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As he watched, Quentin was filled with a sense of deep contentment. For the first time in weeks, he wasn't stressed out about Lyn, or school, or his own awkwardness. In that still, wintry moment, everything seemed like it was going to be okay. Busting with a demon is the perfect cure for depression, he thought with a chuckle.
From downstairs, a grandfather clock chimed the stroke of one, echoing sonorously, and then was silent.
"Only one o'clock," remarked Astarte. "Yule is the longest night of the year, after all." She turned to face him, a naughty smirk splitting her face. "The night is still young, my Holly King. What shall we do now?"
~~~~~~
WARNING! END NOTES APPROACHING!
Well, friends, I hope you've enjoyed this silly holiday romp, which, as usual for me, is heavy on sex and light on plot. In addition, I admit that I've played somewhat fast and loose with the history and mythology of Yule celebrations, with all respect to those traditions and their practitioners. I hope you all can forgive me, and accept my best wishes for health and happiness in the new year!
END NOTES CONCLUDED. TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.
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