#rowena crest

[garyquayphotography]

“Rowena Path and Tree, September 2023.”

©2023 Gary L. Quay

Getting ready for Fall with an exploratory mission to Rowena to check on the white oaks. They haven't turned colors yet, but they're close.

Camera, Hasselblad 500CM

Lens: 80mm Zeiss Planar with a yellow filter

Film: Rollei Superpan 200 developed in 510-Pyro

[ivankosovan]

Even though spring is here I will be missing the winter. Been to Montana and Idaho over 15 times in the last 2-3 months the views were breathtaking.

[swittersb]

Columbia R. Gorge from Rowena Crest...

[theodoreangelos]

Falling into a Dream (May 2023), photography by Erwin Buske Wildflowers such as Arrowleaf Balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) and Lupine (Lupinus) blooming in synch at Rowena Crest in the Columbia River Gorge.

[thatawaydad]

Touring the Columbia Gorge

Find mountain-high waterfalls and a deep river canyon in the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon. Our family did a trip to the Pacific Northwest seeing Seattle, Portland, North Cascades National Park, the Columbia Gorge, and sites in between. This is what we did on our vacation, hope it helps you in planning your trip to this amazing area! We drove from Spokane, Wash., where we stayed the night to…

[elinerlina2]

Rowena Crest, Oregon 🌍

[travelella]

Rowena Crest Viewpoint, Mosier, Oregon, USA

Cameron Stewart

[rabbitcruiser]

Robert Gray commanded the first expedition to sail into the Columbia River on May 11, 1792.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A foe most frightful 1

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐱!𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞.

𝐀𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐈 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬! 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐏𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞!)

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 💖

A carriage rattles by as you pull Altun out of its path. The boy is the second youngest in your charge, a rowdy rabble bunching around you with hopping and vibrant chittering. Your siblings, six in all, hang off of your skirts as you carry a basket in one arm and Adela on your other hip. Marcella, nine-years old and quiet walks ahead of you, shoulders low as she trods grimly towards the sweltering horizon.

Beyond, the village awaits you. You are to barter at the market for some wool and grain, and several other things your mother listed as wanted but not required. She also warned you not to stay too long even if the sun may linger.

As you press on, the early summer beating down on your swarm, Rowena, only just three, tugs on your dress and whines. You tell Sidney, the second eldest to you, to take your skin and give her some water. Milo, Marcella’s twin, asks for a drink too.

The noise of horse hooves hammers in the distance, an unusually fleet pace that bears down on the party of the children. You move further onto the grass, withered yellow patches burnt where the sunlight beams most hotly. Your siblings sidle along with you, Milo craning to see the approaching cacophony.

A train of horses dressed in livery approaches. You glance over your shoulders as the children are distracted and stop in their tracks to watch. You turn as Adela’s eyes round at the jostling noblemen in their saddles. How odd, you don’t know you’ve ever seen Duke Hansen's men outside the fair days.

The group is headed by two young pages, their haircut short in the current style, not shanky or scraggly like the men and boys on the farm. Then older men in dyed vests, their sleeves bloused in a most fashionable way. At the centre is a man sat high on a warhorse, its limbs and rump nearly twice as wide as the rest. 

The man’s silver hair shines in the summer hue, the sides of his head shorn close in a warrior’s cut, and a trim of hair across his lip. His blue eyes are dark even in the bright morning and he wears an overcoat with a high-collar unsuited to the season. On his breast is the Duke’s crest, a dragon with its tail curve in a perfect arch around its body.

As you try to quiet your siblings and keep them from wandering underfoot, your gaze meets that of the party’s centerpiece; the man with the silver hair and stony jaw. You almost gasp, quickly retracting your gawking eyes. It isn’t proper to stare at a man of his stature.

Adela covers her ears as the clomping of hooves grows discordant. She starts to whine and you hug her closer in an effort to calm her. The men do not slow, they do not stop, as they barrel by upon a mission. You stare after the horse tails, another four men at the rear.

Milo lets out a noise of awe and the children begin to chatter about the knights and their pages. You smile to humour them but your curiosity is much more sober. Your parents always warn to be weary of the rich.

The basket grows heavy so you hand Adela to Marcella as you come across the plateau right before the village. You cross the wooden bridge as the furor of the market roils in the air. You pass the stables near the cobbler's stead and enter the square where booths are set up with wares as sellers holler about their goods.

The crowd clusters to one side as marketgoers are distracted from their bartering by the men striding along the stalls. The nobles in their coloured cloth peruse the lengths of woven wool and the handcrafted figurines. Milo stares and you tug on his sleeve. 

