I'm not ready to forgive you.
Not yet.
I was dead. I had done my time. I was given the reward that all heroes deserve at the end of their lives. I was happy. Content. I died knowing that I did something right.
You decided that wasn't enough. My sacrifices weren't enough. Stripped of everything that I am, you forced me to abandon my happy ending for your petty plot. Because of you I am a god, and I loathe myself.
I will stand by my band through the deserts of Akhetaten. I will endure the enmity of Horus because of a callous mistake. I will swallow my pride and watch my dignity shred to pieces. I will outlast even the archer's mark. I will outlast Apep's awakening.
Then I'm done. Your pawn has crowned herself a queen, and my fate is in my hands. I have one last debt to pay. I have a future to secure. Seasons will pass.
Then in the winter I will come for you and you will regret this game of thrones you've pulled. Your father will be a failure as his father before him. Your victory will be naught but ashes in your throat. I will see you broken.
I'll be ready to forgive you then.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Reflection
Cairo is oppressive, a city built on ruins built on dust that settled on the ancient bones of a civilization that dawned at the beginning of history. The air was harsh, a coarse wind that scraped against her skin and the inside of her throat when she breathed, leaving her raw. Exposed. Unsettled in body as well as in mind. The streets are closed and dark, buildings pressed so tight together they drowned out the sky. She felt like she was crawling underground and claustrophobia tickled as a memory of an emotion she once knew intimately.
There is no relief within the sanctity of her mind. Just beyond the veil of consciousness, the unconquerable tide of the children of Ra hammer against what little defense she has. She just has to ask and they would grant her access to the well of endurance that would stave off the wracking dreams Aten has condemned them all with. Her lips curl into a dagger-slash of a smirk, a rueful irony. If she asked for help, she'd fall into that prideful extremity and yet, if she didn't ask for help, that maddening red of a berserk fury would wash over her surely as the tide rolls onto the shore.
The three of them have stopped addressing one another as separate entities. It's exhausting to stretch one's mind in three directions even for those of iron will. Without that buffer, she's just Rhiannon. Shadows of a woman who move in synchronicity through the maze.
"Stop. Here." One of them speaks. The tickle of her pride is a thorn in the back of her thoughts that scratches against the faint webbing of sanity that keeps her virtues from overriding her. The extremities are kept like a horde of zombies behind a barely-there barn door; just waiting for the one weakness to set themselves free. She pauses in front of a closed off garden, the only sounds around her now being the tranquil babble of a nearby fountain. Only within the four walls does she finally catch a glimpse of the morning sun overhead.
She's drawn to the water and stares down at her harried reflection. The grime of Imhotep's prison is still upon her, along with the dust and dirt of the tunnels. There's still a vivid scar that races along her shoulder and down into the sarong she's wrapped herself in. A combination of a Sphinx's hunger and Horus' anger.
"Give me something to rage against, Morrigu." She murmurs within the private garden where there is no one to hear her weakness. "Or distract me. Anything before I lose myself in Balor's city." For that is what Cairo has become. A tomb and a monument all devoted to the conquer and entrapment of a pantheon that was old when the world was young; and if she wasn't careful, it would be her final battle.
The water is beautiful enough, reflecting the clouds overhead and the cityscape that surrounds her upon every side. Vast windows stretch upward for what seems like forever, before a churning sway of darkness engulfs the place behind her form. The reflection in the water reveals the ivory ghost of Anann in her raven feathered cloak. The skull of the bird canted to gaze down over the fae's shoulder into the very same pool.
She holds in her hand a mace made of dire black spikes, and it has unpleasant gore strung from one vicious hook to the other. Viscera. She looked flawless of course, avoiding even a drop of gore upon her thanks to her undeniable star power. "Give you something to rage against? Very well; one of the oldest aspects of your father died while you were gone."
One aspect takes point at one end of the garden to make sure they're not snuck upon, or the moment broken. She knows no one will come after her, but she still keep vigil. Rhiannon looks into the reflected pool and leans back into Anann before she remembers Anann is not there. Not truly. She catches herself before she turns into the fool. Manannan's death is a splinter that nestles into her mind and does a little to distract from the rage that's broiled since her perceived personal failures since the meteor struck the desert. It haunts her like the dreams that plague her whenever she tries to close her eyes.
"I keep seeing the people I love fall in battle because of this damned curse. Wuyi ignores me point-blank and that's set us into the manipulations of Isis and Alicia. I can't read people. I can't command people. I can't even lie, Anann. I can't even convince someone else to maim in my place because my Enech was crushed by a stupid song! If I had just been wiser in the desert, I would have known what Hathor intended to do and all of this... this wouldn't have happened.
I could have sensed Horus and Hathor's entrapment of Set. I could have seen ... whatever Ra has done to make Vana so doting. I could have taken Imhotep's challenge by storm. I barely snared him in his own trap. I know Kelly's messed with my mind and I can't find myself to grow angry at it. I ... damn it. I'm running on fumes and I can't keep my tongue silent lest I decide to reenact Marquis de Sade's temptations in the streets and Wuyi expects me to ... I don't know." She deflates, all her bravado crumbling away to leave behind a tired shell.
The figment of Anann nods her head slightly at the words, though her demeanor is slightly more menacing than it usually tends to be. Her face is placid and the line of her lips are like the slash of a dagger, silver ichor beneath casting her features into a metallic patina.
"You are whining, and a daughter of the Tuatha does not whine. It does not matter if you are making a statement of fact, you are letting yourself wallow in your own misery and failings. We are always hardest on ourselves, but that hardship should come in the form of affirming your determination to strive harder to accomplish the things you desire, not seek sympathy in the arms of another. Not even your wife. This is not befitting a ruler, Red Lady."
Rhiannon sucks in a sharp breath, and there's a wounded cast to her expression. It can't fade away under a mask because of her dismal grasp of emotions and social trickery, but Anann can so easily see the goddess swallow the bitter medicine and take it for what it's intended to be.
Her gaze averts shamefully before she nods. "Gods, I hate being Irish sometimes." She says as her last concession to what she knows is proper coming from Anann. She steels her shoulders and looks back into the water. "I hate you being the senisble one even more, sometimes."
Anann scoffs quietly and within the reflection of the water she places a hand comfortingly upon Rhiannon's shoulder while the other seems to glide over the curve of her crimson locks in gentle petting. It was a consoling guesture following her tongue lashing, without undermining the lashing in the slightest.
"I sometimes hate being Irish as well, I am afraid, but nothing has taught me better the importance of being a vital person instead of merely being a cog in the wheel of life. You are Irish down to your very blood, and a person who stands tall amongst her peers to shine like a beacon of pride. So believe me when I say that all your sacrifices are not in vain. If nothing else, I see them and mark you as worthy."
Rhiannon's quiet as the reflection disappears as a passing bird settles on the fountain to sup at the waters and wash it's feathers of the sand that is everywhere. She touches her finger to the cool surface and pulls away again. She stays in the garden until the chimes of the morning indicate Ra's part of their plan set into motion.
There is no relief within the sanctity of her mind. Just beyond the veil of consciousness, the unconquerable tide of the children of Ra hammer against what little defense she has. She just has to ask and they would grant her access to the well of endurance that would stave off the wracking dreams Aten has condemned them all with. Her lips curl into a dagger-slash of a smirk, a rueful irony. If she asked for help, she'd fall into that prideful extremity and yet, if she didn't ask for help, that maddening red of a berserk fury would wash over her surely as the tide rolls onto the shore.
The three of them have stopped addressing one another as separate entities. It's exhausting to stretch one's mind in three directions even for those of iron will. Without that buffer, she's just Rhiannon. Shadows of a woman who move in synchronicity through the maze.
"Stop. Here." One of them speaks. The tickle of her pride is a thorn in the back of her thoughts that scratches against the faint webbing of sanity that keeps her virtues from overriding her. The extremities are kept like a horde of zombies behind a barely-there barn door; just waiting for the one weakness to set themselves free. She pauses in front of a closed off garden, the only sounds around her now being the tranquil babble of a nearby fountain. Only within the four walls does she finally catch a glimpse of the morning sun overhead.
She's drawn to the water and stares down at her harried reflection. The grime of Imhotep's prison is still upon her, along with the dust and dirt of the tunnels. There's still a vivid scar that races along her shoulder and down into the sarong she's wrapped herself in. A combination of a Sphinx's hunger and Horus' anger.
"Give me something to rage against, Morrigu." She murmurs within the private garden where there is no one to hear her weakness. "Or distract me. Anything before I lose myself in Balor's city." For that is what Cairo has become. A tomb and a monument all devoted to the conquer and entrapment of a pantheon that was old when the world was young; and if she wasn't careful, it would be her final battle.
The water is beautiful enough, reflecting the clouds overhead and the cityscape that surrounds her upon every side. Vast windows stretch upward for what seems like forever, before a churning sway of darkness engulfs the place behind her form. The reflection in the water reveals the ivory ghost of Anann in her raven feathered cloak. The skull of the bird canted to gaze down over the fae's shoulder into the very same pool.
She holds in her hand a mace made of dire black spikes, and it has unpleasant gore strung from one vicious hook to the other. Viscera. She looked flawless of course, avoiding even a drop of gore upon her thanks to her undeniable star power. "Give you something to rage against? Very well; one of the oldest aspects of your father died while you were gone."
One aspect takes point at one end of the garden to make sure they're not snuck upon, or the moment broken. She knows no one will come after her, but she still keep vigil. Rhiannon looks into the reflected pool and leans back into Anann before she remembers Anann is not there. Not truly. She catches herself before she turns into the fool. Manannan's death is a splinter that nestles into her mind and does a little to distract from the rage that's broiled since her perceived personal failures since the meteor struck the desert. It haunts her like the dreams that plague her whenever she tries to close her eyes.
"I keep seeing the people I love fall in battle because of this damned curse. Wuyi ignores me point-blank and that's set us into the manipulations of Isis and Alicia. I can't read people. I can't command people. I can't even lie, Anann. I can't even convince someone else to maim in my place because my Enech was crushed by a stupid song! If I had just been wiser in the desert, I would have known what Hathor intended to do and all of this... this wouldn't have happened.
I could have sensed Horus and Hathor's entrapment of Set. I could have seen ... whatever Ra has done to make Vana so doting. I could have taken Imhotep's challenge by storm. I barely snared him in his own trap. I know Kelly's messed with my mind and I can't find myself to grow angry at it. I ... damn it. I'm running on fumes and I can't keep my tongue silent lest I decide to reenact Marquis de Sade's temptations in the streets and Wuyi expects me to ... I don't know." She deflates, all her bravado crumbling away to leave behind a tired shell.
The figment of Anann nods her head slightly at the words, though her demeanor is slightly more menacing than it usually tends to be. Her face is placid and the line of her lips are like the slash of a dagger, silver ichor beneath casting her features into a metallic patina.
"You are whining, and a daughter of the Tuatha does not whine. It does not matter if you are making a statement of fact, you are letting yourself wallow in your own misery and failings. We are always hardest on ourselves, but that hardship should come in the form of affirming your determination to strive harder to accomplish the things you desire, not seek sympathy in the arms of another. Not even your wife. This is not befitting a ruler, Red Lady."
Rhiannon sucks in a sharp breath, and there's a wounded cast to her expression. It can't fade away under a mask because of her dismal grasp of emotions and social trickery, but Anann can so easily see the goddess swallow the bitter medicine and take it for what it's intended to be.
Her gaze averts shamefully before she nods. "Gods, I hate being Irish sometimes." She says as her last concession to what she knows is proper coming from Anann. She steels her shoulders and looks back into the water. "I hate you being the senisble one even more, sometimes."
Anann scoffs quietly and within the reflection of the water she places a hand comfortingly upon Rhiannon's shoulder while the other seems to glide over the curve of her crimson locks in gentle petting. It was a consoling guesture following her tongue lashing, without undermining the lashing in the slightest.
"I sometimes hate being Irish as well, I am afraid, but nothing has taught me better the importance of being a vital person instead of merely being a cog in the wheel of life. You are Irish down to your very blood, and a person who stands tall amongst her peers to shine like a beacon of pride. So believe me when I say that all your sacrifices are not in vain. If nothing else, I see them and mark you as worthy."
