasy equal: Demeter
The battle was long and unfortunately you have not come from it unscathed. Your waist is
bandaged, trying to keep the deep cut in your side from bleeding further. You are a stubborn man, disobeying the command of your captain to stay at camp up until you’re healed. You, however, think it’s better to make your way home, which is not all that far away to your reckoning.
Soon you realize your bullheadedness has failed you. The world around you starts to veil itself from your sight. You become drowsy and before long you fall from your horse, fatigued and wounded. There you lay, lifeless on the grasslands nearby your village, there were the earth is fertile and all sorts of green goodness are grown and harvested.
You do not lay long before a local farmhand spots you in the distance. He sprints towards you and immediately checks your pulse. You are unconscious, but alive. He notices the bloodstained rag underneath your bronze breastplate. You will not last long. The farmhand sprints away from you, but returns shortly with crude instruments of healing. He gently removes your breastplate. The stench of your body odour would be overwhelming for some. The bloody rag is removed and you groan of pain as the farmhand cleanses your wound with a fresh rag moistened with a mixture of lemon and herbs unknown to us. You regain consciousness from the sharp pain caused by the aromatic ointment somewhat and receive a quick glance of your saviour.
“Drink this,” he says and forces a cold drink of water down your throat. You lose consciousness once more. In the meantime, the farmhand has created a stretcher of branches, which he attaches to your horse in order to drag you to his simple dwelling. Here he gently lifts you from the stretcher and places you some fleece, which he laid on the floor. He removes your sandals and starts washing your scorched and dirty legs and feet. The farmhand ponders whether he should remove your belt, as he glances at the bulge which forms beneath it. He leaves it for the time being and starts washing your upper body and finally your face and hair.
“He has to be completely clean if I am to let him lie on my bed,” the
farmhand thinks to himself. He removes the last piece of armour, which renders you completely naked. The farmhand can’t help but to smile as he gently wipes your blade, crowned jewels and surrounding areas clean, thoroughly clean. You are finally lifted and tucked in to the farmhand’s soft bed, safe and sound as the healing property of the farmhand’s herb mixture does its magic.
A day passes before you open your eyes once more. The sunlight is orange and you perceive it to be either dawn or dusk. You lift yourself to a seated position. In doing so a sharp pain emits from your side, which reminds you of what had happened to you. Where are you? You look around. You seem to be in a wooden hut. It is small. The few pieces of furniture are crude, here and there is a garden tool and in the far corner is a bookstand with quite a few parchments and scrolls. You slowly swing around and place your fleet on the floor. It is not the floor however you touch with your feet...
Your saviour has lent you his bed and lies on the floor with a small piece of fleece covering only his abdomen. Not only has this man saved your life, but it seems he has sacrificed his warm bed for you to sleep on the cold floor. He should have lain next to you. Your combined body heat would have benefited both of you. You wipe the tears from your eyes and secretly observe your saviour, much like you have watched your fellow hoplites while they slept at camp.
Your saviour is certainly a handsome young man. He has medium length, dark hair, a manly stubble, a noble nose and is that a smile on his face. He is a farmer with the build of a hoplite; broad shoulders, strong chest and bulky arms. Your eyes glance downwards... his loincloth cannot contain a morning glory. That must be caused by a farmer’s wife he’s chasing after in his dreams. Furthermore he has very well shaped and defined hairy legs, as to be expected from any man of this region. You feel yourself getting rather excited yourself and tug at your blade. You think it’s rather impressive due to all the blood you must have lost.
Completely naked, you make your way to a basket of apples on a table. You take a bite, which,
by accident, awakes your saviour.
“Ah, pardon me for waking you. Oh, and I shall repay for the apple and everything you have done for me. I believe I am greatly in your debt, saviour. I shall leave you be soon, since I do not stay far from here. I just want to finish an apple and maybe another to gather some strength before I leave on my journey home. I shall return however, with something as a token of my gratitude. How do a couple of goats sound to you? I might have some chickens still as well. It’s been so long since I’ve been home at my farm,” you say.
The farmer does not comprehend much of what you say to him, since right in front of him stands a majestic hoplite in all his glory; the man of his dreams.
