Post by The Librarian on Sept 2, 2011 5:46:42 GMT -8
[Repost - I though this was lost on the old Fae Forum]
What began in a fit of anger, clarified the image in the mirror. A whirlwind, so many changes, so many unpredictable events. Old houses falling to dust as new ones climb to bask in the sun and where does that leave a young fish gutter, trying to find a place in a world of confusing hypocrisy, political absurdity, and loyalties strained to the breaking point. Sitting on the stone floor of her bedchamber in the middle of the night, that’s where. Phaen smiled into the little hand held mirror glancing between it and the dagger, a gift from Elisandra now embedded in the mortar of the stonewall. No amount of pulling would free the object that allowed Phaen to see into the world of the Fae, in time without the dagger, Phaen would loose that sight and the memory of all the past year had taught her of life beyond the mist, outside mortality and into the dreaming.
That was not to be the case however, as the days slipped past colours again became clearer, crisper and vibrant, instead of dulling to grey the world took on a new shimmer, as did those she loved, and shared her life with. Opening her journal to see the written words glimmer on the page, to see the parchment illuminate in anticipation of more to come. Phaen was intoxicated with the glamour but still refused to accept she was gathering it for herself, refusing to let go of the anchor tying her to a mundane reality she had in fact left behind almost a year ago. Following the effervescent spirit of Elisandra home from Skara Brae began the circle of events that would shape Phaen’s Future.
Flipping the pages Phaen read over all that had taken place. Lebrun making a deal for her to run The Winters Rose, giving Phaen a reason to stay on land near Elisandra. All the stories she had written, dreams come to life in words on parchment, all for her newfound friend. Offering catering out of the Rose to all the events over the past year, the close bond made between her and King Aedon especially. The parties and fairs he ran out of Connemara showcasing the talent of her kitchen, and all those times Elise was hiding in the shadows while she baked. Nights of stories that filled the great hall with waves of shimmering glamour infusing the very stone with the memory of the words spoken, when the written word came alive to all who shared them while enjoying tea on Friday evenings. The celebrations of the wheel of the year, all the Sabbats we shared with Fae and friends making merry and introducing those mortal friends we have to the life of the Fae.
It seemed normal now to find Pooka in the pantry, and dryads by the hearth. Magic was not a mystery but a daily fact of life in the freehold Phaen and Elisandra had built together. Knowing the cavern below the Rose held the light of life for all the Fae who called the Rose home. How every Fae in the freehold lending their talents to guard and protect each other in our new home, away from the desert heat in the seclusion of our snowy canyon. United our strength was growing; maybe we still had a chance to fend off the coming winter. Our strength . . . again glancing into the mirror Phaen reached up and stroked her now elongated hears, turned her head to the side and smiled seeing who she really was. What was chrysalis, the moment of acknowledgement, the moment when you know you were more than human? It was time to accept the truth, and find her mother. There was much Dame Elmiere Duquette ni Beaumayn had to teach the little fish gutter, and Phaen now was willing to learn.
What began in a fit of anger, clarified the image in the mirror. A whirlwind, so many changes, so many unpredictable events. Old houses falling to dust as new ones climb to bask in the sun and where does that leave a young fish gutter, trying to find a place in a world of confusing hypocrisy, political absurdity, and loyalties strained to the breaking point. Sitting on the stone floor of her bedchamber in the middle of the night, that’s where. Phaen smiled into the little hand held mirror glancing between it and the dagger, a gift from Elisandra now embedded in the mortar of the stonewall. No amount of pulling would free the object that allowed Phaen to see into the world of the Fae, in time without the dagger, Phaen would loose that sight and the memory of all the past year had taught her of life beyond the mist, outside mortality and into the dreaming.
That was not to be the case however, as the days slipped past colours again became clearer, crisper and vibrant, instead of dulling to grey the world took on a new shimmer, as did those she loved, and shared her life with. Opening her journal to see the written words glimmer on the page, to see the parchment illuminate in anticipation of more to come. Phaen was intoxicated with the glamour but still refused to accept she was gathering it for herself, refusing to let go of the anchor tying her to a mundane reality she had in fact left behind almost a year ago. Following the effervescent spirit of Elisandra home from Skara Brae began the circle of events that would shape Phaen’s Future.
Flipping the pages Phaen read over all that had taken place. Lebrun making a deal for her to run The Winters Rose, giving Phaen a reason to stay on land near Elisandra. All the stories she had written, dreams come to life in words on parchment, all for her newfound friend. Offering catering out of the Rose to all the events over the past year, the close bond made between her and King Aedon especially. The parties and fairs he ran out of Connemara showcasing the talent of her kitchen, and all those times Elise was hiding in the shadows while she baked. Nights of stories that filled the great hall with waves of shimmering glamour infusing the very stone with the memory of the words spoken, when the written word came alive to all who shared them while enjoying tea on Friday evenings. The celebrations of the wheel of the year, all the Sabbats we shared with Fae and friends making merry and introducing those mortal friends we have to the life of the Fae.
It seemed normal now to find Pooka in the pantry, and dryads by the hearth. Magic was not a mystery but a daily fact of life in the freehold Phaen and Elisandra had built together. Knowing the cavern below the Rose held the light of life for all the Fae who called the Rose home. How every Fae in the freehold lending their talents to guard and protect each other in our new home, away from the desert heat in the seclusion of our snowy canyon. United our strength was growing; maybe we still had a chance to fend off the coming winter. Our strength . . . again glancing into the mirror Phaen reached up and stroked her now elongated hears, turned her head to the side and smiled seeing who she really was. What was chrysalis, the moment of acknowledgement, the moment when you know you were more than human? It was time to accept the truth, and find her mother. There was much Dame Elmiere Duquette ni Beaumayn had to teach the little fish gutter, and Phaen now was willing to learn.