Doctor, Doctor, give me the news….

The Gypsy Davey:

The Gypsy Davey:

Oh, the things that run through my head! Realm-hopping as we do, we discover a wide variety of music and art, dance and culture if we want it, classy or seedy, take your pick.

After a week of satisfying and physical work in Eclectica, we were ready for a change, so we moved on to a little town in a mountainous area. Good, crisp air, the sort of town where you can get anything, a shipping port, and a lot of things that need fixing. Towns like this, they love it when we come through: the boys and I have plenty of carpentry skills and we’re not afraid of back-breaking work, and then of course there’s the evenings back at the camp. It’s funny, all the people who come through.

Nearly a month away from Faerie, and I began to admit it was getting to me. I had the shakes. I couldn’t hold my liquor, and food tasted like ashes in my mouth. By this point everybody had stopped teasing me about going back to Faerie, and I’d begun to notice some worried glances and whispers as I went about my business.

Finally, I went to see Auntie Cher, one of our healers, the sort of lady who keeps to the vardo and only comes out when there’s a need. Her wagon is full of potions and poultices, and she once took a splinter out of my leg the size of a lion’s claw. Hurt like hell, but she sewed it up with a bit of linen and you can’t even see the scar any more.

“Uncle,” she said to me, “I’ve got nothing for you. Far as I know, there’s no cure for the Faerie sickness. And you’ve got it bad.” She handed me a mirror, and it’s true: I was a pale shadow of myself. Now, I didn’t feel sick. But I was starting to get tired earlier in the day, and the real trouble surfaced as we spoke: my relations with women have not been as usual. When we arrived in town, I whistled and I sang til the dark streets rang, but I won no hearts.

“Listen,” she said. “There’s a man in town I’ve heard of, says he can cure the Faerie sickness, but I’m not sure I believe him.” Still, when I pressed her, she gave me the address.

It turned out to be a fortuneteller's shop.

It turned out to be a fortuneteller’s shop.

It turned out to be a fortuneteller’s shop. Now, we are in the business of fortunetelling, but there’s always new stuff to be learned, people who have a different take on things, so I figured I’d check it out. Still, with my city clothes on and my hair bound up, I felt out of place.

I was just about to knock on the door when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

I was just about to knock on the door when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

I was just about to knock on the door when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “You’re never going in there.”

I stopped and turned. “Dyisi?” It was the Satyr, a friend of the Faerie Queen and her frequent companion.

“I come when there’s need of me,” she said, as if it were just a normal occurrence. She called me some sort of friendly diminutive in Greek; that language just slips through my ears, in and out, and I never remember what she says when she talks Greek. “And you have need of me, not that fellow.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Really,” I said, not believing her. “Tell me, what can you do for me?” Her glasses caught the light, and the satyr horns seemed to glimmer with some magical energy. I think my senses must have been dulled: she always seemed much brighter and more powerful in Faerie and I couldn’t imagine her light dimmed when she left there: her magic, like all the ancient folk, lives in her and does not wax or wane with the seasons: It just is.

“Come now, sit down with me. You look like you could use something to eat, Davey.”

So instead of knocking on the fortuneteller's door, we went down the street to a café.

So instead of knocking on the fortuneteller’s door, we went down the street to a café.

So instead of knocking on the fortuneteller’s door, I let her lead me down the street to a café, where they brought food and drink but she touched nothing. I made myself eat something, even though nothing tasted right.

“We’ve missed you in Faerie,” she said, “though I understand why you wander so far away. “And though you look good, you don’t look yourself. Tell me, how does the food taste?”

I stared at the street.

I stared at the street. “It doesn’t taste,” I admitted.

I stared at the street. “It doesn’t taste,” I admitted. “And I know it should. I can tell it’s good; I can tell the wine is excellent, but nothing tastes right to me.”

“And you’re pale,” she said. “Pale and wan. You know what will happen if you go on this way. You’ll waste away, lose your way. And your folk will lose their leader.”

