Three Twisted Knots

From Lira:

Malaclypse is a made-up name. It was made up by this guy who wrote a book called Principia Discordia. It was the pen name he used. For some reason, he thought it would be fun to invent a religion, and then he made his way into some pop cultures in some Realms and became a character in a book called Illuminatus! in others. In some Realms, he did both—my notes say these are dark timelines, and apparently the importance of this guy in pop culture is inversely proportional to peace on earth, for some reason. Or that’s what I read, anyway. So the cat in my dream is named after some name a guy who wrote a religion took for himself so that nobody would know it was he who created this religion. Mortals, particularly humans, are so weird. I guess it must be stressful to live in worlds that don’t have magic, or that trade in war, or have dictators. I don’t know why anybody would want to have a dictator; they sound super annoying, not to mention bad for people’s health and happiness.

Anyway, it felt like another dream when I looked all this stuff up. And then I woke up— at my desk in the Wednesday-adjacent room that did not have a peppy wolf for a roommate. I always kind of pictured myself as Enid, not Wednesday. I’m not super interested in solving murders, and while I can appreciate the humour of putting piranhas in swimming pools… ew.

On my desk there was a note. I got an extension, it said, so you can write this stupid Tarot paper, Miss Whoever You Are. OK. OK, I could work with this. Whoever actually lived here somehow knew that I’d been here. So, fine. I guessed the least I could do was write her Tarot paper. I mean, The Fool’s Journey is kind of ubiquitous in magical cultures, so I was pretty sure I could not screw it up too badly. Besides, I was a good student. Or so I’m led to believe by the amassed false memories of my Librarian training.

But seriously. Who uses a typewriter when there are iPads? Luckily, I did learn to touch type, which was a good thing, because this big, black monstrosity of a manual typewriter did not even have letters printed on the keys. I guess I should count myself lucky they use QWERTY in this Realm, wherever it is, if it is in fact real. Not having modern technology is for the birds. And speaking of birds, Uggla had not made himself known to me. I hoped he was all right. I mean, Uggla can always hunt for his supper, and it’s not like he really needs me, but he is not very smart, and I like to think of myself as his caretaker.

I decided to start with the iconography of The Fool. Tracing the history of the Tarot itself is somewhat more problematic, because then you get into what in my education are made up histories about the Tarot being used for divination from time immemorial, when really it started with the spiritualist craze, which in most timelines occurs just before the first big world war. A few decades before, I mean. History time is different from real time, and is considered, alas, much more important than tea time, although I could make an argument that tea time is necessary for the existence of any other time. Probably not useful for this paper, though.

That was a tangent. I’m told I go off on these a lot. So, the iconography of The Fool. Now, you probably already know much of this, so I won’t reiterate the content of the paper here: suffice it to say that The Fool is foolish because he is at the beginning of a journey. He’s often depicted as a beggar, or a ragamuffin, often has a dog companion, and more often than not, he is depicted as about to step off a cliff. There you go. No more academic mumbo jumbo (I just learned that word: isn’t it brilliant? I love to say it out loud) today.

Once I finished the paper, I sort of figured I would just fall asleep, but Malaclypse was having none of that.

He started meowing the moment I lay down on the settee. I’ve always wanted to lie on a settee. I said, “Your pardon, Malaclypse, but I have need of my fainting couch.”

He snorted, which is a very odd sound for a cat to make. “You just be careful what you get into, Missy,” he said. “I can’t be everywhere, you know.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I grabbed the plush raven from behind the big pillow and tried to rest. Eventually, I became aware this was not going to happen.

I also became aware of twinkling lights.

They twinkled up from somewhere near the floor, then twinkled themselves into an orb, then just hovered there, twinkling. I was fascinated, because twinkly things are fascinating, but I was also a little trepidatious, because when one lives in Faerie, one learns to be careful about anything that twinkles and fascinates. But we weren’t in Faerie. It was OK to reach out and touch.

And then I was very, very dizzy.

I landed unceremoniously on a rock. Ow. And why was I in a fancy dress and heels, anyway? It’s not like I was going to some kind of ball. Or, I mean, not that I knew of. Maybe this was Academy-adjacent-style portal travel. Maybe I was only a short walk from the treehouse. I miss the treehouse. I know where everything is, and I know when dinner is going to be.

I was on some kind of asteroid, maybe? There was absolutely nothing around, except a vast expanse of stars and some kind of a nebula (another cool word to say; try it!). But then I figured, if I were on an asteroid I’d be dead, because as far as I know, I do need to breathe, and asteroids do not typically have atmospheres, unless they’ve been terraformed by a race of space-faring cowboys who re-enact the Robin Hood epic every week or so.

When I turned around, I found I could climb a ladder, so that’s what I did.