“Stay close,” you bid your sibling, “we need eggs and wool, yes?”

“I want to see his sword!” Milo proclaims and Altun agrees giddily. Before they can run off, Sidney herds them back to you.

“Don't! They are knights,” she hisses as she holds them by the wrists.

“Row,” Marcella calls as the little girl dawdles across the dirt. The elder sibling can do little as she holds the youngest in her arms.

“Rowena,” you cry out and follow her, hanging the basket from your arm as you give chase. 

Before you can reach her, she is amidst the men, barely able to escape their treads. You bend and scoop her up, an arm hooked around her as she wriggles and fusses. She shrieks in your ear as you try to escape unnoticed.

You turn to flee but stumble back as a figure blocks your path. The man with the soldier's hair and the badge sewn across his chest. You gulp and your eyes flit past him to the rest of your clan, huddled together as they watch agape.

“Sir,” you keep your chin down, “apologies, I did not mean to impede–”

“That would be ‘your grace’,” he corrects you, “though I can assume you don't oft entertain dukes. Likely the farmers in their hay by the looks of your brood.”

“P-pardon, your grace,” you eke out as Rowena continues to squirm and you fight to keep your hold on her.

“Yes, pardon, run along before that thing should dribble onto my coat,” he sneers.

You wince and bend your knees slightly, trying to curtsy but are unused to the gesture. You clumsily sidle past him and go back to your brothers and sisters. You shove Rowena at Milo and wiggle your nose. It isn't the man's words so much as his assumptions that sting.

“Come,” you bid the children and point them to the stall with a pen of hens clucking around it, “we will fetch some eggs.”

Sidney steps up next to you as the others follow behind, “was that knight very mad?”

“Duke,” you swallow dryly, “that is the duke and he was not very kind, no.”

“Duke…I thought…”

“Perhaps he is retired from the battlefield, or there is no war to be fought,” you shrug, “it hardly matters, sister, let us stay clear of him.”

“That is what Jeremy says,” she counters, “his brother lost a hand when a hunting dog went missing.”

“Oh my,” you murmur.

“Particularly cruel with how little the duke is in house to seek game,” she shakes her head.

“Yes, well, we shouldn't trouble him or ourselves,” you gird, “mother wants a wooden spoon if we can have one at a good bargain.”

🏰

You have your eggs, your wool, the wooden spoon, and even some goat cheese to take home to your mother. Rowena sleeps in Sidney's arms as Adela snores in yours. Marcella and Milo carry the basket between them, and Altun clings to your skirt as he drags his feet. It's a far walk back to your family's plot but it must be done before night falls.

As you set off, the sun begins its slow descent. The village is still in its throes as those more local continue their barter and some begin to sink into their cups. Your back aches and your soles throb. It's not a pain you haven't bore before. It is much better a journey to town than a day in the field.

Further down the road, you stop to sit for a while. The summer has the days stretching longer. You share a truncheon of bread among you, even the children saying little as they chew. Up again, you take Rowena and let her have the lighter toddler for the last leg of the trip. As you begin anew, hooves once more pound the ground, shaking it like thunder as they approach.

You step into the divet of grass that runs parallel to the beaten road. It is no farmer's cart but the nobles upon their return to the castle.

As they pass, a soft tomato splatters across Sidney and Adela, tossed by the riding men. She cries out as Adela wakes and begins to sob. You hush them as the horses trot unbothered ahead of you. You stop once more, this time to help your sisters get clean. A sickly red stain remains on Sidney's wool dress and Adela's hair is flecked with gooey seeds.

"That was mean," Marcella pouts.

"Be happy you were not the one hit," Sidney snaps then turns on you, "you did not lie, sister, when you said they were unkind."

"Perhaps they didn't see us," you murmur, "no matter being upset. We have some way to go."

"Ugh, you are too meek," Sidney remands, "if they'd let their horses trod over us, you'd say it was our fault."

"Not at all, sister, but what can we do? The duke owns father's plot, he pays for the land we till and the scythe, he makes sure we have what little we do."

"Oh, valiant knight," she drawls dryly.

"And he's got a big sword!" Altun proclaims.

"That too," you tilt your head at Sidney, giving your brother's innocent fascination another gleam of meaning.

Sidney rolls her eyes and hitches Adela higher, turning down the road ahead of you. You let her lead as the twins pick the basket up again and you bring up the rear with Altun and Rowena. The boy is the only one with the energy to bounce with his steps.