“I’m no leader,” I protested.

“Bah. They follow you,” she said. “You’re a leader. But you’ll fade, if you keep on like this. “And that fellow, in the shop, you know what he does? He says he has a cure for the Faerie sickness, but what he does is slip a little Fae mead into the potion he gives. And then instead of having to go back to Faerie, you’ll have to go back to him. It’ll sustain you, but it won’t cure you.”

I folded my arms, leaned forward on my elbows. “And I suppose you have a cure?”

I could see sparks coming from one of her eyes, behind the glasses, I swear. “Aye,” she said. “That I do. And a good one. “But I can’t give it to you here. We’ll have to go to my domain, and the trip’s a long and dizzy one. Drink up,” she said. “Even if you can’t taste it, you’ll need it for the journey.

I killed the bottle.

She was careful not to touch me: I don't know how she brought me in to her realm walking without touch, but somehow she did.

She was careful not to touch me: I don’t know how she brought me in to her realm walking without touch, but somehow she did.

She was careful not to touch me: I don’t know how she brought me in to her realm walking without touch, but somehow she did. And the place we went! It was as far from the pastoral hills I imagined she inhabited as one could get: it looked like nothing more than a surfer’s shack from the outside.

Inside, she had a confusing array of clutter.

Inside, she had a confusing array of clutter.

Inside, she had a confusing array of clutter, but she brought me to an apothecary shelf, asked for a strand of my hair, and began mixing something up. It smelled like some tropical concoction, which I guess wasn’t out of place for a surfer shack.

“Strip.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out of those clothes. I can’t heal you in that suit. Sexy turban, though.”

In the end, I talked her into letting me wear a pair of men’s trousers she had hanging around for some reason.

“Now lie down and let me spray this on your chest.”

She knelt over me and began spraying the coconut-scented concoction on my chest and shoulders.

She knelt over me and began spraying the coconut-scented concoction on my chest and shoulders.

She knelt over me and began spraying the coconut-scented concoction on my chest and shoulders. “You’ll have to rub it in,” she said. “It needs to soak into your skin. Faerie’s a physical place, and there’s no cure but a physical one.”

I felt something almost immediately. My skin began to tingle, and something I’d not felt for weeks stirred inside me. “Surely,” I said, “surely it will be more effective if you rub it in with your hands.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “Oh, now, that’s a road I don’t often go down any more,” she said. And she looked me over: I could tell, even though her eyes were hidden. “You’re ashen,” she said softly. “Fading. But still a feast for the eyes, Oh, I see what she saw in you.”

“Don’t mention her,” I said. I reached forward and put my hands on her legs, without permission.

Somewhere in my memory, there is a fragment of a story about how a satyr’s touch leads a person to bliss or madness. I think touching Dyisi led me to both bliss and madness, a beautiful madness, and I did not resist this madness, nor did I surface from this bliss for, it must have been, it felt like hours. She was my world. I was the canvas upon which she painted, and every nerve in me was alive beneath her touch, and I believed, I know, that every nerve in her was alive for me.

The more the poultice she gave me sinks into my skin, the more alive and like myself I feel. Today, one of the boys gave me a little flat of strawberries from one of our box gardens. They were tart, and sweet, like Dyisi.

There are no words for what she's given me.

There are no words for what she’s given me.

There are no words for what she’s given me. I can already feel the colour blending back into my skin. I will thank her again and again.

