Three Twisted Knots

From Friðrós:

This dream came to me of Mire of Whispers. I do not have many prophetic dreams, so I went there again to settle myself and dream in the Realm itself.

Now, I fell asleep on the great flat stone, inside a comfortable sleeping bag, with a pillow under my head.

But I woke as another person altogether, who bore a lot of resemblance to me. I woke half submerged in a bog, with my tattered dress floating out before me.

Age and scarification made my face tight, but I could tell my vegvisir was still there; I think my seer mind probably put it there so I would feel less lost. I felt pretty lost.

Because the Mire is so heavily shrouded in mist, it seems to go on forever. The border, when it comes, appears suddenly. And we hear that many Fairelanders have found this surprising. But I found it comforting. A self-contained little world, not of which I was mistress (never), but where I could be and seem and think.

But who was this me? She was no huldufólk; she was too comfortable in bog-land, too swift in homespun cloth. “Before the Vikings came the Irish, you know,” she says, in a sing-song voice, as if reciting something learned by rote. “The Celts ran all over your Iceland before the hoards came to discover all that beauty. So there’s a part of you that’s me, only I never left the Isle of Emerald Muck.” There’s a bitter laugh. “Much good that did me.”

It felt odd to interrogate myself, but I had so many questions. “You’re a stone sensor,” I said.

“Among other things,” she replied. I check the many stones here every day—takes much of the day, which leave me tired. And even then, as I’m part of you, I know I don’t belong here and I will not be able to stay here forever.” She looked up, then. “Yes, I can feel it coming. The day when I will have to leave or cease. Maybe I’ll choose cease, this time.”

“You’d do that?”

“I’m tired, child,” she said. “Tired of blinking in and out of existence like this, over and over. It’s trial on my soul.

“But look,” she continued. “Here’s the Well; it’s what most folk want to see when they come here. Go on, give it a thought or a trinket.”

I laughed when I heard, clear as anything, the Well come back to me with, Your story is written in leaf -veins, followed by, You’ve heard the call before; you just called it coincidence.

“Well, there’s your truth here,” she said. “And of course, I know that but I don’t know how I know it, as I’m really part of you and not some Irish wise woman, and I’m…” her voice lowered to a near-whisper. “I’m not really meant to be here, I know I’m not, and this personality is not my personality, and this life is not my life.”

“But,” I said, keenly aware in this second that I was interrogating myself, “You are a whole person, aren’t you?”

“I know the answer to any question you ask me, so I think that’s a ‘yes’,” she replied. “I don’t think I could tell you my life story, but I think you could ask it out of me.”

“What’s a place here I should see but would likely miss?” I asked.

“Over here,” she said.

“I don’t know what this is; I’ve just always called it “Masters’ Table,” she said. “Tucked away like it is, I think a lot of tourists miss it, and I’ve never seen a gathering of locals, so perhaps it is sacred in some way I don’t know yet.

“But,” she continued, “it must have been important to someone, sometime.”

“That’s true of most things, isn’t it?”

“Sure, sure,” she said. “But ask me something about my character, because I want to know, too.”

“Did they get you when you were young?” I asked.

Her face turned first angry, then defensive, then thoughtful. “They get you when you’re vulnerable, child. Often that’s when you’re young, yes. But sometimes it’s when your lover has just left you, and sometimes it’s when your mam dies. It’s the needing, that’s what attracts you, makes you become a stone seer.” Her brow lifted. “Well, now. I knew I was a stone tender, but not a stone seer. Thank you for that.” She nodded sharply. “In thanks, I will show you what I believe is a great mystery, because I do not understand it.”

We walked through the muck until we could see a hillside with trees. “See that? I have never seen the like.”

I laughed outright. “It’s a Faire Bus,” I said. “There’s usually one every year. I can’t remember how many years old this one is. Somebody must have wrecked it here.”

“It would be hard to drive a bus through the Mire,” she agreed, although she did not respond at all to my humour; it was as if she couldn’t see it.

“But it’s a wonder and a mystery to me,” she said, “because I can tell it’s been here for some time, and who would be so foolish as to bring a bus here, and why haven’t the lights gone out?”

I nodded. Her perspective was very focused, it seemed. “What other stones do you tend?”

“I’ll show you the big circle,” she said.

