#worst case you end up with Faery Troubles and you DO NOT want that smoke

[punkahudsonia]

Just to piggyback on this important post: don't believe certain YouTube 'experts' who say your knight will try to breed with high-born Ladies if you have them in the same enclosure. If your knight is exhibiting that kind of behavior you've been misled and what you actually have is a rough knave or possibly a varlet. And don't get me wrong, those are both great varieties with their own super interesting behaviors and narrative patterns! But their husbandry needs are completely different and you'll need to either adjust your expectations or re-home the scoundrel.

If you have other knights re-homing is the only humane option as the two classes WILL fight one another to injury most grievous, yea, even unto death. But well-born knights not only can share enclosures with ladies of most high and noble blood, it is in fact necessary if you want to meet their chivalric needs.

If you really have to do so you can use a quality image or relic of the Blessed Virgin to fulfill the same role but you will be missing out on some truly spectacular displays of subverted longing and chaste devotion, so it's really in your and your knight's best interests to provide both.

hey does anyone know the best size enclosure for my new medieval knight? i want him to have enough space to wander around and go on quests

[raevenlywrites]

Find the Word tag

Thanks for the tag @charleewritesabook

Throat

Lia couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Is there anything else we should know before we meet your parents?”

Her throat seemed to close on the thought and Tybee looked confused.

Kyle laughed. “I was wondering when you’d put that piece together.”

The look she gave him only made him laugh harder.

“What piece?” Gil asked?

“The meeting the parents of a boyfriend piece.” Kyle snickered.

“So are you.” Lia snapped back, hating that her cheeks were taking on color.

Kyle shrugged. “Mothers love me.”

“Mothers with teenaged daughters love you,” Lia sulked. She didn’t know how mother’s with gay sons felt about him.

Sea

The water lapped over her toes and her breath came in sharply. “Oh, that’s cold.”

Gil laughed, low and dark. The sound went perfectly with the rolling of the waves.

“I forget that sometimes.”

Lia frowned, searching his face. Just now, he almost seemed like someone else. “Forget what?”

He looked out over the ocean, seeing something she couldn’t, never would. The Gil she knew was a million miles away right now. The Gil that remained was intriguing, and a little frightening.

His hand in hers seemed to grow warm, a steady tide of new water coming in, mixing with the cold to make eddies and swirls. None of it affected the real water, the ocean they stood in. But they way she experienced it, the way it felt…

“That the ocean isn’t the same for everyone. That when you step into the sea, you step only into this sea.”

She felt a little dizzy, breathless. Lia leaned into that strong warmth.

“I stand in all oceans and all seas and all tides at all times. When I am near the water, it calls to me, sings to me of who I am, who I could be….”

His voice sounded both far away and so close.

“And who’s that?”

He seemed to shake himself, coming back to her with a soft smile.

“No one I’d want to be. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Lia nodded, squeezing his hand. He felt more solid again, more like the Gil she knew, even if the moonlight still painted him in those strange shades. “I like you here with me too.”

His smile grew and he pulled her close, turning so that they were face to face. This was the point where he’d usually make some comment about how he should get her back, or it was late, or any number of things that left her confused and disappointed. But instead, he lowered his face to hers, lips hesitating only a moment before he kissed her.

Kitchen

Lia poked his bicep, pleased at the firmness there. "You do a lot of gardening?"

"I do."

His voice was thick and rough, no matter his attempts to smooth it. She kept touching him, and the heat in him kept burning hotter and hotter--

"The corn!"

Gil practically lunged for the grill, blinking back tears as a billow of smoke rose up with the lid.

She jumped as he grabbed the grill, then waved the smoke out of her face.

Lia grimaced. Maybe she shouldn't have been distracting Gil while he cooked.

She peeked around him, relishing the heat despite the smoke. "Is it okay?"

He fished an ear out with the tongs, relieved to see that it was mostly unharmed.

"Yeah. I just meant to turn them sooner."

He turned all the cobs, grinning sheepishly as he worked.

"I always seem to lose my head when you're around."

She laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I was just thinking I was going to end up getting banned from the kitchen. Probably shouldn't garden with you either, I'm terrible with plants."

"I like having you in the kitchen."

Oh, there was the soft Gil she loved so much. When his voice went all quiet, like secrets whispered laying in bed late at night, with only the stars and each other to hear you...

Lia blinked, feeling that weird double place thing again. She was getting used to the boys bleeding over, almost. When it happened in moments like this, she didn’t mind so much.