Style Card:

At The Looking Glass, First shots at Dyisi’s:
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Ragnar T3
Suit: Zaara: Nehru Suit in Grey (at Uber!)
Turban: Zaara: Aahil Turban in Red (at Uber!)
Shoes: FATEstep: Anthony Boots

At Dyisi’s:
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Ragnar T3
Shorts: Magnus Male Outfit FashioNatic
Hair: Damselfly: Gustov, Onyx

Dyisi:

Hair – little bones. Shaaswat w/scarf (from this round of Uber)
Skin – Plastik Astrali Skin (Vaaliarah)
Tats – Tiki Tattoo, Bora (dude seriously needs to make tats again)
:(SH): Face tat, Solaris 50%
Plastik, Asaia Markings
Eyes: Plastik Galaxie eyes (R- Plura L: Arc)
Hooves: [Gauze] Faun Naturals
Horns: Illusion Nivicola Runed Horns

Top: ::Rush:: Peace! Knotted Top
Pants: *FH* Bali Pants Navy

Body Jewelery:
. aisling. Darshana Hand jewelery
(Yummy) True Believer Charm Necklace
Earthstones Belly Crystal: Lapis
RO – Hipster Bag, Coffee
[Since 1975] Minigoggles
Earthstones Bikini Beads, Moonlight
Kibitz Aela Body Chain, Silver
Earthstones Katya Bangles, Garden
Kibitz Tulip Nose Chain
~Soedara~ Pearl Berjuang Tari Bindi
Schadenfreude Long2 Earth Digital Alchemy Necklace
Schadenfreude Long1 Water Digital Alchemy Necklace

Shape: Self Made
Staff: Self Made

 

Locations:
The Looking Glass
Dyisi’s Home

Spiffy photos taken with the indispensible aid of my LumiPro. I never leave home without it!

Fantasy Faire is for Shopping!

IMG_0428

Gwyneth:

Being a Fae Queen has its perqs. Too many to list, in fact: I’d only sound smug. Among my favourites is that no one asks any questions when I say, “I’m off to the Fantasy Faire! See you in a fortnight!”, for example. Only some of them are a little miffed when I don’t take them with me, but that’s why we have summoning orbs!

Actually, the Faire is providing summoning orbs, this year, which is so nice of them!

Actually, the Faire is providing summoning orbs, this year, which is so nice of them!

Actually, the Faire is providing summoning orbs this year, which is so nice of them! Or… I mean, used it as a summoning orb, though why it delivered that odd fellow from the future, Tam, to me and whisked us both to the top of the world is beyond me. I was so surprised I forgot to make a record of it. Maybe I will ask him to come back to the Faire with me, so I can get Kern to take care of that little detail.

Gwyneth Posh Dresses in Odyssey_006

So, what do you do at the Faire, Your Seelie Majesty?

Funny you should ask that: I shop! I shop and I shop—and then when I’m done, I shop some more! I love checking out designers both new and old, because they all bring their best wares to the Faire, and the Faire itself is such a magical place that things seem even cooler when you buy them there. This is the beautiful Cequai gown from PoshTale. I love that it comes in my Court’s colours. I can foresee many, many uses for this dress. I only hope that Certain Fae Lovers might want to take it off me as much as I enjoyed putting it on!

Being a Faerie Queen means that I have to be prepared for almost anything, including consorting with our local demons. And sometimes, well, when you’re visiting your favourite former elementary school student, now Demon Princess, you want to do as in Rome.

See? I demon up pretty well!

See? I demon up pretty well!

Well, fine. I didn’t go all out. I just can’t see myself in horns. But the rest of the outfit? Well, that’s pure “What Gwyneth would have looked like if she’d ended up as a demon instead of a fae queen”, and I”m thinking really it’s all about a few basic choices.

The wings, for example. They’ve got little spikes. And their’s something about their consistency, their resemblance to a bat’s wings, that makes them demon-y rather than fae-ry (See what I did there?!). Material Squirrel makes them; they’re new this year and available at the Fantasy Faire in a glorious array of colours.

What I really loved was how well they match this amazing dress from The Muses. It’s called “Coil”. The snakeskin texture goes beautifully with the wings, and of course I got lucky with the colours; I’d say that’s because I’m the Queen, but I know people get tired of hearing that.

