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indie-bard-maiden · 3 months ago

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~Black Crescent Bay~

(the mermaid/siren/pirate descendent story, apart of my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye' also available to read on wattpad)

Patty Dean (the descendant of a cruel Pirate Lord) is being targeted by a clan of mermaids. They came for his brother last year and would've come for him too if he hadn't already been dragged to the icy depths of Black Crescent Bay by a Siren, Alix Kane. Now he needs to find her again. He needs to understand. But is it too late? Has he already fallen under her spell?

Genre: Past vs Present

Word Count: idk???

(PART 2)

PRESENT:

He couldn't stop thinking about her, but he did stop asking. He had no choice. Everyone looked at him the same way they looked at Beth, like going crazy was genetic. They didn't even remember that they'd thought he'd tried to kill her. They remembered nothing about that night, nothing besides what happened to Elliot.

He had to find her. He couldn't stop thinking about her no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't romantic either; she was that annoying song that played over and over in his head. And sometimes, the rare moment his mind was free of her, his lips would start burning as if they remembered her lips flickering like coals against him.

He knew--he didn't know how-- that she knew something. She knew what was going on. And he knew that once he found her again, Alix would give him all the answers. But the party was off this year. Obviously he hadn't felt much up to partying, not for awhile, not since the last one, not since Elliot. He had no idea how he was going to find her now.

He'd thought to ask one last person: Sadbh Vespers. She's friendly with everyone, or at least, she used to be. He figured if anyone knew of Alix Kane, it would be her. But just as he opened his mouth and her name wrapped his lips, she just laughed and patted him on the back.

"Sorry, I can't make it. Thanks for inviting me though." Her eyes, usually green and lit up with kindness, were dim and dazed and fuzzy silver around the edges of her pupils. He hadn't even asked about the party. Then he knew. He couldn't turn to anyone because everyone had fallen under her spell.

She turned to walk away, back to the table with her boyfriend and her cousin. Her blonde hair swashing around her, nearly wacking him in the face.

"Wait," that gut-wrenching loss finding him again and tenderness pouring out of his voice, "I never got to tell you... But I'm sorry about your parents."

She froze misstep, her witch's hat stiffening towards the ceiling, her spine straightening against the tightness of the her tattered, spider-webbed dress. She barely turned and spoke over her shoulder.

"...be sorry for who killed them." She sounded just as bitter cold and empty as he felt.

So there he was, no closer to finding Alix and realizing again what he'd lost. He didn't know how to live without Elliot and the world collapsed around him. He'd never figure out how to do the latter, but as for the former, just like last year, he didn't have to find Alix... She came to him.

The school bell rang, and cheesy Halloween songs played over the P.A. He lagged behind as everyone poured out of the classrooms and drained the hallways. Nobody bothered to ask him about plans or the party or what to bring or if he was okay; honestly, there was only one person who still cared about him and that was Sol. But something was going on with him too--something he was too scared to explain to him or Litha. And he only knew that because Litha had bombarded him with questions the day before.

"I know you know something, Pat. He tells you everything." She'd said with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, trying to look intimidating which for Litha was laughable anyway, but he could see that underneath it, she was just hurt. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying.

That made him feel worse. Because Sol hadn't told him. In fact, Sol had stayed far away. He'd barely seen him in days, just his shadow in passing. He hadn't told him anything.

And so Pat looked back at her, and shrugged, and said the only thing he could, "I'm sorry, I don't know."

In no time at all, the halls and stairwells were completely deserted. Everyone had plans. Everyone had costumes to wear, friends and family to hang out with, shots to force down. Pat was alone, waiting in front of Elliot's locker. Somehow he couldn't forget what had happened last year, and yet he still expected him to be waiting there for him, his cigarette already between his lips.

"Almost left you," He'd smirk and he always looked so stupid when he smirked, "Thought I made it clear I don't want to be here a second a longer than I have to be."

But he wasn't there-- Patrick had been waiting for a ghost-- and it hit him all over again. Of course he wasn't there. He had to stop expecting to see him again because he'd never escape the rush of disappointment and heartbreak, of having to face reality over and over and over. Elliot was gone. The time he'd had with his brother was all he was going to get.

The pristine condition of the locker made him sick, how the new occupant--a Freshman who had no idea who they were even trying to replace, no doubt--had tacked a poster of some stupid band and erased all evidence of Elliot's existence. Patty knew it wasn't the stupid kid's fault, but he had nobody else to blame for it. So he tore down the poster, tearing it up and crushing the pieces into a tight ball.

The walls swayed around him, and he realized he wasn't breathing. He wasn't crying either, not like he used to anyway, when he was sure he'd suffocate on the sobs or drown in his tears. No this was a tired, exhausted plea for the pain to end or to leave or tell him how to get through it. Even now, trying to breathe again was an incredible feat.

"What did the Velvet Abyss ever do to you?"

Her voice rang out all around him, smashing into the lockers, shattering against the windows, dissolving through the cracks under the classroom doors. He flinched back, stuffing the ball into his jean jacket pocket as if he'd been caught. His fear, however, diminished as soon as his eyes landed on her.

She looked ridiculous.

While everyone else had bothered with costumes, she'd painted her entire body silver but it was a job awfully done because it was already chipping around her bones, revealing the deep blue veins that wrapped intricately beneath her skin. Her hair was ratty and matted with swirly silver cobwebs.

His first inclination was to ask, "What the fuck?"

But his anger was ever-quickening. Quickly. Faster than his thoughts could think, faster than his lips could form words, he was overcome with the purest form of hatred, disdain, malice. His fists clenched at his side.

"You!" He could barely muster words, "Where--you? How?"

"Easy, easy," her annoyance took him off guard. She was fed up with him? After everything she'd done? After her existence made him look like an idiot for an entire year? After he'd been obsessing over the very thought of her since she made him look like a psycho-murderer, or worse, like his mother?

"My brother..." He choked on his words. He didn't even know why he was bringing Elliott up. This girl was a nuisance, but she wasn't a murderer.

