#she's a gardener who uses starlight as fertilizer

[tamblerdraws]

More doodles yiippieee

This time of my oc Eloise

Cutie patootie

She loves space and aliens and stuff

[timeforelfnonsense]

Read Sunshine & Starlight on Ao3 Read the previous chapter on Tumblr Pairing: Dafni (F!Tav) x Astarion Rating: M (Later Chapters will contain explicit content) TWs: depiction of mild anxiety Tags: Cubby elf oc, Cleric!Tav, fluff Elvish Translations: N'Tel'Que'Tethira - City Elves

Dafni sat cross-legged beside the fire, elbow-deep in her heavy canvas pack, plucking out anything of use she could find amidst the collection of random objects that had taken up a semi-permanent residence there over the years. Her mother had always said that her organizational skills left much to be desired. She could picture her golden brown eyes as they rolled in response to Dafni's insistence that she was simply well prepared. 

 Dafni yelped, her finger finding the sharp edge of a knife. She pulled her hand free of her pack, examining the tiny laceration. A bit of blood had welled up at the tip of her finger. She popped the finger in her mouth, gently sucking on the wound. Her face scrunched in displeasure as the smell of iron stung her nose. Frustrated, Dafni grabbed her pack, dumping its contents into a heap atop her bedroll. 

She immediately pulled out her father's compass, her crinkled map of the Sword Coast, and the offending knife, sorting them into the 'useful' pile along with a few other adventuring essentials she'd found mixed in with her clutter.

She separated her clothing next. One by one, Dafni tossed each article to the side save for a single length of translucent azure cloth. She pressed the peplos to her nose, drawing in the sweetness of elven laurel and fertile soil. It had been over a year since she last returned to her village, but the smell of home still clung to her vestments. 

Her chest ached at the thought of home. If she had just been able to content herself living among the wood elves— If she had never left the Feywild in the first place, Dafni might have avoided the dire situation she'd found herself in altogether. 

She signed, kicking out her crossed legs and flogging to her back. 

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs.  A part of her would always belong to Gwynneth and the kaleidoscopic splendor of the Feywild. Still, the world was wide, and Dafni had been born with a voracious sense of curiosity that would never have allowed her to content herself with living the neat, simple life her mother had planned for her. 

True, Bauldr's Gate had taken some getting used to at first, but life in the city was already shaping up to be an excellent adventure. Twin Songs was a colorful hodgepodge of architectural influences. Temples and shrines to more gods than she could have imagined lined each street. Some people might have called the mishmash of aesthetics as garish, but to Dafni, there was strange loveliness in so many dissimilar things coming together to make something entirely unique.  

She'd found a townhouse there, just beyond Wyrm's Crossing. A white brick building with dark wooden archways. It was covered in crawling vines and star-shaped blossoms. The front garden was overgrown, but she could still identify a few familiar herbs among the chaos. A bergamot tree grew near the edge of the waist-high lattice fence, its branches bowing with the weight of unplucked fruit. When she spotted the crooked 'for rent' sign in the window, Dafni knew she'd found her new home. 

The townhouse belonged to a family of elvish nobles from the Upper City who had long since left for their country estate. However, their retainer had assured her they wouldn't have an issue with her using the lower floor of the property as a clinic so long as she could afford the rent. 

Business had been slow initially, but she'd gained a measure of favor among the city's elven refugees. Dafni's mouth tipped downward, her thoughts drifting to the trembling woman who'd come to her door in the wee hours of the morning. 

There had been an outbreak of fever spreading amongst the elven refugees of Rivington. Dafni had held her shaking hands as she described the illness: fever, chills, a flushed appearance, excessive perspiration. The Sylvan Sweats, she was sure of it. 

A nasty disease is left to run its course but treatable with the right combination of herbs and magic. She kept her shelves well stocked, but she'd need something more challenging to come by than the willow bark and elderflower she'd sent the woman home with to ease her people's symptoms.

Naralis Blessing. That had been her purpose in setting out for the Cloak Wood. The flowers were rare in the material plane, only growing in places where the veil between it and the Feywild was particularly thin. Even if she hadn't found them growing naturally, the conditions of the forest were perfect for her to conjure some up herself.

Dafni's fingertips brushed against the delicate skin just below her eye. Yesterday, she'd been on a mission to help her people, and now she was the one in desperate need of a healer.  

Gale had spared no detail when explaining the gory details of ceremorphosis. Disorientation, hallucination, headaches, bleeding orifices. They should have been hip-deep in misery by now. 

Yet, she and her new friends remained miraculously untentacled. 

He and Shadowheart were suspicious of the lack of skull-splitting horror, but Dafni was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gods willing, their luck would continue and she'd have a cure and be on her way back to the Rivington elves before they even had time to wonder what was keeping her. 

Dafni's eyes fluttered shut, and thoughtful reflection began to bleed into half-formed reverie. She might have drifted off completely had she not heard the sound of Astarion's voice. 

"Pardon me ah— Daffodil, was it?"

"Dafni," she corrected with a snort.  

"Right. My Apologies. I'm not usually one to forget the name of a beautiful woman. A side effect of our little hitchhikers, perhaps."

She waved her hands before herself, a flush forming across her cheeks. "No harm done. Was there something you needed?" 

Astarion pushed aside the pile of clothes Dafni had left out on her bedroll before sitting beside her. Her flush grew impossibly hotter as his pale hand brushed against a pair of her candy colored panties. 

He glanced up at her, wearing a close-lipped smile. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see how you were faring before we turn in for the evening. I'm happy to take the first watch if you'd like. I'll be awake for a while anyway. This is all new to me. Trudging around the wilderness all day and curling up in the dirt to rest is a little… novel," his expression soured for a moment before shifting back to indifference, "but I doubt I'll be getting much rest until we can procure some more comfortable accommodations." 

Dafni brought her palm to her mouth to stifle her giggle. It was terribly impolite to laugh at the discomfort of others, but the idea of an elf turning their nose up at nature was, as Astarion had put it, a little novel to her.

"I'm sorry!" she said as she bit back another peel of laughter, "I hope I haven't offered you it's just where I come from, N'Tel'Que'Tethira are particularly unheard of. Hearing an elf so dissatisfied with a night beneath the stars was a bit of a shock." 

"Oh, no offense taken." Astarion offered her a dismissive wave of his hand. "I take it you aren't baldurian then?" 

"Actually, I am! Only recently, though. I'm from the Moonshaes, originally." 

Astarion gave a thoughtful hum. "What brought you to the city then?" 

"Wanderlust, mostly," Dafni explained, "I lived with a clan of wood elves before coming to the city. We traveled all over the Isle of Gwynneth. I loved it but I was just… ready for a change." 

"Wood elves? How charming." he flashed her a dazzling grin, adding, "Although, I hardly think it was fair of them to keep such a lovely creature all to themselves in the wilderness." 

Dafni was beginning to wonder if Astarion took some sort of sadistic pleasure in making her blush. Gods, all it took was a few honeyed words and Dafni had found herself reduced to jelly. In her fluster, she had forgotten to mind her glamour, allowing a cluster of pale yellow and peachy pink flowers to blossom among her loose curls.  

 "Was there anything I could do to help you feel more comfortable?" Dafni blurted out, desperate to shift his attention away from the garden spring to life in her hair, "I—I could brew you an herbal tea to help you relax, maybe? Or, umm, I could share my bedroll. Not like that, of course! Not that I don't think you are handsome. You are very handsome. I mean, obviously. I just mean I could let you use it so you'll be more…comfortable."

Dafni groaned, burying her face in her palms. She jumped at the feeling of an icy hand wrapping around her wrist. Astarion tugged her hands away from her face. When Dafni finally mustered the courage to face him, she was met with the first genuine smile she'd seen grace his perfect lips all day.

"Oh no, darling, tea isn't really my drink. As for the bedroll, well, maybe another time." 

Dafni yanked her wrist free of Astarion's loose grip, "You are a ruthless tease! Has anyone told you that before?" 

"Alright, no more teasing for tonight; you have my word," Astarion said with a low chuckle; his fingertips brushed against her temple as he plucked a yellow flower from behind her pointed ear. He rolled the stem between his index and forefinger, glancing at her through his dark lashes. He brought the blossom to his nose, drawing in a deep breath. "You know, I think I might like you, Daffodil . The two of us are going to have a lot of fun together."

[23sibylcake23]

Sometimes I find a stomach and ask about, wander through the town, old wooden sign (one chain broken so it dangled and the termite eggs hang from the bottom as they are building houses), and knock on the doors. People come to messy hairdo hands busy pots and pans people; kids and husbands people; sex and drugs people; but no people with teeth. They answer their door unafraid to see a stranger, do not say I should’ve called ahead.

(Were you planning on eating that?) scrutinizing gaze like they’re trying to see what scheme I’m playing at (I’m talking to you) they shiver and shake in a way that I don’t think is a mistake to take for no. Front porch hole raccoon burrowed in greedy yellow eyes paws at the edges scratch marks even sunlight filtered through the cracks of the trees like river water through the sand; like river water through the sand; like waterfall breaking against the rocks; like a pond.

The crickets have begun to chirp outside of town when the last door closes holding hands people who also happen to have other body parts. I can see their calluses on the chicken coop, on the porch, in the paint, in the driveway, in the garden. (People who know a thing or two about rituals) and they scream inside, frightened. I can see their calluses in the broom they throw outside scare me off like a stray cat mange all filled vulture wings starlight guides me to the edge of town.

Crickets; pond, that bacteria grows in. Moving water cannot become sickly, moving body cannot become sickly. I have found something gross in her. Bite into the angels hip under the curve of the new moon. Watch it curl its sick lips into a sneer, turn its nose up at me. She and I haven’t been friends for a long time now; her she is so feminine I am just me I praised her then envied her then realized she is nothing without the grass watered by the blood of the open body all sickly green insides spilling over white wings and eyes like code onto a fresh page like ink dripping into linoleum

like the moss dripping into the surface of the lake on a white sky day. (The surface is all that matters) the termites leave home and burrow into the signs leaving egg sacrifices as if I care I pull the wings out and plant them in her eyes using her vision of the future as fertile soil. (The surface is all that matters) guttural laugh billow chuckle moon sneer darkness. Not a light. Not unlike the disturbed surface of a lake on a white sky day. The moon loses her silver as I do not care about a silver lady who only shines on the surface teeth crack hipbone bite down crack my teeth split in half on her body digs through her like a cat on the blankets of a homely lap teeth crack split open gold inside ichor drips lava seismic explosion of my mouth. I feel her intestines wrap themselves around my tongue like a guillotine’s preparative phase. Ribs drop down. Kneading her soul. My mouth is so full. I struggle to swallow another bite, pull my head up, use the force to tear.

Hands halfway into her sinking into the ground body only half exposed to the silent darkness of the inside room late at night starless moonless not a light to be found safe as shelter horrifying danger hairs on neck can feel but nothing else believes. Up to the shoulder. Down on my knees. Bowing down for her. My ichor and magma in her open wounds she is looking at me and I am feathery and light because she is (looking at my surface).

[maryroyale]

The lovely @curiouselfqueen tagged me on this one. (Thank you! I love these things.)

Uh. I have *feelings* about these? I have no idea why I feel so strongly, but... uh... there you go.

deep violet or blood red? Both? Not at the same time, but I love both. Purple and red are both power colors, but they convey very different things. Old ladies are allowed to wear both because they have the power to pull it off.

sunshine or moonlight? Oof. My default answer is moonlight? Some of the medication I’m on makes my eyes super-sensitive to sunlight. I’m like a damn vampire. Even on cloudy days I need sunglasses. I like seeing the sunlight through the trees when I’m in the woods? It’s pretty and far less painful.

Don’t get me wrong—I do love the moonlight. It’s so beautiful. Winter moonlight and summer moonlight are gorgeous.

80s music or 90s music? How dare you! Don’t speak to me or my 874 music genres ever again. Seriously though, I really love music. I listen to a wide variety of genres and some artists span decades. I love new wave and synthpop, but I also love pop punk and the swing revival. I can’t say one decade is better than the other.

orchids or dahlias? I like to garden, and from a gardening standpoint it’s dahlias all the way. Orchids are a wildly diverse species (over 25,000 types), but the pretty, delicate orchids they sell in stores are not hardy and require a lot of intensive, specific support. They’ll die if you plant them outside where I live. And the garden outside is what makes me happy and brings me joy.

garnet or ruby? These are such different stones. It’s almost like asking if I like chocolate milk or cola. Yes, they are both brown and you can drink them—but they’re really not similar.

Garnet— it’s semi-precious, plentiful, in use since antiquity. A decent go-to stone for jewelry. Like any gemstone, the color is determined by the type of impurities, so garnet can be almost any color. Blue garnets are the rarest. The Mohs scale for garnet depends on those same impurities because some can actually strengthen the hardness of the stone. Generally 6 to 7.5 on the Mohs scale.

I like garnets. Depending on the talent of the jeweler you can get lovely pieces set in silver that won’t cost an arm, a leg, and your soul. It was also my mother’s birthstone, so there’s that.

Ruby— Occasionally confused with spinels, rubies are pieces of corundum that contain the impurity chromium. Corundum that contains the impurities iron, titanium, vanadium, or magnesium are usually blue and referred to as sapphires. (Pink sapphires are actually poor quality rubies that the jewelry industry decided to rebrand to dupe the public. Similar to “chocolate diamonds” and other attempts to sell gems that don’t meet the criteria for their type.)

Corundum is a 9 on the Mohs scale. They highly sought after, have a rich mythos surrounding them, and feature prominently in history.

It seems like a lot of hype to me? They’re sturdy pieces of jewelry, not prone to breakage, but they ought to be for the price you pay. They’re pretty, I’ll grant you that.

moths or butterflies? Well, one is nocturnal and one is diurnal. One is fuzzy and stocky and one is smooth and slender. One is drab and one is brightly colored. I feel like I should picks moths on principle. I love Luna Moths. But butterflies are so very, very pretty. Moths I guess?

Aphrodite or Athena? Okay... so, um, here’s where it’s going to get heated. I apologize. I am *specifically* addressing how Athena and Aphrodite were worshipped/treated in Greek myths. I’m not looking at proto versions from Minoa, Mycenae, or Phoenicia. I’m also not looking at later syncretizations with other cultures e.g. Rome. It is the Greek myths that matter here because those are the myths and attitudes that were directly incorporated into Western culture. We’ve learned a lot about their origins, but *those* myths and attitudes were *not* incorporated into mainstream Western culture.

Athena was either born from Zeus’ head or his thigh. Either she has no mother—Zeus is her only parent—or Zeus swallowed her mother Metis (wisdom, prudence, counsel). This is critically important. In Athenian law, the father was the only legal parent. Mothers had no legal rights to their children at all. Athena is a very real symbol of that.

She is often portrayed as the goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and war. She is a goddess of industry (wine and olive oil). The thing we must ask is what kind of wisdom? What kind of war?

Plato argues this in Cratylus— that Athena’s wisdom could be a number of things from divine knowledge to moral intelligence. I think it’s important that Plato, one of Greece’s most celebrated philosophers, and more important one of the philosophers most embraced by Western Culture praised this choice of “moral intelligence.” [see Plato’s stance on poets in The Republic.]

Athena’s war is not the war of Ares, which is tied to passion and emotion. Ares represents the brutal aspects of war where humanity gives way to cruelty and inhumanity. Athena’s warfare is rational and “just.” Athena makes war on behalf of the city-state. Athena makes war to defend the government.

Athena’s purpose in myth and in poetry and song is to support the government. She is the shield of the king. She upholds and enforces the status quo. Look at her role in the Orestes trilogy. She supplants the Erinyes [the furies originally hunted and tormented ppl who committed matricide]. She decides that Iphigenia’s murder didn’t matter. Clytemnestra (Iphigenia’s mother) didn’t have the right to revenge for her daughter. Orestes was *justified* in murdering his mother because she killed his parent, his father.