“I call this one the Circle of Symbols,” she said, “because there are symbols on the stone—don’t look at me like that; I know I’m stating the obvious, but here’s the thing: the symbols aren’t all from the same culture, or some of them are more prevalent in other cultures than here. I mean, spirals, trifold knots, sure. We have those. But there are symbols here too that look like your Icelandic staves, and some that resemble Futhark, which are runes not from Ireland but from Scandinavia.”

I nodded.

“You know all this, because I know it, I suppose,” she said. She sounded weary.

“Walk a little further with me and I’ll show you the Nonsense Stairs. And then we’ll get you some soup; you look famished.

I laughed when we/I reached these stairs. “Well, there’s no point to them is there?” she asked.

“There might have been once,” I suggested.

“How could there be? Whatever building they’d be serving would be so big it’d fall into the sea!” she gestured. “No; someone put these stairs here to trick people, so I say they are nonsense.”

” But maybe….”

“Don’t you, missy, with your sea level this and what if that. They are pure absurdity. Utter Nonsense. And I’ll brook no argument.”

“Clearly,” I replied. I was a little taken aback. Should I be allowed to talk to me this way? There must be a rule somewhere.

“Never mind the nonsense stairs; they’re right close to the cave where Myst and I are squatting. Come on, then.”

“You’re squatting in a cave,” I repeated numbly. “With Lady Mystie.”

“She’s no lady,” retorted… well, me. “She’s a helpful little girl though; so she is. Hurry you up.”

I didn’t have the time to say I’d pay good money to see Mystie being helpful.

“See, look—everything is just fine here!”

Lady Mystie did not look fine. It was hard not to enjoy her trying to wield a spoon that must have been twice her height. “She has been stirring this soup since it came off the hob,” said the stone-seer. “I think it’s almost ready. Myst, greet our guest.”

Mystie stared. “There’s just you, mistress stone-seer. Have you finally gone completely mad? You know there were strangers here today. Muttering that maybe all this stuff doesn’t belong in the cave, and maybe they’d just come take it. And I think they almost saw me!”

“Don’t be daft; my host is here. You know her as Friðrós.”

“Oh, her.”

“You don’t like her?”

“Me? I like everyone. It’s her doesn’t like me.” Mystie sniffed.

“Well, either way, she’s having soup with us, so set another bowl.”

“Fine, fine,” said Mystie. “Just let me get all these lumps out first.”

So I had soup with a stone seer and Lady Mystie, and I did not learn all that much. Or I don’t think I did. Maybe more will come to me in the next dream. Maybe I’ll have to ask Myrkandraum for advice.

Notes & Credits:

Sponsored items are noted with a “*”

• Dress and Belt: Rakshasa, Yrsa Dress* (Get it at the Rakshasa Faire Store in Obsidian Sanctum!)
• Skin: Scarlet Fey, Seer. (Get it at the  Scarlet Fae Faire Store in Gwath!)
• Blue Tattoo: Sehas, Tattoo Vegvisir (Custom made)
• Ears: Swallow, Gauged Pixie Ears
• Earrings: Badwolf, Mani Earrings (Get them at the Badwolf Faire Store in Nox Aeterna!)
• Lipstick: A.D.D. Andel! Lip Shimmer Gold
• Additional Ageing: Izzie’s, Marionette Lines and Nasolabial Folds
• Hair: Doux, Rapunzel (Get it at the Doux Faire Store in Izumo!)
• Choker: Seance, Titania Choker
• Necklace: Empyrean Forge, The Dreamer:Acuity, Barn. Unobtainium.
• Staff: Petrichor, Keroana Staff* (Get it at the Petrichor Faire Store in Mire of Whispers!)
• Eyes: VelvetVue, Acantha grey eyes 1
• Eyebrows: Vallemont, Ororo Brows
• Friðrós is styled on a MaitreyaX body and a Lelutka EvoX Avalon Mesh Head.

Note: The title of this post is a nod to Marina Carr’s beautiful play By the Bog of Cats.

Mire of Whispers is one of 18 regions in the 17th annual Relay For Life of Second Life’s Fantasy Faire. Sponsored by Petrichor, region designed by DaveOSaurus & Demoira.

Celebrating its seventeenth year, Fantasy Faire 2025 is the largest gathering of fantasy designers, enthusiasts, roleplayers and performers in the virtual world. From Thursday, April 17 to Sunday May 4, treat yourself to shopping, dance and theater performances, DJ parties, auctions, questing, our Literary Festival, thematic events and roleplaying as thousands of Second Life residents and creators bring their own visions together to support the American Cancer Society’s vision of a world without cancer.