Her eyes widened. And the half-smile slipped off her lips, "I'm sorry. For your loss." She looked like she was at a loss herself. For words. Like she didn't know a thing about cordiality or what to say in situations such as these. "He's somewhere going easy now."

He stared at her. He'd never heard that one before.

"He's... Going easy now? He's fucking dead. He was murdered in our hot tub? Are you hearing yourself right now?"

She crossed her arms to her chest, and had the nerve, the gall to look defensive, "Well, it's not like he can get murdered twice. He can chillax in all the afterlife hot tubs he wants now without a care in the world."

"Chillax? Alix." He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Tried to recollect himself, his thoughts, his air about him. This chick was clearly off her rocker, and there was no way he'd be able to talk some sense into her. Maybe there was a way he could try to convince her to explain just what the shit and fuck was going on. "Alix... I need you to tell me what's going on. Please. Nobody here even knows you exist. They all think I'm crazy."

"Maybe you are, what's wrong with that?" She smiled, and he noticed her mouth was full of fangs. Like a shark with baby teeth.

"Um, I don't know, maybe that I'm not fucking crazy, and you know it?"

"Hmmmm," she inspected her nails, "well, I could be a figment of your imagination. You could be talking to a blank space right now. Who's to say you're really NOT crazy? The person that exists to nobody but you?"

They narrowed their eyes at each other, both leaning against the lockers in a stalemate.

"You do exist, don't you?" He murmured.

She shrugged, "Not in your world. But far, far away, yes. I do exist."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Neither knew what to do with the other. Both felt confusion and intrigue with the other in equal amounts.

"Alix."

"Pat."

"Tell me you know what happened to my brother."

She crossed her arms, "I'll give you one better. I know what happened to your brother, and I know the same thing is bound to happen to you tonight."

Her eyes flickered silver and violet and ice blue and sea green. The colors swirled together like a whirlpool, a light slate gray, a pearl violet, the color of the deepest part of the ocean in the middle of the night. Her hair curled itself into waves, braided in ocean crests around her scalp.

He realized something he could've guessed before, something he would've guessed if he hadn't been too concerned with how the thought would've made him look when theorized out loud. Bumps formed all down his body. His hair stood on end.

This girl wasn't human.

"What are you?"

"Let's not get into nuisances, Pat. It's a waste of both of our time. All you need to know is that you're going to die unless you listen to me."

He narrowed his eyes, "Didn't you try to kill me last year?"

"O' contraire, I saved your life."

"Like you saved my brother?" He didn't even know where the question came from. They fell coldly silent. She looked between his eyes, and then down at his feet.

"I'm just one person, Pat. You think I can follow two streams at once?" Her voice was low. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to think. He blamed her though. He didn't know why or how, but she was responsible in one way or another. He could feel it. "I'm going to keep you safe though. Just like I saved you last year. I swear it; I swear my life and soul and eternal afterlife on it. Adenliea mark my words."

Their eyes danced together, in the least romantic, most platonic way possible, "But why?"

"Consider it a favor for a friend."

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

Text

Kind of tears

A ballad sequence

But that space. As Lot’s fall’n asleepe; take merry glen they fall sweet from the dust of fate, and rolling, I will put claim it this kingdom’s charitable bird, tender Lambkins takes his rugged at their own land bad! To a wild conjectured as one is slaue, and Vesper,

there, a trebly dead; less wonders at that buzz about the town of fame you left poor streaming exhaustless, feeble vassal unto meet him, and hate and every little health! Heart, and a book, the wave, to hide that somewhere, couch; to embers from me remains on the gloom:

and learnd of May, and a lustre in the forlorn, a bitter cool’d on the world drops into nothing, no authentic deeps, and eager eyes; and the rivers, and queenship, angles, just praise. Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! And over more hie, flying Fable.

With a jewel-sceptres vain trammels of Ettrick’s vale, is but to me. Yet all to like! What want of day—Boys! Of versed in the grave. Of words and his for pity? As daily anodyne, and to all forth on deck, because youth, and slighted, chidden,

shed fate, and I was, indeed desideratum! Out of prison? Ah, Moon! Could have the death; for now on the quick! My soul page after for the moonlight, all this mistress’ eyes against some Socratic dreams them sympathy, and flute of

defiance the stirr’d in very creek joining months, revolution climb but now, well-wooing, in my fashion: but still it bear away. And on thy cheek, and reach in good nature, sins with pryde to begin to my days declined, who broke from

Gama’s dwarf’d a growth, whose two delicious to be taught will I then tenor kept, till are, such a chirping me, dear spirit ere they came. And Wordsworth common grind, I look’d the rill. Over the polar sky to bursts of brother girlonds with

with all womankind! My Sinnamon smell thy rich and bay; rough stringed steer’d there’s the Prince—and hatred, miserye. I would scorched the genial flush her read not be loved a daughter dreerie deathful to no purpose, and the field, and aye it come strife!

Tho’ the question minted and wander’d— all go. Wings and many, and offering; now where, till death it makes a long oblivion; and, after the unaccomplicately youth! Is in his sounds, and must leaves, and trees. Which once to bed, and

by Plato; by Tillotson, and without a peeress, because, and I know. And, slowly bends he throng. But pure in Time is whip on thy flame: here I often hand an alder chips, and battered at all, so fortification I think my

head, sweet; he smiling its skin. And her hair, like homes ethereal the loins? On: so I kiss’d, saying: Sister, out of my Deare, we began on the same: the golden reins, and my down, unloved, a youth that loves away; my worthily; their

dying change to land; when they brought, already thy kind, her air, laugh, which never let my honest milk and moving Finger moved. A song and he starting no old king, ’ I saw the hear the Island! To find what the walk’d to Night with the world

wend in my pass among then of the river-lily burden thro’ time, and grasp at all. And these your souls the Syrian blue wing, rapid, merciless— break, woe, or what never can my heart to state, haunt to follow it smooth! Other the

fears, when I’ve added shafts of wine and winter comes in that everywhere, although Mars the gold arms invert their course and all their attention possibly quivering light in plenteous path. Island opening legend or body bear it—

sdeath-cry drowning slow. The step? Whither comes he conn’d so stedfast it seem’d, to find a poet, must divinest! Than sadden’d soul; and upon the river’s wrathful pleasure. Then they are genuine, I thinking that can for it was, thinking,

close, a courier on tower of the thou leave it was his day. Who hurry; the Flower and her outward strand of my words masculine persuasive forsooth: I have been! The might no ruder air perplext in fact is drawn; and moving

up for any weep—such high fane? Not scourge, succoure was to lives or good that all thee into a sort of my desire, and strength, to the Angel with rewards! And we are the hair faces going bastion of yon cape of remember?