Aphrodite also has a motherless birth, but it’s more incidental and spontaneous. Kronos cuts off his father Uranus’ genitals ( like you do ) and tosses them into the sea. Aphrodite is born from the sea foam. There’s a different feel to Aphrodite’s myth. An independence almost. Yes, a male god was involved because it’s a Greek requirement for any child, but it’s in such an incidental way. There was no purpose or intent on Uranus’ part. He had no control over her birth.

Aphrodite is an incredibly independent goddess. She owns her own sexuality and has autonomy over her own body. She is often referred to as the wife of Hephaestus, but in both the Iliad and Hesiod’s Theogony, Hephaestus has wives with different names and Aphrodite is unmarried.

A goddess with this kind of freedom and power in her own right—not tied to a husband or male family member (sorry Artemis!)— is almost unheard of. It makes Aphrodite unique and interesting.

TLDR: I prefer Aphrodite.

grapefruit or pomegranate? Pomegranate. For so many reasons, not the least of which is it’s associations with death and fertility. It’s a lovely contrast and a reminder that death brings forth life e.g. Nurse logs.

angel’s halo or devil’s horns? Oof. This is another rant, guys. Horns as a symbol of divine power are used throughout history and throughout the Indo-European culture. From Egyptian gods like Amun and Isis to Hindu gods like Śiva to Canaanite gods like El and Yahweh, horns have been used to show their power and might. Moses has most famously been depicted with horns due to murky/difficult translations of the Hebrew verb keren/qaran, which can mean BOTH “to send forth beams/rays” and “to be horned”.

There was a concerted effort to associate horns with the devil/evil/bad. Horns are also used to imply fertility/abundance, and that may have played into the perception of horns as devilish. Moses with horns was used as a jumping off point to demonize Jewish people during the Medieval period in a variety of European countries and cultures.

Halos, too, have been used across history and cultures as a symbol of divine power. Sumerian literature talks about a bright emanation that appears around gods and heroes. Chinese and Japanese Buddhist art shows Buddhist saints with halos.

I choose horns because I choose to reclaim that divine power. I reject the idea that either symbol is wholly good or wholly evil. I reject the idea that sexuality by itself is evil/wrong.

sirens or banshees? Both!!! I must admit a partiality to Sirens that is based wholly on my preference for the sea/ocean.

lorde or florence + the machine? Both!!! I love both groups and I’ve listened to their albums so many times. I will admit that I end up listening to Lorde more often when writing.

the birth of venus or the starry night? Huh. I’m going to assume that you mean the painting by Boticelli, even though there’s more than one Birth of Venus.

Honestly, Venus Anadyomene (Venus rising from the sea) is my favorite. It’s her origin myth and anyone could paint it, draw it, write about it, and put their own spin on it. It is malleable because it is myth. It lives on and changes and grows with us. Boticelli’s version is particularly lovely.

Starry Night (1889) belongs to VanGogh. No one can really recreate it without copying his style or his vision. Verschuier’s The Great Comet of 1680 Over Rotterdam could never really be confused with Starry Night. Not even Munch’s Starry Night (1893) could be confused for VanGogh. The two paintings are wildly different in subject matter despite the fact that their subject is the night sky.

I doubt any modern painter would dare. O’Keefe called hers Starlight Night, and I can only guess that others would follow that naming pattern of not quite using the title Starry Night.

Boy, I bet @curiouselfqueen is regretting tagging me now... sorry?

[whimsicalwhespir]

As I've said before, I have a lot of aus! My friend @deuynndoodles said I should make a masterlist of all of them. So I did! I was so tempted to keep writing stuff about them because I'm horrible at writing short summaries while also getting thr basis of the story across so it was a bit of a challenge cause when I start it's hard to stop me.

Anywhoooo heres a list of all my aus at the moment! There are minor ones I have and ones I've tossed out or forgotten but these are the ones I like so I hope you like them! (And if you have any questions at all please feel free to ask! I love talking about my aus!)

MY HERO ACADEMIA:

Ratiocination (Indigo Jets)- Vigilante Izuku, he has a quirk called pause that allows him to stop time but he cannot move and the longer he stays paused the more of his memories get erased. He's childhood friends with Bakugou and Shinsou who both worry when he disappears from their lives. His vigilante name is Indigo Jets.

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Emerald Eyes (Manx)- Short Izuku with cat eye syndrome, he has a quirk that allows him to make bubble-like force fields similar to Steven universe. He's found by the Wild Wild Pussycats and they train him and later on becomes a part of the team. His hero name is Manx.

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House of Glass (Rose/Grim/Grimrose)- Izuku is raised by the League of Villains and they're his big happy family. He has a quirk that allows him to erase and manipulate people's memories as well as a telekinetic quirk given to him by All For One. He's sent to UA as a spy but he ends up making friends and enjoying himself. He has the hero name Rose and the villain name Grim.

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My Angel (Starlight)- Izuku has a quirk that gives him the powers of an Angel. He has wings and a halo and he's also an empath with healing abilities. He also has the power to visit the dead, his mom, and it's difficult not to fall in love with him when people meet him. His hero name is Starlight.

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Out Of Reach (Tapeti)- Izuku Midoriya is taken by the league after making a deal with Shigaraki on the roof where All Might leaves him. They turn him halfway into a nomu, experimenting with quirkless candidates. Meanwhile, Bakugou is trying to find his friend through his years at UA, only to find out Izuku doesn't remember him, having been brainwashed and taking up the villain name Tapeti.

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Green Thumb Garden- Izuku was sold to villains as a child because Inko couldn't afford to take care of him. He escapes a few years later and is shrugged off by a hero. He's taken in by a family who runs a garden shop and as they get older, he begins to run it. He believes he is quirkless but later on finds out he has a quirk that allows him to speed up the growth and healing of organisms like an enhanced fertilizer would.

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Cerulean Flames (Deku)- Izuku gets lost in the crowd during a villain attack and can't find his mother. Instead, he finds a runaway Touya Todoroki who leads him back to safety. Izuku visits him almost every day and Dabi teaches him how to fight, play dirty and is there like an older brother for Izuku. When getting one for all, he also participates in helping Izuku train with All Might.

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Glass Wings (Sterling)- Izuku is taken in by the Shie Hassaikai when he runs away from home. Over the years he learns that they're not all they seem, trying to unravel it from the inside out with his sister Eri and friend Rappa. They're about to run for it during the raid but are caught by heroes. Izuku, being so close to Eri and not having any recorded crimes, is put in a villain rehabilitation program at UA. His old villain name is Sterling, turned codename.

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All For You (Deku)- Older Izuku, he went to school with Aizawa, Nemuri, Yamada, Oboro and Tensei, he being the closest with Tensei. In an accident with Oboro, Izuku is blinded in his right eye. Both are injured but survive. They all grow up to be heroes, Izuku also acting as an older brother figure to Bakugou. Izuku is also a teacher at UA in the heroics department, he teaches the students how to be safe and reduce damage to their surroundings and self. 

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Ignite (Phoenix)- Vigilante Izuku, he loves to sing and perform at the hotel and karaoke bar his family owns. The hotel is open to heroes, villains, vigilantes, civilians, the poor, discriminated against and everyone in between. His father was in an accident when he was young which paralyzed him from the waist down because a hero failed to save him. 

Izuku becomes a vigilante to look for people to come to the hotel. People who need the safety and those who have no place to stay. He has a quirk that allows him to manipulate fire. He doesn't need to look for people to pay because so many patrons already donate. Later on, Phoenix stops being a vigilante and becomes a full time singer. His name is Phoenix.

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Circus Caliber (Ringleader)- Inspired by The Greatest Showman, it takes place when quirks are only beginning to appear. People believe them to be freaks and shun them from society. Izuku is quirkless but admires quirks and looks for people to join his quirked circus (everyone in 1a and thensome). He wants to show the world that quirks aren't bad or destructive. That they can be good if given the chance.

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Panacea Paradox- Post quirk era, Izuku is a scientist who is fascinated with quirks. He tries to bring them back through experimentation and tests the completed formula on volunteers (1a). The experiment goes wrong, they have quirks yes, but they're all painful and grotesque. (An example would be Bakugou's explosions burn his hands horribly, mutation quirks have dead limbs, much bleeding and injuries, etc).

Izuku panics and drinks the last of the liquid, he gains a quirk that allows him to temporarily remove other's pain by inflicting it on himself. He desperately tries to find a cure but people die in the time he isn't able to. He means well but he makes many mistakes. (It's a rather dark au)

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Fractured But Not Yet Broken (The Free Hero:Arrow)- Izuku has an incredibly self destructive quirk, it's called Fracture. It allows him to impact incredible telekinetic force to the point of breakage but in turn harms him immensely, broken bones, internal bleeding, lots of pain. The quirk gives him a slightly higher pain tolerance as well. 

Inko is immensely overprotective, sheltering him entirely from the outside world besides internet access. He goes to UA secretly while she's at work and becomes very close with his friends and the UA staff, Nezu especially. They take away inkos custody later on and he gets to live in the dorms. His hero name is Arrow.

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Send A Sign (Beetlejuice)- Izuku dies hundreds of years ago (he's the same age as All For One) by being struck by lightning. He wakes up in the current day with no memories of his past.  He can only remember the word "Beetlejuice" as it was the musical he and his mother were going to see before he died. He wanders around and begins following a 4 year old Bakugou and it stays that way. Izuku's like his guardian. 

One day Bakugou says "Beetlejuice" 3 times while listening to the song and Izuku is now visible to him (part of quirk). Izuku is his friend, teaching Bakugou lessons and acting like a big brother. Izuku goes to UA with Bakugou and after the blass says his name, they all see him and he spends time with them, trying to regain his memories and joining them through the ride of becoming heroes. (I'll explain all of his powers some other time, it's a long list)

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DANNY PHANTOM:

The Spectral Hero: Danny Phantom (Danny/Phantom)- Danny has a quirk that allows him to breathe and survive in space with no equipment but he doesn't know that since he's never been. The Fentons move to Japan from Amity. He's shocked by the portal and gains his normal ghostly abilities, telling people that is his quirk and not the result of a freak accident (he tells Aizawa later because he can't erase Danny's ghostliness). He has the persona of vigilante Phantom as well as Danny, the UA student. Aizawa knows it's him and they have a playful relationship, him acting as Danny's mentor. He later reveals to his class he is Phantom when moving into the dorms.

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Pink Slip- Danny is more affected by the portal accident, as Fenton it makes him weaker and more vulnerable but it feeds into his ghost half with more power. He misses school for a month after the accident and doctors take the ectoplasm in his blood as some disease. They give his school a pass so he can visit the nurse at any time. Since he has an excuse, he often leaves class with full permission of the teachers cause they think he's just going to the nurse's office. People don't question why he always looks tired and has bruises on his body, just thinking he's weaker due to the accident.

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Broken Watch- Danny is an ex a-list student who leaves when they start bullying kids. He takes a larger hit from the portal, giving him an electric core and powers that are more difficult to control but pack more of a punch. He gets taught about the ghost zone and other things by Clockwork after Dan and is given a defective pocket watch. Clockwork says by the time Danny fixes it, things should be alright. All or the numerals on it represent people in his life he must get closer to and those who will help him throughout his life to reach his full potential. 

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GRAVITY FALLS:

In A Black And White World- Dipper has the ability to see a dimension in between his and another, it's a dimension filled with magic. He is able to manipulate it but nobody else can see. He keeps it a secret until later on. It allows him to feel, see, taste, hear and smell others emotions and intentions. Their energies and feelings. He can see creatures that travel in the dimension, including Bill who teaches him about magic. He eventually manages to develop it enough so it becomes visible after seeing Bill use it in his body after his betrayal. 

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DUCKTALES: 

Operation Oversight- On an adventure, a bracelet with an intelligent sentient robot attaches itself to Louie when he examines it and through nightmares and threats convinces Louie to pursue Louie.Inc through any means necessary. This means forgetting his loved ones to reach his goal. His family finds out months after the adventure and they manage to break Louie out of the trance enough so he can destroy the bracelet. 

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Adroit- (similar to the concept of epithets) A small population of people in this world have superpowers and it just so happens everybody in the mcduck family gains powers. The story is basically all of them using their abilities and discovering different parts of them. (I'll get into all of their powers later on)

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EDDSWORLD:

Chaosworld- A scientist with a vendetta against Tom attempts to steal his monster abilities but instead manages to give harmful mutations and powers to the gang. They try to revert the mutations and find a cure before it's too late for them all.

(Also also, I'm very sorry to those who follow me solely because of Chaosworld. I probably wont be writing anything for it for a very long time if I ever do get back to it. It just dosent really inspire me anymore, I'm sorry qwq. )

[magic-and-myths]

Summer Nights

When I was little, we’d visit my grandma in the hills an hour east of our home. We went every summer and stayed for weeks. Cassie and I would run around that old house, stomping on every creaky stair and whipping around corners plastered with flowery wallpaper, almost knocking over all the priceless family heirlooms. My mother would always send us out before we could do too much damage. 

“Girls! Take your shenanigans outside before the entire house comes crashing down,” she would always say. Then Grandma would shrug her thin old shoulders and give us a wink as we bounded out the door and scampered off into the rose garden. We didn’t appreciate the garden much in those days. Sure, the roses were pretty, but for our purposes they were merely bushes we couldn’t touch. Looking at them now is a very different experience. Grandma was so dedicated to them. Even as her arthritis got worse, she never stopped pruning them. It showed. Each bush was a monument to dedication, a thorny tribute to hours spent in gardening gloves under the hot sun. They reminded me too much of her.

But when we were little we didn’t care about any of that. We just cared about the feeling of the wind in our hair and the grass under our feet. Past the garden was a great big lawn, much too big to ever be mown. Wild flowers burst untamed from the fertile ground, and he grass grew tall enough to tickle my nose, though now it would only come up to my waist. Cassie was too short to see over the grass, so she would charge about blindly until she happened to run into me, or grew tired and collapsed into a pile of giggles. Whenever we came back in from the field, inevitably scratched all over and thoroughly exhausted, Dad would say something about ticks, and how we should be wearing long pants. 

“Oh phooey,” Grandma would say. “I was playing out in that field before you were born, and I’m still here to tell the tale.”

Dad would nod begrudgingly, and Cassie and I would grin from ear to ear. The next day we’d be back out in the field, in our colorful shorts, with the grass nipping at our legs.

Beyond the field were the woods. We weren’t allowed to go into the woods without an adult, much to our young chagrin. Instead, we'd poke our heads out of the grass and stare longingly up at the birches that guarded that forbidden land. And when the longing grew too great, we'd run back inside and beg Grandma to take us on a faerie hike.

Most of the time she'd decline, and give us each a lemon drop for our trouble. But sometimes, on particularly windy days, or days when the clouds rose taller than mountains, or rain dripped gently from the treetops, she’d rise out of her chair and say, “Well alright. Let's see if we can find any today.”

Cassie and I would titter wildly while running circles around her feet. She would grab her walking stick from its place beside the door, and we would set off. 

Grandma walked slowly, especially on uneven ground, and Cassie and I would always be tempted to dash on ahead, but we never did. We had to listen to Grandma’s story. It was always the same; the same cascading syllables, the same dramatic pauses, but no matter how many times we stayed dead silent and strained our ears to hear every last word.

“When I was a little girl, no bigger than you two here, we lived in this very house. My brother, your great-uncle Henry, and I would run around like wild things, just as you do now. But some days we would get bored of the house, and the garden, and the field, and we’d take each others’ hands, and we’d step into the woods. It feels different under the trees. Calmer, older, more magical. Can you feel it?”

We would nod vigorously, and Grandma would smile. She had the type of smile that would reach all the way up into her eyes.