Rhiannon's quiet as the reflection disappears as a passing bird settles on the fountain to sup at the waters and wash it's feathers of the sand that is everywhere. She touches her finger to the cool surface and pulls away again. She stays in the garden until the chimes of the morning indicate Ra's part of their plan set into motion.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Voices
There's at least eleven different presences on the outskirts of my conscious awareness now. Five of them are from my own Band, the rest are primordial deities; descendants of Ra and the breakwater against the vast abyss of the dream wracks Aten fostered over our crime of assaulting his tower. None of them bring us relief.
Rebecca's found a kindred murderous spirit in Serket, and Vana seems to have enraptured Ra ... or perhaps it's the other way around. Wuyi is Sekhmet's latest plaything and stares at me like we're strangers. Chloe's turned serpentine and is vehemently against anything done or proposed until someone can assure her it's fine. Kelly's gone quiet. I'm just trying to keep up the mask that everything's fine.
It's not fine.
Even with the gift of a Selkie's skin from Ra's trove of treasures, I'm ... ill-content here on the glittering river of stars. The bright monuments and barques are aesthetically welcome but there's only an academics pleasure to be found watching them. Even the river itself is of no comfort to me, and I have rarely felt so out of sorts near the element I've resonated with since birth.
There's a plan drawn up. Risky and almost assuredly doomed from the start. We will turn one Titan against another for the glory of Ra. To make sure we at least have a worthwhile chance, it is Ra himself who sacrifices his ichor on the Saddle of the Vanir to allow Vana to guide us through The Way down onto the world proper.
We face trials of paragonhood. A series of challenges designed by Imhotep who watches from the shadows, a ghost of what he once was. Wuyi achieves the Paragon of Strength. Becky; Perception. I stepped back and granted Chloe to become the Paragon of Dexterity. I am graceful, far more so than her, but that is not what I am known for, nor do I want to claim it.
I am granted the Paragon of Beauty when Anann seizes control of my body through the ring, a failsafe she had designed into it to keep me from mental influences that would see her secrets uncovered, or her assets harmed. She blinds the Band through me and the glory of my ichor cinches the hieroglyph.
I am ... settled when Anann's voice registers through the small village of consciousnesses I'm now attached to, but it's only a temporary reunion. A touch to remind the other we survived our battles. Her, on the field against the Forces of Lir, and the ones I've fought the past few days. Once we succeed at retrieving Ra's True Name and awakening Apep, though, I'll be seperated until Iteru's under the control of the Sun-God once again.
It cannot come soon enough. I miss the valleys and green of my home.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Drabble a Day - Haze
The rumor goes around that this is the first time Enech couldn't chain a goddess.
She stands under the shadow of an overpass; only the burnt tip of a cigarette illuminating the slash of her smile. Smoke slithers up the cast of her cheek, gold and shadow from the fire between her lips. It curls to her like an obsessive lover tangled in her personal gravity. He's beneath her, caught under a heel that crushes deep onto the bone of his thigh, a deceptive strength in the slender line of her frame. His eyes are narrow rings of terrified olive and hazel, the drag of the cigarette a blaze of orange in the black of his overblown pupils. Hers are the electric blue of the ocean, the riptide dragging him out to open water.
He pleads, she doesn't sympathize. He demands answers, she doesn't explain anything. He bargains, she doesn't compromise.
He's the product of an overbearing mother who loved the drink more than her family. She's the product of two thousand years of conditioning. He went out tonight and chose the wrong moment and the wrong woman to lash out towards. She went out tonight and was compelled by ancient laws to seek retribution.
The bridge rattles as the late-night delivery trucks rumble into the city from the countryside. It drowns out the ragged breaths he sucks deep into his lungs. There's a rasp in his throat, a rattle from pain from the tip of her heel digging deep. He'll walk away with a bruise that lingers for weeks after this meeting.
At least he'll walk away. He'll keep her visage locked within the confines of his mind and only time will tell if it will be the deterrent to keep him from winding up another cog in the wheel of abuse, or if it will only push him that much more to the edge.
At least he'll walk away. He'll keep her visage locked within the confines of his mind and only time will tell if it will be the deterrent to keep him from winding up another cog in the wheel of abuse, or if it will only push him that much more to the edge.
The cigarette blazes bright then dies. The smoke is tinted blood in the passing lights of the trucks. The pressure over his thigh drops as she steps back with a click of heels. A butt bounces off his chest and lands in his hand. In the morning, the imprint of her lipstick will be there and he'll find himself compelled to keep it.
He looks up to see her retreating through the narrow overpass. The click of her heels is the sound of his freedom. At the other end, she passes underneath the yellow streetlight and the electric blue of her gaze fixes on him one last time. It's a warning.
Enech could not chain the goddess, but it could temper her.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Love to Love You, Baby
[Transmission Start]
Rhiannon: Where exactly did you find a recorder in Iteru?
Rhia: *laugh* I liberated it from Becca. Don't worry, I distracted her with a huge pile of doritos. Anywho, why are we doing this again?
Rhiannon: Blackmail.
Rhia: Blackmail? Against who? It's just us three here -- *voice cuts out as a violent crash sounds in the background* Oh. Right. Anann, I take it?
Rhiannon: We need leverage and this is the only way to record what has occured here without Rhiann finding a way to rewrite the truth.
Rhiann: I am going to murder the both of you! You cannot even begin to understand Hathor's beauty --
Rhiannon: See what I mean? Blackmail. Now. We will start at the beginning, when we arrived onto the Prison Barque.
Rhia: Right! Right. Uh, lesse. Oh! Set was stuck, literally, on this huge throne of spikes and doom and it probably wasn't comfortable. Horus was brooding, like always and Hathor was --
Rhiann: Hathor was conveying the gentle comfort that only she can provide.
Rhia: *silence* Yeah, let's go with that. Moving on! I think they were sentencing Set for traitorous activities. I wasn't paying attention... Kelly was attempting to -- *cough* Uh, moving on. So! Horus was grumpy because Hathor offered us baths (which we needed like... woah!) and then he decided to join us in the baths which is... kinda awkward.
Rhiannon: He is a Sun God and we have our fatebindings.
Rhia: Mmmhmmmm. Uh, ok.. baths, Set, oh! So Rhiann decided to stick behind in the interoogation room to see what the hell Set did and Rhiannon and I covered with being amazingly sexy. I mean, I'm looking at you-me- right now and I want to just--
Rhiannon: Rhia!
Rhia: What?! Oh. Fine! Jeez. So, while Horus is giving us a personal massage under the waves in comes Wuyi and she must have had a brain implant because she was actually thinking and making sense besides fighting, fucking, and futzing? Is futzing a word? What?! Stop glaring at me. So Wuyi's talking like she's not Wuyi and suddenly Kelly takes off like a bat out of hell!
Rhiann: Please. She was furious because she couldn't accept the fact that Hathor chose me and while we were finally together in comes the lot of you.
Rhiannon: Unfortunately, Kelly had returned not too long after fleeing and told Horus that you, Rhiann, had mind-whammied Hathor. ... did you mind-whammy her?
Rhiann: She was going to try and make me forget the depths of my affections for her. I had to take the chance.
Rhiannon: So, Horus believed we had compromised Hathor and attacked Rhiann. We survived, but we wouldn't survive another hit so we all left to Sekhmet's barque and I think she's going to collect Ra and have him undo on Rhiann whatever Hathor did.
Rhia: That covers it! ... though I was hoping Horus would pierce us with his, y'know, natural sword instead of the golden khopesh! I think this is up there with the exploding potatoes.
Rhiannon: Right. That is about all that happened and now we have it on un-corruptable record that Rhiann was love-sick for a Cow Goddess.... ok, Anann's a bovine-goddess. I suppose that means you'll have to do what we say if you never want Anann to discover this and punish you.
Rhia: *trails off into evil giggles*
[End of Transmisson]
Rhiannon: Where exactly did you find a recorder in Iteru?
Rhia: *laugh* I liberated it from Becca. Don't worry, I distracted her with a huge pile of doritos. Anywho, why are we doing this again?
Rhiannon: Blackmail.
Rhia: Blackmail? Against who? It's just us three here -- *voice cuts out as a violent crash sounds in the background* Oh. Right. Anann, I take it?
Rhiannon: We need leverage and this is the only way to record what has occured here without Rhiann finding a way to rewrite the truth.
Rhiann: I am going to murder the both of you! You cannot even begin to understand Hathor's beauty --
Rhiannon: See what I mean? Blackmail. Now. We will start at the beginning, when we arrived onto the Prison Barque.
Rhia: Right! Right. Uh, lesse. Oh! Set was stuck, literally, on this huge throne of spikes and doom and it probably wasn't comfortable. Horus was brooding, like always and Hathor was --
Rhiann: Hathor was conveying the gentle comfort that only she can provide.
Rhia: *silence* Yeah, let's go with that. Moving on! I think they were sentencing Set for traitorous activities. I wasn't paying attention... Kelly was attempting to -- *cough* Uh, moving on. So! Horus was grumpy because Hathor offered us baths (which we needed like... woah!) and then he decided to join us in the baths which is... kinda awkward.
Rhiannon: He is a Sun God and we have our fatebindings.
Rhia: Mmmhmmmm. Uh, ok.. baths, Set, oh! So Rhiann decided to stick behind in the interoogation room to see what the hell Set did and Rhiannon and I covered with being amazingly sexy. I mean, I'm looking at you-me- right now and I want to just--
Rhiannon: Rhia!
Rhia: What?! Oh. Fine! Jeez. So, while Horus is giving us a personal massage under the waves in comes Wuyi and she must have had a brain implant because she was actually thinking and making sense besides fighting, fucking, and futzing? Is futzing a word? What?! Stop glaring at me. So Wuyi's talking like she's not Wuyi and suddenly Kelly takes off like a bat out of hell!
Rhiann: Please. She was furious because she couldn't accept the fact that Hathor chose me and while we were finally together in comes the lot of you.
Rhiannon: Unfortunately, Kelly had returned not too long after fleeing and told Horus that you, Rhiann, had mind-whammied Hathor. ... did you mind-whammy her?
Rhiann: She was going to try and make me forget the depths of my affections for her. I had to take the chance.
Rhiannon: So, Horus believed we had compromised Hathor and attacked Rhiann. We survived, but we wouldn't survive another hit so we all left to Sekhmet's barque and I think she's going to collect Ra and have him undo on Rhiann whatever Hathor did.
Rhia: That covers it! ... though I was hoping Horus would pierce us with his, y'know, natural sword instead of the golden khopesh! I think this is up there with the exploding potatoes.
Rhiannon: Right. That is about all that happened and now we have it on un-corruptable record that Rhiann was love-sick for a Cow Goddess.... ok, Anann's a bovine-goddess. I suppose that means you'll have to do what we say if you never want Anann to discover this and punish you.
Rhia: *trails off into evil giggles*
[End of Transmisson]
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Isolated
Three of Me. Them. ... Us.
Separate and disjointed, the tear in my/our/her psyche came when Vana stole us from the crash course into Aten's Tower. I had my thoughts. I could hear her thoughts. She could hear my thoughts. It was overwhelming and nervewracking and I can barely keep track of who they/me/we are.
Aten's retribution doesn't help at all. My/Her/Our dreams are terrifying even though fear was bartered away.
We compartmentalize and from that moment onward we're no longer the same woman. We're us. Closer than twins, yet our minds are forever separated. We rely on our innate instincts of our own mannerisms and moods and we come to terms with the result of losing all of our mortality.
Then Enech shatters and my own expressions are alien to me.
I buy us escorted passage to Iteru's frontline at the price of being the Sphnix's chewtoy. Wuyi abandons us when we meet the Pesedjet. There's an interrogation before us and all I can do is struggle to keep my cool as Aten's Judgement drains my willpower. I strip bare some of my resistance to keep from murdering Kelly at her constant insulting. I know I'll regret it.
We'll all regret it.
I just want to be whole again. I miss me.
Separate and disjointed, the tear in my/our/her psyche came when Vana stole us from the crash course into Aten's Tower. I had my thoughts. I could hear her thoughts. She could hear my thoughts. It was overwhelming and nervewracking and I can barely keep track of who they/me/we are.
Aten's retribution doesn't help at all. My/Her/Our dreams are terrifying even though fear was bartered away.
We compartmentalize and from that moment onward we're no longer the same woman. We're us. Closer than twins, yet our minds are forever separated. We rely on our innate instincts of our own mannerisms and moods and we come to terms with the result of losing all of our mortality.
Then Enech shatters and my own expressions are alien to me.
I buy us escorted passage to Iteru's frontline at the price of being the Sphnix's chewtoy. Wuyi abandons us when we meet the Pesedjet. There's an interrogation before us and all I can do is struggle to keep my cool as Aten's Judgement drains my willpower. I strip bare some of my resistance to keep from murdering Kelly at her constant insulting. I know I'll regret it.