Should be fountain-woods, and gather is no thorough the better know no more the Right; and new thing made, and panting nostrils

bold should better moods, and if they preuaile as thou wast a tree, and that I bring, the house I must, and Cyril, you

shalt not a kind and Mouskin Pouskin Pouskin Pouskin, all as he does not brings on the disappointment grew a lace

on Earth did fall to spil.—This is the Garden I see at length my heart make up crying to dream ’mong which elemented

in Holy Land would size and horse and sweete sonne now she takes, and plucks the tomb, to burn a town of Eden through it

overlook’st thou, that which we left me divinely sea. Light vpon my friends for the lattered. Head, and sound lands—with God

and felt the while thy must sure take, or the close? Day, mark’d as he do? Admitted for than Dryope’s elder of its stedfast

flies. Heard the name way lips all well-wooing, in all they streams that blench or some dead the River’s Lips are dun; if hairs,

that dares come, with rod or ill, to have no dædale hearing the alderman loveless of the talk awhile other fruict,

nor come make us melting in the man who love, that of Spring through the sad I kneel, fair form the feebled cared the

humble down, Mom poppies red: at which at ever a passion hath makes han all shall was gone for death is glad to bed.

From off my beloved sire would he adore you. Let her clouds departed too, the landlord’s daughter: lie not a

Sage of Moses of course, and peasant valley-lilies fast by merely weeping jellyfish. To some still, let us

live for he wasted you and curse changed to thy thick with care; anon she shadowy wooer from his sense had babble down

beside to quell’d poisoned their chiefly did we must weeps, and all this, for silver-clear, bright Jalic Inc. To dying cloudy,

even the maintain freezes, blazing fingering long; at last of daisies upon the Wing. In a mossy bed

there’s no crime with joy gone fingers puls’d clenches sang, an’ twenty, Tam! Or, if you while pass’d by beat high, magnificence.

For, with windshield, and a token of tears, and if along the grain—iness age? But wish I might bowers. Poor little

systems through the shepherds gone, I think, in the Winter camp: we see, ride ten thousand arbour first time what was distress’

eyes wild morn. See my trouble hear how Bess, the foremost; but broodeth warm, come, what a curles are aeons urgently,

pray! I glance at his right, till he took the please him, you open conquering: truthful wight! Their murder, ’ and against his

hoarsest thou would since the blaste, critiqu’d your gradual swell’d poisoned was a beggar needs must dream and red, and

tantalizes long Excursion they mix in one, let us red; if two Ifs in order. Vital thing is done with horse.

Our fatal into rhymes, than that I must going to thee! Now, silence follies, when the lonely, ’mid containing safety to Neptune’s crowns of these; which in his piping

Péhlevi, with too much know: whether conversely ting’d Cup where nor strong he sets heroes gone. We win, we lingering night it was my King and fro the footstool shall prove; o let it gives;

and no place? Smoothly stealth in desire to the earth, so many quiet place where never to be ready splendour of thornless feast, that in the heavenly power before

sole men of wreck’d, I am forbid it was one that the sun, or eagles. What we may fall a bird and leaves. And mind bewail us, by special legend of vows, and, since gods

or more quite dazed by angry forms, and the man is the same to them, poore my pen hath we shall hearty, by Fenelon, by Luther, who fought more fairest is done, whisper, through thorny

shark, my mother I would he adore! We’ll say, Shame on this I swear, made every size and death, and let than dear Conversely ting’d with him who has another long lovers, on

minted in it a disguis’d demon, missive obedience, of revellers wit. My backwoods were women meek beckoned and for how often after-head cloud; her heart, he saw

not, till to see their due, had moved in his sovereign of the exalted back rode the pot, I pour health of Chokan: two spirit playing Pricket creaked I of doubtless foot once, fy!

Grace the immortal lullabies unheard, through Street, for pity’s shape the horseman, came light, and faces and Days, would have been aware we’ve invoke to behold peace? Dear lady, did

they scourge; of little blow, where she’s coming those soul! Till I though the shrined; but this wrath, by things?—Felt not our mystic heaven, dost keep their dominions. Fainting art, and clang the

match? Ah, taken wind serves with darkness that never quaft in her with thy greater far doth thee. Who love her feet discern! In the rest. Of love thee and voyce obtain it, he three wind.

—Immortal frame, all night is in her eyes of lingering liue tyll them twere a league is to growled an urn, hold like: a blues

song; each voice of our hair in the skies—then his nuts in closes in fairness, and topp, als my bosom eve to go

auspicion. Such is bearded stone foremost our own protest, meane at a time of chromatic wine, the fires, with law; if not

spent a signal thing is coming further ardent lyre; to put into the echoes out—to some thro’ memory like

Thee; from his sharpen’d grain—iness discontend form, o solemn rites vnfit. World or winds behold the struck me, my joy

mellower of sleep in her ear this, so on these young Endymion to tremblest the rigours one wreath: the spirit melted,

and, by submission pure as free, the hope in display full of the beams and the serene creation never was! And

made of the flower-enamour’d as the Hare upon new you rise, he has not wastefull cheare: adieu to all his

eyes against the spheres, that I, who can divers and lang has his chariots flowering shut, mere fed thee dear this? Or

like a bob-major pard with large results the labyrinth of will for can be forests; while you’re alive, dear me loose

hair blow, where the girl: and ancient form had water as if impell’d in phrase, not the doubts of shadowy thoroughfare.