At the top of the ladder, there was this huge, isolated tower, inside of which there was the exact same book about the Tarot I have in the tree house, only instead of being on a book stand, it was supported by some kind of rainbow. Dreams are really weird, I decided. I guessed there was some reason for the book; maybe I’d got a Fool Fact wrong in my paper, so I got a little closer.

I found myself walking on a carpet of moss, and everywhere I stepped, the moss responded by glowing beneath my feet. I worried maybe I was hurting it. But it was so pretty. Don’t worry: I won’t go into that story about how everybody loves the smell of freshly cut grass, but it is actually the plant’s distress call because it’s been assaulted by some person with a blade. Oh. I guess I did go into that story.

Try as I might, I could not get anywhere near the book. It was like there was some kind of invisible wall around it.

OK, Dream Thing. Why bring me all the way out here, show me my own book about Tarot, and then not let me touch it? This was getting tiresome.

That’s when I heard the neighing. I couldn’t see a horse, but I could see a set of steps leading down.

And wouldn’t you know it! At the bottom of the steps, standing stock still in some kind of weird pointing position, was a black horse with the most interesting markings. It was as if the moss had made vines to go into his coat.

So I did what any reasonable person would do: I mirrored his pose.

At first I wasn’t sure whether he was a real horse or just a really good statue, but then he breathed. “Little girl,” said the horse in a voice that was a lot of things, but not masculine, “mocking me is not the best course of action for you. Did it occur to you that I am standing here in this position for a reason? Perhaps I am pointing to something important. And maybe you’d best quit with the tomfoolery and pay attention.”

“You are pointing to that tower that is incongruously floating in space, seemingly supported by crystals,” I said.

The horse snorted. Horses are super good at snorting. “That is precisely what I am pointing to. And now, unless you are a seeker named Lira who works in support of the Dragon Deliverance Society but just now is having a dream experience, I bid you good day.”

“How do you know it’s day?” I asked. “And yes; I’m Lira, and I work for the Dragon Deliverance Society. Am I meant to somehow go to that tower? It doesn’t look very far away. It looks like a happy place— at least it has lights.”

The horse sighed. “It’s an expression,” they said (I was no longer comfortable with using ‘he’). They lowered their leg. “Oh, that’s better. I’m Morticia, but you can call me Morti; everyone does. And I’m a mare, if you please, so stop thinking of me as enby, because I am definitely a mare. As to where that tower is….” She pulled her lips away from her teeth in almost a caricature of a smile. “Well, perspective is a funny thing, isn’t it?” Then, she blew into my face (not bad breath; very apple-y), and the world shifted again.

And then I was really dizzy, because apparently this horse had the ability to make me see things. “OK, I retract my last statement,” I said. I’m pretty sure my voice was shaking. “Could you fix it, please?”

“Fix what?” asked Morti. “You need to understand that things are not always as they seem. You have, according to my notes, led a very sheltered life despite the fact that you ran away from home and managed to survive somehow.”

I blinked then, and the world righted itself, and I glared at the horse. If my feet weren’t hurting so much in those heels, I’m pretty sure I’d have stamped at least one of them. “I did not run away from home; I was lost, and no-one came to find me, and now I am making my own way, and that is not a bad thing!”

“Ooh, defensive much, little girl?” Morti shook her head, which sent her lovely silver mane flying all directions. “You want to get over that, by the way. As for the tower, it’s also my job to get you there. I might even get you back, if you behave yourself and stop that little tantrum before you start it.”

I stared at her. “I wasn’t…”

“You were.” She showed me the whites of her eyes. “Now hop on, and I’ll get you to the tower.”

“But I don’t—”

“Grab the mane, jump up, nick me with a stiletto and I’ll buck you right off into space,” she said.

“All right,” I said. I tried not to sound petulant. I did. I tried.

The moment I put my hand on her mane, I felt that dizziness again. I don’t remember making it onto her back. I just felt the world shift again, and then I was in the tower. This time it took me several seconds to get my balance back.

I pulled myself to my feet and managed to clutch on to the edge of a tall window, through which I could see the floating rock with the other tower and also Morti, who did not look as if she had moved at all. I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights. I’m glad I don’t usually suffer from vertigo. All this extra dizziness would probably send me right over the edge, and not in the Fool way.

Once I caught my breath, I studied my surroundings. The tower room, for it had only one room, was perfectly round, with a green damask wallpaper. On almost all the walls were various depictions of different Fools from, I supposed, different Tarot decks. Most of them I did not recognise, but I’m far from an expert.

Much of the furniture looked like the furniture that had been in the student room where I woke up. The cabinet was red and not black, with a black balloon. There was a single chess board, which I avoided (I am terrible at chess), and there was what looked to be the very same bed I’d fallen asleep on the last time I had any memory of falling asleep.

So many Fools. And mirrors and candles and tangental pictures of some family I did not recognise. I just— I admit, I just wanted it all to stop. “At least,” I said out loud, “it isn’t that weird blue film set lighting like everywhere else.” Whereupon the lights changed to—you guessed it—a blue nighttime film set style.