Oh, and I was so inspired by this dress! It made me long to do evil things! Imagine that! A Seelie Queen, doing Evil. Hahaha. Honestly, I’m losing my understanding of “evil”. I don’t think it means what I used to think it meant. Whoa, unpack that, Gwyneth? No, thanks. You can just sit back and revel in my Sage Prose.

Anyway– oh! There is this part of the Faire! It is an iceberg! And… and… and…

Come along, little penguins....

Come along, little penguins….

There are PENGUINS! Penguins! Penguins which I have never seen except in zoos back in my old life before that I can barely remember now, and the penguins were so coooooold!

Come along, little penguins; Queen Gwyneth will take you somewhere niiiiiiiice and warm. Nice and warm and possibly full of sweet lovely demons who… well, they’re carnivores. Is that OK with you? Of course it is! You don’t speak English! Seriously, let’s get out of this snow! Just follow me…..

As the penguins and I rounded the corner, I rediscovered something, something I’d not seen for a long time. I can’t wait to tell you about it.

Style Cards:

So what do you do at the faire, Your Seelie Majesty?
Dress: Posh Tale: Cequai (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Bracers: Posh Tale: Cequai Bracers (Available at Fantasy
Faire!)
Collar: Posh Tale: Cequai Collar (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Hair: Analog Dog: Megan
Shoes: Deviance: Milady’s Slipper, Sapphire
Crown: Wimey: Celtic Lunar Crown 2 (Gold)
Skin: Curio: Simone (Moondrop)
Ears: Lumae, Leevi Long Ears

See? I demon up pretty well; and Come Along, Little Penguins….
Dress: The Muses: Coil (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Wings: Material Squirrel: Nireus Wings, Dark Scales (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Hair: Analog Dog: Sola (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Shoes: ieQED: Rose Sandal (Red)
Skin: Curio: Simone (Moondrop)

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.

The Urge for Going

The Gypsy Davey

The Gypsy Davey

The Gypsy Davey: A man can spend too long in Faerie. It begins to work on the senses. Time stops having any meaning. And the call of the Faire, the great Fantasy Faire, is strong. The Fae seasons align, the horses grow restless, and the vardo starts to look like a settled place. Too long in one place is not for my kind.

Then, the restlessness comes.

Then, the restlessness comes.

Then, the restlessness comes. The feeling that just one more day in this magical place will mean that a tree branch grows through the vardo spokes. The horses have had too much fae grass. And I, I have had too much faery mead and too much dancing on the green, and too much wild fiddle music in the night. And though I can never get enough of the attentions of the Seelie Queen (in truth, she is part of why I stay so long when I stay), a voice in my heart says, “It is time.”

Yea, it is time.

Yea, it is time.

Yea, it is time. Time for packing and saddling, time to plot the course, time to box the wares and remind this year’s fortuneteller how to be a better liar. She’s our charlatan; only when the people really need a future telling does she call me away from tinkering and storytelling and selling what I can.

A long journey

A long journey

A long journey it is (anywhere is a long journey from Faerie!), even when you know our Roads and Ways.

But the Faire, the Faire changes places every year: it is a movable feast of chaos and mayhem, and I love it. I love the smells and the sights. And of course, I love the populace, so wide-eyed and willing to part with their gold and their virtue.

So much to explore and see.

So much to explore and see.

So much to explore and see. You must not be precious at the Great Faire, my mother told me. You must not stick to the familiar; you must be willing to explore places where you feel like an outsider, like an unknown.

A break in work, though, a break in exploring, and suddenly you remember Faerie.

A break in work, though, a break in exploring, and suddenly you remember Faerie.

A break in work, though, a break in exploring, and suddenly you remember Faerie. It fades, that longing, I’m told. After a lifetime. The sharp, swift urge to go back there, to taste another glass of fae mead, to lie in the arms of a sweet-voiced Queen who knows what you are, knows who you are, and does not care that you’ve had more lovers than she has years to live. Her clean, white skin. Her gossamer hair. To be enfolded carried away, wrapped in wings.