“Are you alright, kind sir?” you ask. “Still chasing that farmer’s girl I see,” glancing towards his glorious blade while saying so. You thoroughly enjoy the look of this young fellow on the floor, but it is not all that hard to contain yourself since you have seen many a blades and sculpted bodies at camp over the years. “What’s your name? Come, let me help you up so you can salute me properly,” you say.
The farmhand mutters “Alexius, Sir” and gets lifted from the floor. You give Alexius a hug for his help and selflessness. His blade stabs your bare abdomen, close to the wound which is healing well. You can feel stickiness from the tip his blade. This causes you to lose control and in a matter of seconds, your blade is in battle with his between your bodies.
You ponder the consequences of the predicament you find yourself in. As you lay out the tactical possibilities in your mind and before you decide what you should do, Alexius places his life on the line and kisses you, a commander of the great Greek army.
You tingle with delight as you realize that the farmer’s girl might just have been a farmer’s boy, maybe it was you! You embrace Alexius and kiss him back with great enthusiasm. You drop your half eaten apple and take hold of both your blades and peer into his olive green eyes.
“You bring me much joy, Alexius. You have saved my life and now it seems you have even more to offer. Laying your hands on a commander would suggest instant death. Yet I am not your ‘ordinary’ commander and I owe you my life anyways. Lets enjoy the next few moments and afterwards we can discuss how the two of us will be sharing a peaceful life on my farm, where you shall be treated and respected as my equal and if the gods allow it, my partner.”
What is to happen next is yet again up to the reader’s imagination. The following collection depicts how Alexius could possibly have looked like. The goddess he is likely to worship is Demeter, the Greek Goddess of Fertility and the Grain, which is this collection’s link to the fantasy/mythical world. As you can make out from her title, it is obvious that all farmers and cultivators would worship and make offerings to her.
The battle was long and unfortunately you have not come from it unscathed. Your waist is
bandaged, trying to keep the deep cut in your side from bleeding further. You are a stubborn man, disobeying the command of your captain to stay at camp up until you’re healed. You, however, think it’s better to make your way home, which is not all that far away to your reckoning.Soon you realize your bullheadedness has failed you. The world around you starts to veil itself from your sight. You become drowsy and before long you fall from your horse, fatigued and wounded. There you lay, lifeless on the grasslands nearby your village, there were the earth is fertile and all sorts of green goodness are grown and harvested.
You do not lay long before a local farmhand spots you in the distance. He sprints towards you and immediately checks your pulse. You are unconscious, but alive. He notices the bloodstained rag underneath your bronze breastplate. You will not last long. The farmhand sprints away from you, but returns shortly with crude instruments of healing. He gently removes your breastplate. The stench of your body odour would be overwhelming for some. The bloody rag is removed and you groan of pain as the farmhand cleanses your wound with a fresh rag moistened with a mixture of lemon and herbs unknown to us. You regain consciousness from the sharp pain caused by the aromatic ointment somewhat and receive a quick glance of your saviour.
“Drink this,” he says and forces a cold drink of water down your throat. You lose consciousness once more. In the meantime, the farmhand has created a stretcher of branches, which he attaches to your horse in order to drag you to his simple dwelling. Here he gently lifts you from the stretcher and places you some fleece, which he laid on the floor. He removes your sandals and starts washing your scorched and dirty legs and feet. The farmhand ponders whether he should remove your belt, as he glances at the bulge which forms beneath it. He leaves it for the time being and starts washing your upper body and finally your face and hair.“He has to be completely clean if I am to let him lie on my bed,” the
farmhand thinks to himself. He removes the last piece of armour, which renders you completely naked. The farmhand can’t help but to smile as he gently wipes your blade, crowned jewels and surrounding areas clean, thoroughly clean. You are finally lifted and tucked in to the farmhand’s soft bed, safe and sound as the healing property of the farmhand’s herb mixture does its magic.A day passes before you open your eyes once more. The sunlight is orange and you perceive it to be either dawn or dusk. You lift yourself to a seated position. In doing so a sharp pain emits from your side, which reminds you of what had happened to you. Where are you? You look around. You seem to be in a wooden hut. It is small. The few pieces of furniture are crude, here and there is a garden tool and in the far corner is a bookstand with quite a few parchments and scrolls. You slowly swing around and place your fleet on the floor. It is not the floor however you touch with your feet...