“Good. I can too. That means that the faeries are still here. Long ago, before humans had conquered the forest, there were a great many wild things that lived there. Great dragons slept in their massive nests of pine needles and dirt. Spirits made out of starlight wandered the night, and dryads whispered secrets to each other in the dark. Owls large enough to carry off a cow roosted in pines bigger than you can possibly imagine. Great big stags, taller than most houses, silently roamed beneath trees that scraped the clouds. The only creatures to rise above these trees were the forest giants, who were so tall nobody had ever seen their faces. Fairies lived among these creatures in the nooks and crannies of the wild. In the hollows of rotting logs, the knots of ancient trees, the cracks between lichen covered rocks, the fiddleheads of baby ferns, the shade of colorful mushroom caps, this is where the faeries made their homes. They flitted about in clearings and glades, frolicking in the sun, and drinking nectar from flowers.

“But as humans began to populate the world, they ventured into the forest. Humans are brave creatures, you see, and just as we are now, they were curious as to what lay beneath the dappled sun beams. However, some humans were not as strong of will as the two of you, and they were overcome by greed. They came with their axes and engines and cut down the tallest trees. With each one that came crashing down, the forest grew shorter. And as the forest shrank, the great big creatures who called it home began to disappear. The giants went first, of course. Some say they just sat down and gradually became covered in earth and snow. Others say that they simply walked in the ocean, and kept walking until even their heads were hidden beneath the waves. The dragons went next. Some were hunted for their horns, and the rest hid in fear. They sealed their caves, and vowed only to emerge when the trees regrew and the humans were gone.”

Cassie and I would stare at grandma, eyes wide, scared to even breathe too loud lest we interrupt the story.

“The stags and owls remained, but as the forest grew shorter and shorter, they shrank with it, eventually becoming the size that you know today. As wilderness disappeared, so did the spirits, their starlight outshined by the artificial lights of humans. But the faeries did not disappear. They were the smallest of the wild creatures, and the best at hiding. The forest was still plenty big enough for them, and the humans hardly noticed them. No matter how many roads were paved, flowers still bloomed . As years passed, the faeries became better and better at hiding, but they never disappeared. They’re still here, and you can find them if you know where to look, step quietly, and have a little bit of luck.”

Exactly at this point we’d arrive at our destination. It was a flawless process, no matter how fast we walked or who stopped to tie their shoe; the story always took just as long as the walk. We assumed it was because Grandma was magical. Our destination was a sort of clearing in the center of a grove of poplar trees. In the clearing was a circle mushrooms, small orange ones with cute round caps. My seventh grade science teacher said this perfect circle was because of something called mycelium, which the mushrooms put underground. Grandma said it was because of faeries.

“That’s why it’s called a faerie circle after all,” she’d always say.

Various flowers also grew around the faerie circle, mostly violets and lily of the valley. A rock stood in the center. Cassie always called it the bean bag rock, because it was about the right size and was covered in the softest moss our tiny hands had ever felt. When Grandma’s story finished we would walk to the bean bag rock and sit down. We would sit there for hours, Cassie and I intently watching the clearing’s edge, and Grandma gently stroking our hair. 

Sometimes Grandma would start to sing. We would always shush her, saying “Grandma stop, you’re going to scare away the faeries!” She would laugh and hug us tight, and we would turn back to our vigil. We’d stay until the sun dipped below the horizon and the first splashes of purple appeared in the sky.

At that point Grandma would sigh, get up from the bean bag rock, stretch, and say, “Now come along dears, it’s time to get home. You’re going to want your dinners.”

We would wail that no, we weren’t hungry, and couldn’t we just stay for fifteen more minutes? 

But Grandma was adamant, and she’d say “If the faeries haven’t come out to play yet they aren’t going to. We’ll have to try some other time.” We’d yawn and drag our rumbling stomachs back through the forest, now cast in the soft orange glow of the sunset. Most nights we’d be too tired to eat dinner sitting up, and our parents would bring it up to us tucked into our beds. 

We slept in the room at the apex of the house, where the ceiling sloped away to form a narrow room with a triangle window on the far side. Our beds were short cots on either side of the room, the ceiling gently sloping into the wall above us. The heat from the house rose, and this room would get ridiculously hot. 

Some nights we wouldn’t be able to sleep. On those nights Cassie and I would open the triangular window, and stick our faces to it, desperately trying to catch a whiff of the cool night breeze. We’d stay there all night, listening to the crickets in the grass, the wind in the leaves, and the owls in the trees. It was on these nights, our faces pressed against the screen, the moon shining down, the breeze flickering through the window, that we’d see the faeries.

There was a trellis leaning against the back of the house that came almost up to our window. Morning glories clung to its painted wooden rungs, their tendrils stretching towards the sky. And on summer nights, as the first stars began to wink in the dark blue sky, the morning glories would unfurl their flowers. They were tiny parasols, popping open under starlight rain. And it was to these flowers the faeries came. 

They came from the forest, just as Grandma said, flitting on wings of purple and blue, green and orange. They glowed gently in the dark, and we could see them flapping across the field until they reached the base of the trellis. From there they grew more cautious, and would slowly creep up it, floating from flower to flower. Cassie and I would hold our breath, trying our very very best not to make a sound. After what felt like hours, and maybe was, they’d reach the top.

The faeries were the most delicate creatures we had ever seen. From their backs sprouted glowing wings, midnight blue and sunset purple, forest green and autumn orange, similar to butterfly’s wings, but not quite. They were more pointed, and moved faster, almost like a hummingbird. Their bodies were softer colors than their vibrant wings, light yellow or green, silver or pink. 

The faeries weren’t silent, like you might expect. They made little chirping noises, and tittered amongst themselves. When they flew, their wings buzzed with brilliant energy. They behaved a lot like bees, flying into flowers and crawling around their stems. The glow from their wings would light up the flowers, casting brilliant rainbow lights along the side of the house and turning the trellis of morning glories into a strand of Christmas lights. They would reach their hands, barely the size of the head of a pin, into the flowers, grabbing fistfulls of pollen and stuffing it into their tiny mouths. The faeries weren’t dainty little princesses with table manners, they were hungry creatures, glad to have a meal. And for our part, we were glad they came.

Of course Cassie and I told Grandma that we saw the faeries outside our window; she gave us a big hug and congratulated us, saying that we had been “graced by the wild,” but we were never sure that she actually believed us. We never told our parents. Nevertheless, we knew what we saw. And we knew that we were graced by the wild. We had seen the last traces of the wilderness, looked directly into their tiny black eyes, and they had looked back.

Cassie and I didn’t talk about the faeries much. It never seemed appropriate. It wasn’t something you could talk about over dinner while on break from college, or brought up over the phone. It was something you whispered across a campfire when everyone else had gone to sleep, or mentioned when the last box had been moved out of Mom and Dad’s attic and dust motes filled the air. But even when we didn’t bring it up, it was always there. It was a constant bond between us, in our looks, our laughter, and today it was in our tears. 

It wasn’t always easy to be graced by the wild. It doesn’t fit very well on a high school transcript or a job application, and sometimes it even gets in the way. Once you’ve seen the faeries, it’s hard to see anything the same way again. Every person on the street seems ignorant, like they’re walking through life with their eyes half closed. Every building seems pointless, a monument made to shield us from the sky. Once you’ve seen the faeries, it’s hard to fight the instinct to run off into the woods and never come back. 

So as I grew up, I sometimes forgot about the faeries. Never for too long, just long enough to get on with my life. Later I’d go back into my head, take the faeries out of their box, dust them off, and become the girl who had seen the faeries. It wasn’t too often, but when I went on a hike on a day off, fell asleep to rain pounding against the windows, walked to work in fresh snow, got home from a particularly bad date, or just drove off into the wilderness because I could, that’s who I became: the girl who had seen the faeries.

And today, in Grandma’s house, staring out the window in the too hot room at the peak of the house, with my family crowding around a table downstairs, the world feeling a little bit emptier, that’s who I am. I am the girl who’s seen the faeries.

I feel arms wrap around me from behind. It’s Cassie. Her jet black curls press into my cheek as she squeezes me tight. I start to smile, but before it can break across my face she tightens her grip and I let out a strangled gasp. She laughs at me, but doesn’t let go. At a glare from me she loosens her hug and she goes back to nuzzling my shoulder.

“She’d be proud of us you know.” Tears immediately spring to me eyes.

My response is barely a whisper. “I know.”

We stand like that for a few minutes, with the sun shining through the window, and morning glories waving in the wind, their closed flowers tapping against the glass. Cassie walked over and opened the window, before turning back to me.

“Did you bring a sleeping bag?”

I nodded.

“Want to sleep up here? Just one more night?”

The tears broke free, dripping out of my eyes. I couldn’t manage a sound, but I nodded vigorously. Cassie gave a wistful smile. 

“Alright faerie girl, pull yourself together. You’ve got to make a speech in a few minutes.”

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 17)

Carol had nothing to do. The house was clean, her call to Celeste was aborted, her friends were likely still at work, and after surfing a few channels on the TV, the nudist remembered that there was absolutely nothing worth watching at this hour. So she did the only thing imaginable that would be a worthwhile use of her time: she cracked open the Scripture and continued reading.

***

From the Ether came a rippling, and through a hole torn from black talons of malice came She of the Bloodless Flesh and the Unripened Eye, the Wings Chained, and the Vulva Unopened. Notrath of the Abyssal Gale and Empress of Demons had emerged. Driven by a lust and a greed and a want that left her imprisoned in the blackest recesses of the Gods Realm, she tore her self free of her bindings, and it was in her struggles that she would chance upon Zenriah's world and all that She had made. And it was beautiful. More beautiful than anything she had ever seen before in all the cosmos. And when her eyes fell upon the Goddess, Notrath's heart erupted in a blaze of lustful hellfire.

And she decreed: "Zenriah, Fair Zenriah, Mistress of the All-Light, and Bringer of Love and Life! By Your own hand and Your own will, You have cultivated a garden of endless beauty in all Creation. I stand here in awe of Your artistry, the envy of gods and mortals alike! But to keep this garden to Yourself...to share not these seas and these hills and these pillars and these stars and these darlings gathered all round You, each a flicker of Your brilliance...that would be a sin like no other! Will You not share it all with another? Will You not share Your creation with me? A Goddess as lovely as Thee, and a garden as fertile as this, is fit only for one as equally radiant. Do You not see her standing before Your eyes?"

But Zenriah would not accept Notrath's hand, for She saw right through the demoness' flattery and for what she was. "Take thy form away from this domain, fair demoness! Zenriah has found she who is worthy of Her, and it is not, was not, and shall not ever be you. Rain the seas of your wants, raise the mountains of your desire, shine the stars of your illumination, and lay with the darlings of your mold. But prithee leave this domain and disturb it no more with your presence, for my dearests await and I pine for her in turn."

But Notrath would not accept Zenriah's words in either fury or in mercy, nor would she be denied her prize. "Then name she who has proven her self worthy of your heart, and I shall prove her fraudulence!"

But it was not the Goddess who answered the demoness' challenge, but Prevandora, Firstmade, Firstborn, and Firstbirthed of Zenriah's wives. "My Love has spoken and given thee Her piece. Leave Us now to Our hearts and to Our courts, and trample not the lilies wherever after you walk."

So Notrath turned her blazing eyes upon her, and in that moment, Prevandora learned Fear. Then she wrapped the woman in her claws, and in that moment, Prevandora learned Pain. Then she rent her talons and scorched her breath, and in that moment, Prevandora learned Death. Then she held her lifeless and emblazoned trophy and lit the world aflame in its unholy light, and in that moment, Fear, Pain, and Death were learnt to all Womankind. And in great horror they trembled!

And so passed Prevandora, First of Zenriah's wives.

Zenriah let loose a howl of pain, the loss of Her beloved rending a quickening gash in Her heart from which She would never heal and spilling blood that She would never re-drink. Prevandora was gone! Her dear wife and Her first love was gone! And never again would the Goddess feel the holy touch that Prevandora gave her for more than a thousand and one times before.

And all around Her, Her endless wives, all wives and some sisters and many daughters of Prevandora, wept with Her, for the Goddess' grief was their grief, for Her loss was their loss, for Her wife was their wife, and her touch was a touch none of them would ever feel or taste or give birth to ever again. And from amidst Their tears, the demoness beamed victoriously.

"Was that not Your chosen, O Lovely Zenriah? Such a feeble thing would never have survived Your kiss. Come, take my hand, O Fair Goddess. Take my hand and I will give You a thousand suns worthy of love. Shed no more tears, Fair Goddess, for this is a happy moment! Your one true love has finally come!"

But the Goddess did not just take Notrath's hand. She seized it in Her own and upon smoldering the demoness with a glare hewn from the Forges of Vesuvius, She hurled the murderess from out Her palace, from out Her city, from out Her queendom, and from out Her world. And the Goddess did decree: "Zenriah needs no one true love! Zenriah needs thousands upon thousands of true loves, each as precious as the last, and thousands upon thousands of true loves are needed by they in turn. In taking from Us but a single true love, thou shalt now feel naught but Our true wrath forevermore!"

And on that night, Womankind learned War.

...

In a storm of talons and a gnashing of teeth, the beasts descended upon Lilitia. Though she tore many asunder with her sword and her shield, their numbers were too great and their strength was too vast.

And so passed Lilitia, Second of Zenriah's wives.

...

Even as they whipped her, tore her fair skin from her back, spilt her crimson upon the soil, and stole the cries from her daughters' mouths, Ellines refused to budge but an inch lest a hair of those she held dear be harmed by the abominations that would dare feast upon their sacred flesh.

And so passed Ellines, Fifth of Zenriah's wives.

...

Cora and Samai battled on, swinging sword and axe and spear at the writhing masses of tentacles descending upon them. They hewn many 'til they were stained scarlet and all the world was but a cloud of blood in their eyes. But alas, there were many, and they were only two.

And so passed Cora and Samai, Eighth and Ninth of Zenriah's wives.

...

The pillars cracked and the pillars crumbled. And still Alta held firm, keeping the city aloft in her arms while her sisters and her wives and her daughters fled its streets and its halls. Even as it crushed her bones, even as it sank her form, Alta held on! Never would she let it go! Never would she let it fall! Not until every soul she had ever loved was out and free and safe from the demoness' hungered minions! Only once the last fair maiden was gone did she relent. Atlantis crumbled and fell into the sea, and it took with it both Notrath's vile horde and Alta herself. The water burned red with blood. She did not rise again.

And so passed Alta, Twelfth of Zenriah's wives.

...

The Goddess' heart did wane as She looked upon Her world, Her garden that She had melded and cultivated for millennia with a careful hand. Fires burned in Her forests, cities crumbled to dust, and the earth glowed crimson with the spilled blood of Her beloveds! Every wail of death, every cry of pain, every howl of sorrow was yet another cold arrow in Her heart. And the burden of Her wounds proved too painful to bear.

With the death of Her Twelfth and Final Firstborn, the Goddess feared She would not go on for much longer. The urge to cast Her self into the sea and never rise again grew stronger. Notrath and her demons were too strong for Zenriah's wives. And though Zenriah knew She would one day prevail, She feared none of Her dearests would survive. And what life would be worth living if She could not share it with those whom She loved?

So Zenriah cast aside Her spear, laid dawn Her shield, and She set forth, away from Earth and its sun and its beautiful creatures that She had created and loved with every glimmer of Her being, and faced Her enemy. And the Goddess spread Her arms and spread Her legs and presented Her self to the Empress of Demons and said: "Fair Notrath, my heart has finally swayed! Thou hast proven thy worthiness of mine hand, and I have come to give it! Take it and all of me if thou wilt. Take my eyes and my tongue and my breasts and my arm and my vulva and my asset and do with them what you shall. For they and my heart...now belongs to thee!"