We'll all regret it.
I just want to be whole again. I miss me.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Drabble a Day - Snowflake
Snowflakes. From a distance and in a large clump, they look completely and utterly ordinary; beautiful, but ordinary. They were undistinguishable from the other flakes about them. Rhiannon idly wondered if Anann saw her firstborn with Rhiannon within that context; just children with the occasional hiccup of difference.
The Morrigan wasn't a cruel mother, but neither was she doting. It fell onto the aspects of Rhiannon to ensure that the girls and their young brother grew up knowing a mother's affection. She had sworn to herself over their cradles that they wouldn't have to turn up like her and Becky, with more than lingering issues concerning their mothers.
As the girls grew, Rhiannon coaxed interests, soothed fears, handled tempers, and guided knowledge. She was grateful for the abilities to be in four places at once, not to mention have nine seperate trains of thoughts because being Anann's wife and the mother to her children was exhausting. Not to mention the fights when Anann announced her need for loyal soldiers, and eyed Rhiannon expectantly, drained the new goddess. The secondborn generation and later didn't fare so well as the first.
Still. Time passed and the girls emerged from the swirl of snow to become their own unqiue wonder. Kennedy and Calleigh were two dark mirrors of the other, stalking through the forests of Rhiannon's personal lands as if they were practicing for later hunts in life. Siofra was the belle of the ball, a charmer of the highest order that broke hearts without stopping to look back at the damage she caused. She weaved fairy lights and sang sweetly to trick the unwary into her grasp. Ciara was a throwback to Lugh's keen mind and Rhiannon's grace; she was a master of everything put before her, always hungry to discover more (Rhiannon believed the girl had inheirted her wanderlust).
Fiona was the calm in the storm of her siblings. The guardiand and protector, she was nothing like the wild passions of her mothers and perhaps because of that... she was their favorite as well.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Drabble a Day - Restless
Rhiannon fidgeted. She always fidgeted. Even when she was a girl and supposed to stay still during the lengthy court proceedings she would constantly twist about to take in who was there, what they were doing, and where they came from. There was many a time when the Morrigan, guised as a simple weaver, would rap on the girl’s knuckles to get her to sit still and behave.
She still did it now, though it was a little more serious. A scar at Rhiannon’s wrist is a permanent reminder to ‘sit still and behave’ though she’ll never listen. Already her mind’s on another adventure, another journey that she may or may not invite the Morrigan on.
She still did it now, though it was a little more serious. A scar at Rhiannon’s wrist is a permanent reminder to ‘sit still and behave’ though she’ll never listen. Already her mind’s on another adventure, another journey that she may or may not invite the Morrigan on.
She may had been honed into a social weapon that Anann kept not-so-secret, but her heart was always on the next horizon. Whenever she went with the Morrigan to a negotiation, or a benefit that was more sizing up the opposition rather than a get-together, she'd linger at the goddess' side for the bare minimum to be respectful and then she was gone, doing her own exploring. Anann would find her curled in a dusty library chatting up the attendant who'd always then give a little more information that his employer wished. Or maybe she'd find Rhiannon meandering through gardens and mazes of corridors, always searching for a secret she hadn't yet uncovered. Sometimes it was endearing, other times it caused fights.
Rhiannon would leave all the time. Sometimes after a fight, other times because her capricious manner triggered a wanderlust she never ignored. She's sailed the world's oceans twenty times now, and still goes out to find the next adventure. Before the Elysian Fields, the Morrigan wouldn’t know if this time, this time she’d come home; but now with everything so similar and yet so very, very different - Rhiannon always returned, breathless with the trip, and would tell the Morrigan everything, even if it resulted in another scar. Another sacrifice.
She’d behave for a little bit, just enough that the Morrigan’s guard would lower and by the time Anann noticed her missing, she was back with even more stories and breathless laughter on her lips as she was scolded.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Drabble A Day: Accusation
“Here. Hold Mealla. If he comes round this way and accuses me of anything, I didn’t do it and you never saw me. ” Anann barely has time to register what’s going on when the youngest member of their growing family is deposited into her lap. She stares down at wide-eyed expressiveness and a tuft of dark hair and snaps out a hand to snatch Rhiann before the young goddess can sneak away. It’s too late and she seizes only air. She glances away from the coo’ing babe to see the flash of coppery hair duck out the study’s windows. Any touch of question through the ring is met with a strange rhyming chant repeated over and over again.
A beep from the screen before her brings her back to the auctions she was following before Rhiann had whirled into the study and besides the surprisingly behaved toddler in her arms, things settled down quick enough. Until there’s another tempest of Irish temper stalking through her doorway. It’s rare that Manannan consents to approaching her but this time he looks far more interested in other things beyond reminding her that he disapproves of her relationship with his headstrong daughter. “Where did she go?”
Anann’s response is a raised brow, and a dismissive gesture out towards the lake that glistens merrily underneath the noonday sun. The toddler in her lap happily greets her grandfather with a gurgling laugh but that doesn’t dissuade Manannan from his goal. He turns upon a heel. Minutes pass. The auctions she wanted have fallen into her trap and she’s pleased with her accomplishments. Contentment turns to curiosity and she stands, child tucked to her hip, and moves out to the window to find that there’s a rather heated battle of water gods on her lawn. The lake has been turned into a warzone of ice, steam, and mini-tidal waves. Manannan’s age and skill is matched by his daughter’s lunar pull on the water and natural grace with the element. They’re shouting to the other, but from where Anann is she can’t make it out. With a cluck of her tongue, she steps out onto the back veranda and encounters the twins. Calleigh and Kennedy are twined about the railings and if she’s heard right; taking bets on who would win the duel.
“Do either of you know what’s going on? Exactly why is your Grandfather trying to kill your Mother?”
Calleigh’s the one that answers; she’s the talkative one of the pair. “Momma pulled a trick on Grandda.”
“What sort of trick?” Anann enquires but she’s answered by a shout from Manannan as an ice dragon conjured up by Rhiann falls just short of biting him.
“A Single’s Cruise!?”
A beep from the screen before her brings her back to the auctions she was following before Rhiann had whirled into the study and besides the surprisingly behaved toddler in her arms, things settled down quick enough. Until there’s another tempest of Irish temper stalking through her doorway. It’s rare that Manannan consents to approaching her but this time he looks far more interested in other things beyond reminding her that he disapproves of her relationship with his headstrong daughter. “Where did she go?”
Anann’s response is a raised brow, and a dismissive gesture out towards the lake that glistens merrily underneath the noonday sun. The toddler in her lap happily greets her grandfather with a gurgling laugh but that doesn’t dissuade Manannan from his goal. He turns upon a heel. Minutes pass. The auctions she wanted have fallen into her trap and she’s pleased with her accomplishments. Contentment turns to curiosity and she stands, child tucked to her hip, and moves out to the window to find that there’s a rather heated battle of water gods on her lawn. The lake has been turned into a warzone of ice, steam, and mini-tidal waves. Manannan’s age and skill is matched by his daughter’s lunar pull on the water and natural grace with the element. They’re shouting to the other, but from where Anann is she can’t make it out. With a cluck of her tongue, she steps out onto the back veranda and encounters the twins. Calleigh and Kennedy are twined about the railings and if she’s heard right; taking bets on who would win the duel.
“Do either of you know what’s going on? Exactly why is your Grandfather trying to kill your Mother?”
Calleigh’s the one that answers; she’s the talkative one of the pair. “Momma pulled a trick on Grandda.”
“What sort of trick?” Anann enquires but she’s answered by a shout from Manannan as an ice dragon conjured up by Rhiann falls just short of biting him.
“A Single’s Cruise!?”
Friday, June 29, 2012
Drabble A Day - Beginning
Starting over is different than trying again. This is a truth that hits Rhiann in the middle of dicing garlic, the sauce on the stove simmering happily without her awareness needed. Somewhere to her left, Anann’s bent over, peering into the depths of the fridge for the lamb they tucked away the night before. The goddess hums a ditty heard on the radio that morning and sways along with the melody occupying her attention. Beyond the kitchen, Rhiann hears the quiet gossip of one of her other aspects and Vana, and further past that, Ann and Rhia plotting yet another one of their insane hijinks which would probably cause a conniption fit to fly about the household once discovered. If she strains her senses, she can hear Wuyi teaching one of the girls how to do some balancing game.
Anann keys into either the slowing of Rhiann’s movements with the knife, or she catches the surface of Rhiann’s wandering thoughts because her humming pauses in favor of her reclining back to catch Rhiann’s gaze. The question is in the arch of her brow and the soft purse of her lips. Rhiann’s returned smile is free of worry or stress and it sets Anann to ease. Within seconds she’s back in the fridge and out once more, the prized cuts of lamb within her grasp. She flashes a victorious smile Rhiann’s way and saunters over for a spoil of war, a kiss freely given before she turns and sets the meat on the counter. They fall into a comfortable rhythm, perfectly partnering the other until all that’s left is time to let the meat cook, the sauce simmer, and the drinks to cool in the fridge.
It’s a quiet moment different from the times before Elysium because when Anann’s abyssal gaze rises to meet hers, there’s not the layer of distance that used to be there. There’s still that burning desire that thrums in response to Anann’s secretive smirk, but underneath it is a core of affection that manages to steal Rhiann’s breath away whenever she least expects it. That wasn’t there before. Not as strong. Not as visible for her to take notice of and have it affect her so much. She still feels the same stir of interest when Anann, no longer distracted by a ritual of preparing a meal, stalks towards her with an intent obvious to even a blind man; she chuckles and does the same meld of her body against Anann’s, and tilts her head the exact way they’ve perfected in the slow, lingering kisses that are a teaser for later activities. Everything they once were and still are is still there; it’s just the intent is new. It’s not a rehash of the old, but a determination to start over from the beginning; a unspoken decision made up of ten years distance and seven years separation that what between them now was a new journey; made together.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Space Oddity
The meteor is a desolate warzone between the forces of Hades and a Titanic Force that I haven't been able to discern. There's divine biological warfare occuring all around us and although Wuyi, Rebecca, and Chloe can easily deal with the mooks I don't bring to our side, we're still in danger from whatever's flying through the air.
It hit Vana. Turned her from a sweet, caring woman into this vicious, dangerous beast who was willing to kill and be killed in order to assuage whatever darkness had taken over her. I ... I broke one of my promises to myself and wove an engendered love into her mind. She's now devoted to me and though I think she still wants Chloe's head on a platter, she's ... on a leash.
I hate saying that. I will beg on my knees for her forgiveness and understanding when it wears off. When it all wears off. If it ever wears off.
I -- well. Wuyi and I fought. Again. The Morrigan slapped her with a geas to die before me and that's turned her into this over-protective mess who's far too concerned over what I'm doing and not doing her job. I overreacted (when do I not?) but ... I can take care of myself. I have always taken care of myself and while I will happily take aid ... I refuse to be babied.
I also refuse to die. Anann decided the best way to make sure I come home alive was to make me with child. Again. Fertility Gods. *sigh* Not to mention, if I die than the ... well... it's not a curse exactly ... but I refuse to have one of my daughters wind up the next Rhiannon and I'll leave it at that.
Moving on. We battled against a Fire Giant who had a love of fire and setting it off on Rebecca, who was near me and I have NO clue how I scrambled out of that one. Vana teleported to the chains and I made my way through the cloud which was a labyrinth. I managed to remember how the Crone would trap me in them, training me to never trust anything I see before me and I got out. Wuyi was trapped behind me but she made it out as well.
With a joint effort between Wuyi, myself, and Rebecca, we managed to stop the Fire Giant General from hopping from flame to flame and gave ourselves some breathing room. Now it's time to figure out what the hell we're going to do with the Horse.
With a joint effort between Wuyi, myself, and Rebecca, we managed to stop the Fire Giant General from hopping from flame to flame and gave ourselves some breathing room. Now it's time to figure out what the hell we're going to do with the Horse.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
A Farewell Letter
Everything ready to go. Vana's arriving in two minutes (she's always punctual). The ranch is set up for Da to take it easy for a few days recovery. I said goodbye to the girls; goodbye to the Morrigan and I'm ... nervous.
My Last Will and Testament is prepared, I had both my Da and Anna sign off as witnesses. If things go wrong, the girls will be taken care of; as will Anann. I slipped my goodbye letters where I knew they'd find them after I'm on the meteor so they can do nothing to stop it.