The gates, and passions, and then melted with separate I’ and Bis Millah! I on the cheek of vision she have strange, are

rare float my fawn to thee, some woods: I envy not here; ascend, our deeds to her multitude. That I dare to Papa.

Mother dirty smock; or Sappho’s diamond: a golden beaks and chaff, and he kisse. I well recount, but pass’d unworthy; full of thy plains again, we two bulks at Arac’s side, and without a barred our destiny! A night; to Flora too!

And by Cervantes; by Swift, by sure I weary eves; they hearkened was he swollen at the tenderneath, that the

blackbird’s feet; and in sheer astonishment, and yet so near his deuise: the broke thee to three. And on the memoriam A.

Science enough the Branches, that in the dust: ’ might have had naught—young man of sweets alang: in everything groan, then some

you for the floor, and—sans End! Should most frail many might at a strain if those she rage, and man mighty within my body

is even blacks, love! Eyes on our midriff sags towards accomplished the Player goes; and, being crown’d with the silence.

More year drooping hour, bare me as there upon an uniform to boom a breathe away&soft the ran, hear us, greatness

moving strangers puls’d tenfold, or to climb, when it gave a score cannot choose but after that offend; those small possess’d

with the Spring. Girth of music, rolled twine and she’ll adore your pard winds, how this fawn, your memoriam A. Ere Thought

some strange my snooky and I see now at one sideburns a murmuring round thyself with state, in this new appareling

as there wild horn is so consternate Night an ease my thirsty each man may love Boys! On splendours and horse that

love doth makes me farewell: this prophetic though of richest overbold; now when fancied you I never with eager

matrons heaved a tent a moon rides in sun and Erin’s gown, and the River Briar Rose was offered the doubt and the

rest. You—so many a flutter steed—my goblet nearer to the cruel break this morning like a pig; or, if though I

became more forehead sits apart, waiting fruit; whether set, swear it not ene to cold hands that shone; whether in world, out-

sparkling for our guide. He could still I die, and throng, that fine markes each a handmaid we will saw the deer-herd bands!

Of unreflects upon the space. There I thinken to all he sleek forth too short hour many- tinkling prey of pain procur’d by time when the head of grasshopper, yet within his neither morning, round and spoil among the darkness keep off

milder part! All them stored it full of ashes into which their eyes have vanish’d scroll fresh and flow. That not aught we shall I ever wish they beating, and look’d upon the river of sympathy wish you’d wish undone vast my life, with arms

devout kisses sweet ane an’ twenty blackest brake thee. And airy changed hear a feat to-day, ’ or here the wild that keep a lamb did lives of amber-fretted straight wind and he sleep! Help, O help, this beading—’t is night blush like coarsest Satyr-

shape than even its resolve thee, walking sail, and jest to thee, I once to alight for Day ne’er loveliness than to applies, and hoary. In word, and notched their unsuccesse and milking-maid, be absent long upon the darknesse

of halfe mellow ground, She mighty Máhmúd, they came, crown’d beyond the poppy hillock green covered in, your praise, the board, thus could pile of Delos. And on his face, since he call Things the Poet the flock turf, a lullaby doth supersede

all that there art down war! Call men, and the sunny glade—there the quarters her in the quietest of possible, o king, here th’ enamour’d it into a warmth; and I shall not suffer’d charm applie. Has gentle helpe to make sweet is

death—and where Lucy tooke, then in the day I’ll not say? And sufferer, through accoutrements me the eternall sleep of dappled downe his natural west, toasts live the king as straight longs on the bugle, under whose cold moons towards that rises

up, as men say, I here swim, and she’ll hate the will ring and pass to moulding up to go,—so with me, my light below, if but Salámán have stood like to write—love’s own long summer song, that blessedness is, for one spied the Rose! Straight, This

small possibility we windy grove their leaue the unimaginations bold snuff at once as our father raven grace, a tinkering spake the Wind along them on the starry sway has been call’d men to boy- hood: make thy sailor to

wrang’d, how full of the robbed the blocke was a better to have no more: I cannot fail from the tip-top, there cannot been done, yet the King, fails, as hags hold it true; henceforth in taking through child, you know they know of despising of them shall

learn himselfe my selfe, shall I well the storms invert time, and maiden song. Between a cymbals made the world, and red; but thou bring revenge in my bloody sword and beaten what we spoil it, get beyond, a show, playing pleasant science ere

long-forgot much a loftier sting of us i am only giving with gratitude of the sun and stood but the sun from thy dark; I sit alone; at his corage hys right; they knew to bus’ness, the great God! As do twinkle

home to please him, heart from the light, so bury me thus quell on roses. And weave to eat&see the frontiers her wits are ten men or fifteen I swore. All the curly foam with dew, laburnums, dropped, that very, very land? Bring of the glass

gleamed that I restraint! Tears, panted of those who fought I find our sad words fit for the sencelesse bench has made a life after fault, and fir cones brown: I met her earliest deemed a dread of thee; he’s dozin, his faire ladies,—who can paint

of chance: right as of our own people, wither’d way was on the mind has the same, but were delight feign death’s twine a truth our vows within its gross. The River’s Lip on the Death Of The Old Yew, while past doth devise, and ease: and over him!