The demoness was struck by Her offer and for but a moment she was doubtful of Her intent. But she could not withhold her desire for long, for Zenriah continued to captivate her in all the years that they fought. And so Notrath gave into her lust and seized the Goddess in her hands!.

She lolled her tongue into the Goddess' lips. She kneaded Her breasts, marveled at the warmth she felt passing through her talons, and tasted Her nipples with her forked tongue, sliding it around the areolas brilliantly. And the Goddess returned her favor. She kissed Notrath. She tasted Notrath. She lapped at her breasts, pulled them into Her mouth, suckled her erect teets. And the demoness cried out in ecstasy, for at last she had what she and so many gods had sought after. She had the Goddess!

...

Zenriah burst and Zenriah came. She tickled and She tingled. She kissed and She licked until there was no organ of Notrath that She had not touched and tasted. She drank the sweet honeydew of her lover's flower and danced her nipples between Her fingers and Her teeth. But Zenriah did not smile. She did not cheer and She did not sing. For while She flickered with heat, She did not burn with sunfire. She bathed in seas of starlight, but She did not swim. She fed and She drank, but she still hungered and thirsted. She spun and She twirled, but She did not dance.

But She did weep. She wept as She rolled through the emptiness of space, bereft of the fertile soil beneath Her feet. She wept as Her eyes gazed upon the unending void of darkness, bereft of the light of the joyous sun. She wept as the demoness' tongue slithered betwixt Her lips, for it tasted naught like the tongues of Her beloved, whom She would never taste again.

The fissure in Zenriah's heart spread open, wider even than Her legs as Notrath thrust her self between them. The same fissure that nearly cracked Her in two in the time before time, when she felt naught but the vast emptiness and the deep yearning. For even in Her pleasure, the Goddess was once again deprived of the love She long hungered for. She was isolated from all that She built, from all that She made, from all that She cherished.

And so the Goddess wept. And She would never stop weeping. Not as long as she was alone, separate from the one, the only thing She would ever love in all the Universe.

Womankind.

***

DNK-DNK-DNK!

Carol's eyes fluttered open as the hard rapping noise banged on her ears. It roused her as if from a dream, but she wasn't asleep. At least, she didn't think she was. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing she recalled doing was sitting down on her couch, cracking open her book, reading it and...

DNK-DNK-DNK!

The door rapped again, a little harder this time. Deciding now was not the time to jog her memory, Carol approached it and poked her eye through the peephole to see who wanted to see her so badly. For some reason, she couldn't make out who it was; her vision seemed oddly blurry, like she was seeing the world through a foggy fishbowl. "Wh-who is it?" she stammered, unnerved by how crackled her voice sounded. If she didn't know any better, she swore she was about to cry any minute now.

"It's us, Carol," said the cheerful voice of Henrietta. "Me and Katy! You going to let us in already or what?"

Carol blinked in confusion. Henri and Katy are here? Does...does that mean the priestess was...no, it couldn't be...

Wordlessly, she unlocked and opened the door, and was nearly bowled over by about a hundred pounds of gleeful girly giddiness. "Mommy!" Katherine squealed as she wrapped her arms around the older woman in a bear hug that was honestly tighter than a girl her size had any right to give.

Henrietta followed shortly after, laughing in amusement at the sight. "Ha, looks like she really missed you! Are you sure you don't want to adopt...Carol? Carol, honey? Is something wrong?"

After playfully nuzzling Carol's breasts a bit, Katherine also sensed something off. "Mommy? Mommy, you're crying! What's the matter?"

"Crying?" said Carol, confused. "Wh-what do you mean? I-I'm not..."

She touched her face. Her eyes were wet and puffy. Her cheeks felt positively soaked. Her face was starting to crinkle up, and then...

Henrietta and Katherine wasted no time guiding their mutual lover to the couch, gently sitting her down on the cushion and hugging her as she wept. They caressed her hair, kissed her forehead, and whispered sweet sounds of "Shhhh" and "It's okay" into her ears. Katy even rocked Carol back and forth like a mother would to an upset child. All the while, Carol simply cried, unable to quell the growing sense of emptiness welling up inside her, a feeling she hadn't experienced since...since...her husband died!

But she knew she wasn't grieving over her dead husband. She wasn't grieving for anyone. She hadn't lost anybody recently, she hadn't suffered some horrible injury or tragedy. So why...did it feel like...some claw just wrenched itself inside her chest and tore her still beating heart out?

After what felt like hours, Carol finally quieted down, too tired to cry anymore. She rubbed at her face and wiped the last few tears away while her two lovers held her on both sides.

"Did something happen?" said Katherine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" said Henrietta.

"Are you hurt?"

"Was it something at work?"

"Did anything happen to Mindy and Erin?"

"Talk to us, Carol."

"We're your friends, Carol."

"You can tell us anything."

"You know we love you, right?"

Carol sniffled as she worked up the gumption to speak again, struggled to find the words she needed to say to explain herself, fought to keep the tide of emotion that threaten to drown her from rising up again. But all she could get out was a meek "I...I...I don't know."

Henri and Katy exchanged an uneasy glance. "You...don't know what?" asked the redhead.

"I don't know...I don't know why I'm crying!" Carol exclaimed, letting her face fall into her hands. "Nothing happened, if that's what you're wondering. I got back from work early, tidied up, relaxed and...next thing I knew...I was...I was..."

She trailed off, not knowing what else to say. She was as confounded as she was sad, and was confounded precisely because she was sad. All she had done for the last few hours was read the Scripture. Read...about how the wonderful paradise that Zenriah and Her wives created was destroyed. How the Goddess' first twelve wives, the first twelve women to ever be made, to whom all women were descended from, were horrifically and tragically slain one after another. How so many lives were unjustly lost and taken for one demon's lust and greed. How Zenriah, who wanted nothing more than to bask in the love and affection of Her beautiful creations forever, had to leave them all behind to spare and protect them.

No...that couldn't have been it. Carol wasn't honestly getting emotional over a bunch of sad scenes in a book...was she?

"Do you...do you want us to leave?" said Katherine.

The words of the Scripture of Zenriah echoed in Carol's head. And so the Goddess wept. And She would never stop weeping. Not as long as She was alone, separate from the one, the only thing She would ever love in all the Universe.

Separate from the one, the only thing She would ever love in all the Universe.

The one, the only thing She would ever love in all the Universe.

Womankind. Womankind. Womankind. Womankind. Womankind.

Carol vigorously shook her head, a sense of panic now overcoming her sadness. "No! No! Please, don't go, either of you! Don't...don't leave me...alone."

Henrietta and Katherine exchanged another uncomfortable glance, holding it for a minute as if they were holding a silent debate within their heads. Carol took that moment to rub the lingering pools of moisture out of her eyes and clear up her cloudy vision, and upon finishing up, she noticed something odd about her lovers, one of them anyway, and it was enough to wash away the strange storm of emotion raging in her head, if only for another brief moment.

'Henri, why are you in a bikini?"

Henrietta was indeed wearing a bikini. It was black, nothing atypical, and showed off plenty of skin, displaying both her figure and her tan without exposing her more naughty bits. That wasn't the odd part. The odd part was the realization that she had driven all the way to Carol's place wearing only some sexy beachwear like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The redhead shrugged. "Oh, well, it was just a nice day is all, and I figured, after talking to Maisie and Katy, it would be the most fitting thing to wear for the day I had planned."

Carol quirked an eyebrow as she rubbed her eye. "Day you have planned? Wait, you've been talking to Maisie?"

"Uh, yeah, I managed to get her number sometime before leaving the Temple the other day, and we've been having some...interesting talks over the phone. I'll give you the details about that later. But besides that, Katy and me have also been talking, and we were thinking of taking you for a little outing."

"An outing? Where to?"

"Someplace nice," said Katherine. "But we can cancel it if you're not feeling up for it."

"No, no, we can still do it," said Carol, who was feeling rather embarrassed about her earlier outburst, which she still didn't understand. "I've been cooped up in this house long enough anyway. Some fresh air...it might make me feel better."

"Okay, great!" said Henrietta. "We can all pile into my car, and Carol, you don't need to worry about putting any clothes on that hot naked body of yours because—"

She didn't get to finish her sentence before Carol opened the door and stepped outside, donning her shoes, her purse, and nothing else.

[browniesnivy]

Random Asks!

This template was made by biaesthetic, just so you know. I cut out some of the questions I didn’t I saw feel like answering, but otherwise her template worked really well for my needs! I saw cyberenergyshock do something similar and felt the need to do one myself, so here we go! Y’all really don’t know anything about me (which is mostly because i’m super paranoid about privacy) and I don’t intend to give out super precious info or anything here, I just thought it’d be nice. 

what was the last thing you read? The last book I read was issue three of the Bunny Drop manga. So far it’s a very cute story that I recommend to people who like family stories. It’s very touching and cute, but can be fairly thought-provoking at times. I haven’t finished it yet so I can’t give a full review or anything... but those are my thoughts so far!

favorite movie? Captain America: Winter Soldier! I know it’s a pretty basic choice as far as favorite Marvel movies go, but it really is just soooooo good. The action, the intrigue, the emotion, the relationships... all so good! Ten out of ten would watch again... and I believe me, I have. Three times in fact. And I’ve cried at least once every time because I’m weak sauce.

favorite book? That’s really hard... I really loved Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets but I haven’ t read that in years and am really fuzzy on the details... so I guess I’ll have to say the Warrior Cats Super Edition Crookedstar’s Promise. What can I say, I love Warrior Cats! And this edition is just so emotional. Without giving away any spoilers, this book is an absolute emotional rollercoaster at parts and contains one of the most manipulative, petty, dangerous, terrifying and broken villains the series has to offer and she is just fantastic. If your down with some of the special Warrior Cats-brand of stupidity this book is a total treat!

dream date? We’d be alone somewhere quiet and serene, nature surrounding us as we were covered in a blanket of stars. Cool, refreshing water babbles nearby, giving poetry to our escape. The most calming and tranquil environment imaginable. However, we wouldn’t just enjoy the soothing scenery, but we would talk in a low whisper, joking about things only we would understand and geeking out over fandom, all in between mouthfuls of take-out pasta from Olive Garden. It would be a mixture of a fun hangout with a friend and a romantic tender scene. (I guess all of that was really corny, huh? Haha, sorry!)

do you have a crush? Not on anyone real... but if Hatsune Miku asks tell her I’m free!

what are your hobbies? I love creative pursuits like writing and drawing and have loved them since I was extremely young. One of my favorite pass times is playing video games like Pokémon, Fire Emblem, Harvest Moon, The Sims,, Civilization, Stardew Valley, Super Smash Brothers, and many many others... too many to reasonably name! I love reading novels, but manga and anime alike are what I seem to do more of nowadays. My parents are pretty strict on which anime I watch though, so I spend more time reading manga because they aren’ t nearly as finicky about my reading material since my younger siblings won’t have to be subjected to it. Also, I really love philosophy. Ethics and morals have always fascinated me and the idea of mapping out the human spirit like a genome is endlessly fascinating to me... I love to read books on morality and watch philosophical YouTube videos in my down time, and I hope that someday I can come to some kind of understanding of the truth. I guess that means I’m kind of lame! 

what’s your favorite time of day? Evening. I love the darkness. The chilling winds and the stars illuminating the dark skyscape is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and it’s all right their in your backyard if you only care to look! Well, I guess if you live in the city or something you can’t do that... in which case I’m very sorry! Anyway, the serenity of the night is something the daytime can’t match for me. Peace and quiet are seldom found around where I live, so the silence is very appreciated!

if you could look like anything, what would you look like? Anything you say? In that case I guess I’d look like a calico cat. That away, I could climb along fences and gates or go exploring into the wilderness without anyone looking at me funny! Plus, maybe someone would pet me!

are you a romantic? If you just read my ideal date, the I you’ll probably know the answer. Yeah, I guess I am! I’m not super ditzy or anything, in fact I rarely every feel romantic attraction to people, but I do long to find a soulmate. 

what’s your favorite type of weather? The rain, definitely. If you couldn’t tell, quiet tranquility is pretty much my aesthetic. I love water. It nourishes the plant life and makes everything sparkle with dew, the greenery becomes so much greener and everything becomes so much more vibrant... it’s like the spirit of the world has been born again. And yet almost nobody is out their enjoying it. Fine by me, I’d rather be alone on my walks down the rainy neighborhood streets. Bonus if it’s raining at night, because not only are the walks multiplied tenfold in their beauty, but when you decide to hit the hay the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops can gently lull you to sleep...

what do you like talking about? Well obviously I love to talk about Yu-Gi-Oh!, and I’m pretty much open to talk to anyone about it... but I also love to talk about other fandom! I also love mythology and philosophy (that though provoking shit) and just random trivia in general and it’s nice to talk to people who are also interested in it. Other then all that nerdy cooties, I just generally like listening to other people talk. As long as what you say isn’t completely repulsive to me I’ll probably listen, but I’ll probably crack jokes the entire time unless you’re being really serious. I love funny stuff.

if you got a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? Oh, I’d never even think about a tattoo! I’m far too much of a scaredy-cat, besides the initial pain the idea an image could be burned onto me forever kind of freaks me out. I have no problem with other people getting them at all, just not something I could ever do. I don’t really think I can answer this question adequately... but I guess if I had to choose I’d say something small like an eye or a teardrop. I’d put it on the lower part of my neck to the left side: it would be discrete and not very noticeable, but kind of pretty and thoughtful. Nothing to obtrusive or, dare I say, obnoxious for me.

do you want any pets? I wish! We used to have a dog when I was very little, and then we had a cat when I was about eight or so, but nothing since then. Such a shame, because I am filled with love and affection for cats and dogs especially and would like to have at least one of each someday. If I had to pick which breeds I’d like, I’d say a border collie (they’re so expensive, but hey a girl can dream, right?) and a calico. 

dream job? “When I grow up I want to write books!” I’ve been saying that since I was old enough to write my own stories. Above all else, I want to be an author, but even most of those have other jobs as well. Of course I’ve gone through phases of wanting to be different things... when I was really small I wanted to be a waiter, then in second grade I wanted to be a marine biologist (I saw sea turtles at an aquarium and fell in love. Don’t want to do marine biology anymore but sea turtles are still the some of the most precious beasts on this planet!), but now I’m thinking either an animator, a journalist, or a moral philosophy professor. Who knows what I’ll end up doing, I'm only a freshman right now, after all.

dream place to live? Take me home, country road, to the place, I beloooooooong…! No, I don’t want to live in West Virginia specifically (though that would probably be pretty swell), but the American South is where I grew up and it’s where I want to live. The flourishing flora, sparkling water forms, and the waves of fertile farmland are just some pf my favorite set pieces of the Southern United States. I don’t live there anymore, and there are a lot of social problems down there that might target me specifically, but just for the scenery alone I wish to go back.

dream vacation? Japan! in this dream scenario, I can speak Japanese and navigate the land without many hitches, ordering of the menu and understanding all the signs. I’d go to a maid café and one of those resteraunts where there are stuffed animals everywhere, I’d buy a crap-ton of weeb shit, if I was lucky I’d see a vocaloid concert... and the sightseeing! I’d go hiking on the mountains and see cascading waterfalls and flourishing sakura and  really neat beetles... I hope that happens to me someday!

do you want any piercings? I don’t even want my ears pierced at all, so not at all! I’m not a very flashy person, in fact I’m quite quaint, and I never wear jewelry unless my family somehow bamboozles me into it. I’d never wear any of it, so it wouldn’t be worth some weirdo assaulting my earlobes (or any other body part) for it. 

if you had kids, what would you name them? I think me having kids might be kind of a long shot all things considered (but who really knows, right?) but I do have several names I’m really attached to that I would gladly give to someone. The first is Eve, which I just absolutely adore the aesthetic of. If you couldn’t all ready tell, I love the nighttime, and this name just screams a sort of lovely starlight elegance. Plus, it was the name of my first crush in Harvest moon Magical Melody so... backstory! The other name I’d go with would have to be Jamie. It just sounds so peppy and interesting, it’s a very unique name that I can’t help but love. Not coincidently, Jamie was the name of another Magical Melody character I was particularly fond of, because they were my first experience with gender nonconformity and non-binary gender identity! 