In Anann's, I told her about the lie I used to let her let me go. She'll be furious, but she'll have to understand why I did what I did.
The relic retrival wasn't too bad... I made brother giants fight eachother of the lack of seeing breasts... Anann came for a thrill because I may or may not have tricked her into believing the Giants defiled me. What? When she's jealous, the sex is incredible ok? Well, it's always incredible but she has to prove something to herself every time she thinks I've be claimed by another.
After that, we all, well, topped eachother off with rousing speech to help Vana convince the Vanir to let us have the Saddle and that was a mindblowing experience. ... Charisma-drunk is...quite the night's activity. Heh. Well... after that Becky; a daughter of Anann's from a while back and I went off to rob the Vatican. She got a Pope Hat and I got to have some quickies with nuns. I'm an awesome step-mom.
Anywho. Anann and I fought about Wuyi, made up, had sex in my old childhood room ... and then I talked with Da about "Turning Anann into a Decent Person 101"
Right. Vana's here. ... if this is my last recording then.... oh please. What am I talking about. Motherfucker, I'm awesome and I'll be back here in no time.
My Last Will and Testament is prepared, I had both my Da and Anna sign off as witnesses. If things go wrong, the girls will be taken care of; as will Anann. I slipped my goodbye letters where I knew they'd find them after I'm on the meteor so they can do nothing to stop it.
In Anann's, I told her about the lie I used to let her let me go. She'll be furious, but she'll have to understand why I did what I did.
The relic retrival wasn't too bad... I made brother giants fight eachother of the lack of seeing breasts... Anann came for a thrill because I may or may not have tricked her into believing the Giants defiled me. What? When she's jealous, the sex is incredible ok? Well, it's always incredible but she has to prove something to herself every time she thinks I've be claimed by another.
After that, we all, well, topped eachother off with rousing speech to help Vana convince the Vanir to let us have the Saddle and that was a mindblowing experience. ... Charisma-drunk is...quite the night's activity. Heh. Well... after that Becky; a daughter of Anann's from a while back and I went off to rob the Vatican. She got a Pope Hat and I got to have some quickies with nuns. I'm an awesome step-mom.
Anywho. Anann and I fought about Wuyi, made up, had sex in my old childhood room ... and then I talked with Da about "Turning Anann into a Decent Person 101"
Right. Vana's here. ... if this is my last recording then.... oh please. What am I talking about. Motherfucker, I'm awesome and I'll be back here in no time.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
...Excerpt from Runway, pg 131
...Excerpt from Runway, pg 131.
Sunset is fast approaching on the southwestern shoot and although it has been a long day no one seems eager to pack up and go home. There's even talk of staying after twilight and capturing a few night shots to try and capture a different mood.
This is the environment I finally catch up with fashion's rising star Rhiannon, a remarkably sensual woman with a brogue that somehow makes her exotic and grounded all at the same time. Despite having been in the media's eye for most of the past year there is surprisingly little known of Rhiannon and I think it was only by luck I caught her in a mood to finally reveal some of the enigma surrounding her. So as the photographers and designers, models and make-up artists mill about us we sit down with the setting sun as our backdrop.
Runway - So, first interview! Nervous?
Rhiannon - *laughing* Not really. The spotlight's been one of those things in life I've always craved.
Runway - Really?
Rhiannon - Yep. The past year's a rare moment for me. I made the choice early on though that I would devote my time to Mythic and my marriage; and once the girls came along I had to devote even more energy to them. I promised myself I'd reward me for all the hard work with interviews after I was sure things wouldn't go up in smoke.
Runway - Well congratulations then! Mythic's hitting it's tenth issue *she nods here* and from the outings it looks like everything's smooth sailing on the marriage front -- *Rhiannon laughs*
Rhiannon - Nothing is smooth sailing with Anann but I enjoy that. I enjoy the challenge of married life. It's not like with a lover, you know? When you fight, or when you're having the worst day of your life and you feel like you're scummier than dirt you can't just call them up and say you don't want to meet up that day. Instead, you're right next to them and they're looking just as miserable as you and you've got to suck it up and face the day together because that's the promise you made. I love it.
Runway - So the mystery woman does have a name! And the rumors are true? You're married?
Rhiannon - First anniversary coming up this May.
Runway - Any plans that our readers would love to catch a peek of?
Rhiannon - I think we agreed to a week or two out in the Bahamas? Then again, Anann prefers to surprise me so we may wind up somewhere else entirely. One year it was Tibet, another it was a small town on the coast of California.
Runway - You said that 'when the girls came along'. Does that mean children?
Rhiannon - They're my darlings.
Runway - Where are they now?
Rhiannon - At home with Anann. Once they're a little older though, Anann hopes they'll be proper little gypsy babies and we'll be able to take them wherever we're working. *at my confusion she explains* That's Anann's terms for being able to sleep and make a home anywhere you set down. It would be a blessing.
Runway - Speaking of where you're working; it's rare for an editor to actually be at the photoshoots! Not to mention taking her own shots.
Rhiannon - Well, you're seeing the majority of my staff. *At my look she just laughs* It's true! I prefer quality over quantity and the shoots we do require certain demands that I can't just ask of anyone. This keeps costs down on the personnel front so we can put more into the spreads. Also, I love being out here and seeing the magic happen. I'd wilt away being cooped up in the office and only able to see the finished spread.
Runway - Marriage, the magazine, children, and the charity events that you and your wife are constantly at. How do you maintain the energy for everything? Any secrets to overcoming jetlag?
Rhiannon - Clones. Lots and lots of clones.
Runway - *laughing* Well, if you're willing to share that secret, please give me a call.
Rhiannon - *she winks at me before answering my earlier question* In all seriousness, I couldn't do much of anything without Anann helping me out. I'm this flighty little hummingbird of energy and ideas and it's through her patience and willpower that she actually gets me to focus on anything.
Runway - She's featured in every issue, hasn't she?
Rhiannon - She's my muse. On set, off set, she's very photogenic. Even in the ones she doesn't want me to take. *whispered* But I think those are my favorites.
Runway - Any other constants in your life?
Rhiannon - My friends. They're always busy and it feels like we all have the weight of the world on our shoulders but when push comes to shove they're always right there in the trenches with me. I'm blessed that they can put up with me even on the days Anann threatens to lock me in a closet.
Runway - Are they featured in Mythic? Do we know them?
Rhiannon - Oh, I've had a few of them pose but the rest are shy and not as needy for the limelight like I am. I'm hoping in a month or so I'll be able to just gather them all up and offer them a thank-you article. I wouldn't have got here without them.
Runway - Looking forward to it.
It's about this time that Rhiannon's attention is fully taken away from me as Anann herself strolls onto the shoot and literally claims the room for herself. Even I found myself wrapped up in this woman's aura and didn't leave the shoot until late in the night when the last rolls of film were spent and everything was deemed acceptable by the photographer's standards.
With a final goodbye, I leave Rhiannon and her wife underneath the Arizona night and find myself on a trip down into Mexico for a week-long venture that I'll showcase in the next article alongside the Fall fashion teasers.
Sunset is fast approaching on the southwestern shoot and although it has been a long day no one seems eager to pack up and go home. There's even talk of staying after twilight and capturing a few night shots to try and capture a different mood.This is the environment I finally catch up with fashion's rising star Rhiannon, a remarkably sensual woman with a brogue that somehow makes her exotic and grounded all at the same time. Despite having been in the media's eye for most of the past year there is surprisingly little known of Rhiannon and I think it was only by luck I caught her in a mood to finally reveal some of the enigma surrounding her. So as the photographers and designers, models and make-up artists mill about us we sit down with the setting sun as our backdrop.
Runway - So, first interview! Nervous?
Rhiannon - *laughing* Not really. The spotlight's been one of those things in life I've always craved.
Runway - Really?
Rhiannon - Yep. The past year's a rare moment for me. I made the choice early on though that I would devote my time to Mythic and my marriage; and once the girls came along I had to devote even more energy to them. I promised myself I'd reward me for all the hard work with interviews after I was sure things wouldn't go up in smoke.
Runway - Well congratulations then! Mythic's hitting it's tenth issue *she nods here* and from the outings it looks like everything's smooth sailing on the marriage front -- *Rhiannon laughs*
Rhiannon - Nothing is smooth sailing with Anann but I enjoy that. I enjoy the challenge of married life. It's not like with a lover, you know? When you fight, or when you're having the worst day of your life and you feel like you're scummier than dirt you can't just call them up and say you don't want to meet up that day. Instead, you're right next to them and they're looking just as miserable as you and you've got to suck it up and face the day together because that's the promise you made. I love it.
Runway - So the mystery woman does have a name! And the rumors are true? You're married?
Rhiannon - First anniversary coming up this May.
Runway - Any plans that our readers would love to catch a peek of?
Rhiannon - I think we agreed to a week or two out in the Bahamas? Then again, Anann prefers to surprise me so we may wind up somewhere else entirely. One year it was Tibet, another it was a small town on the coast of California.
Runway - You said that 'when the girls came along'. Does that mean children?
Rhiannon - They're my darlings.
Runway - Where are they now?
Rhiannon - At home with Anann. Once they're a little older though, Anann hopes they'll be proper little gypsy babies and we'll be able to take them wherever we're working. *at my confusion she explains* That's Anann's terms for being able to sleep and make a home anywhere you set down. It would be a blessing.
Runway - Speaking of where you're working; it's rare for an editor to actually be at the photoshoots! Not to mention taking her own shots.
Rhiannon - Well, you're seeing the majority of my staff. *At my look she just laughs* It's true! I prefer quality over quantity and the shoots we do require certain demands that I can't just ask of anyone. This keeps costs down on the personnel front so we can put more into the spreads. Also, I love being out here and seeing the magic happen. I'd wilt away being cooped up in the office and only able to see the finished spread.
Runway - Marriage, the magazine, children, and the charity events that you and your wife are constantly at. How do you maintain the energy for everything? Any secrets to overcoming jetlag?
Rhiannon - Clones. Lots and lots of clones.
Runway - *laughing* Well, if you're willing to share that secret, please give me a call.
Rhiannon - *she winks at me before answering my earlier question* In all seriousness, I couldn't do much of anything without Anann helping me out. I'm this flighty little hummingbird of energy and ideas and it's through her patience and willpower that she actually gets me to focus on anything.
Runway - She's featured in every issue, hasn't she?
Rhiannon - She's my muse. On set, off set, she's very photogenic. Even in the ones she doesn't want me to take. *whispered* But I think those are my favorites.
Runway - Any other constants in your life?
Rhiannon - My friends. They're always busy and it feels like we all have the weight of the world on our shoulders but when push comes to shove they're always right there in the trenches with me. I'm blessed that they can put up with me even on the days Anann threatens to lock me in a closet.
Runway - Are they featured in Mythic? Do we know them?
Rhiannon - Oh, I've had a few of them pose but the rest are shy and not as needy for the limelight like I am. I'm hoping in a month or so I'll be able to just gather them all up and offer them a thank-you article. I wouldn't have got here without them.
Runway - Looking forward to it.
It's about this time that Rhiannon's attention is fully taken away from me as Anann herself strolls onto the shoot and literally claims the room for herself. Even I found myself wrapped up in this woman's aura and didn't leave the shoot until late in the night when the last rolls of film were spent and everything was deemed acceptable by the photographer's standards.
With a final goodbye, I leave Rhiannon and her wife underneath the Arizona night and find myself on a trip down into Mexico for a week-long venture that I'll showcase in the next article alongside the Fall fashion teasers.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Time is on our sides...
Well, that was fun! Someone remind me that taking a stroll along the landscape of a Greater Titan isn't really that pleasant. From the judgemental alter-timeline Greek Goddess (they are all judgemental, aren't they?) to the diner in the literal middle of nowhere ... oh, and the death defying car-ride through an wormhole through time itself ... I think that's one titan I'll avoid for the time being!
On the other hand, I left my insecurity and fear with a waitress and now I feel strange. Well, more liberated than strange. But that's another story. We returned to our timeline thanks to Vana's internal GPS and wound up in front of a prison cell. Here's where things get hazy for me. We met Vana's half-brother, I know that much. I convinced them to talk outside because Chloe and Kelly were messing around with a trapdoor. I remember that as well. Ann was being territoral in a very cute way aaaaand then I took a swig from Meli's caludron and I think there was an orgy?