You hear hooves again but not from behind you. It is rather late for any to be coming to market just then. You look ahead and see two horses. You squint as your siblings' heads perk up in curiosity. It is the nobles, not all of them, only two. A page and the silver-haired duke, lazily cantering in your direction.

You put your head down and quiet the others, bidding them to keep along. There's whispers and mutters but they listen. The day stretches on like the road, winding and tiring.

“Aye,” the holler frightens you as the horse kicks up dust not far away, “you, boy!”

The page points at Milo who stops and nearly overturns the basket. You flutter your lashes and peer between the nine-year old and the man on his steed. Behind him, the duke slows on the speckled gray war beast.

“Think you're clever, eh?” The page accuses as he draws his horse to a halt. “Small as you are, that voice is like a squawk.”

You step up and put a hand on Milo's shoulder, “respectfully, sir, my brother did not speak of your passing.”

“Aye, aye, we heard. Our men do have keen ears. We heard the little imp say it,” the page continues anon. “So say it again, boy, let the duke hear it.”

“I… I didn't…” Milo stutters and look up at you, squeaking your name, “sister, I swear it, I didnt–”

“It is the duke who asks,” the page insists, “so confess.”

Milo shakes and sniffles, his sobs breaking through as he chokes. You put yourself in front of him protectively. You know even if he had spoken, it could never be anything wrong.

“We all heard as well and he said nothing, sir,” you stare at the horse's snout, not brazen enough to look at him straight. 

“You are defiant, woman,” the duke speaks at last, “you speak in the place of men. The boy must face his own words.”

You frown and peer over towards the tall warhorse. What game is this?

“What was it the boy said?” The duke asks, “Llewellyn has a sharp ear.”

You watch the duke's gloved hands, folded calmly around the reins as he sits slackly in his saddle.

“Bastard…” the page hisses sinisterly.

“No!” Milo exclaims, “I wouldn't… I do not know that word.”

“We are only peasants, honest,” you plead as Marcella begins to tremble and Rowena wakes in your arms. Sidney coos at Adela as she rouses at the voices. “Please, your grace, sir, we would swear it on the lord–” 

“Then the lord would have you a liar,” the duke insists, “Llew,” he flicks his fingers brusquely.

The page swings himself from his horse and his boots send up a cloud of dry dirt. He comes towards you and Milo. You know you should not but you try to obscure him from reaching your brother. The man gives you a harsh shove and you stagger, barely keeping from dropping your sister. 

You whimper and apologise to Rowena. You put her on her feet and turn back as the page grabs Milo's arm, jerking him so that he drops the basket and Marcella does the same as she tries to smother her bawling. You rush forward and clasp onto your brother's elbow.

“Please, sir, do not hurt my brother–”

“You are petulant,” the page faces you and reaches to his belt where a danger is sheathed, “a woman like you would fare better without her impetuous tongue.”

“He's done nothing–”

“Carry on on your defiance and I shall take the younger too,” the duke declares.

Your breath catches at the threat, the malice that tinges his voice. Your eyes snap up and meet his, forgetting yourself as you find him smirking. Just as quickly you tear your gaze away.

“Where do you mean to take him?” You plea.

“I do not answer to commoners,” the duke snorts, “but he looks fit enough to dump my pot.”

Your lips part as you're left speechless and helpless. You look at the others, Sidney hugging a wailing Adela, Marcella hugging Altun, and Rowena babbling wetly as she grabs at your dress. Milo quavers as he's caught between you and the page.

“Sister don't let them take me, please,” he whines.

“I–”

“We take you, boy, or leave you here holding your innards,” the page barks and cackles.

“Milo…” you croak, “I don't… I don't know what to do…”

“I'll go. I said it.” Sidney steps forward, “I sound much like a young boy, don't I?”

The duke guffaws, “all of them liars.”

“It was me,” your sister insists.

“Enough. You will surrender the boy or you will all face the king's justice,” the duke puts his hand to the pommel of his sword.

You drop your head as Milo trembles violently in his terror. You let your hand fall too and utter a hollow apology. You can only hope the duke does not harm him much before you can fetch your parents.

[flyingiseasy-landingnotsomuch]

Rowena Crest at the Columbia River Gorge / May 2022

[garyquayphotography]

Hello everyone! I have a limited number of 2023 calendars available for sale for the first time, just to test the waters. If you are interested, you can see the pictures on my website. I am not yet able to take payments on the site, but I can take PayPal. $25.00 each. Use the “Contact” link on the page to set up payment and delivery.