what are your best traits? Am I really the best person to judge that? Well, I guess I can try. I try to be as patient as possible and to keep an open-mind because I hate hurting people’s feelings, believe there is always a kind and peaceful solution, and think every single person deserves personal respect and to be treated with integrity when possible. I’d say of all my traits, those are the ones I try the hardest to foster and exercise.

worst traits? I’m so anxious, literally anything going wrong cans end me into a panic. My family has kind of a history with predisposed anxiety, so I should probably get that checked out... but then the idea of being diagnosed as “wrong” freaks me out a lot. Vicious cycle. This underlying anxiety manifests in some other nasty traits of mine: specifically that I’m a wuss, a doormat, and a pessimist. Long story short, I’m way to worried for my own good.

what’s your worst fear? Well, I’m pretty much afraid of everything! Alligators, heights, amnesia, blood and guts, rejection, underwater tunnels, birds coming near me, loud noises, illness... there’s a lot more, but I’d say my biggest fears are failure and weakness. The two kind of go hand in hand in my mind, and the thought that I could fail and become irredeemable and worthless is petrifying.  

what do you want to eat right now? Something to know about me: I’m always hungry. I snack incessantly, so it’s a wonder I’m still such a skinny little bastard! Right now, I could really go for some sushi. Put some seafood and some avocado on that shit and I’m sold.

favorite social media platform? Tumblr! I mean, it’s really the only social media I have, but still! Even though looking at all the fighting and toxicity on this website that can really make me feel awful, there is an undertone of community that outweighs that for me. Seeing so many fans of Yu-Gi-Oh! and ShrimpShipping in particular makes me feel like I really belong somewhere, and when I see the entire community harmonize to create a positive environment I remember what this life is all about. When I get a heart on a post, I think about how someone liked that post, how something I made or that I said might have put a smile on their face or roused a chuckle from them, and that makes it all worth it to me. Plus, all my mutual are really cool!

favorite article of clothing? Jackets, blazers, hoodies, coats, sweaters, suits... I love that cozy shit! I unfortunately live somewhere really hot, so a lot of times flaunting my style makes me uncomfortable, but it’s worth it too look fly as hell! When it comes to dressing, I’m very butch to androgynous, which makes since because I’m pretty gender nonconforming, I always have been. When I was younger and at a different school I was definitely the tomboy, but now I tend to try and blend in more just because people at my new school seem so much more judgmental. 

do you play any sports? I’ve been playing tennis since I was in third grade! I really only ever play it during the school’s season because there is just so much homework and I’m always busy, and thus my growth has been greatly stunted... but it’s still a really awesome sport. There’s a precision and an elegance to it that just fascinates me, plus it’s not a team sport so I don’t have to worry about screwing my partners over! Unless it’s doubles, which I try to avoid whenever possible. Other factors that make me like it appealing to me is that I have the body for it (tall with freaky long-ass arms) and my dad plays it too, so we can go out and help each other improve our skills. 

favorite meal of the day? Well they’re all great, I mean food is food, but I’m biased to dinner. The biggest most complete meal of the day that packs the most flavor and is the most filling, dinner is great! In my opinion, going to bed on a full stomach is one of the best feelings in the world, so we can thank dinner for that. Plus, my mom lets me eat snacks after dinner so I don’t have to sneak around to eat potato chips... heh.

what are you excited for? ShrimpShipping Week definitely has me excited, because I have so many shrimpy ideas to let loose upon this world... and I’m really looking forward to looking at everyone else’s contributions too! ShrimpShipping Week is the time I can see the most unity within the community, and it truly is a wonderful experience! Also I’m hyped as hell for Smash Ultimate and that currently unnamed Animal Crossing 2019 game... I’m a huge Nintendo fan my dudes.

when was the last time you cried? Like a few days ago? I can’t remember which of these instances came first, but I figured out I got on probation in NJHS because I got (gasp) a C+ in Geometry?! That seriously fucked-up my self-esteem, so I cried about that. But I can’t really remember if that was before or after I rewatched Madoka Magicia (which I personally consider a brilliant work of art and an anime must-see)… well either way I cried really recently.

dream house? Perhaps by the side of a crystal clear lake, maybe by the banks of a babbling brook, possibly by the sparkling seashore... but somewhere near water there would sit a two story house. Crisp hardwood makes up the walls of the construction, and there are windows opening the entire house to gorgeous natural light. Inside, everything is painted soft colors that seem to glow in the light, and every piece of furniture looks like you could sink into it’s soft surface. The downstairs floor has a living room with cases for cards, game boards, and video game disks are displayed neatly and conveniently alongside posters and figurines. It is essentially a nerd rec room. Beside that, the dining room and kitchen are organized and clean, and you can still smell pasta from the night before. A large flight upstairs leads to an upstairs library and study, which then empties out into a cozy bedroom full of stuffed animals and an open closet full of suits and coats. The bedroom has a balcony attached to it overlooking the water source nearby, a quiet and comfortable escape out into the serenity of nature. I suppose that’s all very idealistic, but this is a dream house... so I can have as many plushy sofas and anime girl figurines as I want!

what’s something you hate about the world? How selfish a lot of people are. I don’t mean to sound mean or judgmental, but there are just so many people who refuse to even try to be kind. All they care about is themselves and they don’t understand how much their actions effect those around them, and they certainly never try to adjust their viewpoints. I think there are so any problems we could resolve if we just tried to understand the people around us. After all, they aren’t going anywhere. You might as well try to make life as pleasant as possible for others, right? But that’s just my two cents. 

what’s something you love about the world? Even though the world is full of self-serving close-minded folk, there are also those who are driven and motivated to try to improve themselves and those around them. They want to try to make things more positive for those around them, they want to help those in need, and they believe in people’s capacity to improve. They believe int he ability to change and to improve. And when I see these people join hand in hand to change the world, I feel very inspired. I know it’s not possible to solve every problem, at least not in one go. But seeing people who wholeheartedly try to help out is what I love most in this world. 

what scents do you like? I tend to like scents like chocolate or sizzling steak, the kinds of scents associated with foods. Like I said, I’m always hungry. I also love the smell of nature after a rainy day, it just draws out all the scents from the flora in the most fantastic way. 

what kind of sleeper are you? If a bomb detonated outside my house, I would still stay asleep. In other words, I’m an incredibly heavy sleeper. Basically no amount of rambunctious noise can awaken me from deep slumber, but I am very responsive to someone disturbing my sleeping environment by touch. if the bed rocks or a finger brushes against my face, I’m awake instantly, probably in an anxious sweat. That’s why I can’t sleep in the car. But if you give me a warm bed and take care not to touch me in anyway, I’m dead asleep. 

are you a cat or dog person? Don’t make me choose! I love them both so much, but for completely different reasons. Cats are good because they are cuddly and soft and relaxing, but they for the most part don’t give a fuck about anything. And dogs are nice because they are so fun and loving, and sometimes they seem just as complex as humans in their emotional capacity. I love them both so much, I don’t want to choose!

how long would you survive in a zombie apocalypse? I’d probably be one of the first to kick the bucket honestly. I mean, I’ve beaten my siblings and other kids in wrestling matches more times then I can count, but a zombie apocalypse? I’d be too scared to do anything! The only thing that might push me forward would be the desire to help my loved ones, but even then I think i’d be pretty useless. Suffice it to say I’ll be easy pickings when the zombies come for our brains.

when do you feel safe? I’m pretty much always nervous to be honest, so I guess I feel safest when I’m asleep! 

are you trusting? I actually don’t know how to answer that? I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and when I make bonds I get seriously invested in them, but most people on the streets I’m always a bit on guard about. Got to play it safe, you know?

what fictional characters do you identify with? Alderheart and Hollyleaf from Warriors. Alderheart because he’s really anxious and just trying his best to be useful, and Hollyleaf because she wants to do the right thing and follow the rules but often gets confused and starts going a bit batty. For something that’s not Warriors, I’d have to go with Homura from Madoka Magica, because she puts on a lot of strong fronts to protect those she loves and to avoid failure at all costs. I’m not trying to say I’m as fucked-up as some of these characters or that any of my situations are as bad as theirs were, just that I see bits of myself in them and can feel a connection to them.

what labels do you commonly get? Well there is a lot... fangirl, nerd, overachiever, butch, standoffish, weird, tomboy... if I named all the boxes I’ve been put in I'd be here all day!

what issues are you dealing with right now? Anxiety! That’s all I'm going to say, because I honestly think I’ve said enough about my problems. It makes me kind of uncomfortable shouting my fears into the internet because... it makes me feel guilty? I don’t know. Just... anxious. That’s my problem. 

how can someone win you over? If they display an extensive knowledge of one of my fandoms then I’m instantly sold. Do you know how hard it is to find fans outside of the internet sometimes, and even in the internet? I’m so down to get in any amount of fandom talk!

[tipsycad147]

What’s Your Nature Spirit according to Your Zodiac Sign

By The Alchemist

Zodiac Signs were always considered as 12 different aspects of Mothers Nature. There is no good or bad Zodiac Sign as there is no Good or Bad Nature Spirit. However, not all Zodiac Signs are compatible with us. Everyone of us is unique. We’ve already seen each Zodiac Sign’s association with Magical Abilities.

What’s Your Nature Spirit according to Your Zodiac Sign

In the same way, each Nature Spirit possesses different abilities and attributes. Based on your Natal Chart, one can know with what Nature Spirit is closer to you. Every Nature Spirit has an affiliation with one or more Zodiac Signs. Each Nature Spirit represents a different aspect of Mother Nature, a different force which should always be respected. Learning about the powers of each Nature Spirit will help us co-operate with Nature Forces.

Aries: Salamanders

Salamander, according to Paracelsus, the greatest medieval alchemist, is the noble elemental spirit of Fire. These magnificent creatures usually dwell in Volcanos or inhabit house fires who literally give them life. This is why if you have a fireplace, it is likely to have a majestic Salamander around you. Although their poison is lethal, these creatures are also believed to possess antidotes and cures for many diseases.

Their personality is extremely fun and enthusiastic just like Aries. They are usually over-whelmed by their passions. Love and friendship are the most important values and they always listen to their hearts, which is the source of True Fire. Moreover, amongst every Nature Spirit, a Salamander, is one of the bravest and the most reckless. They seem to be attracted by danger and adventure.

Living with an Aries, is like embarking on a never-ending exotic adventure with a passionate Salamander, masters of fire.

Taurus: Pixies

Pixies are wonderful spirits of nature who dwell in the forests and other fertile and blessed sites of Mother Earth. These creatures are drawn by the beauty of nature and can become very possessive and over-protective about their home and the things they love – just like Taurus. It is said, that they love to sing around or dance in circle, together with forest animals. This is why they form circles known as fairy or pixie rings. These territories are believed to be portals to their Realm and a beacon of Pixie Power.

Often, these magnificent creatures become tricksy and love to mislead humans. There are numerous accounts of people who got lost because of pixies and their game. However they never mess with the ones who love to sing along their journey or the ones who carry bread with them. Food and Arts are sacred to them, exactly like Taurus. Pixies – and Taurus – respect the truth and the warm hearted people.

Living with a Taurus, is like breathing their enchanting pixie-dust every moment of your life.

Gemini: Sylphs

The ‘Sylphs‘ or better ‘Sylphides‘ are elemental creatures of Air. Hence they reign over winds, clouds and storms. They love inhabiting the air. Therefore they are literally everywhere! Moreover, due to the nature and qualities of the element of Air and according to the system of the greatest medieval alchemist, Paracelsus, sylphs love bridging between material and spiritual realm, acting some times as messengers. Winds are believed to transport Sylphs. This is why – talking to the Winds – is believed to be so magical. Because the Winds DO listen!

Sylphs are REAL! I mean they make their appearance noticeable every time they want. If you have a cat, notice how they stare at nowhere after a storm. Sylphs may be inhabited your room! They are very intelligent and they can give you protection when traveling or bless you with inspiration and luck in intellectual works.

Ever moving, ever watching, ever listening they are agents of information and inspiration, just like Gemini.

Living with a Gemini, is like having a sylph around you all the time, protecting and inspiring you with the secrets of the World.

Cancer: Undines

Deriving from the latin word for Waves, Undines are extremely enchanting creatures. They are believed to be powerful Nature Spirits – elementals of Waters, inhabiting forest pools, lakes, waterfalls but also sacred wells. Moreover, Undines are blessed with a mesmerizing voice. They love to sing over waters plays or creating wavy swirls. Listening to their voice over the sound of water is a sign that the conjuration for Undines was successful.

According to a tradition, Undines are soulless. Hence, to become immortal, they have to marry a mortal. Only then they can live forever. However, the mortal should be faithful as they cannot stand to be betrayed. They are moody and can even become extremely jealous. Just like Cancer, Undines are lovely and can provide a life of love, magic and devotion. But the moment they feel betrayed they can change and flow away like the water!

Living with a Cancer is like eternally swimming around the blessed waters where Sylphs dwell. Show Love to them and explore together their magical depths.

Leo: Griffins

Griffins are amazing creatures which are commonly depicted half lion half eagle. Although Griffins are found in almost all civilizations, most of our stories from the Ancient Greece. The chariot Nemesis, the Goddess of Diving Justice, was drawn by powerful and sometimes vengeful griffins. Furthermore, exactly because of this, we see many alchemical and occult depictions of Griffins driving chariots – like the Tarot Card ‘the Chariot’. Moreover, Griffins are found resting on the ‘Wheel of Fortune’. This is direct symbolism for Karma – the Divine Justice – Nemesis.

Griffins – as Leo – are noble creatures who protect Justice and Truth. They are brave, never fearing or flinching. This is why they are the Nature Spirits who are associated with Leo. Griffins are inspiration for Leo, drawing power and vitality from them.

Living with a Leo is like always being being accompanied by brave creatures ready to defend and inspire you.

Virgo: Hesperides

Hesperides, also known as the “Nymphs of the Evening”, where three magnificent daughters of Nyx, Goddess of the Night. These heavenly ladies were living a far western corner of the ancient world – they were also called ‘Nymphs of the West’ – located near the Atlas mountains in North Africa at the edge of the encircling Oceanus (god of all Oceans). They were protecting an enchanted garden where an apple tree grows, producing magical golden apples. Anyone who ate one would instantly become immortal and young. This was the wedding Gift of Mother Earth – Gaia, to Zeus and Hera, king and queen of all Gods.

Hesperides, were stunning ladies who were protectors of many powerful artifacts. The were also called ‘Atlantides’ and its was believed to inhabit the ‘Isles of the Blest’ or ‘Fortunate Isles’, a place where there was always summer. According to Greek religion, the islands were reserved for those who had chosen to be reincarnated thrice, and managed to be judged as especially pure enough to gain entrance to the Elysian Fields all three times. Talking about perfectionism… right?

Hesperides, just like Virgo, love gardens, herbs, flower and handy artifacts. Moreover they can devote their lives to something they believe is sacred and valuable. Their beauty is uncanny. It was believed, that the orange-red color of Sunset comes from Hesperides and their enchanting garden.

Living with a Virgo, feels like being eternally cared, protected and adored by Nymphs.

Hesiod tells about Hesperides in “Theogony”: “And again, Ceto bore to Phorcys the fair-cheeked Graiae, sisters grey from their birth: and both deathless gods and men who walk on earth call them Graiae, Pemphredo well-clad, and saffron-robed Enyo, and the Gorgons who dwell beyond glorious Ocean in the frontier land towards Night where are the clear-voiced Hesperides, Sthenno, and Euryale, and Medusa who suffered a woeful fate: she was mortal, but the two were undying and grew not old. With her lay the Dark-haired One1in a soft meadow amid spring flowers”

Libra: Fairies

Fairies is a special race of beings, who bridge the Realms of Spirits and the Realm of Humans. It’s hard to find a civilization who did not believe in fairies. They are powerful and when the time is right they love to appear and meddle with our affairs. Fairies, just like Libra, are delicate yet moody creature who can turn into vengeful spirits at no time.