Oh, yeah. Orgy. Enech was broken too on Wuyi's side and, y'know, we were broken up, sure, but she couldn't have... I dunno, shown some respect? Decency? Most lesbian love-affairs take years to actually end ...she could have still had sex with Ann and I! Noooo, she breaks Enech and pisses off Anna to no end. I think if I replenish her Enech, I'll get no sex for a year! Sidhe die from lesser fates!
Anywho. Orgy. That was my fun. Except my other, grumpier aspect was pulled out of research with Anna (which is actually slang for sex! Don't let her tell you different.) to go counter Chloe trying to break out a prisoner. Now, here's where it really gets confusing. I gave Chloe a warning shot. I mean, I didn't want to get involved either way but Vana looked so damned distraught and I love Vana. She's like the sister I never had. And Chloe was this errant newcomer. I chose to just order Chloe out of there and that way, her and Vana could yell about it outside the damned jail-cell.
Of course, Chloe had to manifest evil shadow arms and start choking me to death. Thank Anann I got trhat sleep order off in time. What is it with the Amatsukami and tentacle monsters?! Right. Anyway. That got settled by the prisoner, a giant, stabbing himself in the head with Chloe's sword that had been dropped.
Which means Melli is in huge trouble and we got him there.
Of course, this isn't covering my new idea with the Keepers but I'll save that one for when it's a little more progressed. And I'm not being gnawed on by a cotton candy monster.
Ta!
On the other hand, I left my insecurity and fear with a waitress and now I feel strange. Well, more liberated than strange. But that's another story. We returned to our timeline thanks to Vana's internal GPS and wound up in front of a prison cell. Here's where things get hazy for me. We met Vana's half-brother, I know that much. I convinced them to talk outside because Chloe and Kelly were messing around with a trapdoor. I remember that as well. Ann was being territoral in a very cute way aaaaand then I took a swig from Meli's caludron and I think there was an orgy?
Oh, yeah. Orgy. Enech was broken too on Wuyi's side and, y'know, we were broken up, sure, but she couldn't have... I dunno, shown some respect? Decency? Most lesbian love-affairs take years to actually end ...she could have still had sex with Ann and I! Noooo, she breaks Enech and pisses off Anna to no end. I think if I replenish her Enech, I'll get no sex for a year! Sidhe die from lesser fates!
Anywho. Orgy. That was my fun. Except my other, grumpier aspect was pulled out of research with Anna (which is actually slang for sex! Don't let her tell you different.) to go counter Chloe trying to break out a prisoner. Now, here's where it really gets confusing. I gave Chloe a warning shot. I mean, I didn't want to get involved either way but Vana looked so damned distraught and I love Vana. She's like the sister I never had. And Chloe was this errant newcomer. I chose to just order Chloe out of there and that way, her and Vana could yell about it outside the damned jail-cell.
Of course, Chloe had to manifest evil shadow arms and start choking me to death. Thank Anann I got trhat sleep order off in time. What is it with the Amatsukami and tentacle monsters?! Right. Anyway. That got settled by the prisoner, a giant, stabbing himself in the head with Chloe's sword that had been dropped.
Which means Melli is in huge trouble and we got him there.
Of course, this isn't covering my new idea with the Keepers but I'll save that one for when it's a little more progressed. And I'm not being gnawed on by a cotton candy monster.
Ta!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Page Six with Emile Cor
Recent Gossip Time! The amazing (and insanely priced!) five-story townhouse in the fashionable Tribeca neighborhood of New York has just been taken off the market! By who, you ask? Why, that's simple, darling.By the current media darling that's made a charming break onto the scene of fashion thanks to the new magazine Mythic which in the previous year's 10 issues has decided to blow our minds. That's correct: Rhiannon Kells has set down roots in the middle of the Big Apple.
When we managed a few shots of the rooftop townhouse, we caught glimpse of a stunning dark-haired temptress that seems to have no name but has been seen in the company of Rhiannon since the woman appeared on the scene.
Can we just say 'yummy?' I think we can. While this mystery woman
doesn't yet have a name we can attach to her, we do know that wherever Rhiannon goes; you're bound to find this goddess of womanly form nearby.We promise you faithful readers that we have a team dedicated to digging to the bottom of this so we can all have a name to plug into our tumblr and twitter feeds. Everyone needs a new obsession, is what I always say!
But enough of the speculation! Here's what we do know about the woman: She's been featured in Mythic as well. Not on one of the bigger articles, no; but one of the personal photographs that Rhiannon seems to add to every one of her editoral inserts at the end of each issue.
She's also there at most of the photo shoots themselves and from what an inside source tells us: she is not a woman to cross! Although, let's be frank: She could stare sternly at usany day of the week? Agreed? Good!One final piece of the puzzle is that she's well known on the auction scene as well, though whoever she pays for her PR knows how to keep the private life private.
Someone needs to remind these women that we mere mortals feed on the blood of gossip and fame, and that a little juicy morsel here and there wouldn't hurt one tiny bit.
Ah well. We can always wait until the paperazzi are set loose on the red carpet of New York's Fashion Week and see if any more pieces of the puzzle are offered up.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Love Hurts
They say you can't recall anything before you hit about three or four. Consciously. Subconciously, that has to be bullshit because how would the treatments of their parents and environments shape infants? Exactly.
My first memory, thanks to The Morrigan's vanity, was opening my eyes and meeting her gaze and knowing, honest to the gods knowing that come hell or high water, that woman would shape my entire destiny.
That's not always a good thing.
Soulmates; fated lovers; star-crossed ... whatever name you want to slap over the phenomena ... strips you of free will. Sure, you could live your life the way you want; bind yourself to who you desire; forge whatever path you think you can blaze ... but there's this gaping hole. This incessant itch that you can never scratch. It's a painful fire that flares in your very blood. It doesn't care what you think you feel -- it's always there. It eclipses everything.
I hated Anann in the beginning. Well, a little after it; when the Maiden twisted the geas of my father to make sure I would never be satisfied in another relationship. If I wouldn't be happy with her, then I would be happy with no one. That was the first phase. Then the Matron got involved. She stalked me, hounded me in combat, taunted me in the social area. She made my life a living hell. My sleep was torn between her throwing me into dreams of sexual deviancy that I wanted and refused all at the same time; and the nightmares where she threw all my weaknesses against me.
The only way to stop the torment was to give in. So I did. And for a little while ... a couple of months here, a year there, a decade here ... things were ...balanced. Neutral. But it always failed and then I would have stretches of my life to pretend that I didn't need her like a heroin habit I couldn't shake.
She always returned when I started a new romance and if I refused her, then we were back to the torments. The stalking. The dreams. If I caved in too early she would deny me. If I caved in too late, the resulting period of togetherness was built on the ups and downs of lust.
There were moments in our life where there was honest companionship. The last time I came back was one of the times I think we were close to what could be considered a happy relationship. That, of course, ended horribly as well. Her punishment that time? My death.
I hate her. Yet I love her too. It's twisted like a noose about our necks and there's nothing we can do to slip it. So this time I chose to stop fighting. I gave into the endgame. I battled fate for two hundred years and I ... was tired. Anann swooped in not barely a week after my return to life and gave me the choice to join her again.
I didn't even have my fucking memories and I chose her. Like she would have let me walk away. Even now, she is chosen over everything. If it came down to it ... I would pick Anann over our daughters. I have to pick Anann. Like I said, she's a habit I can never quit.
...
But if I was going back then I was bringing something that wasn't hers, that couldn't be tainted by her. I was selfish and demanded that Wuyi be allowed within whatever circle Anann and I fought in and the goddess agreed. I wish she had refused. Wuyi should have called me out, cleanly breaking it there. Because all I'm doing now is repeating the cycle but there's a difference.
Wuyi's not forced to be here. She doesn't have that horrible craving that makes you place everything else as unimportant, as second class, as worthless compared to what Fate's decided. She doesn't have to endure the emotional crueltly, the neglect, the withholding of affection as punishment. She can live a happy life with who she chooses without having to always know that she'll always want something else.
I am selfish. I kept her close, guarded her like a treasure to be safekept and admired. She was mine. It was all my choice and there was nothing Fate nor Anann could do anything about. But slowly, it started to wither. Not on her part, gods no. Wuyi's still a bright star just waiting to be given her night's sky. She still is ...
But this series of failures, the fears that Hypnos threw on us ... the collapse of the geode, my decision that may kill us all... Wuyi's catch 22 that wasn't her fault... it tarnished her, just for a little bit. And I rubbed that dirt in further. I made sure she knew my displeasure at her failures and I watched the brightness dim. I watched the pedestal she placed me on crack.
...
I'm making the choice to save her. She deserves better than me. Hell, no God's worthy of her inexhaustible kindness and love and she deserves someone who can look at her and only her. I can't give her that promise. So I'm going to be selfless ... just this once ... and force her to leave on her own accord before she's too broken to go. I think that's the only way I can love her the way she's meant to be loved.
See? Look at that. Even by loving her enough to let her go, I'm going to ruin a part of her.
Love fucking hurts.
My first memory, thanks to The Morrigan's vanity, was opening my eyes and meeting her gaze and knowing, honest to the gods knowing that come hell or high water, that woman would shape my entire destiny.
That's not always a good thing.
Soulmates; fated lovers; star-crossed ... whatever name you want to slap over the phenomena ... strips you of free will. Sure, you could live your life the way you want; bind yourself to who you desire; forge whatever path you think you can blaze ... but there's this gaping hole. This incessant itch that you can never scratch. It's a painful fire that flares in your very blood. It doesn't care what you think you feel -- it's always there. It eclipses everything.
I hated Anann in the beginning. Well, a little after it; when the Maiden twisted the geas of my father to make sure I would never be satisfied in another relationship. If I wouldn't be happy with her, then I would be happy with no one. That was the first phase. Then the Matron got involved. She stalked me, hounded me in combat, taunted me in the social area. She made my life a living hell. My sleep was torn between her throwing me into dreams of sexual deviancy that I wanted and refused all at the same time; and the nightmares where she threw all my weaknesses against me.
The only way to stop the torment was to give in. So I did. And for a little while ... a couple of months here, a year there, a decade here ... things were ...balanced. Neutral. But it always failed and then I would have stretches of my life to pretend that I didn't need her like a heroin habit I couldn't shake.
She always returned when I started a new romance and if I refused her, then we were back to the torments. The stalking. The dreams. If I caved in too early she would deny me. If I caved in too late, the resulting period of togetherness was built on the ups and downs of lust.
There were moments in our life where there was honest companionship. The last time I came back was one of the times I think we were close to what could be considered a happy relationship. That, of course, ended horribly as well. Her punishment that time? My death.
I hate her. Yet I love her too. It's twisted like a noose about our necks and there's nothing we can do to slip it. So this time I chose to stop fighting. I gave into the endgame. I battled fate for two hundred years and I ... was tired. Anann swooped in not barely a week after my return to life and gave me the choice to join her again.
I didn't even have my fucking memories and I chose her. Like she would have let me walk away. Even now, she is chosen over everything. If it came down to it ... I would pick Anann over our daughters. I have to pick Anann. Like I said, she's a habit I can never quit.
...
But if I was going back then I was bringing something that wasn't hers, that couldn't be tainted by her. I was selfish and demanded that Wuyi be allowed within whatever circle Anann and I fought in and the goddess agreed. I wish she had refused. Wuyi should have called me out, cleanly breaking it there. Because all I'm doing now is repeating the cycle but there's a difference.
Wuyi's not forced to be here. She doesn't have that horrible craving that makes you place everything else as unimportant, as second class, as worthless compared to what Fate's decided. She doesn't have to endure the emotional crueltly, the neglect, the withholding of affection as punishment. She can live a happy life with who she chooses without having to always know that she'll always want something else.
I am selfish. I kept her close, guarded her like a treasure to be safekept and admired. She was mine. It was all my choice and there was nothing Fate nor Anann could do anything about. But slowly, it started to wither. Not on her part, gods no. Wuyi's still a bright star just waiting to be given her night's sky. She still is ...
But this series of failures, the fears that Hypnos threw on us ... the collapse of the geode, my decision that may kill us all... Wuyi's catch 22 that wasn't her fault... it tarnished her, just for a little bit. And I rubbed that dirt in further. I made sure she knew my displeasure at her failures and I watched the brightness dim. I watched the pedestal she placed me on crack.
...
I'm making the choice to save her. She deserves better than me. Hell, no God's worthy of her inexhaustible kindness and love and she deserves someone who can look at her and only her. I can't give her that promise. So I'm going to be selfless ... just this once ... and force her to leave on her own accord before she's too broken to go. I think that's the only way I can love her the way she's meant to be loved.