He closed the lid and stepped over to the porch rail, leaning back against it with his hands spread to either side. Smiling, Lia decided to take a little more of matters into her own hands and followed him, pressing herself into his warm chest.

"Snuggle me," she murmured. "Its cold out here with the grill closed."

His arms went around her, slowly, carefully, but oh so right. She burrowed in closer with a happy sigh, arms slipping around his waist.

"You could always go inside," he said, lips brushing the top of her head. He didnt seem inclined to let her go.

"I could," she agreed, fingers playing over the small of his back. "But I'd rather be out here with you."

King (I’m using Lord, since “King” isn’t really the title used in Faery)

“We have to go back to… Explain why we haven’t come back, basically.” Gil offered, not looking happy about the prospect.

“Plead your case?” Kyle offered and Gil nodded with a sigh.

“So what’s the worst that happens?”

Gil didn’t like that question, grimacing and looking away.

Tybee scoffed. “Nothing. My father can’t force me to stay home like some errant child. He’ll bitch and we’ll leave. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Tybee.” Gil ground out.

“He just wants to know why I like it over here so much.” Tybee countered. “It isn’t as if anything’s happened to concern him.”

“Except that Erumond isn’t here and something might happen to you.”

Tybee glared. “I don’t need a protection service. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Gil sighed. “Hope Lord Oberon thinks so.”

“Lord Oberon?” Kyle asked as Lia blinked.

“Tybee’s father.” Gil said offhand.

“Tybee’s dad is Oberon? Like, Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

Tybee shrugged a shoulder. “My family’s been fans of the Bard for centuries. Custom or some such.”

At Kyle’s continued interest, Tybee began to smile wickedly, a sign that he’d thought of something someone wasn’t going to like, but that he was going to really enjoy.

“Kyle,” he purred as Gil gave him a worried look, “Lia, how would you like to see Otherside?”

“What?” Gil yelped. “No, Tybee.”

“School’s out for the summer, no one’s taking summer classes – you two could travel with us. See our home.” Tybee continued as if Gil wasn’t actively telling him it was a bad idea.

Future

Lia was taken aback by the idea, but as usual, Kyle was all for it. He touched her arm, grinning at the idea of adventure. He’d always been the more outgoing of the two of them. “You were saying earlier that you didn’t know what you were going to do for a Senior’s project. This is the perfect time to start looking for inspiration, Panda Bear.”

Gil looked troubled as he leaned back in his seat.

“Is it really a bad idea?” She asked him.

He looked uncomfortable. He chewed on his lip, trying to think of the right thing to say. Something to balance his promise to always be forthright with her in the future, and not earning Tybee’s ire.

“I don’t know what’s waiting for us,” he finally said. “After Erumond…” He shot a furtive glance to Tybee. “I just don’t know what to expect. That in and of itself is dangerous in Faery.”

“All of Faery is dangerous.” Tybee’s words were light, delivered with an airy wave of the hand. “That’s why I make a point of never traveling it alone.”

Gil stared at him a moment, before understanding dawned. “The caravan...”

Tybee nodded. “One and the same. They’ll be passing back through Mortalside in about a week’s time, somewhere upstate. I can ask through the feyhouse networks about their location, though I have a good guess.” His grin turned even more pleased. “I thought we might wait at one of the beach houses. Take in a little sun.”

Something about that prospect seemed to relax Gil. He didn’t quite smile, but Lia could see the start of one.

“Ooh, the beach.” Kyle cooed. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, Lia...”

She held a hand up before he could start making puppy eyes at her. “I never said no, Kyle.” She shrugged a shoulder, but she was smiling. “If it isn’t dangerous, it sounds like fun.”

Tybee clapped his hands together, beaming. “Oh it will be.” Then he launched off on the virtues of this or that place, Kyle eagerly gobbling up the details.

tagging back  @homesteadchronicles @urbanteeth@inky-duchess to find: Ride, Run, Dark, and Corner

Foxes and Fate Tag List @lordkingsmith @mariahwritesstuff @silver-wields-a-pen @jessiwritesbad @writinginslowmotion @alessia-writes @abalonetea @worldbuildingwren @soupopoireau @livvywrites @adie-dee @bookish-actor @wineandpensareallineed @dawnoftheagez @pied-piper-of-hamlet @dahl-my-life @sybil-writes @pluttskutt @moonflower-writing

[thenamelessbaroness]

Strange Magic Week 2017 - Wednesday: Beyond Field and Forest

The most recent chapter of my upcoming story fits the Wednesday prompt, perfectly. The story is titled Disputed Knowledge, and features a female OC, Miranda, on a quest for the knowledge that will restore her shredded wings. But she finds herself trapped in the middle of a cold war between the Fields of Light and the Dark Forest. This chapter tells what happened to her wings.