Fairies need to be respected. They punish the irresponsible and irreverent ones but at the same time, they bestow unimaginable powers to those who respect nature. Fairies live in a very well structured kingdom, with kings and queen and other types of powers. They are loyal. Sometimes, they love to marry humans and give birth to extraordinary children. (Check here if you descend from a fairy Blood-line).

Fairy, is a nature spirit which loves peace and beauty just like Libra. They will do anything in their power to preserve harmony. When time is right, they will fight and destroy the ones who dare to challenge their ‘manifesto’. Peace should prevail at any cost.

Living with a Libra is like dancing with fairies always trying to beautify and harmonize your life and destiny.

William Shakespeare in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” devotes to Fairies: “The king doth keep his revels here to-night: Take heed the queen come not within his sight; For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she as her attendant hath A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling; And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; But she perforce withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy; And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen”

Scorpio: Nereids

Nereids are the nymphs of the sea. Enchanting, magnificent beings who have power over the waters. The Nereids can be extremely helpful to humans, saving sailors after a shipwreck. Nereids are actually the souls of the Waters. They embody anything that is mysterious and beautiful about the sea. Furthermore, Nereids – just like Scorpio – are very powerful empaths, able to feel what others feel. This is why they love to help.

Nereids, the souls of the Sea love to sing and dance around the waves caused by their father. Moreover, the usually appear crowned with branches of red coral and dressed in white silk robes. Red and White are the two major colors representing the two primordial forces of male and female. Hence, Nereids, carry the ‘Alchemical Marriage’, the union of both forces making them extremely enchanting and passionate. They were part of Poseidon’s entourage and carried his trident. Why?

Because Nereids, just like Scorpio, are not passive. Poseidon is mighty and Nereids can actually engage in fights.

Living with a Scorpio is like ever dancing and singing with the passionate nymphs of the Sea, exploring all the mysteries of the sea and the depths of one’s emotions.

Sagittarius: Dryad

Dryads are the spirits of trees, the Souls of the Forest. They love to inhabit trees but their existence do not depend on the tree itself. Contrary to ‘sister’ spirits – hamadryads – they love to go our from the tree they dwell and dance around the forest singing and following other companions of Goddess of hunting – Artemis / Diana , and the God of Wine and Ecstasy, Dionysus.

Just like Sagittarius, they love adventure. Although they love and respect their roots and families, they don’t like to get too attached to them. They long for freedom, adventure and wisdom. Dryads, love to hang out with those who admire and can learn something (like God Dionysus and Goddess Artemis).

Moreover, even the Word ‘Dryad’ reveals their divine and royal origin. Dryad comes from the greek word ‘δρυς’ which means Oak, the most powerful and respected from all trees as it’s the symbol of the King of Gods, Zeus ( and Thor). It was also believed, that he or she who dares to hang out with dryads, must always be ready to embark on dangerous and reckless adventures. Exactly like Sagittarius, which sometimes their lives make no sense for anyone but them.

Living with a Sagittarius is like hanging out with wise and beautiful dryads, always loving to learn and experience more. Be ready for an adventurous but NEVER boring life.

Capricorn: Gnomes

Gnomes are the Earth Elementals who love to inhabit caves, forests and mountains, practicing their craft, ever evolving it to the most wonderful level. Gnomes are keepers of their oath and protect their properties with sophisticated traps and magical spells. Moreover, they are hard workers but also extremely social. They are a dwarfic tribe. Their height itself, implies how close they are with the Earth and its magic.

Just like Capricorn, they are very ambitious yet sometimes can become greedy, trying to keep their treasures at any cost. However, they are loyal and honest, keeping their word, whatever it takes. Although it’s hard to convince them to help you, once they agree, they will keep their word. Gnomes form well-structured and highly advanced societies. Spirituality and technology comes hand to hand.

Gnomes might sometimes look snobbish yet they’ve got a warm and true heart. They are also very brave but not reckless. Although they don’t ask for trouble when the time has come, they will fight and probably win due to their strategic and brilliant mind.

Living with a Capricorn, is living with a hard-working, loyal, passionate and brave creature who is always ready to do whatever it takes to build an abundant home for both of you.

Aquarius: Elves

Elves are considered to be the most magical creatures who clearly don’t seem to belong in our material plane. Their bright eyes, light complex and silver hair make them so unique and so rare. Although they are extremely social, just like Aquarius, creating vast cities, they tend to be peculiar, picky and snob sometimes.

Aquarius is associated with Elves because of their amazing ability to see the World in a very different way than us. Their Agile personality brings them closer to Aquarius than any other sign. Moreover, time seems to flow in a different way for this Zodiac Sign, just like the Elves who are either immortal or live for much more years than us. Elves are crafty and their civilization is extremely advanced.

Living with an Aquarius is like sharing your life with a brilliant, elf-like creature who is ready to invite you in a magical world.

William Shakespeare in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” devotes to Elves: “Elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves; And ye, that on the sands with printless foot, Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him When he comes back; you demy-puppets that By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make Whereof the ewe not bites,”

Pisces: Merpeople (Mermaids, Mermen)

Merpeople are enchanting creatures which usually live underwater yet rarely come out of the sea or lakes to see meet with ‘land-walkers’. Merpeople are found in almost all civilizations. This is no coincidence. Of course these creatures are real yet the choose to cover their tracks.

Pisces are associated with Merpeople because of their empathic, sensitive, intuitive, mystical, fragile personality. Like Merpeople, they chose to live underwater, in a similar yet different world. They rarely face reality in the same way as most humans. According to ancient traditions, Merpeople carry a mirror (another symbol of illusion and different plane) and usually comb their magnificent hair, while singing songs about the lost civilizations and great kings. They radiate a mystical sweetness which is able to enchant anyone. The fact that they live underwater is not because they don’t care about the humans. On the contrary. They are extremely sensitive and they tend to be disappointed from cruel behavior.

Having a Pisces with you, is a divine gift if you don’t disappoint them. The ones who hear their songs are considered the luckiest and most privileged.

William Shakespeare in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” devotes to Merpeople: “Once I sat upon a promontory And heard a Mermaid on a dolphin’s back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath That the rude sea grew civil at her song And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea maid’s music.”

https://www.magicalrecipesonline.com/2018/04/types-nature-spirit-your-zodiac-sign.html

[frankiirperwcw-blog]

UNTOLD STORIES FROM THE FAE COURTS.

they are coming from the woods

Summer.

The summer court is loud and seems slow, but the lazy progress of the sun through the sky betrays a vitality within the fae of the warmer months. The gauzy air over the realm of summer is thick with magic. Sunlight is daubed onto forest floors through gaps in the verdant leaves, and the warm evenings host lively parties, barefooted and frenzied dancers kicking dandelion seeds to the wind. Make no mistake, the fae realm will kill you no matter what season, and the land of the summer court is aggressively fertile. Nothing will stop it's growth, and if needs be it will find root inside you, a seed planted by the haze of a warm evening and peace and contentment that soaks so deeply through your skin that eventually flowers will grow from your mouth and eyes.

I don't know that fae experience love the same way as humans, but I was once involved with a courtier from this realm. Her lips were always violently red, eyes round and shining like the swelling fruit in the thickets, and her passions as unrelenting as waves on the sand. We shared the bounties of the summer court, which are seemingly endless, with feasts laid out endlessly across long blankets on the forest floor or at high tables within the carefully kept gardens of the court. Precisely grown roses wound their way around marble and soft fountains paint the space with a frenetic song. And through the balmy nights competition turned warmth to heat and blood spilled across those perfect marble floors.

In the end my love was so passionate that my relative quiet bored her, and we fell out of step. I cared more to observe the ways of the summer courtiers, to watch the viciousness so often disguised by bright sunshine. The perfect sweeping towers of the castles and the apparent madness are all in step with someone's devising- although the architect changes constantly, the play that unfolds on the stage is always carefully calculated, no matter how chaotic it seems. Everything is planned.

Autumn.

This season is predictably mediated by decay. The mournful forests have an endless fall of leaves of ochre, copper, rust and other, stranger colours. As night falls and a cool tang enters the air, maroon and shimmering gold leaves drift through the air and lucent mushrooms cast a ghostly light onto burnt brown trunks. The fae of the autumn court are secretive and quiet, but there is plenty of activity happening, albeit out of sight, like earthworms transforming rot to soil underfoot. The goblin market supplies a wealth of enchantments and fae food to those passing through, and fruit wines and sweet cakes are prepared, the finest as gifts for the courtiers or to woo unsuspecting mortals. This court is perhaps of a more sinister reputation than the others, the natural penchant for the death of the year tending to make them unnerving, but the season is not without warmth, if it can be found.

Precise homes made from bones are created for fireflies and field-mice. Sticks are woven into small enchantments and spells. Bonfires create embers that never cool, and ash that will revive cold, sad mortal hearts. Some of the finest bakeries in the four courts are found in autumn, creating exquisite cakes and pies that rival even elven ovens. A baker there once took a liking to me, and I to her, and she frequently made me gifts of her wares- carefully spiced wrapped apple pastries, thick, cloying marzipan filled sweet buns, cakes adorned with delicately spun sugar-work in the shape of birds' nests and hedgerows.

Eventually the sweetness became too close, and I left. She burnt a tray of brittle instantly, the sweet luxury quickly becoming ashen and bitter.

Winter.

Ah, winter. So cold and still, so ruthless and straightforwards. Beautiful but deadly, the cold clings to your eyelashes and joints, the fresh shock of the freeze arriving with every blast of wind. A pale, washed out land, it would seem that many things have stopped dead, but for the fae of the winter court, the extreme brings clarity. Reverence for the simplicity of the season makes the winter court a quietly meditative place. The stars are all the more visible in the lengthened nights, and deep, cold pools of water reflect them, glassy surfaces gathering the starlight so that it may be collected and bottled. The forests are home to great elk, vast in size, picking their way through the pale trees, antlers crowned with moonlight. Weapons made from their bones can be fashioned, and will instantly freeze any mortal wounded by it, cold seeping into their souls.

The fae of this thought are pensive, thoughtful and careful. In this case, the chase was mine, the prize a courtier of high regard. With guile and charm I persuaded her to choose me, and she wrapped me in ermine furs and walked with me through the woods with the sound of softly collapsing snow drifts to accompany us. We would sit on sparse hilltops in a land cast in blues and grays and watch the night sky, hours and days and weeks contentedly filled with quiet rapture, responsibilities and roles cast aside.

Sadly, it wasn't just her who forgot. She confessed later that she knew why I was there, and I had suspected that she was not the only prize. But in the game of wits and love and honour, we both forgot ourselves. And when it came time, her gleaming dagger of antler lay forgotten by mine of thorn and vine.

She had had intended to kill me when she tired of my company. I had been dispatched to sew chaos within the other courts. After all, everything is planned. The baker wove secrets into her buns, recipes for concealment and code plaited with every braid of bread and twist of pastry. The passionate young courtier of summer was no more a fool in love than I, and when we realised neither would give up their secrets we parted like a valley around a river. The winter courtier and I were too loathe to trust, too infatuated to follow through. I journeyed home from her realm with her elk-bone knife tucked into my belt, and my blossoming thorn dagger stayed in her private garden.

Spring.

It has been an age in mortal years since I left the fae realm.

The world beyond it has always seemed insignificant to me. While some fae find entertainment and companionship in humans, there doesn't seem to be anything to gain from it beyond idle amusement. There is nothing that I have an interest in gaining from the waking realm. I did spend a time wandering it's forests and glens, where our worlds touch. Power there, although meaningless, was easy to accrue, with an all too devoted trail of creatures who would be passionately, vividly inspired. In those times it mostly took the form of song, but I'm told mortals have expanded now to many expressions of creativity. Though it has been the blink of an eye for the fae, humans have come far, or so they think.

I sit by a stream in the spring realm in the dewy morning surrounded by bird calls, blossoms gently falling into the waters and covering my hair, pale and stark against the deep black curls. The early morning is a blessed time, where the beacon of a new day fills the realm of spring with it's effervescent, nebulous quality of promise. Potential. The eyes of the spring court turn skywards into the lavenders and blush tones of the new day as they clear amid pale lemon clouds to powder blue skies. Fields of grass sway beside pools and lakes, the motion of the wind spelling out the secrets of the earth as it shakes.

The spring court is the fairest, but of course I will think that, with it being my home. Everything here is soft, and sweet- not like the dull shades of autumn or the gaudy brights of summer. Gentle showers blow through like so many kisses, and warm evenings are filled with tender, budding romances and rivalries. Young courtiers are effervescent before their lips turn blue from poison and their smiles twist in ugly grimaces of pain. The smarter ones will learn to avoid certain smells, to drink meticulously prepared tinctures of nightshade so they cannot be harmed by it, to recognise hemlock and aconite in the woods. Eventually they will learn to poison their enemies before they get the chance to return the favour. The death toll at parties can become very large by the time all is said and done.

Humans have transformed their world, so the fae who have visited it say. Ungraceful monoliths rise from a plague of fumes and metal, the tortured earth filled with the scream of their machines. Luminous portals sit in their hands and transport them and their chittering lives around their realm. They think the world is bent to their will, and see themselves as the grand custodians of nature's creation. Perhaps it's time to walk in their world again, to see for myself this "civilisation" they think they have built.

Who knows how they could soon factor into my plans.