See? Look at that. Even by loving her enough to let her go, I'm going to ruin a part of her.
Love fucking hurts.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Morning After
I hate fighting with myself.
No. I don't mean battling it out with my conscience. I don't mean trying to stifle that voice in the back of my head as I overindulge on one sin or another.
I mean honest fighting. Low voices that cut like razors to make sure the girls don't wake up as we square off in the mansion. I'm the patient aspect and even I sneer my lip when I see one of the other two. We're not divided like Anann. There's no actual separation of women here. It's all window dressing, shifts of dominant personality types to make us seem like we're different when we're still the exact same person.
And right now, I don't like who I see in the mirror. Down the hall. Crooning to the children. Cuddled up tight on the couch. It would be easier if I was still one physical aspect. That way I could avoid catching my own eyes and feeling the shame bubble up inside.
It will fade. Soon. The Morrigan may be the highest maintenance spouse to ever exist... Seriously, spiders in my shower when I let the water heater run out on one of her showers ... not that I did so deliberately to hear her shriek. Look, she married the sidhe, she's supposed to deal with whimsical acts of torture and merriment. It was in our contract.
Gods.
Look, where was I? Oh. Right. She's a pain in my ass ... but she's there when it counts with a variant of tough love and bolstering my reassurances by inviting over Welsh Princesses with huge (fake) breasts and proceeding to fawn over me instead, only giving our guest the proper amount of hospitality. She also did it because when I'm jealous, she gets laid.
I've mentioned that she's very self-serving, right?
Anyway. I'm still trying to process what happened right after the Keepers ... ugh. The Formorians -- damn it. They have me calling them by their whitewashed name now. The FORMORIANS shattered the dreamscape, throwing all of us back into reality. Right when we promised to give Hypnos a seed to symbolize our apologies for the insanity we pulled back in Hades.
Rhia was thrust back into the fight, and while we ... I ... experience everything at once, I can tune out when something's distracting me from trying to survive. Sorta. It's a jumbled, chaotic mess until I can sit down and focus. I ... well, the 'middle sister' was thrust back to the mansion.
I had fallen asleep on the way to the kitchen. I was fetching something and Anann had been by my side commenting on one auction or another. At least shag carpeting was soft. Anann was still in the process of waking up when I realized that the girls were unattended.
Dream have a way of distorting reality. I had hoped that we'd been asleep for only a couple of hours. I was wrong. Two weeks had passed by. Two weeks of the girls without their mothers. Fifteen of us, the girls visited early so they would have the best chance at survival ... and Hypnos finds the way to ruin us all.
That's why I'm eternally grateful to Da. I found him watching over the girls, that comforting scent of sea and ranch rushing over me as I thank him over and over again. That act right there (minus leaving me on the floor to 'accidently' step on... stupid fey.) washes away Hypnos' fantasy of Fand becoming the perfect mother.
I don't need to write down what Anann and I did. That's just assumed at this point. Like breathing. Or ... y'know... no, yeah. I have to breathe and I have to pounce Anann. Two integral needs of my existence.
Speaking of needing to breathe. Excuse me.
No. I don't mean battling it out with my conscience. I don't mean trying to stifle that voice in the back of my head as I overindulge on one sin or another.
I mean honest fighting. Low voices that cut like razors to make sure the girls don't wake up as we square off in the mansion. I'm the patient aspect and even I sneer my lip when I see one of the other two. We're not divided like Anann. There's no actual separation of women here. It's all window dressing, shifts of dominant personality types to make us seem like we're different when we're still the exact same person.
And right now, I don't like who I see in the mirror. Down the hall. Crooning to the children. Cuddled up tight on the couch. It would be easier if I was still one physical aspect. That way I could avoid catching my own eyes and feeling the shame bubble up inside.
It will fade. Soon. The Morrigan may be the highest maintenance spouse to ever exist... Seriously, spiders in my shower when I let the water heater run out on one of her showers ... not that I did so deliberately to hear her shriek. Look, she married the sidhe, she's supposed to deal with whimsical acts of torture and merriment. It was in our contract.
Gods.
Look, where was I? Oh. Right. She's a pain in my ass ... but she's there when it counts with a variant of tough love and bolstering my reassurances by inviting over Welsh Princesses with huge (fake) breasts and proceeding to fawn over me instead, only giving our guest the proper amount of hospitality. She also did it because when I'm jealous, she gets laid.
I've mentioned that she's very self-serving, right?
Anyway. I'm still trying to process what happened right after the Keepers ... ugh. The Formorians -- damn it. They have me calling them by their whitewashed name now. The FORMORIANS shattered the dreamscape, throwing all of us back into reality. Right when we promised to give Hypnos a seed to symbolize our apologies for the insanity we pulled back in Hades.
Rhia was thrust back into the fight, and while we ... I ... experience everything at once, I can tune out when something's distracting me from trying to survive. Sorta. It's a jumbled, chaotic mess until I can sit down and focus. I ... well, the 'middle sister' was thrust back to the mansion.
I had fallen asleep on the way to the kitchen. I was fetching something and Anann had been by my side commenting on one auction or another. At least shag carpeting was soft. Anann was still in the process of waking up when I realized that the girls were unattended.
Dream have a way of distorting reality. I had hoped that we'd been asleep for only a couple of hours. I was wrong. Two weeks had passed by. Two weeks of the girls without their mothers. Fifteen of us, the girls visited early so they would have the best chance at survival ... and Hypnos finds the way to ruin us all.
That's why I'm eternally grateful to Da. I found him watching over the girls, that comforting scent of sea and ranch rushing over me as I thank him over and over again. That act right there (minus leaving me on the floor to 'accidently' step on... stupid fey.) washes away Hypnos' fantasy of Fand becoming the perfect mother.
I don't need to write down what Anann and I did. That's just assumed at this point. Like breathing. Or ... y'know... no, yeah. I have to breathe and I have to pounce Anann. Two integral needs of my existence.
Speaking of needing to breathe. Excuse me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Bad Dreams
I don't think I'm ready to talk about what happened in Hypnos' ... hospitality yet. There's far too many open wounds and painful fantasies that I'm not willing to face with anything beyond anguished self-reflection.
Instead, I'll talk about the current status of the, well, the side-project my 'Crone' aspect is working on while my Maiden-aspect was exploring the wilds of Mexico.
We're close to discovering something big - that's for certain. All the civilizations talk about the lost city sunk beneath the waves. Atlantis, Ys, Lemuria ... I don't know if there's many or just the one, but the longer Anna and I burn the midnight oil, the more assured I become that I'm on the trail of discovering what the hell happened to them.
Anann says that if I manage to win the city, it'll be mine. My own kingdom where I am not a Queen-Consort, but a Queen in her own right. I'm not sure if that's truly what I want but a year ago all I wanted was my memories and the knowledge of who I was.
Now? ...I want to kidnap Hypnos to make him my personal dream-slave or... destroy him for giving me a glimpse of a future I'll never have. What he did to all of us ... we didn't deserve this. The tribulations of Hades were the faults of the Dodekathenoi, not us.
Goddess, damn that child-god to hell.
Instead, I'll talk about the current status of the, well, the side-project my 'Crone' aspect is working on while my Maiden-aspect was exploring the wilds of Mexico.
We're close to discovering something big - that's for certain. All the civilizations talk about the lost city sunk beneath the waves. Atlantis, Ys, Lemuria ... I don't know if there's many or just the one, but the longer Anna and I burn the midnight oil, the more assured I become that I'm on the trail of discovering what the hell happened to them.
Anann says that if I manage to win the city, it'll be mine. My own kingdom where I am not a Queen-Consort, but a Queen in her own right. I'm not sure if that's truly what I want but a year ago all I wanted was my memories and the knowledge of who I was.
Now? ...I want to kidnap Hypnos to make him my personal dream-slave or... destroy him for giving me a glimpse of a future I'll never have. What he did to all of us ... we didn't deserve this. The tribulations of Hades were the faults of the Dodekathenoi, not us.
Goddess, damn that child-god to hell.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Sacrifices
Though I had agreed amongst my selves that it would be Rhia's dominant personality that was allowed to travel this time around (the better to ... adjust to the interesting dynamics of working with... well, that's moot now); the gloom sparked the foul mood that has plagued Anann and I since a year prior. The children barely get to leave the mansion due to our fears that my faerie blood in them will be enough to trigger the trance that has fallen over any other fae around the city. Even now, it's haunting tendrils tug at me to disappear into it and it takes a nip at my ear from Ann to distract me.
Ben and Tal ... had not changed in the slightest. The others were greeted with smiles and pleasantries while I was greeted as their tool to be used because ... well ... neither of them could politic their way out of a shallow pit with steps. The backhanded compliments and the fact that I was no one's ... mm. It stuck with me, burrowed under my skin to fester much like the mist that cloyed at my body as we walked into the arena meant to house the contestants for the Sun.
The Sun ... I regretted my promise to aid Tal in her bid for that position. It had been made before Cairo, before Norway, and it had been made before I could rationally think of my opinion. Perhaps given years, decades to grow and mature Tal would become the sort of Sun the Teotl needed - but not now. She shares the same mortal flaws that the rest of the Band and I still hold... but that ... this is thoughts for another reality, one where I thought my promises beforehand.
I kept my promise to her in my own way. Simpering to her and catering to her need would have weakened her. Trials of Calm do not make a leader - adversity does. Sacrifice does. Stripped of all your crutches and finding that spark inside makes one a leader. So ... that is what I did. She would accuse me of betrayal, of breaking my oath but that's because there's a two thousand year difference in our philosophies. She lives in a time where such leaders like the Sun are ... distant ideals. They're grand to strive for, sure, but she doesn't truly understand the impact they have on the world like I do. I remember when my world lived and died on the Morrigan's whims, or the Dagda's trysts. Where what you want and what you need are two terrible differences that rarely could be molded into one perfect union.
Does she understand that becoming the Sun means spending every day fighting back the tides of whatever evil the Teotl battle constantly? Then to die at the end only to be reborn anew to repeat the cycle? That whoever is placed to that position should be the strongest candidate, not the one I promise to help before my memories are truly returned?
But again, musings for another lifetime. Things were tense as a battle was called and while the others charged out - I walked into my own war ground.
Anann's position as my fated lover was only tested three times in my past. From each of these affairs, I took away something that changed me ever onward. When I sailed the Caribbean as a pirate lord, my patron had not been the Morrigu, but the Smoking Mirror, a dark and sensual god that I pledged my spoils too. Where in many ways I was forced to be with Anann ... I willingly chose to disobey my father to follow Tezcatlipoca. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, and the taste lingers ... even after a lifetime.
Perhaps it was out of fondness for our shared history, or the fact that his smirk still sent a dark shiver down my spine but I allowed myself to relax around him. I knew his tricks - that his smile promised pain as much as it could promise pleasure - that this little meeting was as deadly a war zone as whatever had assaulted the meeting ... but I didn't care. After our small talk passed, I sat down on the floor and spoke with Eztli, Tal's half-sister.
She ...more than her sister ever did ... resonated with me. I knew exactly what it was like to be under the controlling gaze of a god of strife and discord. Of a dark deity who demanded more than what you were comfortable giving. There was a old pain in her eyes that I could relate to and as I told her of her sisters adventures ... that same need to have some sort of belonging outside of being a god's sword reflected back at me.
Perhaps Tezcatlipoca muddled my instincts here too, but when Eztli asked for a geas, I bestowed one upon her. I won't lie and say it was all altruistic. I knew Tezcatlipoca lingered in the background and I knew without a doubt that if my geas had not been given willingly ... there would have been blood spilled to assure my cooperation. He knew that I was untouchable now, and I feel that he would have happily threatened Enech to make sure his way was won.
Tal can call it a betrayal whenever she finds out - but her hubris and her ambition is not worth shattering my honor to my family.
In the end, it was my blood spilled. A gift from Tezcatlipoca to me, a simple obsidian ax to be exchanged for favors down the line. When he and his daughter stepped through the mirror as the battle ended, I trembled in the room alone - not from any memory coursing through my body - but from terror.