I would have loved to use Marianne as the protagonist for this story, but for Very Important Plot Reasons, I had to go with an OC. Trying to wedge Marianne into that situation would have changed her entirely out of character. I hope readers will find Miranda a spiritual twin of Marianne.

Royal business kept Bog away from Miranda’s reading room until late, most days, but he always made sure to make at least a little time to help her with her researches. Since their little wrestling match turned laughter, she always gave him a broad smile when he entered. He wouldn’t admit, even to himself, how much he looked forward to that smile at the end of another frustrating day.

One evening, he didn’t make it to her room until quite late. The sun had already gone down, and she was reading by the light of the lamps. Her back was to the door, as he entered, and the main shafts of her tattered wings stuck up behind her as she poured over the book on the table. They shifted slowly back and forth, a few tatters flagging out as she moved. One caught the lamplight, flashing a brilliant, luminous orange, like the berries of the pyracantha hedges on the far borders of his kingdom.

Whatever she was reading must have been engrossing; she wasn’t even aware that he had come in until he sat down next to her. She smiled at him, a bit preoccupied, and looked back to her book.

“How did it happen?” Bog found himself blurting out. Miranda looked up at him, quizzically.

“Er, your wings…” Bog cursed himself, internally, as a fool. “That is, um, if you don’t mind…”

Miranda sighed, but didn’t go back to her reading. “No one’s ever actually asked before.”

“Uh, sorry.” Bog looked away.

“No, it’s fine. A bit of a story, though.”

“I’ll listen.”

Miranda put a hand on the page of her book and closed the cover over it. She took a deep breath.

“So, I’ve told you before that I used to be part of the Court. And I left because I didn’t like the direction Belladonna was leading it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn’t just leave the court. I left the Kingdom.”

“Ye left…?” Bog murmered.

“When I was a kid, I was always in trouble for going where I shouldn’t. I couldn’t help it! I always wanted to see what was around the next corner, behind the next bush. If sometimes that was stinging nettles, or a wasps nest…” Miranda shrugged. “At least then I knew. But sometimes it was a flower I’d never seen before, or a quiet little part of the stream. Knowing something I didn’t before, seeing something new? It was better than candy, or a festival!”

“One day, I realized there had to be so much more than the Fields! Everyone knew the Tree of Knowledge was to the East, and beyond it the Dark Forest. But whenever I asked about what lie in the other directions, I got vague answers, at best.

“‘Oh, just more grass,’ or ‘This is our home, who cares?’” Miranda growled. “It was so frustrating!

“And then I had to go spend time at court, and couldn’t go exploring anymore. The nettles around the next corner might mess up my dress,” Miranda made a sour face and stuck her nose in the air, “or I might not make it to the procession on time if I was daydreaming in a pretty spot by the stream.” She rolled her eyes and collapsed back in the chair with a groan. Bog was struck with the thought that he was getting a momentary glimpse of a much younger Miranda.

But suddenly her expressive face stilled and she sat up quite straight.

“If you can’t tell, I never really enjoyed Court,” Miranda said.

“I got that impression,” Bog said, and gestured for Miranda to continue.

“I didn’t enjoy it, but I put up with it without even questioning, because it’s what I was supposed to do. It was what all the faeries did. But when Belladonna became the King’s consort, I did start to question.”

Bog leaned forward and steepled his hands under his chin.

“It’s like the court… froze. Everything became hard edged and sharp. Beautiful! But beautiful like ice. All the life drained out of everything.” Miranda was sitting very still.

“When I thought things had been stilted before, I had been very, very wrong. I remember one Court dance, before Belladonna, where something went wrong. A dancer went left when they should have gone right, or something, and it was a chain reaction of disaster. People fell over everywhere, and eventually the King was knocked into the feast table, and the whole thing collapsed under him. Everyone gasped and froze. But the King sat up from the wreckage, with the punch ladle dangling from his crown and solemnly pronounced, ‘We will not be attempting that dance again, for at least a fortnight.’” Miranda glanced over and gave Bog a small smile.

Bog chuckled. It was a good recovery from a ridiculous situation. Well, as good as one could be, when tossing your subjects out the window wasn’t an option.