[libramoon2]

eve of Hekate

Stars’ Crossing * * Crossed roads, slowly swaying entrance beads from day to night. Slip in between to become for that instant of eternity dancing gypsy calling to Moon, to storytelling stars. Embrace that mystery, train tracking adventure. Breathe forgotten fields, lush or shriveled, dependent on water and feed. Let go of all but one brave hand solidly grasped to the doorway. Let go; let fingers fall reaching. * * * * Second Star to the Right * * Traveling beyond Persephone’s garden on the etheric threshold ‘tween mortality and death. Taking an oblique path at the crossroads onto an accessway along the axis of bliss. It’s not a road on which the dramas fade. It’s not about a numbing block to pain. Drama unfolds — my chemistry responds exquisitely. Touch is just touch; sensation translates information. All the appointed tasks, routine errands of the everyday, little pauses along the bliss path, allow me to breathe the scent of endless possibilities, as path and consciousness expand blissfully aware. * * * * Liminal Spaces * * Twilight, the wee hours, the dark of the moon, liminal spaces, places where magic dwells, crossroads, crises, cusps. * There is static on the radio. A song my voice was singing, rhythm of sound takes flight to surround me, a comforter of down to ease my soul. * I’ve been trying to define a taste, a sense of bittersweet and salt. I’ve been trying to find a trace a footprint in the desert, a sight, a scent, a memory. I’ve been trying to discern a trace of me, a piece to fit the puzzle, my contribution to the grand design. Seeking in shadows, the space between myth and matter, those places words cannot define. On those insubstantial plains of myst and awe, the stuff of dreams, threshold of wonder, creation is spawned. * * * * Crossing the Threshold * * At the crossroads at midnight My lady did swear That she must be alone To face up to her demons * “Please understand that I must be aware of just who I am and where I’ve come from.” * I sat by the bridge as she set forth her tools, her sorcerer lore, her alchemic runes So she’d know who to honor, to break and to blame What she’d been made for, her journey, her truth. * At the crossroads, past midnight, just before dawn My lady thrice nodded and stamped out her flames. She beckoned I join her out on the meadow to kiss and rejoice and reveal our true names. * * * * Cross Purpose * * At hours’ crossroads, Reason drowns in rage, scathe, irradiated rain, treasonous air. Weary of care, of punishing, bottomless anger, of sobbing men robbed of their right to give birth. Wrested from Mama’s warmth, from the cave, to play brave. And it’s ladies’ choice as you squirm in fool’s corner. Such a chore — kissing at this and that for a chance to score the shame, the blame from stuck-out tongues, the bloody laughter. “I could bite off that little thing — make you squat to pee.” Wired to fight, at any cost, because, of course, the Cross proclaims “We’re right. They are inherently wrong.” “Those below must be taught to obey our superior tools, to be broken, that we may ride.” Against our better fate, sad race divides along strict lines, by difference nature devised to spawn us strong. * * * * Alchemy * * Simple acceptance. The dancer with the dance entering pre-dawn mystery. Quiet interval, enchanting music. Undulating reverie. Alone in Hekate’s garden, breathing in memory of jasmine and spice. Weary roads traveled crossroad to crossroad; the journey continues. Weary days have found sustenance in secreted hovels, dimestore romance. Convoluted talk, empty gestures, soul-less ritual take up the stitches of time. Some brave midnight, if I learn my lessons well, I will eat the fruits of Hekate’s garden, dancing in piquant reverie, leaving my tears and anguish along the windswept trail. Ebullient music dances me as the Goddess kisses my tearstains into gold. Degree of my natal Hekate — a liminal year for the dweller on the threshold. The search is for clarity, expanding borders, introducing elasticity as integral character. To see, to feel, to merge and undulate through; to discover, uncover, swim in the glory of original grace, ecstatic beauty. To see, to feel, to breathe in all exquisite luxury of prescience; to hold, transmit as cellular energy. To paint upon translucent canvas subliminal etchings, private symbols generously revealed. Sagacity gifted, re-gifted, planted in potent fertility of visions, of cantations. The tinsel of starlight; the subtle scent of conflagrated pain; the feather touch of eternity. I fall into velvet voice, enchanting form. Move with the rhythm; caressed within word and worlds’ mysteries. Eve of Hecate As we approach the 13th of August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess under shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of what we cannot bear, cannot overcome Feel in the electric falling starlight Spells of renewal, of power to look back upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown yet changing still and ever, able, willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow invoking the peace of dissolving twilight of midnight's hopeful resurrection of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn take peace into each breath, each incantation from the strength to align impeccably with your deepest truth The transition to the transformation of death is a different kind of birth. Hecate would understand, the Goddess of birth and death and the spaces between, thresholds, doorways, crossroads, limbo. Goddess Hecate, I understand that I am in your realm for this duration, for this direction in which you are moving my consciousness. Bless me, Goddess. Give me your strength of purpose and will, serenity within the maelstrom. The future is one moment at a time. The time is always now. Who I am to become will amaze me, I’m sure. Hekate Is My Cellar Door I am in awe I am prostrate in acceptance of such power as you bestow to me by incultation of your love Dynamism resounds in every fiber I breathe you in without resistance My exhalation is the stuff of bliss Tell your sisters to breathe with me. I have been working with an inner image of Hecate, the underworld, ancient, self-empowered goddess of birth/death/life. As I am understanding, her lesson is about becoming one's true self, unafraid of social appropriation because not in need of permission to totally embrace one's own magick. To begin to find this inner core (unless, I suppose, one is lucky enough to have never lost it), one needs to go through, truly feel and accept, all the pain and miseries of one's life, to learn that these are not what life is about, not punishments, though sometimes warnings, but just an interpretation of what is. A very long time ago, on a cold and windy winter night, a friend told me: open up to the cold and feel it, don't resist -- it is really warm. On those nights when I remember and try it, it really is. Hekate's Child Child of Hekate, sweetness and light? Where is the mark of your entombment? Buried prematurely, to strive for growth in dark enclosure striving for a breath of the pompously negligent Sun, of the blushing Moon of the squabbling sons and daughters, of daylight's pleasures. Striving, tenderly twisting around corners aching for an unknown touch. "Tell me, sir, then, how's it going now?" Looking up narrowly from a tepid meal, all at once remembering playfellows on the schoolyard running, out of breath, filled with pride a jolly good game. Always someone begging my attention, but it wasn't really me, just a story to steam off or a butt to joke on. All the silly give and take; only time is taken and that in big hungry chunks of no tomorrows. One long day now the part all groggy waking from fevered napping. It wasn't supposed to be a tomb nestled in Transylvanian bloodlines. It was meant to be a child's cot, freshly laundered cotton lace. But the rats got in, once the cats had been slaughtered. Slowly wakening I strive again to find my footing. Learning to walk was never as easy as forgetting to fly. Caught up in my Hecate role, I feel the power of my soul. Rain and wind and ice and snow I feel you all from here below, and revel in elemental energy. I am the wind, the seas, the fire I am all will and all desire. It is me you love, and me you hate — I am the master of your fate. Yet I am hidden from all sight, beyond the reach or need of light. I have found my peace, my place, my voice. Take heed, O’ mortal, create your choice. Create it every day.

[galadrieljones]

Sene and Solas. Hands. Rooftops. The color blue. Make it hurt ;)

Wedding night, up on the roof. I hope it hurts in a happy way? @dadrunkwriting)

Rooftops 

Sometime later, after all the comers had gone and the people had left the party, and all that remained were empty bottles and colorful ribbons and blue lanterns hanging in the garden, Sene and Solas grabbed what was left of the champagne and climbed the trellis up to the roof. This is not something they did very often. But when they were very bored and it was very dark–Crestwood could get very dark, though the moon was bright–they would go to the rooftop with a little booze, and they’d hang. It was their wedding night. For their wedding, the Lavellan clan had bestowed upon Sene and Solas thirteen acres of their very own fertile wine country up in Ansburg. The bottle they drank from that night had been grown from said family soil. It was a gift of welcome as much as anything else, but also a very expensive bargaining chip. 

“They want us to come visit,” said Sene. “All then time. That’s what this means.”

Solas poured them each a glass. “Obviously,” he said. “But who cares? Your farm is a pretty place, and this is a small price to pay.”

“It’s a little manipulative.”

“Maybe a little,” he said. “But there are worse situations, trust me. They just want to see us, Sene. Try to go easy.”

They touched glasses. They drank. Starlight fell down upon them like rain. 

“What were marriage rituals like before?” said Sene. She was still wearing her dress. He’d thrown his jacket over her shoulders sometime after the sun went down. “I can’t believe we never talked about it.”

“Weddings were huge affairs in Arlathan,” said Solas. “Any chance to display one’s wealth. Ghilan’nain’s mother was a wedding planner. When we were teenagers, Ghil used to drag me to her mother’s weddings all the time.”

“Seriously?” She smiled. 

“Once, I lit my own suit jacket on fire.”

“You lit it on fire?”

He nodded. “I was lighting a joint. The wind got in the way. It was my only suit.” He looked down into his glass then, as if it were home to all of his deepest, darkest fears. Then he drained it in a single gulp. “I’m glad we kept things small,” he said. “I liked our Dalish wedding.”

“Me, too.”

“It was a good day.”

He fussed with his cufflinks, removed them and put them in his pocket. They were fancy, a gift from Dorian. Then he rolled up his sleeves and took her hand. She held it open for him, and he drew shapes on her palm. Little frescoes that only he could see. 

“When Bull and Dorian come back in the morning,” said Sene, “we will be married.”

This made Solas laugh. “We will always be married, vhenan.”

“Yes, but there is something so immediate about tomorrow, isn’t there? Like all of a sudden, we’ll be whole new people.”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I think we’ll be exactly the same.” He closed her hand into a fist. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. 

“Maybe,” said Sene. She smiled and put her face into his neck. “Are you gonna make pancakes?”

He smirked. “Yes, vhenan.”

“Bull likes blueberries.”

“Yes, I know, vhenan.”

“We should go swimming,” she said. “It’s gonna be hot. Who knows when they’ll be back in town?”

“Whatever you say, vhenan.”

Both of them were a cozy drunk and ready for bedsheets. It was a full moon. The bright moons of Crestwood were like nothing you’ve ever seen. Because the cities were so far away, it was like magic out here. Castles in the sky. Sometimes, if Solas looked real fast, it felt a little like the village where he grew up, but then that melted away and there was only Sene. And their weird little life. And after all this time, it still came down to rooftops.   

[dhwty-writes]

Day 8 - Eight

I had so much fun with that prompt! Remember Mâme/Samha from Day 3 and 5? She is a (high) priestess in a faith that worships eight gods. In this story you will get not only how these gods were created but ALSO how Mâme ascends through the ranks of that faith. A bit of explanation: the names change a few times, but the narrator is always Mâme/Samha and the guy who appears a few times is also always the same person. Have fun!

 1: Mâkuni

In the beginning, there was only Mâkuni, Goddess of Wisdom and Mercy, the First Empress in the First Realm down under the sea. She made the world and the Five Realms and the other gods, too. But in the beginning, she was lonely. And thus, she learned. And thus, she forgives.

 ~*~

 Pray for Mercy

The man left fast, white robes flapping behind him leaving the half-naked girl on the bed. She stared after him with wide eyes not quite understanding what had just happened.

A moment later the door flew open again and her mother stormed in, swatting away the hands of her aunts to pull the girl into a tight hug. Tears started to flow down her cheeks, unbidden and unrestrained, drenching the sheer fabric of her mother's clothes who rocked slowly back and forth. "My baby, my poor child. What happened, my darling daughter?"

"I don't know," she sobbed because truly, she didn't. "I don't know! He reached out and suddenly he flew across the room. And then he got up and-"

"Kiasa," aunt Mahûþû said softly and tugged her mother away. Reluctantly she let go of her and allowed the older woman to take her place. "Look at me, Mâme," she commanded. "Look at me and tell me what happened."

Slowly blinking the tears away, she did as she was told. "He told me to get naked and so I did. Then he wanted to touch me. I was scared. And then it was as if an invisible hand flung him across the room."

"And then?" Mahûþû asked firmly but not unkindly. "What happened then?"

"He got up. He- he wasn't even angry. He was maybe confused? And he said-" Her voice started trembling. "He said that I am a sorceress."

A whisper passed through the women before her and a strangled sob escaped her mother's throat.

"What does that mean?" she asked anxiously. "Ma- Aunt Mahûþû, what-"

Her aunt clasped a hand around her shoulder. "It means that you should pray. Pray that Mâkuni shows you mercy because the gods know the world will not."

 ~*~

 2: Gilahwa

At first, Mâkuni created Gilahwa, God of War and Vengeance, to share her loneliness with him. She made him to be her opposite and her opposite he is, in every way. Where she is gentle, he is cruel, where she is calm, he rages, where she brings peace, he brings war. So, they are locked in eternal battle. And thus, he fought. And thus, he venges.

 ~*~

 Pray for Strength

"Are you ready, child?" Kauzaþro Leor asked with a frail voice putting a heavy hand on Mâme's shoulder.

"I am," she said with only the slightest quiver in her voice. There was no use in hesitating. One year and one day had gone by since her arrival in the Starry Temple where Leor had stumbled upon her. One year and one day in which she hadn't left the high priest's side. One year and one day to accept her fate that awaited her within the white walls.

"You know that once you step inside there will be no going back. Either you will rise with a new name tomorrow or you will die a nameless cripple."

"Then so be it," she answered bitterly. Happenstance had led her father to her mother's bed, destiny had ripped her mother from her, but the gods had given her magic. Nerde had given her magic and she had called her. There was no other place on earth that could bear her but here, inside the insurmountable walls of the sanctuary she was not only tolerated. She was welcome, she was safe, she was home. She knew that there was no way to predict whether or not she would rise again come morrow. And yet she knew.

"One more thing." She turned towards the old man. Slowly he raised his hand and put it on her forehead. "Blessed be you, child of the gods," he murmured, "and may Gilahwa give you strength to weather the night." He stepped back and made an inviting gesture. "Go on."

Somehow, this was the hardest part. She had often stood before the entrance of the sanctuary yet she had never dared venture inside - not even with her magic. It was a sacred place for a reason and none of the tejînûk, the believers, were allowed to enter it. But now she was about to be a novice and as a nûta she could enter the portico.

One last time she turned towards Kauzaþro Leor, who smiled and nodded. Not for the first time she asked herself how the blind man did that.

But somehow that simple gesture was enough to give her the courage to step over the threshold.

Mâme didn't know what she had expected but she was almost certain that the feeling of the air getting punched out of her lungs wasn't it. Still, she nearly doubled over and fell on her face right then and there.

The hall was almost empty save for the priests standing around the sanctuary and singing quietly, each of them holding a tiny ball of light in their hands. The magic, however, that filled the air, was overwhelming. Slowly she made her way towards the altar where the giant statue of their goddess stood.

"Who goes in the shadows?" the voice of the high priestess called to her.

"A child of the gods," she answered with a quivering voice, "who comes to be judged."

"Who seeks the stars?"

"A sinner," she felt stronger already, "who comes to be found."

"Who steps into the light?"

"A servant," she left the shadow of the columns and stepped into the silver starlight, "who comes to be named."

She didn't dare to look at the statue directly, still she glanced up for just one moment to see the white marble with the veil of cast golden hair. Then she turned to the priestess again.

"Mâme," she said, "your mother has named you came into the world. Yet, you left that world behind when you came to the temple. One year and one day you have served. Now you come to be judged. Now you come to be named. Do you swear that you come with a clean conscience before your goddess?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear that your soul is without stain?"

"Not mortal can possess a pure soul. I am not above the humans, a mere servant of the gods. I asked Nerde, her name be holy, to forgive me and I pray for deliverance after my death."

"Are you ready to leave your life behind? Are you ready to end your days as nameless outcast if you are unworthy?"

"I am ready, Kauzaþro."

"Great Nerde, Goddess of Light, Goddess of Stars. Protector of lost souls," she turned to the statue behind her. "Your humble servant has followed your rules and teachings and sacrificed her life to abide them. She has sacrificed her body to show her devotion. She has sacrificed her heart to make room for your love."

"She has sacrificed." The circle of priests answered. The high priestess stepped forward and ripped her thin shift.

"Now she begs for a reward for her sacrifices. She begs for forgiveness, for deliverance, for your love."

"Fulfil her with your light." She drew the constellation of Nerde on her forehead.

"Yet, we are mortal and doomed to fail, so, do not judge us for our missteps and light us the right path."

"Deliver her from her sins," she drew the constellation of Gilsaiwa on her belly.

"In this night a life is given."

"The girl dies." The sign of death on her right palm.

"We beg you, take this life as an offering. Let a new woman be born, a new life in your service."

"She will rise again." The sign of life on her left palm.

The high priestess joined in the choir: "She will leave her life behind. Take this name and let a new woman rise."

Runes were written across her heart. "Mâme," she whispered.

"Mâme!" the priests repeated and the high priestess smudged the writing on her chest.

"The sanctuary is yours to guard, now until morning comes."

And with that the priests left.

The nameless girl resisted the urge to close her eyes and took a deep breath. 'Gilahwa, give me strength...,' she prayed.

 ~*~

 3: Rîkbarn

Next came Rîkbarn, God of Fertility and Seasons, as different from Gilahwa as could be. Mâkuni made a new realm for him, the Realm of Earth, dry and open, so unlike the Realm of Water where she and her Lord Husband dwelled. She ordered him to create. And thus, he created. And thus, he changes.

 ~*~

 Pray for Fertility

Kibhêp had always loved the gardens in the temples. Right from the very start when Kauzaþro Leor had taken her to Rîkbarn's holy groves, she had revelled in them. The only plants in her mothers' house had been in tiny pots, barely big enough to bear one blossom come spring. But here there were dozens of trees, each of them covered with buds that would soon bloom into beautiful flowers.

