(just a little something I’ve been rolling around in my head, based on the folk tale of Vasilisa and Baba Yaga, with a heavy dose of Gogol’s Dikanka stories)
Hux knows better than to look for the Fern Flower on Kupala Night. It had been a childish dream, once: find the elusive, sorcerous bloom in the forest, and learn the tongue of birds, open any lock, see all the treasures men keep hidden, take whatever shape he desires.
Ferns don’t bloom; he knows that now. Still, chores finished, he watches the rest of the villagers light the bonfires and dance. At midnight, he takes off his wreath, and lets the daisies and clover float downstream, hoping to divine his future.
Kylo has no interest in the villagers’ festivities, though he takes the offerings they leave at the forest edge.
Still, Kupala Night means power. At midnight, he douses himself with water from the river, and gathers the dreams floating downstream for his witch’s brew.
Jules' Kylux Stuff 