Home » A second life in pictures » Lord of Free Lands All Over

Lord of Free Lands All Over

The Gypsy Davey

The Gypsy Davey

The Faire stretches for miles. For miles and realms. So much to do, and people might say of my kind (and they’d be wrong!), to steal. I prefer to steal only hearts, but that is my way.

Today, I took in the sights of Odyssey. A day off from the bustle of the selling tent and the green fortuneteller we brought to this year’s Faire. She’ll be better next year, or we’ll find another.

As I say, I prefer to steal only hearts.

As I say, I prefer to steal only hearts.

As I say, I prefer to steal only hearts. It serves me very well: I love women, and women love me back, sometimes rather too much.

I have taken the day off, dressed for heart-stealing, and I’ve come to the most beautiful place.

Here, there are fountains and statues, mermaids and waves, for as far as the eye can see.

Here, there are fountains and statues, mermaids and waves, for as far as the eye can see.

Here, there are fountains and statues, mermaids and waves, for as far as the eye can see. I think this mermaid likes me.

In fact, I know she likes me.

In fact, I know she likes me.

In fact, I know she likes me. See how her face is transformed in ecstasy. This is why I love women.

From a high vantage point, I can see the people below, enjoying the Faire for only its shopping.

From a high vantage point, I can see the people below, enjoying the Faire for only its shopping.

From a high vantage point, I can see the people below, enjoying the Faire only for its shopping. How many of them, I wonder, take the time to climb into the stratosphere and experience it all from above.

Not that I have anything bad to say about the shoppers: No; I like shoppers very much, from the point of view of the perpetual merchant that I am.

But sometimes, sometimes, looking down at them all, I feel a sense of smugness. I’m here; you’re there; you can’t see me… and then.

Then, I look down, at possibly the wrong time, possibly the right time.

Then, I look down, at possibly the wrong time, possibly the right time.

And I see her, the Faerie Queen. I should have known she’d be here at the Faire. Something tugs at me. Tugs at my soul. But I am her lover, not her consort; her fantasy, not her King.

In brown wings, like an ethereal moth she flutters on the ground with her friend, the satyr.

And for a moment, I am sure they are looking up at me. Sure she will call to me, call my name, and my nature will be unravelled, once again, as it was for so many nights in Faerie.

But then—maybe they didn’t see me. They are gone, into a shop, doing what two women do, I suppose, when they are together. Though a part of me smiles and thinks their shopping styles and preferences must be very different. I imagine Her Majesty, the Queen of Love and sometimes the Queen of my heart, oohing and ahhing over gowns and jewels, with the satyr there behind her smirking and scowling and inserting the sorts of snarky comments I’d insert if she were any other woman.

And then, suddenly, I have to leave. I can’t be on this ledge any longer. Find me something, Goddess of Wandering. Find me something even more beautiful to look at.

And the Goddess laughs in my heart. More beautiful than the Seelie Queen? she asks. And I reply, Well, find me two things nearly as beautiful and we will put them together. 

Then I am dizzy, and I find myself in a higher place, farther away from the shoppers below, looking in a different direction.

And then, I remember.

And then, I remember.

He is no gypsy, her father said, but lord of free lands all over. And I whistle, and I sing. But for now, only the birds come to me. They are just like me, the crows. Lords of free lands all over. Wanderers, we are.

And if I am so free, the lord of free lands, then why does this verse come back to me when I see her?

lady, I am a figment
I am a blight, I am an ember
one mirror for all memory
that steals what is true
and a voice buried in my heart is crying
I am the risk and purchase of the world
carry me with you

A winter song sung in spring for a summer queen. I am lost.

Style Card:
Clothes: Decadent Courtesan: The Longest Night (red) (from a gacha; available at the Fantasy Faire!)
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins: Damien, Smoked
Hair: No Match: No Date
Ears: Illusions, Seelie Ears (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Necklace: Otherskin: Wish Necklace (Available at Fantasy Faire!)

Lyrics from Robin Williamson’s “Song of Mabon”.

Spiffy photos taken with the indispensible aid of my LumiPro. Go look at the web page. Yes, I know they’re expensive. If you want to take amazing photos in SL, they’re worth every Linden.

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