Oh, but then you cannot bear it any more.

Oh, but then you cannot bear it any more.

Oh, but then you can not bear it any more. And there is a meadow and a village, and a dance going on somewhere in the near distance—you hear the sweet sound of flutes, and you know, you know, you know, that you are once again the Gypsy Davey, the whistler of women, the lips no woman can resist, and so you whistle and you sing til the green woods ring, and you win the heart of a lady. And even if only for one night, you can be content to be away from Faerie.

This is how I will live my days until the Faire is over, ever-exploring, ever-seeking, never finding, and in the end I know what I will do. I will get the urge for going, going. And I will help pack the wagons and prepare the horses, and I will tell the family I do not know where we are going.

But they all know where we are going: Back to Faerie, they will tease. Back to thee Great Seelie Forest and the Queen in the Treehouse. Not yet though: not yet. For now, I will pretend that Faerie is a distant memory and I am ready to move on. I laugh at myself.

I have been too long in Faerie.

Style Cards:

Yea, It is Time; A break in work:
Skin: 
7 Deadly s{K}ins: Damien, Smoked
Hair: No Match: No Date
Clothes: Gypsy Wolf, Tavern Keeper Thomas (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Ears: Illusions, Seelie Ears (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Pipe: Black Pearls: Storyteller Pipe (wood)
Horns: Oak and Elm: White Birch Horns (Available at Fantasy Faire!)

A Long Journey:
Skin: Birth: Fang Skin, tanned, maori beard
Clothes: Gauze: The Alchemist (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Hair: EMOtions: Ron (brown)
Necklace: Otherskin: Wish Necklace (Available at Fantasy Faire!)

So Much to Explore and See:
Skin:
 7 Deadly s{K}ins: GOR Gacha V5
Hair: EMOtions: Ron (brown)
Necklace: Otherskin: Wish Necklace (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Clothes: PoshTale: Siirist (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Boots: 22679: Jiki-Tabi Blue Leather

Oh, but then you cannot bear it any more:
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins: Damien, Smoke
Hair: Argrace: Ryo
Necklace: Otherskin: Wish Necklace (Available at Fantasy Faire!)
Clothes: Avatar Bizarre: Goblin King

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.

Wicked Wylds: Where The Magic Is Real

Gwyneth:

Gwyneth:

Once upon a time, there was a collection of people, people whose imaginations were bigger than their back gardens, people whose desire to tell stories and live more than one life captured their thoughts and dreams.

A couple of those people created a place where those thoughts and dreams could come to life, and they called it Wicked Wylds.

This is where I spend my Second Life roleplaying time. WW is not the sort of place you go if you just want to kill some monsters or have lighthearted intimate relations with pointy-eared elves. I mean, you could do those things, but there is a much, much larger story of which your actions can be a small part, or a large part.

In WW you can have come from anywhere. Maybe you were about to go into the shop to buy some milk and suddenly felt dizzy. You might wake up on an idyllic hillside and wonder if you’ve had some kind of stroke or maybe just dropped dead. Maybe you are a realm-walker, and the Wylds is just a convenient stopover between Asgard and Wonderland.

Maybe you are a demon who longs to role-play in a meticulously detailed Hell with a rich cast of characters who will engage you.

Maybe you are a changeling who has lived as a human for so long, and one day, one day, you open the door to Faerie.

Maybe you are an ordinary (ha!) person who dreams of interacting with so many different kinds of beings than you encounter at your day job in the bank.

Maybe you just want to be taken to where the magic is real.

You can’t find Wicked Wylds through a Second Life search. But you can take a look at the Tumblr to see what’s going on Read the histories, the rules, all that admin stuff there, or you can request it from one of the admins in-world. You can seek out members of the admin staff on SL and IM us. Tell us your story and we’ll talk about how it might fit into ours.