“But when Belladonna started to take over the Court’s activities… Everyone either became so afraid to make a mistake they were essentially paralyzed, or, spent all their time and energy trying to impress the new Consort and become part of her inner circle.

“The day I left--” there was a hitch in Miranda’s voice, and she took a moment before continuing, “Belladonna was hosting a Pink Party, in honor of spring. Bleh.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“Everything had to be pink. Faeries dyed their hair. Anyone whose wings weren’t pink had to wear a cloak covering them, and stay on the ground. All the food was pink, the decorations, the drinks, EVERYTHING.”

“Sounds abominable,” Bog shuddered.

“Hideous,” Miranda agreed, “But that’s not the worst…”

“Go on,” Bog encouraged, gently. Had Belladonna shredded Miranda’s wings because they were the wrong color for a party? He felt fury, on the Wee Shouty Faerie’s behalf.

“There was a strawberry pie.”

Bog blinked in confusion. “Er, what?”

“One of the cooks, an elf, had prepared strawberry pie,” Miranda repeated.

“I don’t see--”

“What color are strawberries?” Miranda snapped.

“Red! But-- Oh.”

“She had him beaten,” Miranda said, her voice flat, her eyes fixed on the far wall. “Publicly. In the middle of the party. It was awful. He yelled and screamed and begged. At first. Then he passed out. They kept beating him.

“And no one did or said anything!” Miranda’s remembered frustration and horror were palpable in the half-darkened room. “Half, too scared in case they joined his fate, the other half trying to impress her with how unaffected they were, and King Lavandula just smiling at his beautiful Consort as if he couldn’t hear or see anything else around him.” Miranda shuddered, and Bog carefully reached out to lay a hand over hers.

She let it rest there a moment before patting it, as if he were the one in distress, and gently moving it back to his chair arm.

“I couldn’t be part of that anymore, but I didn’t see how I could change it. So, I left. I dropped my pink cloak on the floor, slipped out a side door, and flew west.” She blew out a long exhale, blowing away the smoke of the past.

After the horror of the beginning of her story, Bog wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what horror had actually happened to her. Sure, he knocked his subjects around, a bit, tossed a few mushrooms here and there, and did an awful lot of yelling. But Goblins were far sturdier than Faeries, and they actually appreciated his “hands-on” approach. If their King had just thrown them over a table, then they knew that at least he knew who they were.

But Bog had started this conversation, and if Miranda was willing to have it, he wasn’t going to be the one to back out of it.

“What was west?” he asked.

Miranda smile lit up the room. “Everything.” She leaned toward him, eyes sparkling.

“There were whole villages I never even knew existed! Their customs, their clothes, their food… all totally different than what I knew. Faeries, and elves, and entirely other people I’d never seen before! I realized, one day, that I hadn’t seen a single tree since three days before. Nothing but long rolling hills of grass.”

That thought made the Bog King shudder, but he gestured for her to go on. She did so with a smirk.

“Eventually, I didn’t see any more settlements, or meet any more people. The animals and insects were different. And the trees returned. Then the hills got taller, and steeper, and rockier, and I thought they might be what holds up the sky. I’ve never seen anything that tall! There was snow on top of them. In the summer!” Miranda pointed up toward the ceiling.

“Now, yer making that up!” Bog exclaimed.

“Not a bit of it, I swear! They were a hundred times taller than the Tree, easily!”

“Hmmph,” Bog grunted, disbelieving.

“It was really hard to get over them, but I wanted to. One the other side… well, it wasn’t just going to be something I’d never seen before. I was sure there would be something no one had ever seen before. And, Skies, it was beyond anything I’d ever imagined.” Miranda was practically bouncing in her seat, with remembered excitement.

“What was it?” Bog asked.

“Water!” Miranda crowed. “A huge water! It stretched all the way to the horizon in front of me, and off to both sides, too!”

“What?! No, that’s impossible. Water comes in streams, or rivers. Maybe a pond. Are ya sure it wasn’t just a really big pond? Sometimes it’s hard to see the other side, if it’s foggy.” Bog scoffed.

Miranda scowled, and kicked him in the shin, rather harder than usual. He winced, and rubbed it surreptitiously.

“The day was crystal clear. When I looked straight out, I saw water, sky, and nothing else. And…” she cut herself off and bit her lip.

“What?”

“Nevermind, you won’t believe me.” Miranda huffed back into her seat. “You don’t believe me.” She reached for her book.

