#bova;;

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I think everyone has seen this video but - just for reference of how big these guys are ( those snowshoe paws! ) and also how LOUD their purr is

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Attractive stars for all the muses except Bova, he gets 2 stars because he's also a pretty pretty kitty yes he is, yes he is!

Oh, and he knows it

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Thinking abt the residents of the Elderwoods being separated into ancient tribes - their culture isn’t so much entirely different from any other faerie culture that’s ever existed, it’s just a lot more like those of ancient times. Far less metropolitan / urban, living much more in and as a part of nature, less glamour magic, etc. The people live in the trees, which keeps them safe from the Hunt - which is comprised not of the tribal fae, but of Bova, his harem, and his children. 

Bova is their god/king, and gets his mates from those tribes, either in the form of trespassers and travelers or willing natives of the Elderwoods, and in return he ensures that their hunting is prosperous, they are protected from invaders, and free from misfortune throughout the year. The tree villages are also safe from the Hunt; no one is killed so long as they don’t go near the ground, although they can still witness and hear all the horrors that take place. 

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@sunnyexpat liked for a starter with Bova!

The weather had become tumultuous. The rain came down in heavy sheets, soaking Bova’s thick fur down to the skin, and the wind ripped through his coat as though it wasn’t even there. This was why he didn’t often visit the human realm - their weather was terrible, and unpredictable, and there were no trees or logs to take shelter in. Only stinking boxes full of waste. 

He squeezed under one of these now, despite looking scrawny and thin with his wet fur sticking to his skin. He curled up in a tight ball underneath the box, wrinkling his nose at the smell and hissing at the rats that scurried too close to him. He told himself that all he had to do was wait out the storm - then, he could go home. Screw whatever had called him here. It must have been a trick.

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shipping & handling + bova

Bova isn't especially difficult to romance, so much as his advances can be hard to handle.

On top of being nonverbal, he's a wild cat sidhe, so communication can be a little tricky to figure out - a lot of it, for him, is dependent on body language.

He's also shameless and very forward when he's interested in someone. Will try to win them over with food ( aka raw, dead animals ), impressive displays of athleticism ( climbing or running or saving them from a wild beast ), or straight up physical affection. He moves fast and that can be a little overwhelming! Sometimes he just needs to be told no.

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Oberon's gifts are acorns and figs and Bova's gifts are tiny bones with teeth marks on them

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I’m just gonna play with these today okay 

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god king.

@glysimachia // con’t 

The shaman progressed throughout the circle, carefully marking each of their foreheads with a solid line of crimson. She must move quickly, before the blood can thicken, and soon enough the task is complete.

Now, she steps towards the bonfire. Still chanting, she takes the dish from her young apprentice, who scurries back to the safety of the crowd. The shaman raises the bowl, and pours the remaining boar’s blood into the flames.

The flames only spit and stutter

Before now, their volume has raised above nothing more than a low murmur; some of them have attended these rituals often enough to have them memorized, and they are the ones who join in on the chanting. The crowd’s voices escalate steadily, until the sound echoes through the cavern and into the sky, invoking the god-king of the Elderwoods.

Then, he arrived.

Silence falls over the cavern, but for the crackling of still-burning wood within the giant fire. The air, having become eerily still, is suddenly pierced by howling - of wolves, and men, and wild creatures with no names.

Wind rushes into the room, driving the air from the lungs of tribesmen, swallowing up the flame and plunging them into darkness.

Its then that Bova shows himself, illuminated by moonlight, and the tribes fall to their knees. Bova is taller than any human man, with long limbs tipped by dark claws. He’s nude, his handsome face still visible in the sparse light, but there’s still something eery about him - his eyes, dark and catlike, or his calm, otherworldly smile. Slowly, he walks along the circle of men and women, gaze hovering over each of them, before moving on to the next.