I have this sinking feeling that I am a simple chess piece in this game only I'm being controlled by the wrong team ... and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Long Strange Trip It's Been!
 |
| Off the Coast of Spain! |
 |
| Same wreck. |
 |
| Rylina ~ off the coast of Bahama |
Ah, Fabio. He's adjusting to Ireland well and the herd is growing - and fast! He has to deal with the local wild stallions that have been sniffing around the mares. It's not too big a problem .... except that he keeps trying to eat the losers and it's um, difficult to explain to the local horse-watchers as to why he tries to do that.
 |
| Little Kennedy. |
I'd gush about the girls but I do that far, far too often as it is. Motherhood is something I thought I'd never want and yet being surrounded by the six little terrors is akin to being the most happy I've felt in a good two millennia. I still dislike someone's else's child - they just don't exude the same bond and coo'ing reaction that my own parasites do. And with Anann's blessing on five of them (Monkey claimed his Grandawesome) they all have personalities emerging quicker than a normal child. Fiona's the quiet and serious eldest - as if she knows what's expected of her. The twins are little bundles of mischief even at their tender age. Siofra is ... she looks a lot like Fand and does she have a set of demanding lungs on her! Xiaomei's a cutey. She'll be walking first, it's already obvious that the tail aids in that (and it's soooo adorable when she holds onto you with it). Liath takes after Anann. She's easily matching Siofra as 'little diva'.
 |
| And she still has the nerve to blame me! |
Although how she manages to look gorgeous while looking shell-shocked is a trick I need to learn. Anywho! Vana and Kelly will be arriving tonight so I need to go prepare.
Homecoming
"Exactly how long are you going to remain furious at her?" It was weird for either of them to hear the other speak. They had been an only child growing up, and hadn't had a twin to adjust to the same timbre and quality of one's voice coming from another's lips. Still, Anann had practically demanded that they speak openly because watching the silent exchange from outside 'was disturbing'.
So, Rhiannon found herself looking up from her unpacking to find Rhia leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her petite chest, her hair loose and flowing down to her waist, and startling blue eyes locked on her motions with the suitcase and wrapped little trinkets from the week spent returning to the mansion. She knew what Rhia asked, but decided to leave it alone. She had just calmed down, after all. "Would you prefer the green shawl, or the blue?"
Rhia's eyes narrow much like a displeased cat. There's a fluttering through the innate mental link the two share, but Rhiannon's firm grasp on keeping her thoughts her own for the moment leaves the pixish aspect with a dark glower and an exasperated eyeroll. "All right, all right. You're still bitchy that she's completed the current set. I get it. Can you at least share what happened in Norway?"
"You have the same memories as I do, why are you asking?"
"Oh, just because the memories of fire, burning, giant skeleton dragons, Bellona -- was she really there?"
"Mmhmm. Remembered us too. She's still touchy about the whole 'Romans got their asses handed to them' detail." Rhiannon smirks as she finishes up the first suitcase. She stops for a moment to eyeball the remaining stuff and vows to never let Anna hop around the world as a raven again. She's wound up with far too many shiny trinkets.
"Right. Bellona - and Loki bet Mars in a chess match?" Rhia hops onto the bed, upsetting several papers that skitter down to the floor.
"Now give Benjamin some credit ... he moved the pieces." Rhiannon says, and the two exchange a perfectly partnered grin at the tease. "In all seriousness, Benjamin needed all the help we could give him (though he only thanked Tal - see if I laud his praises ever again -hmph-) to become close to Mars' intellect but once there, Ben took the lead."
"And then Mars... took you on a tour of the garden?" Rhia's tone is dubious but Rhiannon ignores that bit.
"It was the perfect cover for Vana and Kelly to plant the seeds Jord gave us; and when it wrapped up - Tal gave me the perfect cover for the countdown."
"Then everything went to hell?"
"Something like that," Rhiannon says after falling quiet for a minute. If she closes her eyes she can still feel the flames of the Devourer upon her skin, and subconsciously, she shivers at recalling that haunting cradlesong. "The point is, we dealt a stinging blow to Loki's plan. It's not a perfect victory, but it is a victory."
"What about Kelly?" Rhia doesn't speak that question aloud, but it's echoed in the shared space of their mind, as if it were Rhiannon's own doubts bubbling up to plague her. Yes. What about Kelly, indeed.
So, Rhiannon found herself looking up from her unpacking to find Rhia leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her petite chest, her hair loose and flowing down to her waist, and startling blue eyes locked on her motions with the suitcase and wrapped little trinkets from the week spent returning to the mansion. She knew what Rhia asked, but decided to leave it alone. She had just calmed down, after all. "Would you prefer the green shawl, or the blue?"
Rhia's eyes narrow much like a displeased cat. There's a fluttering through the innate mental link the two share, but Rhiannon's firm grasp on keeping her thoughts her own for the moment leaves the pixish aspect with a dark glower and an exasperated eyeroll. "All right, all right. You're still bitchy that she's completed the current set. I get it. Can you at least share what happened in Norway?"
"You have the same memories as I do, why are you asking?"
"Oh, just because the memories of fire, burning, giant skeleton dragons, Bellona -- was she really there?"
"Mmhmm. Remembered us too. She's still touchy about the whole 'Romans got their asses handed to them' detail." Rhiannon smirks as she finishes up the first suitcase. She stops for a moment to eyeball the remaining stuff and vows to never let Anna hop around the world as a raven again. She's wound up with far too many shiny trinkets.
"Right. Bellona - and Loki bet Mars in a chess match?" Rhia hops onto the bed, upsetting several papers that skitter down to the floor.
"Now give Benjamin some credit ... he moved the pieces." Rhiannon says, and the two exchange a perfectly partnered grin at the tease. "In all seriousness, Benjamin needed all the help we could give him (though he only thanked Tal - see if I laud his praises ever again -hmph-) to become close to Mars' intellect but once there, Ben took the lead."
"And then Mars... took you on a tour of the garden?" Rhia's tone is dubious but Rhiannon ignores that bit.
"It was the perfect cover for Vana and Kelly to plant the seeds Jord gave us; and when it wrapped up - Tal gave me the perfect cover for the countdown."
"Then everything went to hell?"
"Something like that," Rhiannon says after falling quiet for a minute. If she closes her eyes she can still feel the flames of the Devourer upon her skin, and subconsciously, she shivers at recalling that haunting cradlesong. "The point is, we dealt a stinging blow to Loki's plan. It's not a perfect victory, but it is a victory."
"What about Kelly?" Rhia doesn't speak that question aloud, but it's echoed in the shared space of their mind, as if it were Rhiannon's own doubts bubbling up to plague her. Yes. What about Kelly, indeed.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Comfort
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, there's the guilt and shame that swirl over Rhiannon's thoughts like oncoming storm clouds eager to unleash their torrent and fury over the roiling ocean below.
That doesn't matter though. It's a simple gesture to throw up the barricade and leave her sulking in silence. Vaguely, she catches glimpses of the flight from the Kindly Ones and there's a roar in the distance as her own failing rise up to engulf her.
It grows to be too much almost, but there's a gentle sigh right beside her ear and the moonlight streams in from the large windows, washing her in the silvery moonbeams until the wave of her emotions ebbs out into that infinite ocean. Soon the water is glass as everything is right for this one moment of existence.
"I hear you thinking and it is far too loud." There's a siblant whisper at her ear, the voice shivering down her spine. Anann's grasp, even in the drowsy, half-awake state is a steel vice. Rhiannon doesn't answer her beyond a subtle shift within that unrelenting embrace, hoping vainly that Anann will leave it at that. The goddess doesn't, of course. She had to meddle lest it drive her mad and so, after Rhiannon has counted out nine steady heartbeats that rumble like thunder under her cheek; she's tucked and rolled until she's pressed deep into the blankets, a dark shadow falling over her. She tilts her gaze up to meet the midnight black stare of the Morrigan.
"I'm not thinking," she says softly, the tingle of the lie prickling at the base of her neck. She knows Anann can sense the falsehood, for the goddess' perfect cupid's bow mouth curves down into a frown that doesn't break the face that Anann is beauty personified. A thigh glides between her own legs as Anann resettles herself and Rhiannon knows that she'll be awake for a while longer. It's not sexual, not yet-- but it's a sensual closeness as the Matron consoles in the ways that mean most to her.
"All right, so I am thinking." Rhiannon crooks her knee so that her calf rubs along Anann's own. Compared to the goddess' ivory skin, Rhiannon's is deathly pale, the anemia turning her already luminous skin near transparent and wane. "Rhiannon's memories of the last few days have filtered in. She finally fell asleep."
There's a poignant silence from Anann as Rhiannon speaks aloud the troubles that plague her mind. She talks about Hammerfest first, and Anann's fingers tickle over her shoulder and trace the line of her collarbone. When Rhiannon begins to mention the ritual, Anann's tactics change; and Rhiannon's voice catches over a word. Her eyes flutter close and then open again, meeting Anann's gaze questioningly.
"Continue." The goddess commands with a voice as smooth as silk, her expression unreadable as her fingers flex and curl over Rhiannon's body.
Rhiannon's words are a stumble until the rythym's established and she can indulge in a sigh or two without breaking the flow of her thoughts. The conversation dips between bouts of noise and silence, as the crush of their lips together has Rhiannon whispering over the connection of the ring until she's allowed a breath. When Anann's attentions are over her throat, she resumes speaking vocally, the cadence and pitch of her words thrown off by the smile that can't leave her lips now.
By the time Rhiannon's detailing the futile frustration as she's plucked off the battlefield of her unwilling choosing, the words are broken apart by tiny little moans. She gives up the pretense not long afterward and falls into the pleasure that Anann coaxes from her. Like a bird, her spirit soars high and eternity passes by her until reality is gently returned to her. Anann's abyssal gaze glitters with pride as she rolls them until Rhiannon's nestled on her. Nothing's said as they fall into a companionable silence, Anann's touch now soothing and meant to lull Rhiannon back to sleep's cloying embrace, the Vanir fortress nothing more than another footnote in the demigoddess' past.
That doesn't matter though. It's a simple gesture to throw up the barricade and leave her sulking in silence. Vaguely, she catches glimpses of the flight from the Kindly Ones and there's a roar in the distance as her own failing rise up to engulf her.
It grows to be too much almost, but there's a gentle sigh right beside her ear and the moonlight streams in from the large windows, washing her in the silvery moonbeams until the wave of her emotions ebbs out into that infinite ocean. Soon the water is glass as everything is right for this one moment of existence.
"I hear you thinking and it is far too loud." There's a siblant whisper at her ear, the voice shivering down her spine. Anann's grasp, even in the drowsy, half-awake state is a steel vice. Rhiannon doesn't answer her beyond a subtle shift within that unrelenting embrace, hoping vainly that Anann will leave it at that. The goddess doesn't, of course. She had to meddle lest it drive her mad and so, after Rhiannon has counted out nine steady heartbeats that rumble like thunder under her cheek; she's tucked and rolled until she's pressed deep into the blankets, a dark shadow falling over her. She tilts her gaze up to meet the midnight black stare of the Morrigan.
"I'm not thinking," she says softly, the tingle of the lie prickling at the base of her neck. She knows Anann can sense the falsehood, for the goddess' perfect cupid's bow mouth curves down into a frown that doesn't break the face that Anann is beauty personified. A thigh glides between her own legs as Anann resettles herself and Rhiannon knows that she'll be awake for a while longer. It's not sexual, not yet-- but it's a sensual closeness as the Matron consoles in the ways that mean most to her.
"All right, so I am thinking." Rhiannon crooks her knee so that her calf rubs along Anann's own. Compared to the goddess' ivory skin, Rhiannon's is deathly pale, the anemia turning her already luminous skin near transparent and wane. "Rhiannon's memories of the last few days have filtered in. She finally fell asleep."
There's a poignant silence from Anann as Rhiannon speaks aloud the troubles that plague her mind. She talks about Hammerfest first, and Anann's fingers tickle over her shoulder and trace the line of her collarbone. When Rhiannon begins to mention the ritual, Anann's tactics change; and Rhiannon's voice catches over a word. Her eyes flutter close and then open again, meeting Anann's gaze questioningly.
"Continue." The goddess commands with a voice as smooth as silk, her expression unreadable as her fingers flex and curl over Rhiannon's body.
Rhiannon's words are a stumble until the rythym's established and she can indulge in a sigh or two without breaking the flow of her thoughts. The conversation dips between bouts of noise and silence, as the crush of their lips together has Rhiannon whispering over the connection of the ring until she's allowed a breath. When Anann's attentions are over her throat, she resumes speaking vocally, the cadence and pitch of her words thrown off by the smile that can't leave her lips now.