He reached out and stilled her hand. “No, wait. I’m sorry,” he said. Miranda glanced up, startled.

“Yer telling me some fantastic tales,” Bog began, “but, I’ll try to believe you. You’ve never given me a reason not to. Fair enough?”

Miranda thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said, and nodded. “I guess it’s pretty unbelievable, even though I’ve seen it all myself.”

“Good,” Bog said. “So, what else was there?”

“The water was moving, constantly. Not--” She put up a hand to forestall Bog’s comment, “--like a stream or river. Like waves in a pond reaching the shore. Except bigger! Like the river when it floods! A big wall of water rushing forward and hitting the land with a sound like a waterfall! And, they kept coming! Every few seconds… SMASH!”

Miranda slammed one hand into the other, and gazed at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Bog said.

“Neither had I. And if no one had ever seen this big water, before, no one ever ever had seen the other side!”

Bog had a flash of premonition where Miranda’s story was going. He still remembered her words to Brutus that first day, WAY bigger than you, and with WAY more teeth…

“No.” he whispered.

“Yes,” Miranda replied, glumly. “I was going to fly over it and find the other side.

“I set out early the next day. I flew for hours and hours, up high where I could see far off. Late afternoon, I had to admit it was time to turn around. The only thing that had changed was that I couldn’t see the land behind me, any more.”

“That must have been frustrating,” Bog observed.

“Extremely! But there was nothing for it. The big water was way bigger than I could cross. Maybe it’s the end of the world. I dunno.” Miranda shrugged.

“The sun was just about down by the time I finallyspotted the land ahead of me. The wind was behind me, but I was exhausted. I thought I’d just float on the surface for a while, and catch my breath before I pushed on at moonrise.

“The water was salty. I hadn’t expected that. It was really weird…” Miranda trailed off. They sat in silence for a moment before she took a deep breath and continued.

“I guess I should be grateful that soaking through makes fairy wings delicate. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here, now,” Miranda said, looking at her lap. “This giant monster fish, all teeth and skin that cut, and huge black eyes came out of nowhere and grabbed me. I swear it seemed as big as the Tree, but that can’t be right. It’s what I remember, but it can’t be right.”

Miranda took another little pause before speaking again. “It had me by the wings and dragged me down into the water. It was so fast, and we got so deep! But then it shook me, really hard, and my wings tore; I broke free. I swam up as fast as I could. I don’t know if it was distracted, or just thought I wasn’t big enough to bother with, anymore, but it didn’t chase me. If it had, or if my wings hadn’t torn… I’d be dead.”

“When I got to the surface, those giant waves took me. They pushed me up on the bank. Beat me up a bit more, but they got me out of the water and away from that...thing’s reach. I lay on the sand all night, and at some point, I either remembered, or dreamed about the Tree of Knowledge. So, the next day, I started walking here. I lost track of how long it took me.”

“When I finally got back to populated lands, everyone treated me like dirt. Or worse. They figured if I’d lost my wings, I must have deserved it, and they didn't want someone like that around their homes. Nearly everyone chased me off. I stayed with some Elves for some of the winter. They don’t have wings, in the first place, so they didn’t care.  I was grateful for a few days to rest at that point. I knew I’d be back in the Fields, soon, and that would be more than a bit difficult.”

She reached out and pulled her book back into her lap. “You know the rest. You were there.” She shrugged and opened the book.

Bog couldn’t blink or look away from Miranda. She’d survived an adventure that would have killed most Faeries, and not a few of the goblins, as well. And she’d told the tale with more calm than he would have thought possible. She’d come out of her ordeals with her sense of self intact, and pushed her way through every obstacle in her path since then. Perhaps it wasn’t so puzzling that the History had been open in her presence.

She’d given him a lot to think about. He’d spent so much of his life embroiled in the delicate politics involving the neighboring kingdom, he hadn’t given much thought to what was beyond their respective borders. And here, this Wee Shouty Faerie truly had seen things no one else ever had. He found he was viewing her in a new light and with new respect. Which raised one question he’d never thought about, before.

“Does it, I mean your wings… do they hurt?”

Miranda didn’t move or speak, and after a moment, Bog thought he may have finally overstepped the boundaries of their growing friendship. He quietly rose and turned to leave.

At the door, he turned to say goodnight, but Miranda had lifted her head slightly, gazing out the window.

“Only when I can see the sky,” she whispered.

Bog looked down, and made his way out of the room without farewell.