Let's rip open the veil between Rosehaven and Bethlehem and let Alice do what she does best: spill the tea so hard the angels might drop their harps!
Here we go, sugarplum.
☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party
Alice Spills the Tea: The Virgin Birth Edition
From the Quill of the Mad Tea Mistress
Darlings. Sit. Sip. Brace. Hold onto your teacup!
Because today we’re not just nibbling cucumber sandwiches and pretending not to judge—oh no. We’re opening the vault of holy mystery, fluffing up the veils of virtue, and asking the question no mortal (or seraphim) dared to ink in scripture:
What really went down with that so-called virgin birth?
Now before you clutch your pearls or start chanting in Latin, remember - I’m not here to mock your sacred scrolls. I’m just here to offer... context. Rosehaven context. The kind with sass, scandal, and just a splash of divine drama.
So let’s begin, shall we?
Picture it: a sleepy little village, a young maiden named Miriam -- not Mary, darling, we’re in my version now - and a glow in the sky so bright it could bleach your sins on sight. Our girl’s minding her business, braiding rosemary into her hair, when - boom! - some winged hunk drops from the heavens like he missed his stop on the way to Olympus.
He’s got six wings, three eyes, and a voice like thunder dipped in honey. His name? Let’s call him Gabrielus Maximus Divineus - because if we’re rewriting this tale, we’re giving him a name worthy of a shirtless painting.
“Hail, highly favored one!” he declares, flapping those celestial curtains like a drama queen caught in a chandelier. “You shall bear a child!”
Miriam blinks. Sips her mint tea. “Uhm... with who, exactly?”
“The Holy Spirit will, uh... overshadow you,” he says, with all the awkward energy of a choir boy explaining where babies come from without the benefit of diagrams.
Overshadow? Baby, that’s not divine conception. That’s vague flirting at a haunted masquerade.
But lo and behold, nine months later—BAM—our girl’s got a son. Glowing. Wise. Suspiciously good with parables and carpentry. And what does she say when the neighbors start whispering?
“It’s fine. God did it.”
Oh darling. In any other realm, that’s a lifetime subscription to "Witches Be Burnin’ Monthly."
And let’s not forget poor Josephus—her betrothed, wearing the expression of a man who just got spiritually cuckolded. He’s out here nodding solemnly, building cradles like, “Yes, yes, very blessed indeed. The Lord works in mysterious ways.” Meanwhile, the townsfolk are side-eyeing the livestock and making bets on who the real father is.
Now, I’m not saying it didn’t happen. I’m just saying: if it did, the tea was hotter than the fires of Revelation.
And if you think that was the end of it? Oh sweet kettle - no. That was just Act One. Because that baby grows up, turns water into wine (respect), flips tables in temples (double respect), and walks around like the savior of a species that can’t even handle a group chat. Oh yes, Darlings Magic is everywhere!
But we’ll save that tea for another party.
So what have we learned today, my enchanted cupcakes?
That even the holiest stories have a twist. That the divine isn’t afraid of a little scandal. And that if an archangel ever shows up in your courtyard with a prophecy and no explanation?
Ask for credentials. And bring your lawyer.
Until next time—keep your tea steeped, your eyebrows arched, and your holy mysteries delightfully unverified.
With heavenly side-eye and crimson lipstick,
Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
Daywalker of Rosehaven Castle
Tea-spiller of Realms Both Divine and Deranged
Whose Your Daddy? Part 1 (Divine Drama Edition) ☕️ Alices Mad Tea Party
Alice Spills the Tea: Who’s Your Daddy? Part 2 (Divine Drama Edition)