By the time Rhiannon's detailing the futile frustration as she's plucked off the battlefield of her unwilling choosing, the words are broken apart by tiny little moans. She gives up the pretense not long afterward and falls into the pleasure that Anann coaxes from her. Like a bird, her spirit soars high and eternity passes by her until reality is gently returned to her. Anann's abyssal gaze glitters with pride as she rolls them until Rhiannon's nestled on her. Nothing's said as they fall into a companionable silence, Anann's touch now soothing and meant to lull Rhiannon back to sleep's cloying embrace, the Vanir fortress nothing more than another footnote in the demigoddess' past.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Interlude I: The First Time...
The moment the midwife had wrapped Rhiannon in the warm swaddling cloth and presented her to Fand, the babe's hazy eyesight stared not up at the golden perfection that was her mother, but toward the dark, fierce woman who stood behind Lugh.
During the early years, when Fand had still been enraptured with the thought of motherhood and thus brought the toddler to every court procession that she could to show off the darling daughter she had birthed, Rhiannon would fidget and fuss until she spotted the shadowy war goddess. On the days that the Morrigan didn't show to Tir Na nOg, Manannan swore that there was no placating Rhiannon's sullen moods.
*****
Rhiannon first meets the Crone the night that Fand presents her before King Conchobar mac Ness. The novelty of motherhood has worn off and Rhiannon's inquistive nature only exasperates Fand now. As the King's grand-niece, she's given over to fosterage and told to behave. Rhiannon twists the bottom hem of her tunic and stares on quietly as the faery queen strides out of the throne room without looking back.
The castle servants had not expected to care for another and so they set the girl-child with the startling blue eyes up in one of the older wings of the castle until more suitable quarters can be located. The night's storm only grows in fervor as time passes. Her fingers and toes are frozen and the fire's nothing more than a memory of dead embers when there's a knock on the door. She struggles with the heavy oak and is terrifed that the shriek of the wind really is a banshee and it's come to collect her. She pulls the door open the rest of the way and rushes back quickly towards the cot, burrowing under the covers and trembling as she hears absolutely nothing.
Minutes pass. There's naught but the frantic pounding of her heartbeat in her ears and the suffocating stillness underneath the woolen blanket thrown over her head. Her imagination runs wild with thoughts of slaugh and goblins waiting to pounce and when the anxiety overwhelms her, she finally allows herself a peek at the monster at the foot of her bed.
The warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth is as welcome as a summer's breeze on her skin and it instantly chases away the hollow ache in her bones from the autumn frost beyond the room's walls. She watches on in complete silence as a woman who is most definitely not the serving maid assigned to care for her bustles about the room, latching the windows firmly shut and setting another log on the fire from the small stockpile of wood in the corner. When the woman turns about and fixes her with eyes that are darker than the abyss itself, Rhiannon shrinks back into the protection of the blankets and only dares another peek when the bed dips down on her left. Her inquistiveness is rewarded by a shawl draped over her eyes and Rhiannon no longer worries about the storm outside.
***
Rhiannon first meets the Maiden on a hot summer's day the year after Manannan collected her from the castle to spare her from an arranged marriage set up by Conchobar to both secure an alliance and to prevent Rhiannon's growing beauty causing any more infighting amongst the lords that pledged loyalty to him.
She steals away to the bubbling brook while her father courts a Welsh goddess who laughs as gaily as he does and shares the same love of horses and is about to eat the midday meal she had taken with her when a girl about her age passes underneath the low branch Rhiannon uses as her seat. With hair and eyes as black as night, she reminds Rhiannon so much of her caretaker back at Eamhain Mhacha that she finds herself calling out to the passerby and offering to break bread with the girl. Before she knows it, she's laughing and treating the girl who calls herself 'Ann' as if they've known eachother their whole lives.
It's when the sun has sunk low beyond the horizon and the fireflies gleam about her that Rhiannon realizes that she's terribly late in returning to Manannan's ranch. She promises to meet with Ann on the morrow and races back through the shadows of the forest. When Manannan lectures her about missing her chores, Rhiannon finds herself thinking about her friend.
***
Rhiannon's long past the innocent blush of childhood when she finally encounters the Matron. There's no true first meeting; rather more like a series of encounters that have Rhiannon's nerves tightly wound with the anticipation of being cornered by the seductive shadow that lingers in the background of every social event Rhiannon finds herself flitting through.
It grows to the point where Rhiannon can feel that haunting gaze searing into her very dreams and she's watching the crowd for a glimpse of ivory flesh and ebony hair. She winds up obsessed with the woman, ignoring the many suitors in favor of just one more glance through the throng of people. It finally happens one night when her bedchamber is plunged into the solid darkness that only comes during the new moon that the shadows of her room seem to come alive and ensnare her in an embrace that leaves her breathless and yielding underneath the deft, silken touch that plucks a symphony from her body as if she was a finely tuned harp.
During the early years, when Fand had still been enraptured with the thought of motherhood and thus brought the toddler to every court procession that she could to show off the darling daughter she had birthed, Rhiannon would fidget and fuss until she spotted the shadowy war goddess. On the days that the Morrigan didn't show to Tir Na nOg, Manannan swore that there was no placating Rhiannon's sullen moods.
*****
Rhiannon first meets the Crone the night that Fand presents her before King Conchobar mac Ness. The novelty of motherhood has worn off and Rhiannon's inquistive nature only exasperates Fand now. As the King's grand-niece, she's given over to fosterage and told to behave. Rhiannon twists the bottom hem of her tunic and stares on quietly as the faery queen strides out of the throne room without looking back.
The castle servants had not expected to care for another and so they set the girl-child with the startling blue eyes up in one of the older wings of the castle until more suitable quarters can be located. The night's storm only grows in fervor as time passes. Her fingers and toes are frozen and the fire's nothing more than a memory of dead embers when there's a knock on the door. She struggles with the heavy oak and is terrifed that the shriek of the wind really is a banshee and it's come to collect her. She pulls the door open the rest of the way and rushes back quickly towards the cot, burrowing under the covers and trembling as she hears absolutely nothing.
Minutes pass. There's naught but the frantic pounding of her heartbeat in her ears and the suffocating stillness underneath the woolen blanket thrown over her head. Her imagination runs wild with thoughts of slaugh and goblins waiting to pounce and when the anxiety overwhelms her, she finally allows herself a peek at the monster at the foot of her bed.
The warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth is as welcome as a summer's breeze on her skin and it instantly chases away the hollow ache in her bones from the autumn frost beyond the room's walls. She watches on in complete silence as a woman who is most definitely not the serving maid assigned to care for her bustles about the room, latching the windows firmly shut and setting another log on the fire from the small stockpile of wood in the corner. When the woman turns about and fixes her with eyes that are darker than the abyss itself, Rhiannon shrinks back into the protection of the blankets and only dares another peek when the bed dips down on her left. Her inquistiveness is rewarded by a shawl draped over her eyes and Rhiannon no longer worries about the storm outside.
***
Rhiannon first meets the Maiden on a hot summer's day the year after Manannan collected her from the castle to spare her from an arranged marriage set up by Conchobar to both secure an alliance and to prevent Rhiannon's growing beauty causing any more infighting amongst the lords that pledged loyalty to him.
She steals away to the bubbling brook while her father courts a Welsh goddess who laughs as gaily as he does and shares the same love of horses and is about to eat the midday meal she had taken with her when a girl about her age passes underneath the low branch Rhiannon uses as her seat. With hair and eyes as black as night, she reminds Rhiannon so much of her caretaker back at Eamhain Mhacha that she finds herself calling out to the passerby and offering to break bread with the girl. Before she knows it, she's laughing and treating the girl who calls herself 'Ann' as if they've known eachother their whole lives.
It's when the sun has sunk low beyond the horizon and the fireflies gleam about her that Rhiannon realizes that she's terribly late in returning to Manannan's ranch. She promises to meet with Ann on the morrow and races back through the shadows of the forest. When Manannan lectures her about missing her chores, Rhiannon finds herself thinking about her friend.
***
Rhiannon's long past the innocent blush of childhood when she finally encounters the Matron. There's no true first meeting; rather more like a series of encounters that have Rhiannon's nerves tightly wound with the anticipation of being cornered by the seductive shadow that lingers in the background of every social event Rhiannon finds herself flitting through.
It grows to the point where Rhiannon can feel that haunting gaze searing into her very dreams and she's watching the crowd for a glimpse of ivory flesh and ebony hair. She winds up obsessed with the woman, ignoring the many suitors in favor of just one more glance through the throng of people. It finally happens one night when her bedchamber is plunged into the solid darkness that only comes during the new moon that the shadows of her room seem to come alive and ensnare her in an embrace that leaves her breathless and yielding underneath the deft, silken touch that plucks a symphony from her body as if she was a finely tuned harp.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
White Elephants
There isn’t much to say concerning the events in Hammerfest. Loki was easy enough to sniff out once word got around that we were looking for him. We met up at a gay bar and while Wuyi danced the night away and made the room gravitate towards her, I was turned down by my second ever man. Being two for two, Loki also revealed he was of the ‘preferring the rougher gender’ variant so at least my rejection shave been consistent. It’s a little bit of an ego-dimmer but I’m not too put out. Regardless, after a deal where we wouldn’t bother him for a full year (of his choosing) he gave us a ring that’ll keep Artemis from properly catching us. It’ll infuriate the Goddess of the Hunt, but it works while we come with a plan.
Well, two plans. The first is a backup ambush set at the fortress. A Do or Die mission that’ll happen when our backs are against the wall. The bait would be one of Artemis’’ favored nymphs or a Scion. But that’s on the backburner. First we talk to Jord and see if the goddess has a less suicidal option for us concerning the garden. I think that would anger Vana, but I’ll do my best to assure the woman that we don’t want the garden destroyed in the slightest. I don’t think any of us do, to be quite honest.
Well, business out of the way, now onto personal matters. For my adventuring self, Kelly’s insistence of rubbing up on Wuyi like a cat in heat kinda tweaked me off. Yes, the relationship’s a little polyamorous. Yes, I don’t mind when Wuyi’s off flirting, but as long as it’s not Kelly. Ever.
Beyond –that- … wild sex in the hotel room due to my ‘stay-at-home’ self being cheeky with Anann. I was smacked with a willpower-draining retort but really, I brought it on myself and it was all in good fun. I got Anann back a few times too and now I think we’re both plotting our latest ‘attacks’. She’s quite the devious planner when she puts her mind to it.
Speaking of deviousness, I’m concerned. A few nights ago, while the Band had travelled up to the town of Hammerfest, I had a strange dream where Dublin was covered in cloying mist that trapped and ensorcelled the Good Folk to dance and quiver in terror of someone called the Nightmare Lord. When I demanded to speak with this lord (because the pixies and the sprites are distant kin of mine and therefore my family) a Rakshasa approached me and… his voice was so haunting. When I awoke from the dream, I thought nothing of it.
Until the white elephant showed up in the garden.
Anann’s furious because she can’t do anything to the elephant. Commands, physical attacks, nothing that is her doing affects the creature. He likes me though, but I digress. The gift was curious because why would Ganesha send her a white elephant for the relief carved in the mountain? It doesn’t make sense. I mentioned the dream to her and she said she’d have Anna look into it and once again, I put the thought out of mind.
Until just this night. My memories aren’t synched yet so Rhiannon won’t know until the next time she sleeps but I awoke from a dream I don’t remember to seeing the mist over the Liffey river. The faerie lights twinkled in it and I was … I didn’t think twice about it as I left the comfort of my room to wander into that sinister promise. I wanted to go into the heart of the maze and dance. I was just about to cross the border of the mansion’s estate when I bumped into Anann. Well, her and a twinned aspect. They too had been drawn out into the mist. The three of us watched it roll over the town of Dublin and lull the faeries into a trance – it even started to pull at me again when Anann mentioned we should return to the mansion, her touch and voice shaking me out of the spell. Inside, we curled upon the living room couch and promised to never be alone while the mist rolled through the town.
It affected the Good Folk the most, but both Anann and I are closely tied to the faeries and so we’re also a little affected. I’ll start sleeping in her bedroom from now on or perhaps this will have her, Ann, and I all forgo the need to sleep and simply remain together throughout the nights as a precaution.
It’s a sidelong concern in the scheme of things going on, what with the Greeks and Tal’s worries about her father and the Teotl but it’s something I don’t think I can ignore any longer. Still, the Morrigu and the rest of the Tuatha are aware of it now and thanks to my doubled-life, I can keep an eye on this while we concern ourselves with perfecting the final phases of forcing the Greeks’ hands.
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