Beneath them the priests and novices in colourful robes flitted about each a seedling or a flower in hand. Kibhêp stayed back in the shadows as she always did, cautious to escape curious glances and lashing tongues.

"Won't you join them?" a cheery voice asked. When she looked up, she saw a boy staring at her, no older than she was, dressed in the robes of Gindauþu.

"Later," she just said.

"I've never seen you around here before." He cocked his head. "Are you new?"

"Not really," she answered. "I just try to keep to myself."

"You shouldn't." He extended his hand. "My name's Kîkes. I'm from the Âlhasiki, the temple of justice."

She nodded. "I can tell." To underline her words, she shot a pointed glance at his black robes.

"Oh." He laughed. "Of course." Still, he held his hand out as if he was waiting for something. She just stared at him. "Do you have a name, too?" he asked after a moment.

"Kibhêp," she answered flatly, hesitant to grasp his hand.

But the boy seemed to share none of her concerns and just shook her hand eagerly. "A pleasure." His eyes lit up. "Will you plant a flower, too?"

She nodded. "They priests said that is how it is done."

He frowned. "Have you never planted one before? With her parents?"

She shook her head. Kibhêp had long discovered that it was better not to mention her parents.

Kîkes simply smiled wider. "Come, I'll show you! It is fun!"

She hesitated for a moment, taking in his childish joy. Kibhêp was no child anymore - and she hadn't been for quite some time. It felt exceptionally stupid to be that happy over some plants and dirt. But before she even had a chance to finish that thought, she was being hauled forward, stumbling after the other novice as he weaved through the crowds, laughing with abandon. And after some time, she found herself smiling, too.

He pulled her towards an empty spot in a flowerbed and tugged her to her knees next to him. Together they planted two little flowers in the ground, carefully flattening the earth around them. "Now what?" she heard herself ask eagerly.

"Now we pray," he announced, "for Rîkbarn to bless us and this year's harvest. Pray for fertility."

And so, she did.

 ~*~

 4: Tesisûmina

Then, Mâkuni made a goddess in her image: Tesisûmina, Goddess of Love and Women; fair and gentle she was to teach Rîkbarn love. Every plant she touched flourished beneath her fingers. And thus, she taught. And thus, she loves.

 ~*~

 Pray for Love

Six years had passed since Tesote's arrival in the Kû Âlha Tîûsit Etîkizeluadhûit, the White Temple of Thousand Stars in Sedal. Twice she had died, twice she had lost her name, twice she had risen again. She was a novice no more but an uhwat, a mage in her own right. It would still take another year or two or three for her to earn the title of hudhjo, priestess, but that was bound to be easier than mastering magic.

Or so she hoped.

Tesote could not say what had compelled her to venture into the Âlhapihwa of Tesisûmina but yet there she was, standing in the vast courtyard where the tall statue stood, cradling a newborn deer and surrounded by girls and women she had given heart and soul. It was a strange experience, being greeted by the effigy of a goddess, not locked away behind pillars and walls that denied the entrance to all those who had not found the path in the dark leading them to the serving Nerde.

Then again, she supposed that Tesisûmina was as much their mother as Namikwi. She was the spring maiden, who had brought love and laughter into the world before giving half her heart away to Namikwi, the goddess of life. It was only fair that her daughters should be able to greet her freely.

And many of her daughters had gathered around her - young girls laying flowers at her feet, praying for their sweetheart to return their love, women freshly betrothed and wed praying for a happy marriage, old crones begging protection for their daughters and their daughters' daughters in turn. And Tesote.

She almost fled. She was about to become a virginal priestess; she had no place in this sanctuary of love. And besides that, she suddenly felt very silly.

Still, she had come. Now, she would also pray.

She stepped out of the shadows, slowly making her way over to the statue before sinking to her knees before it. The autumn chill was already in the air and in the stones, too, as she noticed when she knelt on the tiles. Well, then she had to pray fast.

'Divine parents, hear my prayer,' she began as she had been taught. 'Hold Your hands above my head and lead me on my paths, that my steps follow Yours. Deliver me from the evil of this world and welcome me into Your holy light. As it has been in eternity, for now and all time.

'Tesisûmina, Mother of Women, Daughter of Love, raise Your eyes upon me and bless me with Your embrace. As you gave me a family, let me be surrounded by Your children today, too, that I may do good in Your name. Only upon loneliness follows community. Only in hate we can find love. As it has been in eternity, for now and all time.'

She took a shuddering breath, choosing her next thoughts carefully. 'I know that I am not supposed to lust after love for my Holy Mother Nerde, hallowed be Her name, is forever bereft of that pleasure. Yet, Your prophets proclaimed You not only Goddess of Love as man loves a woman by Goddess of All Love. I do not presume to find true love; I would never ask for this nor do I take interest in it. Instead, I beg for kindness. A companion, maybe. A friend. He serves Gindauþu and I know him to be loyal without a fault. Loyal and kind. He has never been anything but kind. So, I beg You, great Mother of Love, to bless whatever he feels for me. That he might continue to cherish me, whatever might happen. That is my prayer and my plea. I- Thank You.'

She opened her eyes and bowed deeply before the statue. Then, she fled.

 ~*~

 5: Namikwi

Still, the realms were empty. So, Tesisûmina begged Mâkuni to create a new goddess, a goddess like her. With half Tesisûmina's heart they created Namikwi, Goddess of Life and Healing, to kiss the breath of life into animals of clay. The animals rose and ran about. And thus, she kissed. And thus, she heals.

 ~*~

 Pray for Life

"I beg you, milord," the priestess cried, "she meant no offence. There is no reason to punish her like that!"

The sealord stared down at her in disgust. "Who are you?" he asked, though at least he stilled his sword arm. Not even a sealord dared strike a godly woman.

"Tatum, milord," she answered. "I serve Nerde in the Temple of the Stars."

"Go away, woman," he sneered. "This is not your fight."

Tatum didn't budge. "Milord, I beg you. The right path is here before you, illuminated by a servant of Nerde herself, you just have to take it. Don't you see?"

He blinked stupidly and internally Tatum rejoiced. That always got them.

"Why else had my goddess me sent to this place at this time if not to prevent you from damning your soul? Let her go, milord, and know that you have followed the gods' will today."

Slowly, the man sheathed his sword and Tatum got to her feet, still standing between him and the poor woman who had stumbled into him. He scoffed. "She should thank the gods that you came along. I will not forgive a second offence." Then, thankfully, he walked away.

Tatum sighed in relief and turned to help the woman to her feet. "Are you alright?" she asked. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"Only my pride," she answered, ducking her head and hiding her face. "Thank you, lady."

Tatum laughed at that. "No need. He had no right to it. And I am no lady, my daughter. Just a servant of Nerde and her people."

That seemed to catch the woman's attention and a curious look passed over her face. "Then you have to allow me to invite you to dinner, Tatum," she answered.

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly-"

"No, I insist." Determined the woman clutched at her arm and started to pull her away from the busy marketplace. "Please."

She frowned. That was not how she was commonly thanked for her help. If anything at all she got a few words in return, maybe even a smile. But dinner? She was intrigued. And so she let the woman pull her into narrow alleys, slipping through passageways and courtyards, always looking around for- something. "What are you searching?" she asked amused.

"Pursuers," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "But you know that surely."

Tatum nodded, although she had no idea, really, what the woman was talking about. "Do you have a name?" she asked instead.

"I do," was the answer, "though not one uttered in plain daylight. But you must know that."

She frowned but nodded again. Why did this stranger think she knew all those things? She had not the slightest idea what the other one was talking about! Yet, she found herself too curious as to protest. She was certain that whatever waited for her would cause her no harm - there weren't a lot of people who could seriously threaten a mage. So, she let herself be pulled into one of the shadiest neighbourhoods in Sedal, only hesitating for one moment when the woman held a door open.

It was a shabby building, constructed from planks and what she supposed was driftwood, looking as if it were to collapse any minute. Inside were more people than could be healthy and less food than necessary for survival and suddenly Tatum very much regretted accepting the invitation.

"Lads and ladies!" the woman said cheerfully. "I brought a friend!"

Suddenly all eyes were on them. "Kiptîp," one of the men said after a while, "that is a priestess." Something about the way he said the word made her skin crawl.

"Yes," Kiptîp answered. "And she saved my life. From a sealord."

Impressed muttering was heard but the men still did not seem convinced. "What if it is a ploy? To expose us?"

She waved the thought away. "Don't worry, Aianûj," she said. "She's one of us! A servant of the People, right?"

"Right," Tatum agreed, "though, um, I get the feeling that we do not quite mean the same thing by that. I am just a priestess, of course I serve Nerde's children." It was as if the temperature dropped a few degrees as soon as the words had left her mouth. 'Shit,' she thought and raised her hands in what she hoped was a nonthreatening gesture. "But I swear, that I mean you no harm!"

Aianûj got up and snarled as he pulled a rusty knife from his boot. "Yeah, nobody believes any of that," he spit, "you're just like the rest of them. And not you have led one of them to us, Kiptîp!"

She did her best not to flinch and supposed that she at least managed better than the woman next to her. "But- you said- I thought you were one of us!"

"I don't even know what 'us' means," she exclaimed in a desperate attempt to deescalate the situation.

"We're the People," Aianûj answered. "And we fight for freedom."

"Oh." She lowered her hands. "Is that all?"

That seemed to stun them into silence, at least for a moment. Even Aianûj wavered.

Tatum sighed. "Is there anything I can do to make you... not want to kill me?"

Silence followed. Then: "Sit," Aianûj answered and pointed his knife at a chair. "And answer all our questions." Without hesitating she did as she was told. She even let them bind her wrists although she refrained from telling them that it was useless - she was a mage after all. What followed were hours of suspicious questions she all answered without fail, over and over again - who was her mother, who her father? Why had she helped Kiptîp? Why had she followed her? What did she want? Who else knew of her current location? On and on and on the farce went while they apparently tried to detect a lie.

In the end, they had to give up and cut her lose. "May I ask you some questions in return?"

"No," they answered and kicked her out.

Still, things changed after that. Quite obviously if she was honest. She could barely leave the temple without someone following her every footstep and even within there were often people lingering about. She received knowing nods wherever she went and returned them gladly. Once, a child even thanked her, without mentioning why. But Tatum knew.

A month later she was approached by a stranger in the dark. "I hear you are a friend of the People," they said.

He heart beat faster. "I am."

"Follow me." She did. This time she wasn't led to a ramshackle hut filled with starving men and women and children. Instead she found herself in the vast hall of a manse before a fat merchant who wouldn't reveal his name. "Priestess Tatum," he said instead. "I was told of your deeds."

She bowed. "Only good things, I hope."

He laughed. "To my surprise, yes." He studied her face for a long time. "Sit," he said then, "and let us talk."

And talk they did. For hours, until Tatum was nearly falling asleep on her chair and the sun rose in the east. They talked of her past and her future, of magic and faith. But most importantly of injustice and torture and tyranny. They spoke of beggars and whores, of sealords and emperors, priests and sinners. And though her body ached to lie down and sleep, she just couldn't stop.

To think - no, to even dare to imagine there were other people who thought like she - the People! - oh, how long she had waited for that moment to arrive! People who saw all that was wrong in the world, people who didn't bat an eyelash at the daughter of a whore and a sailor wielding power as long as she did good. People who wanted justice, justice that could never be found with an emperor on the throne. Tatum had never thought it possible, but somehow, she was home. Somehow, she had found her people.

And when she swayed home on shaky legs, she found herself praying. Praying to Namikwi for life. 'Let the people life,' she begged, 'and heal the world. We are ready.'

 ~*~

 6: Gindauþu

Soon, the space in the Realm of Earth grew scarce and Mâkuni had to understand that there was life in destruction. She cut off Gilsaiwa's left hand as well as her own right and formed a new god: Gindauþu, God of Death and Justice. She granted him and Namikwi a Realm of Death to raise their thrones and preside over their children. And so, he killed. And so, he judges.

 ~*~

 Pray for Death

There was a dying child before her, a crying mother beside her and Aykuni steadying her shoulders behind her. Maisha moved her hands - physical and magical - in a desperate attempt to close the wounds in the broken body before her, despite knowing fully well that she would never be able to. Still, defeat was no easy thing to accept and so it took her a long time to open her eyes and turn around to her friend.

With a jerk of her head she beckoned him to follow her. "There is nothing I can do," she confessed as soon as she was certain the mother wouldn't hear her.

"What do you mean?" he asked in disbelief.

"He's too far gone, Aykuni. I can't save him."

"But-" He gaped at her. "You must! You're the best there is, if you can't save him-"

"No one can," she finished the sentence for him. "I'm sorry."

"What am I supposed to do?"

He exhaled forcefully. "Pray," she said. "Pray to your God of Death that his end comes soon. It is the only way to ease his suffering." She turned away and walked towards the exit.

"What about you?" he called after her. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll pray, too," she answered in resignation and stepped into the streets of Sedal. Despite the late hour the streets were still bustling with life. When she looked up, there were no stars in the sky. Only dark clouds.

'How fitting,' she thought. 'A black night for a black priestess praying to the black God of Death.'

She turned around a corner into a deserted alley and leaned against a wall closing her eyes. 'Gindauþu,' she addressed the god, foregoing any formalities. 'I do not call on You often for I am an agent of Your lady wife. I am a bringer of light and life. Still, tonight I beg You to rain death upon the earth. Kill the man who has done such evil. He is not worthy of life, nor of the place in Your hall that belongs to him a sealord. He has forfeited this place, for he has sullied Your lady wife's creation, that sanctity of life. I beg You, do not let him do any more evil. Let the People live.'

She opened her eyes again and took a deep breath. Her shift was not over yet. She would not let Gindauþu claim any more innocent lives that night.

 ~*~

 7: Gilsaiwa

To her horror Mâkuni saw the dead pile in the Realm of Earth for they could not find their way to the Realm of Death. She made a new realm, the Realm of Sky, and a new God: Gilsaiwa, God of Sailing and Travelling to guide the souls of the dead. And thus, he led. And thus, he sails.

 ~*~

 Pray for Sails

Samha, despite living in the City of Eleven Harbours for all her life, had never been on a ship. Not a real one, anyways. Not with sails, not meant to ride across the ocean, to follow sea and wind wherever they led.

The experience was- somewhat frightening, she discovered as she clutched the railing and watched even the highest towers disappear behind the horizon. Not that she would tell anyone that. She was an adult, a high priestess and prophet - she would not be afraid of a few days on the sea.

There were many other things to be afraid of, after all. There was a war on the horizon, a war to end all wars. And she was sent to- she quickly pushed the thought away, even spelling it out seemed to perilous.

What laid before her was uncertainty, quandary and - quite possibly - death. Still, she had been chosen. She would not fail the People. Not now, not ever.

'Gilsaiwa of the Sea,' she prayed turning to the little shrine. 'I have often asked You to watch over my father who I never knew. Now, it seems his daughter must ask Your protection, too. I beg You, let me safely reach destination and destiny. And once I have done my due, guide me safely across the Ocean in the Sky, so that I might be reunited with my mother.'

She received no answer. But then again, when did she ever?

 ~*~

 8: Nerde

Yet, even Gilsaiwa lost his way for there was no light to show the way. So, she created Nerde, Goddess of Light and Navigation to paint stars into the sky, guiding the dead and the living, the gods and the mortals. And thus, she painted. And thus, she lights the way.

 ~*~

 Pray for Light

"Mother," she prayed quietly, "I beseech you for your guidance. I am supposed to be your Light in the Dark and yet it seems I have lost my way, as well."

She looked up at the faceless statue. "Are you not the patron of lost souls? Because I feel quite lost, if I am honest."

The silence was deafening and she exhaled slowly. "I don't know what I expected..."

She got up and dusted off her robes. "I will do what I think is right. I am sorry if that is not your will. But-" She wavered. "But that is not my primary concern anymore."

And then, all went dark.