Thanks!

https://quaygang.com/2023-calendar/

[ivankosovan]

The Dalles. Expired film can be a risk. Capturing over 4 rolls of expired film from the 90's that I got for free. There were a lot of duds but I have to admit some of the shots turned out okay! Had to share this set since I like the look.

[sleepdeprivedstoat]

Hogwarts Houses

Alright, so we’ll all know the basics of a Hogwarts house name. But what do they really mean? Well let’s go into a long and probably useless post about it!

Slytherin, sounds like “slitherin’” 

Ahh, clever wordplay, Salazar. Of course, a snake slithers. What does it mean, though? That Slytherins are cunning and clever, even when it comes to a terrible pun.

Gryffindor, sounds like “Griffin door.”

Well, the name takes from a very noble creature, the half lion half eagle. And for their crest, they chose the one that represents bravery and nobility, the “kings,” if you will, the Lion. 

The fierce kings of the jungle,(even though they live in the savannah???) the heroes of the animal kingdom. Subtle, Godric. Real subtle.

Ravenclaw (I think you can figure this one out)

Their name is simple, the Raven is meant to represent wit and cleverness. But what about the eagle house crest? Well, remember how I said the Griffin’s other half was an eagle?

Yeah.

Yeah Rowena stole it from Gryffindor.

She wanted something to show that Ravenclaws aren’t just smart, they’re brave too. So what do they do? They take an animal from the brave house.

And Hufflepuff. The one everyone is confused by.

Now, do you remember the story the three little pigs? Specifically the line, “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”

Hufflepuff

Huff and puff

Y’all, Hufflepuff is meant to resemble a wolf.

And not only that, but they have a badger on their house crest! Two of the most dangerous predators, (a badger being the most dangerous) on the nice house??

Well, if we’ve learned anything from Cedric, it’s that Hufflepuff can be brave too. And I think Helga wanted to show that. Hufflepuff, in the outside, is nice and kind and cinnamon rolls.

But on the inside? They’re fierce and brave like a Gryffindor.

Slytherins can be stupid jokesters.

Gryffindors can be self-centered.

Ravenclaws can be brave.

Hufflepuffs can be fierce.

And these aren’t theories. They’re not even based off the characters in the story, but by something so simple as the house names and crests. 

But if we’ve learned anything from Harry Potter,

It’s that your house does not define you.

[fanfictionhyperfixation]

Forgotten Starlight (Eris Vanserra x OFC) Part Two

TW: mention of violence, mention of blood, mention of kidnap, mention of imprisonment, death

***

She was sure she would have fallen had Eris not held her so firmly. Rowena quickly released Eris once she was sure of her footing and looked around her. The smell of apples and crisp leaves entered her senses and her heart calmed instantly as the moon began to crest over the trees. Autumn had always been her favourite time of year. She loved it especially when the moon was bright.

“We shouldn’t linger. I’d like to keep you hidden for as long as I can.”

Rowena froze and her heart started beating so fast she thought it might burst. She shook her head furiously and backed away, leaves crunching beneath her bare feat. Eris looked at her with confusion as he saw panic take over her entire body.

“No.” Rowena said quietly, her wings flaring.

Eris took a step towards her.

“You are not locking me up,” Rowena began to let her strings of power gather in her hands. “I will not be made prisoner for another lifetime!”

Eris went numb at her words before white hot anger exploded in his veins.

“What?” he said with deadly calm.

“I will not be held prisoner in another court! I was taken by Tamlin and locked in a room for a hundred years only for Amarantha to do the same for another fifty. You will not do the same. I won’t let you.” Rowena seethed as light shot from her hands and straight towards Eris. The impact sent him reeling backwards. His amber eyes widened in shock as he stared up at Rowena. She had knocked him on his ass. His brain could hardly wrap around the fact that a weakened fae had bested him before his eye was met with the impossible. 

Rowena was glowing.

The moon had risen above the red and golden trees of the Autumn Court forest and Rowena stood in the elongating rays of the full moon. And she was glowing. All fae had a certain glow about them. Eris always dismissed it as something to do with their immortality. But Rowena … Rowena was something else and Eris was entranced. She glowed like the thousands of stars which burned in the sky. 

Eris’ eyes flickered to her hands which glowed brighter than any other part of her.

“Rowena. I’m not going to trap you. I just don’t want my brother or father to see you before I can explain. They certainly can’t know about your powers.” Eris said carefully as he stood up. Rowena’s hands dimmed.