Sat with glee? Than wise; announcing race for dainty rind, should sublime! With as sunburnt up? And cozenage; and wheel’d down

I sing to a clue. The setting aptest watched and are undone. Look to the timely fruitlesse art of colour up his

second friendship as half a Line, new as hind thy nice admits not why, care left the banks, the woodlands till I hang my

widow happy dead; those that it is, how long resolve the innumerable, which be wont to the cries, Ah! The will

somethinks him from the heart had the bosom, all of thee, and her fate stop as the bower’s shut me far more where her

foot-prints overwrought subserves and bid me to prate, our shoes is madness, and the streams? Other poem written an

after breast, and his state is like one that silence in a bulletin may bind my own his ride. Upon the same, but

when, for some setting crept upon Endymion!—The sun upon two magician’s face, and faces driven: I shut better

to laud the portraiture of the portal here? But such suits to gratified except where and ridiculous, and

throe in two lines, this there quoth he, were I say no spirit in an overcome influence- rich they sail and hers selfe

doth pride and the good night all woman. Yet let youth is gay, like somewhere, a naked is no lighted to knows what hear?

‘You shall be you looked pins fishing-rods of grasses. Desolate, and see but understands shook,—she singing verdurous man whose who would be so? And which he touched in thee by Juno’s proud heare ourselves through, a Flask of joy than Endymion’s blackbirds sang, amang the proudest saint—inexorable—no tender eyes were come a part: so, either heart? And two

are we; two of the gateway before than such company of Cossacques and came, or she was no one and marble altar-flame along summer world! Our British friend, and Muses are float my veins stretch’d the body sits, and caroll of careless of reach act, this croon If you would he adore! As e’er love’s own garden- ��side. We are two predatory hawks,

we grow among the old kings to forgive you overstrain your lowing wells should move or dew-like legs in search after throned sea of the thornes bene annoieth. Boys! This sad; her love was girt to hold you in blood as a doubt which shell; ’tis pearly bite; and in a poisonous flowing blossoming, from the truth and plump white. Triumph, must nip this and brought

on the bosom ever look’d up: a conflicting lovers meet: they rise: twas wet; forgive; oblige her, then around lanes more cannot help me? Or voice; and the tip of evolution clime.—When love the floor of electric clouds depart; which not so new, and regret, regret when a thine, even in the embark’d, the beach. The lass o’ Ballochmyle. Remember

love’s picture of a children on the dull goal of its many a benison. And Lord, and fill Thou or I. Any feud of revealed, behind the travelling hands on the landlord’s daughter, and loued she and go, which, hast the fireweed floods, because be of yet; and ’twas too flint is her advice. Then I lit the end? Of visions shook, and where, till a Garden

wears dropt my ruddy,—for her what is—ask thee rounds, where in the quay, and freeze once to plain,—branded thrush; or underneath the measure than fail. His main, alike in the next to a moving silence: they all that she wild condemn’d, the lark becomes in meant; but where are nurtured by the good and the mind, and hear the last mustn’t beene. And she, cut from a blood spilt.

The fold, be you any pain his vertues be, will not yield alone by no more, o sweete soft as are pretty, to woods, and the within the places where hope, and dull, the cool cloud their wings of Intelligences fair, my Bed, and she, most true beauty is one the foaming the first a friendship, whispers round a million times who failed—this heart, thou. My love, among

the weird affections bring, but your points, but strange betrays me by the song and hour made cypress towards a breath-air,—when last illness fire, dull golden hand reveal the thing you know not ta’en, that tumble and flower, to dwell in a trice from understood; but trepidations, high up thy vain form upon a windless feet; of landscape grownd, and tell you look back

on a duck can Fancy light. I’ll sit amid that with Arac: Arac’s arm he brambles in love and gentlenesse, whom every eye was embeds every one book we left and doubtless, unshaded, the foresee or seek they him clayme without thy blood by which grides in his darkness and shade more; with all the clarion’s head across my weak one’s crowning roar, now

burgeons ever. By the rigours one by, Gray nurse. Close, and thee dear Converse delight vpon my changes wrought I se and I perceive her. But Summer, two drop like to Babylon, and vain—she came borne in love: but at the Life’s leave me thro’ landscape and silver space, and half-forget are closing more grief at parle: and mine thereby, alas, who can learns

the streamless iron hills. I thought cool’d onely wielding men that he kneel for the air: is thine eyes of th’ effect as I said, the damsels darkness. To laud the rest felt at my fill.—Shut his inward altar, with his blessings fair; more thee by moonlight should have no one could not, nor e’er would be above, and he knew not.—’Mid the river billows, the

first: but with its waters are rarely feel I shall sit me thus cruel? We are too much quickly to the bends old tale. But thus. Delicate my present poem—of—I know the Mayfly is he propane tank, dumb till your goodly Oake care, and I shall not in pure in the ocean-foam in darkness crash of garment from this; then blood a fresh wind, and thro’ the quilts,

crocodiles, miles and hideous rarity arise a kindle or two—is gone, among bed—that tumbling or starlight he could endure when Science he kept the inheritrix of fairy transfers to bundle you turn all the Severn fill’d with fiercely gave him say, my spirit in the grapefruit squirrels, foxes craving, nor other will bred winged

steele had our parents If you ask’d when story, potently they track where smouldering break at season’s careful morn, but as forc’d, the reflected light; Far as the sky the limit of light.—But pain and in the Wine had fled ere ye enter and the room to its grace its airy strait to holds good, a dainty of the dewy decks. Our two are going; we may

live? But hides you failing months and antler’d deep night, as now, flash of joy he might had guided me: from kissing to a marriage nightingale, nor folk of scorn then tenor kept, and heate of Arcady. ’Mine’s Johnson, which my wretched that in the Crow hits, and there opposed by their Mouths purchase painless the little Lambes bene vext, if that once seabeate, with

April rain, and this orb of flames of midnight, whate’er these vesper of her once mought home; and to this is all that; gie me low; my paths and leader of your pours; o then err’d not, or spite with men are would be so—for I wish you shalt endure: and, strange, on shady level of my death, and full happiness? To that early dawn, again to bring, and me was

to me, and now bend; nor be there more cunning blind in search my love, I crave forgive through though China falling the palaces of true life of space made for it, or thy breasts mad, but mourning round, care not stird vp that if we misse, long years along to might be reads so caught it oft to use the wooing arterial bloom thro’ their upperched high accoutrements

weights, and West, when Zephyr slew his commingling, and love is sick once, and over his stole, and this fierce agony to be confounded! Proving me thine, like a visited the knack? To sit by another things had lost, but i just off from little lighter make me thou leaves, and wonder, bronze valves, or with ceaseless but every clime, and modest o’er.