Your saviour has lent you his bed and lies on the floor with a small piece of fleece covering only his abdomen. Not only has this man saved your life, but it seems he has sacrificed his warm bed for you to sleep on the cold floor. He should have lain next to you. Your combined body heat would have benefited both of you. You wipe the tears from your eyes and secretly observe your saviour, much like you have watched your fellow hoplites while they slept at camp.
Your saviour is certainly a handsome young man. He has medium length, dark hair, a manly stubble, a noble nose and is that a smile on his face. He is a farmer with the build of a hoplite; broad shoulders, strong chest and bulky arms. Your eyes glance downwards... his loincloth cannot contain a morning glory. That must be caused by a farmer’s wife he’s chasing after in his dreams. Furthermore he has very well shaped and defined hairy legs, as to be expected from any man of this region. You feel yourself getting rather excited yourself and tug at your blade. You think it’s rather impressive due to all the blood you must have lost.
Completely naked, you make your way to a basket of apples on a table. You take a bite, which,
by accident, awakes your saviour.“Ah, pardon me for waking you. Oh, and I shall repay for the apple and everything you have done for me. I believe I am greatly in your debt, saviour. I shall leave you be soon, since I do not stay far from here. I just want to finish an apple and maybe another to gather some strength before I leave on my journey home. I shall return however, with something as a token of my gratitude. How do a couple of goats sound to you? I might have some chickens still as well. It’s been so long since I’ve been home at my farm,” you say.
The farmer does not comprehend much of what you say to him, since right in front of him stands a majestic hoplite in all his glory; the man of his dreams.
“Are you alright, kind sir?” you ask. “Still chasing that farmer’s girl I see,” glancing towards his glorious blade while saying so. You thoroughly enjoy the look of this young fellow on the floor, but it is not all that hard to contain yourself since you have seen many a blades and sculpted bodies at camp over the years. “What’s your name? Come, let me help you up so you can salute me properly,” you say.
The farmhand mutters “Alexius, Sir” and gets lifted from the floor. You give Alexius a hug for his help and selflessness. His blade stabs your bare abdomen, close to the wound which is healing well. You can feel stickiness from the tip his blade. This causes you to lose control and in a matter of seconds, your blade is in battle with his between your bodies.
You ponder the consequences of the predicament you find yourself in. As you lay out the tactical possibilities in your mind and before you decide what you should do, Alexius places his life on the line and kisses you, a commander of the great Greek army.
You tingle with delight as you realize that the farmer’s girl might just have been a farmer’s boy, maybe it was you! You embrace Alexius and kiss him back with great enthusiasm. You drop your half eaten apple and take hold of both your blades and peer into his olive green eyes.
“You bring me much joy, Alexius. You have saved my life and now it seems you have even more to offer. Laying your hands on a commander would suggest instant death. Yet I am not your ‘ordinary’ commander and I owe you my life anyways. Lets enjoy the next few moments and afterwards we can discuss how the two of us will be sharing a peaceful life on my farm, where you shall be treated and respected as my equal and if the gods allow it, my partner.”
What is to happen next is yet again up to the reader’s imagination. The following collection depicts how Alexius could possibly have looked like. The goddess he is likely to worship is Demeter, the Greek Goddess of Fertility and the Grain, which is this collection’s link to the fantasy/mythical world. As you can make out from her title, it is obvious that all farmers and cultivators would worship and make offerings to her.
“In Greek mythology Dêmêtêr mother-earth" or possibly "distribution-mother" from the noun of the Indo-European mother-earth *dheghom *mater) is the goddess of grain and agriculture, the pure nourisher of the youth and the green earth, the health-giving cycle of life and death, and preserver of marriage and the sacred law.”http://mythology.wikia.com/wiki/Demeter
salut
ReplyDeletesuperbe serie
que des beaux mecs
bravo pour ton blog