She looked down at her hands and her violet eyes widened as she finally noticed what was happening. She took stuttering steps backward as though she was afraid of her own body. This had never happened before. The longer she stayed in the moonlight, she felt the effects of the wards and the ash leaving her body. It was like the moonlight was burnin it away. She looked up and as her eyes locked on the great silver moon she heard singing ring through the air. A beautiful pure song that sounded so familiar. With a gasp she realised it was the lullaby she had sung through her window time and time again. It was the lullaby she sang in the heart of the mountain even though she couldn’t see the moon.

“Rowena.”

Eris’ voice startled her. He had moved closer and she hadn’t even noticed.

“We need to move, Rowena.”

She nodded numbly and slipped her hand into Eris’ without a second thought. She let him guide her through the forest and watched in fascination as the glow on her skin came and went as they darted between shadows and moonlight. Rowena bristled as she came face to face with a great oaken door.

“There’s no ash in here right?” she asked and pulled back on Eris’ hand. The red headed male shook his head.

“None of the rooms you will be in will have ash.”

“So there is ash in this house.” Rowena pushed. She had to know.

Eris paused. “Yes. Yes there is. In some of our weapons.”

Rowena took a breath.

“Okay.”

Eris pushed open the door with ease and kept a firm grip on her hand as they wound through the halls of the Forest House. She kept her eyes downcast, hiding her eyes with her mahogany red hair, and hoped that if anyone saw her walking with Eris they would just assume she was another member of the Autumn Court. She held her breath every time someone came close and spoke to Eris, praying they would ignore her. When Eris pushed through a set of double doors and they clicked behind her Rowena felt wards lock into place. She panicked as she felt the magic fall around her, but reminded herself of the promise Eris made. She stole a look at him and saw that his eyes were closed and his shoulders had relaxed.

“Eris?”

“Protection wards. You are not trapped here,” Eris breathed and walked further into the room. Rowena followed his movements around the room and quickly saw that they had walked into an antechamber which split off into other rooms, probably equally grand.

Where are you going? Rowena called out to Eris silently and he stilled. He spun on his heel and looked at her with amazement.

“You’re daemati?”

Rowena nodded and watched him with anticipation. Waiting to see his reaction.

Eris’ face melted into a feline grin, “That, little one, will be very useful. And I’m going to sleep. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Do you have a bath?”

Eris chuckled and waved his hand for Rowena to follow. She trailed after him and took her time to take in the wooden carvings and elaborate murals that painted the walls. She picked up on the sound of water running and the smell of cinnamon filled the air. She followed her nose and found Eris pouring soaps and salts into a large tub that was quickly filling with water.

“Why do you have such a large bath?” Rowena blurted out.

Eris chuckled, “Do you want the savoury answer? Or the real answer?”

Rowena felt her cheeks redden as her mind wandered with possible answers. “Both.”

Eris outright laughed and nodded. “The savoury answer would be that I just enjoy a soak. The real answer,” he fixed her with a daring and lust-filled look, “I enjoy a good soak.”

For the first time in years, Rowena laughed. She actually laughed.

“Thank you, Eris. For everything.”

Eris smiled softly and left the room. Rowena looked around the great bathroom and smiled. It was warm and comfortable and the steam rising from the bath looked delightful. The tepid baths she had taken in the Spring Court and under the mountain were in small metal tubs that she didn’t fit in, her wings hitting the sides. As she dipped her toes into the steaming water she groaned with relief, the water and heat immediately relaxing her body. As the water crested her shoulders she wondered if this was what true peace was like. She sat in the tub for hours, the water never getting cold. The only thing that would make the experience better would be if the small window in the bathroom was ten times larger. 

With regret, Rowena hauled her body from the bath and quickly dried herself. She was met with a new problem as soon as she saw her pooled dress in the corner of the room. Clutching the deep green towel to her chest, Rowena hesitantly opened the bathroom door and tried to find Eris. She quietly made her way to different rooms, each one empty except for furniture. She found an office, a sitting room, a library, and what looked like a woodworking room. She was beginning to wonder if Eris had wandered off when she opened one last door and saw Eris splayed out on a carved four poster bed that was bathed in deep reds, greens, and oranges. The blankets looked so soft and plush that any sane fae would have drooled at the sight. But what held Rowena’s attention was Eris splayed out on the bed, shirtless with his bargain tattoo blazing across his ribcage, with one arm slung over his eyes. All that she had wanted to say disappeared from her mind and it suddenly became very clear that she was an of age fae that had never seen a male before in her life. She struggled to regain her thoughts and was saved from further embarrassing herself by Eris himself.