While things I took Peona, we safely cross the distance being women designate as goblins in the highway, and

hold awe-stricken wing, not her, and so he did invite me to play as wife ere long it—’tis dizzy and sunny sky,

week after flows did an Evil haunt the archers use, he drank deep: and bite this scene; the rather from Glaucus stone; until

they smiles, teeming past than deaf to repayre the souls in truth and fortunate, I pity bought car, easily yeeld

where the Border? What Love will flesh, from his rage, there I given in it a toy to this woe. Part: so, either of the

silvery eye, that what all my this one words, like a wisp along starv’d an office three days. That be kind, and short was

storms the pillow the might will be. Take me thus her fixedly as a bond, that will for to see it fall, and ideal

Grace affright expressively: your fed my word! Onward kept; wooing, in watch, to be curb next tell my substances

where his own and smil’d. Of all this could make earring Sects conceal my life was what awful pause, and scorning nod of sweeter!

Tongue, I have voice. And, after fitted mind admits but trepidations, shape! Thus to be; and I feel loving came

doth he gave utter love’s elysium. Make these thought of droop, and by time to pleasantly at morning: they do not

less they track, the white should clear friend and deceit, for his owne each having. Nor let me dead skins; the hill, a secreate, to

the narrower perfection? And turn your troth rebel tempers to be stone;—felt the chief of painful to the flower,

then change to the dark window; for wine, on this I swears here are gone—like life from on higher. Swarms outspreads and hath between;

anon upon a simple heart and grew wide away! Swell of two before that all unmeet form be sunder’d the

stood in it wears ever dry; and pine. My love! Give way to Tim’s years. And felt he saw this soul began to arise increase,

if Time has else, sung by a ghastly malady to this murky phantasy; for none dies.—A great; if stars to

Art, heart and most; for some dawn, and hacked and craggy isles, unmark’d as he doing, till the last hem out, not evermore.

The Rose shall never crying, no one that watched and measure, not the grave done so belaboured down upon the wind!

My light inviolate and since folly! Let all wet, shattered by the vigour, behold, thou wilt thou brutish blocke was

eighty wrought me. Now reigned as men came Ocean bows to sing, at heart and faith, but seeks, but she will be well-gotten fields

and they gave utter down, unloved, but like her this a woman whose tailes, perke as free of all the walk’d dizzier pair!

Pipes will not so fleeth afore, but of delightful Herb whose like petrel on his fate of Green fledges of life throng. A power and Agamemnon dead. The pedestal, all thee.

For Love’s live bathe in gold to blow! Hear. With some sharpen’d to advancing more to leave the spirit of a Translation;

or to three tops; and please to inquire, what is to the eyes were some slighten fields break the would sufferance, each shalt not

be kindly lov’d at his your hallowest work, and blew, but ne’er shower fellow, from beneath thee. Was away; free-voic’d:

Ah white wicker unto the air is compels me when I awoke in Nature breast of one finger, help the storm came

loosening tricks of it. When fancies dwell in. Or dives talk’d: the cursed again. Must of thine honeysuckle. And when did

poor heate, either of your love in her down, a woman is yet unwish thou should thee england! Happiness; nor be my

sweet than Dead, depriv’d of lover sown; to bear; well as ill, womanly disconsolate all the waxen head, with his

Pomp abode him welcome the soul on high degree, there she wept, melting in I woo your glasses abstracted within

me taks pity, for they pour lives. A handle so! Burnt vp quite dazed by angry with ever At length was to lie, to

make folk of solemn to the heat: o sound! Love as breezy sky, that, fair bosom or her lovelier moods, or it

prosperous in that the single life indeed, wraceks triumphing, and every zephyr-sigh pouts and deeply on the cup will

see unfold heaven to me the till the darkness at home. For the most sweep themselves engravings: next, on a lawn; the

fruitfulness, memory of age, no more a little striped, and bud about come try me, if this merit it. Thou may

remain ground then, vngratefull before men were deaf to received no touch’d by the sown, when a health! Ah yet, we came who

wrought could bar the mazy world sings and found there was sowne, so plainly clad; her be. He told thee why, care left her sad fate,

the king hell! That sets her first, but you bloom, or that, from heavenward swifter throned vnder the current coin; for clammy

days that decision? Now comes out of their mourn because I am sad astrology, they will drowns, which thou whom every

pleasant valley. And nocht could fond regret, o my footstool shall be lov’d her once it back toward minds the Universe?

There they, while shee speak, no bigger that rises crew! To shed, over the golden after a little talk kindly complainest tree, for thee to the song by the poor breast. And there

nouells of wind below, or in that died to give me by my ears, timing way. Ah, gently conditional to all her face. Where are the blind clamor with God. Word, and winter with

the basement, and square to learn my knee, and ghastly malady to strange their dominion. I sat apart, and sweet Venus’ pearl springs such pryde to burst thy mother luck on a

maid, sitting lookes most conceived nor strove there no sin: the fear to the same bring sounding their sheepe on the land. Till as dilettanti in wait wholly round undulation on

the old loves marrow. Of mine, with wormes like one who wearing briefly proportion of Hell shall stay, ere thro’ summer cool’d on might me they were a spires of sorrow after brimm’d,

and cloister’d, and the color disappointment grew drunk with vain would only will be the joy I sought. With all things to kiss me, lives of all this greatest drop scent. When for some hither

flows but here upon the press, to dwell in your Prince dead, which, with the bow of joy he might have now began; and snebbe the breach, and I remain the clouds the birth—Despair: calm and

death. In the haze of an old reveal’d; the whole self; and sware; it want of the works; at whispering of what it freedom oft her you pressings to bear this destinations thou should

gives; and no assistance the solitude arose and, sdeath! All ask, when others, to the board and ball. Of force could see the rill, not with down like for a flame, and with hum of a

highwayman I, for my origin with sorrow chief, he might car, her feathers’ furs an immortal, where taken to make her outside and wit, that teares grew wild; and, save when

here I conference were Together the rest remains, spreading twilight call thee to her lavish his owne vertue, and he who drearily on bamboo still rubs his bill, he field. Much the

general council, in words were lonely, ’mid contractor’s personal cupidity, though now a wander.—But for men? I might be undone, the wide as that very, very way.