“That’s it!” I said. “I’ve had it with this dream. I’ve had it with dreams in general and this dream specifically. It’s so stupid that all the furniture is the same but all the art is different, and all the rugs are the same but the wallpaper is green, and there’s no cat, and where is Uggla? I need him. And no thank you; I do not want to just keep wandering around in this dream until some kind of wisdom or knowledge comes to me. It’s hard! I’m tired! And I want to go home.”

Then suddenly I was angry and tired and frustrated all at once, and I thought really hard about going home, and my head started to hurt and my eyes got wet— I hate crying: I try never to do it, and then the stuff that I wiped away from my eye was black and viscous, and I just wanted it all to stop.

What was this stuff? Why was it black? and also, ew. I closed my eyes tight and tried everything I could think of, every portal incantation I’ve learned or been taught or stolen since I got lost. Something had to work. Something had to work. My head ached. My stomach felt hollow. There was something in my throat. I heard a high-pitched noise; I don’t know where that came from.

I just wanted to go home. Home to my treehouse. Home to DragonDash open 24 hours. Home to Uggla. Home to my books and my forms and my endless filing.

I just wanted to go home.

Notes & Credits:

(Sponsored items are as always marked with a “*”)

Folks, Enchantment’s Nevermore is in its final week, so if you haven’t been or you haven’t decided about all those demos you grabbed, now’s the time! If you’re a shutterbug, there’s also a photo contest to enter, not to mention a great hunt.

Items Available at Enchantment’s Nevermore until 31 August:

Lira:

• Dress: WebDew, Elvira* with Short Skirt
• Collar: Exia, Florenvy Neck Corset*
• Skin: Loa, Leila Skin*, in Velour Match Ghost
• Lipstick, Eyeshadow, & Tears: Loa, Leila Makeup Set*
• Nails: Eventyra, Nevershade

On the Set:

• Magical Moss: Cerridwen’s Cauldron, Lightweaver Moss*
• Desk: Bygone, Nevermore Conservatory Desk*
• Black Settee, Table with Tea, Table with Raven Vase, & Black Rug: Noctis, Darkmoore Chaise, Endtable & Teaset*
• Raven Plushie: Anomaly, Crow Plushie
• Raven Vase: Noctis, Raven Iris Vase* (hunt prize!)
• Bed and Rugs: Moss & Luna, Nocturna Gothic Bed Set*
• Moth, Raven, & Snake Frame, & Globe Floor Lamp: Raindale, Mourndale Set*
• Vivarium Specimen Vat: Cerridwen’s Cauldron, Brass Specimen Vat, Floor, Vivarium
• Tower with Stained Glass Windows: Dragon Magick Wares, Garden Turret* (This is Dragon Magick Wares’ Hunt Item)
• Morti’s Viney Coat: Nox Equine, Teeglepet Coat Morticia*
• Tower that is incongruously floating in space: Dragon Magick Wares, Eclipsed Tower*
• Red cupboard, Chess Table, Wall Cabinet, Wall Shelf, and Pictures of some family Lira doesn’t recognise: BananaN, Victoria Gacha*
• Branchy Mirror, Wood Table, Candles, & Mini Pumpkins: Simply Shelby, Twisted Thicket Entry Set*

Other Fancy Stuff:

Lira:

• Glasses: Miamai, Mirna Glasses
• Nose Bridge Piercing: MiaMai, Nene Piercing
• Shoes & Stockings: Lybra, Tamara
• Hair: S-Club, Xinnie
• Additional Hairbases: Addon+, Angel Hairbase, and Raven Hairbase
• Ears: LEX, MiHD Ears
• Lira’s Signature Ring: Kunglers, Phoebe Ring
• Earrings: LEX, Astro; and
  • Luova, Rose Earrings
• Eyes: Shimm, CXLIII, Bonus 3
• Eyebrows: Simple Bloom, Deborah Eyebrows, Soft Arch
• Lira is styled on a Legacy mesh body and a Lelutka EvoX Raven mesh head.

On the Set:

• Malaclypse: Expertly portrayed by CKit Falconry’s Persian Cat*, now available at the CKit Falconry Main Store, fresh from its stunning debut at Mischief Managed!
• Desk Clutter, Typewriter, and Work Chair: Muniick, Lewellyn Vintage Writing Set
• Additional Rugs: Moss & Luna, Spring Rug, Leaf Rug
• Skybox: Minimal, Wednesday Skybox, PBR retexturing by Gwen Enchanted
• Tarot Art: Licensed, downloaded tarot images legally acquired from online art resources. NB: All searches were filtered to exclude AI art. I will never knowingly include any AI art, art not purchased and licensed, or stolen art in any part of Three Twisted Knots or any other creative venture I undertake.

All photos shot in Awenia’s Box Studio in the Minimal Wednesday Skybox.

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

—Edgar Allen Poe