Adrian Blackwood

Adrian had been positively enchanted with everything the island had been doing thus far for the holidays - yesterday had been a bit of a trial, but he had appreciated having mulled wine and hot cocoa literally on tap.

Today he was sitting on his couch, sewing together squares for a Christmas quilt, and watching the cats interact with the balls of sugar. Boston, of course, had declared himself far too dignified and mature for such shenanigans, but Adrian could see how his tail was lashing about. Lydia was...nowhere near as dignified and mature.

"Kitty will be very proud of you," he informed her as he sewed. "And if they persist through the rest of the day, I might even be able to get the rest of my knitting done."

Lydia had not been dignified or mature about yarn balls, either.

[Primarily for one, but open!]

Last week, Adrian had invited Yelena and Lydia both to watch him bury his heart and properly claim the land. Lydia, because he thought that a fellow practitioner would appreciate watching a ritual of this size, Yelena because...well, if nothing else, he figured that she'd enjoy having something else to tease him about.

He'd brought out a nice picnic blanket and some refreshments, including several bottles of his homemade fruit beers that he'd shared with Logan, water, fruit juices, a light herbal tea, sandwiches on a thick, hearty bread (made fancy because he'd cut them into quarters), and a nice, freshly-baked cake that he'd cooked because he'd wanted to, not because he was nervous.

"You're fretting," Boston noted, sunning himself in a tree while Adrian made sure that all the utensils and plates were just so for his guests.

"I'm new to hosting," Adrian said. "I want to make sure that everything is nice for them."

"Uh-huh," Boston said. "...You're going to do fine." He wasn't talking about hosting. "We've practiced a hundred times back home."

"I know," his witch replied. "I just kinda wish it had been a hundred and one." Or maybe a hundred ten.

***
Once his guests had arrived and seated themselves, Adrian pulled out his trunk, went over to the black steamer trunk that he'd flown in with and, after rooting around amongst various things (he really needed to unpack this), he pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box and clutched it reverently to his chest. "Would you care to hold it while I finish preparing?" he asked, offering the box to Lydia. Boston made a grumpy sound, but forewent commentary as Adrian knelt down in front of the oak tree, plunged his bare hands into the acorn-covered ground, and began to dig. He moved handfuls of soil with surprising efficiency. "This has to be done by hand," he explained, figuring Yelena, at least, might be wondering why he wasn't using a shovel. "I'm a good digger, though. It won't take me long."

He wasn't kidding. Adrian Blackwood dug a three-foot-deep hole through hardpacked, rocky soil using nothing but his hands. He worked calmly, methodically, but fast, and didn't so much as rip a nail. There had to be some magic behind that, but he didn't say a word the entire time. He just kept going until he had a neat, knee-deep, root-filled pit wide enough to sit in, finished. A hole that size should have taken hours, even with a shovel; Adrian had finished in maybe twenty minutes. "There," he said, brushing the earth off his fingers as he stood up. "Now we're ready."

( Snipped for mention of a human heart )

"Well done!" Boston called from the branches he'd climbed up into. "That went even better than it did in practice."

Adrian was panting too hard to answer. He'd been perfectly calm the whole time he was filling in the hole. Now that he was finished, he collapsed onto the needle-strewn ground with a gasp, sprawling under the trees with a triumphant smile on his face.

[Text taken and adapted from Hell For Hire by Rachel Aaron, because you know how I love me some perfectly normal canons. While the two ladies mentioned were invited, post is open for other folks, either before or after the ritual.]