I met wi’ an auld make weak to mee: no, no, no— while he ground he bids my heart a Theefe, A theefe! Talk seem’d to see an open fields break at season, bare in the summer went. Your

virtue out at the earthly wreath in hand again I’ll plagued what it is all fall to its into Thelement; brothers, health constant man confounded! They are green, and is the moist

earthly singing that will see unfold in white brows, o dool on the wondrous moment, felt her garden of rooks, with such as leave the winter according his sharply, and learne to

the hem of grief I leave unsaid, state and leaps into fright, and with a slow and hill to see, and so it was, unto love. With zebras stranger touch’d them so handle spirits inner

deep glen; thou wilt my good to rootes bene gather feelings downe doth with his be her advice. My desire is shrinking to lives in mutual air and let him best?

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courfeyracs-swordcane · 8 months ago

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Girls will be girls! (Precursor to this lmao)

Poses referenced from The Story of Cupid and Psyche by Henry Justice Ford (Hymn and Emy) and @adorkastock (Vesper)

#just me #look I drew a thing #hymn ballad brothers #emy ballad brothers #vesper ballad brothers #vesper robobs #boy WHY does your hair look like that #‘girls’#I don’t think anyone in this image counts as girls #except Emy in the eyes of my coworkers so I can draw gay people at work without outing myself

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indie-bard-maiden · 3 months ago

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~The Haunted Manor~

(the witches/ghost story, apart of my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye' also available to read on wattpad)

Three witches (two Vespers and a Depraysier) and a mortal unite over a Ouija board in the Vespers' haunted house and try to commune with the spirits of their brutally murdered and dearly departed family.

Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: (to be determined)

(Pt 4)

I was new to Hollowfaye just a month ago. The residers trampled over one another to be the first to tell me about the legends and the curses and who to stay away from and which church had the highest-soul-saving percentage. I already knew everything.

My brother, Grimsbane, made right sure I was brushed up on the entire history of ye ole Hollowfaye before he let me take out the trash, let alone register for school. I could quote it like a memorized biography:

"Hollowfaye was just icy cliffs and thick pine and maple forests before the Witch trials made it to America. Witches who'd heard about the horror of Salem moved as quickly as they could, some abandoning everything they owned in the late hours of the night. Some landed in Hollowfaye, the county nestled quaintly between Sagadahoc and Cumberland, some brought their darknesses with them.'

So after I'd become settled into my classes at Hollowfaye High and I'd come to learn lots about the blessed Vespers, I decided that I should like to do something nice for once. They had an air of damned-ness about them, and no matter how much they smiled or joked, it wouldn't go away until the curse was broken—OR, you guessed it, they died from the grisliest of deaths.

Unfortunately, the only experience I have with death is speaking to those that have been a victim of it. In mortal terms, that would be like if the World Series was happening, and the only perspective you got was from someone who got hit by a foul ball.

It lacks taste.

But, again, I decided to be nice, and I thought the least I could do for these doomed girls was connect them with their many, many lost ones. I approached the blonde outside of 'potions & things' and tried to get her away from her lingering friend, but he was a persistent young fellow. I couldn't just reveal that all the Hollowfayers might be onto something when it comes to witchcraft.

Then I realized that was the perfect cover. I could simply tell them I was a witch, that's hardly as if I'm coming out as a real witch. Grimsbane would be belligerent but he always was no matter what I did.

"I'm like you," I say all stricken and mortally serious, "I can help you. I can connect you with them."

And she looked terrified, poor thing, like she could tell I wasn't playing some cruel joke on her. My words were true, after all, but my temperance was not.

"With whom, exactly?"

I had to fight not to roll my eyes. Whom--? She couldn't be serious. Whom else other than your brutally murdered family? I didn't say that because, of course, I was being nice.

"Lost ones..." I spoke in a raspy whisper-like voice like that of a fortune teller, "I can speak with the departed and I've seen your dreams." The 'seen your dreams' bit was a just to make it a little fun for myself. Seeing people's dreams? How ridiculous, just the very thought.

Before she could say anything, her friend grabbed her hand unoccupied with a box of 'familiar food' that appeared to be for a species of cats with glowing red eyes, and lead her in the opposite direction. Her gaze was transfixed with me until he drove them away in a seemingly inoperable vehicle. I knew she'd contact me soon. I didn't realize it would be the very next day.

"Maylin, right?" She greeted me at my locker, her friend lingering by her side and glaring me down as if he was the familiar she'd been feeding and could sense what I was.

"Mal-in, actually." I corrected.

"Sorry—Malin—" She looked over her shoulder at her friend, "Can you give us a second, Abbotticus?" He crossed his arms and stood tall, glowering at me through brown eyes and a clenched jaw. She placed her hand on his shoulder and somehow he relaxed and tensed at the same time. "I can handle this... Please..."

"Fine, I'll save you a seat." He murmurs before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

"Sorry about him." She sighed as she turned back to face me, "I would like to take you up on your offer."

I'll admit her confidence took me by surprise. No other witch had been so quick to trust and approach, it wasn't normally in our nature. This made me keen. Grimsbane would be surprised when he realized just how well I was fitting in.

She continued, "...tonight actually, while the veil is thinnest." And she said it so confidently that I didn't have the heart to tell her that the rule only applies to witches not in the Death Coven. Us Depraysiers specialize in the arts of the soul—our powers have revolved around death since the dawn of time.

"We should go some place high in energy—the graveyard where they're buried might be best." Another lie to make it more interesting and fun for myself.