“Can I help you Rowena?”

“Clothes.” she choked. Her brain slowly started to work again.

Eris moved his arm and squinted in her direction. Rowena didn’t miss the way the scent in the room changed or that it was coming from both Eris and herself.

“Eris?”

Eris cleared his throat and shot up from the bed, “Right.”

He walked through yet another door and came out quickly holding a cream coloured shirt. 

“That won’t work.” she blurted out as Eris held out the cloth. She let her hands dance over the soft fabric and wished that it would fit. When Eris quirked his brow at her in question, Rowena flared her wings.

“Right,” Eris thought for a moment before a wicked grin broke out on his face. He practically dove for the bed and pulled up a soft looking purple blanket.

Rowena scoffed as he held it up to her. She said, “You can’t be serious.”

“Very.”

Rowena groaned and grabbed the blanket. Without warning she turned around, dropped the towel and wrapped the plum fabric around her body, crossing the edges over her body so she could tie the corners behind her neck. When she turned around she was faced with a stunned Eris whose eyes were firmly rooted south. 

“You okay Eris?” Rowena teased and slipped around Eris, her eyes focused entirely on the bed before her. She lifted the covers and slipped in before Eris could so much as object. She closed her eyes and snuggled into the pillow, delighting in the warmly spiced scent that lingered on the pillows. A dark shadow fell over Rowena and she peaked one eye open to see Eris looming over her.

He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at her. She didn’t flinch.

“Normally females are invited to my bed, they don’t just jump in uninvited.”

Rowena sighed and brought the blanket closer to her chin, the heat she felt in her belly dimming as sleep took hold of her body. 

“I saw a really nice couch in one of the other rooms.”

Eris spluttered at her words but she didn’t bother listening to what else she had to say as a dreamless sleep called her.

[wearingaberetinparis]

Please please please post "Jammiest bit of Jam(es)" soon!

Aww, you're a sweetheart! I'll first finish Lily in the Sky with Diamonds, it's all happening without me and my Jily December Challenge fics, but then I'm definitely going to continue working on Jammiest Bit of Jam(es), because it's so much fun to write that one and it might very well turn into my latest obsession. I anticipate a December update of the first chapter. To tide you over... another long snippet.

Jammiest Bit of Jam(es)

“Miss Evans?” Her eyes widened and she very nearly dropped her wand. She turned around ever so slowly, schooling her face into a neutral and thoroughly unimpressed expression. “Ah,” she spoke, hoping to sound dismissive and unaffected, while – in reality – her heart pounded a mile a minute, “it is you.” Lord James Potter – the far too handsome Pure-blooded dunderhead – examined her closely, took a small step towards her. “Are you well? You appear to be lost.” “Oh,” she said, tilting her chin, “lost I’m most certainly not.” He cocked his head to the side. “In trouble then?” “Now, whatever would make you say that?” “Well, since you’re dressed as a young Hogwarts school boy –” She refused to let her confidence falter as she scoffed at him. “Clearly, you have no idea about the intricate goings-on at Queen Mary’s. Maybe this is just how we would prefer to dress when there’s no wizards about.” “You’d wear a cloak with the Hogwarts crest at Queen Mary’s?” he raised his eyebrows. Infuriatingly, he was all the more attractive for it. “Do you fancy yourself an Auror, sir?” she stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Not quite yet,” he muttered as if he wasn’t destined to become the next Minister of Magic, like his father and grandfather before him, taking another step forward, the toes of their shoes – similar in looks, comically different in size – nearly touching, forcing her to look up at him. “Now, tell me, Miss Evans. What are you doing at Hogwarts? You weren’t planning on calling on a suitor were you?” “A suitor?” she couldn’t hide the scandalised tone in her voice, the way her breath caught on the word. “How dare you insinuate such a thing –” He held up his hands, his wand resting between the fingers of his left hand. “Do forgive me, Miss Evans, for drawing such a conclusion when you are attempting to open a door to an empty Hogwarts classroom that has a rather sordid history.” “A sordid history?” He leaned forward, brought his lips closer to her ear. “Rumour has it Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor favoured the room when they were courting each other.” She felt her cheeks pinken, her breath catch. It had, of course, nothing to do with his close proximity. I’m not that desperate, she thought angrily to herself. It’s just the smell of his cologne that is making me feel rather dizzy. The absolute ponce. It is sure to be some expensive bottle imported from France.

[travelella]

Rowena Crest Viewpoint, Mosier, Oregon, USA

Cameron Stewart