There is so much room for growth and there is no end to the stories we might write together.

Some of the people who live in or are frequently found in Mysthaven: L-R: (back row) Gwyneth, Seelie Queen in Faerie; Nathanial, Mysthaven Steward and Queen's Consort; Aoibheann, Lost Rabbit and Lord Maric's Consort; Lord Maric, Lord of Mysthaven and by a strange twist of fate the current Unseelie King; (front row) Wren Darling, Fae Teen and Nathaniel's adopted daughter; Dyisi, Elder Satyr, Realm-Walker, teller of tales and talker of riddles.

Some of the people who live in or are frequently found in Mysthaven:
L-R: (back row) Gwyneth, Seelie Queen in Faerie; Nathanial, Mysthaven Steward and Queen’s Consort; Aoibheann, Lost Rabbit and Lord Maric’s Consort; Lord Maric, Lord of Mysthaven and by a strange twist of fate the current Unseelie King; (front row) Wren Darling, Fae Teen and Nathaniel’s adopted daughter; Dyisi, Elder Satyr, Realm-Walker, teller of tales and talker of riddles.

Admins to IM: Vedis Seid (sim owner and the architect of hell); Faermorn Violet (plot spinner and the architect of Faerie); Suboki Paine (RP and Tech Admin); Benbold (RP Admin); Dickensiandreamer (RP Admin); Dyisi Oppewall (Rp Admin); Gwen Enchanted (RP Admin, Welcome Wagon, Fae Dreamer, and the Blogger of Record).

Spiffy photo taken with the indispensible aid of a 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.

Every day a new birth 

Gwyneth:

So I was just waking up yesterday. I was in the pyjamas I’d got in Cambridge; they won’t last long, but they are soft and comfy and oh so very pink.

And then there was an unfamiliar presence in the room, and an unfamiliar voice asking where he was.

unfamiliar presence, unfamiliar voice

It’s not that this is all that unusual in the Wylds.  We’ve recently had a guy displaced from some airport in New York, convinced he was going back there any minute.

It’s just that it doesn’t often happen in my bedroom. Well, it never has before. This place is securely warded, so no one who intends me harm is likely to get in.

And yet, there was a tall blond man in the bedroom. Who’d apparently slept on my couch.

so of course I served him tea!

So of course I served him tea! Bran and Wulfrich were understandably suspicious: Wulf would have taken him into the security office and interrogated him, but I could see he was upset, so I’ve put that off, at least for now.

the fellow was undeniably strange

The fellow was undeniably strange. He reminded me of no one so much as some of the odd refugees we used to get at the Lucky Leaf.

He spoke of things like neo wood and some kind of fake fire. I had real trouble following his conversation, but I found myself oddly fascinated by the realm from which he must have come.

Probably the funniest thing he said was that he expected Bran would have to have a certification to handle fire!

He didn’t remember his name, or anything, he said, about what he’d been doing before or during his realm shift.

Bloody fit, though….

He was bloody fit, though. Tall, blond, from the facial features I’d guess of Nordic or Saxon descent, if there’s such a thing where he comes from.

I tried to calm him.

I tried to calm him, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it: he worried the food might be poisoned, spoke of Faerie as mythical; of course, they all do, at first: I certainly did.

I should have had Wulfrich escort him to Mysthaven. But he was lost and floundering and at least he seems to be able to communicate with me. I don’t know what the villagers will make of him, and my Fae nature tells me it will be great fun to see him encounter his first demifae, interact with Faerie in general.

I’m putting him in Bran’s room for now. There’s time to take him to the village later, assuming he hasn’t disappeared back to his home realm tomorrow, where Faerie will just seem like some strange dream.

He agreed to be called Tam, at least until he remembers his real name, assuming he has one. The concept of names even seemed to throw him off.

Every day a new birth, and all things are possible in Faerie, as always.