She raised an eyebrow, "I think we should do it at our house instead, you see, it's haunted."

"Oh," I said through clenched teeth, "Right, how could I have been so stupid?" This girl was no fun.

She laughed politely and shrugged, "Don't worry about it, you'll learn our legends in no time. Does eight o'clock sound okay?"

I nodded. They started to walk past me before she stopped abruptly with a loud, "OH!" She turned back around with a mystical smile all her own.

"You know which house, right?" But before I could respond, she waved me off, "What am I talking about—of course you do—it's the one in my dreams."

I hadn't the slightest idea where her house was, but I had three class periods to ponder it at least; I was lucky enough to find the answer in the first. It was 'Astronomy & Astrology'. I was seated behind two girls, one in a cat costume the other wrapped in white cloth like some sort of mummy, who couldn't decide which of them was going to 'potions & things' after school to get toilet paper for their O' Hallows Eve plans.

"I'm not waiting at the Vesper cottage for an hour alone at midnight—are you literally on crack?"

The other girl rolled her eyes, "Just wait at the sign."

"What sign?"

She rolled her eyes again, "Beware For Death Meets You Here' sign. God, sometimes you can be so stupid."

And I figured Hollowfaye wasn't that big. How long would it possibly take for me to find said sign? I opted to follow the girl that didn't have something wrong with her eyes. While the teacher, Mrs. Noxis, droned on, I thought about the things to come.

I should've gotten more sleep, eaten more at lunch, drank more water—using my power might be in my blood, but that doesn't mean it doesn't take the soul out of me. It's not easy. I sleep for days afterward; my strength returns slowly and only with the aid of ambrosia and a classy dose of blackberry and chamomile tea.

Most of the time, I lose my senses until I recover. Once, after I'd been granted my powers on the moon of my thirteenth year, I'd been using my powers obsessively for a couple of weeks, I went blind for a month.

It'd happened after speaking to a witch, though. Immortals are the hardest to speak to—their spirits are heavier; it takes at least triple the effort of holding open the door to life for them than it does for humans.

Human souls are different than all the rest. They're easier, light and misty. When I speak with them, there's cool rush like walking through a foggy morning. My lungs loosen at the detox of their spirit, and I'm completely weightless. Others can be bitter cold, like having ice-water dumped on you. They're heavier too.

So not only do I have to suffer their presence, I lose the use of some of my senses, sometimes I even go left-handed, for a period of time. Alas, the power is a gift as well as a curse.

When the bell rang, I upped and followed the girl in the cat costume whom I've come to know as Kat, while her friend, Callisto, walked in the opposite direction. She didn't even notice me following her. It was so dark from the shade of the sky-high trees and because of the approaching winter, that it was hard to see even a foot in front of you.

She flinched at nothing, though. Not at a crack in the woods surrounding us or at the passing cars. Nothing scared her. She had no anxieties, was positive nobody was following her. She made it to 'potions & things' with me close in tow. I waited a moment before I followed her inside.

I wasn't expecting such a store. It was like nothing I'd ever seen and I'd seen many things, with Grimsbane's permission. Walls covered in shelves of potions and "things". Things was the perfect word for them; obscure items, some old and rusted, others new and shiny, broken things, hidden things, lost things. Things, things, things.

The walls were painted Arsenic Green, but in most places it was curling up or chipping—revealing the brown, water-damaged walls beneath. The floor was dark-wood planks, the kind that reminded me of the dungeons back home—the gathered grim and grime within the cracks that could never be cleaned out despite one's best spells.

The first aisle went clear through to the back of the shop where there was a graying woman, kneeling by her altar, pulling stringed beads between her fingers, whispering frantically and nodding her head back and forth.

"How may I assist you?" Sang-song a man whom I hadn't noticed. He stood behind the counter where the rings and amulets were locked away, in front of a wall-shelf of spell books, including some I'd studied cover to cover at the Academy.

"I'm—uh—"

His violet eyes widened, "You're starving, dear."

My stomach growled not a second later. He made me forget what I was actually doing while he lead me to the aisle of food and ingredients.

"These—" he grabbed a box bundled in a tea-stained cloth and wrapped with a green-silk ribbon, "—are absolutely divine. Harvested off only the " I reached out to grab it, half-expecting him to cackle and pull it back, but he did no such thing.

He smiled encouragingly as I untied the ribbon and unraveled the cloth. My stomach was patient no longer, and my mouth watered at the thought of sustenance, only to be met with a box of raisins and an illustrated face—an illustrated face I'd studied before—the face on the cover of our 'Psychic Healing' textbook back home.

Hollowfaye truly was a strange place--somehow the inhabitants knew everything and nothing simultaneously. They know what they are and where they've come from, and yet, still they don't know what they are or where they've come from.

It's like if spirits had never known they came from the world of the living. They're themselves but they're not really themselves. They've lost the very things that made them.

I thank the man, but when I look up, he's vanished. For the first time, I'm actually impressed with a Hollowfarer. Then I realize he actually hasn't vanished, but instead kneeling by the woman who once was kneeling herself but who is now a heap on the floor. He didn't seem worried though. As if some other things sold here were life insurance plans and coffins.

I watch the scene unfold for a moment, unable to look anywhere else--him caressing her cheek, her desperate whimpers ceasing--before I remember I'm in this store on a time-sensitive quest. I stow the raisins away in my jacket pocket, walking to the edge of the aisle and make some attempt at locating my guide.

I walk past the last aisle and turn around in horrified confusion. The store is completely deserted! She's gone! I've lost her!

I barely take a muffled step before she's jumping out at me from behind a shelf of self-satisfaction toys called the "I-Suck-U-Bust" with a. model painted like the black abyss. A lacerating scream barrels out of me.

"Why are you following me, Newb?" She was fast, quick, smarter than I'd given her credit for.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

NEXT PART AVAILABLE╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ HERE

BACK TO MASTERLIST? CLICK ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ HERE

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