Like an Orb

What am I known for? Tonight, I am putting apple-orbs in trees. Tomorrow I will put books on stumps. Sometime soon, there will be a remaking, inasmuch as there is ever a remaking.

I
The essential poem at the center of things,
The arias that spiritual fiddlings make,
Have gorged the cast-iron of our lives with good
And the cast-iron of our works. But it is, dear sirs,
A difficult apperception, this gorging good,
Fetched by such slick-eyed nymphs, this essential gold,
This fortune’s finding, disposed and re-disposed
By such slight genii in such pale air.

II
We do not prove the existence of the poem.
It is something seen and known in lesser poems.
It is the huge, high harmony that sounds
A little and a little, suddenly,
By means of a separate sense.
It is and it Is not and, therefore, is. In the instant of speech,
The breadth of an accelerando moves,
Captives the being, widens–and was there.

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The breath of an accelerando moves

What magical things are hands. What magical things are apples. We learn they are a forbidden fruit. We learn they keep the doctor away. We know that inside them there are five points. We know they may grant immortality. We know wands made from apple wood are superior. But these hands, my hands, now turn to the enrichment of places already established, the growing, the fruitfulness of it all.

And I, like so many magical beings, am full of surprises. Of course, you may see me as an apple-giver, and you will think, ‘O, it is too early for apples’, but this is Faery and I like apples. Summer at its height is the first breath of autumn, after all, and why then not be ready?

III
What milk there is in such captivity,
What wheaten bread and oaten cake and kind,
Green guests and table in the woods and songs
At heart, within an instant’s motion, within
A space grown wide, the inevitable blue
Of secluded thunder, an illusion, as it was,
Oh as, always too heavy for the sense
To seize, the obscurest as, the distant was…

IV
One poem proves another and the whole,
For the clairvoyant men that need no proof:
The lover, the believer and the poet,
Their words are chosen out of their desire,
The joy of language, when it is themselves.
With these they celebrate the central poem,
The fulfillment of fulfillments, in opulent,
Las terms, the largest, bulging still with more,

With growth comes distance; this is a lesson I have learned and taught, a lesson I am always learning, always teaching. And so today I have said goodbye to some things once and still beloved but no longer well-used, no longer well-useful.

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The distant was

You will miss the treehouse, and so will I. But in its place there will be something glorious; I can feel it growing in my spirit much like these very early, very ripe apples. You will wonder why the music shop is no longer visible: don’t worry; there will always be music in Awenia. What will you find in its place? Only the most beautiful and desperate longing for music itself, singing through the heartbeat of the world and of our Realm.

V
Until the used-to earth and sky, and the tree
And cloud, the used-to tree and used-to cloud,
Lose the old uses that they made of them,
And they: these men, and earth and sky, inform
Each other by sharp informations, sharp,
Free knowledges, secreted until then,
Breaches of that which held them fast.
It is As if the central poem became the world,

VI
And the world the central poem, each one the mate
Of the other, as if summer was a spouse,
Espoused each morning, each long afternoon,
And the mate of summer: her mirror and her look,
Her only place and person, a self of her
That speaks, denouncing separate selves, both one.
The essential poem begets the others. The light
Of it is not a light apart, up-hill.

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The light of it

But do not be overly concerned: creation is change and flux, and I am a creatrix. I am never tearing down but always rebuilding. I am watching the light reflecting from the great oak in the book meadow and seeing how it slants through the door to the fairytale forest. And beyond that, I am watching as the deeper myths weave a path and a pattern so much deeper and more twisted. Like these boughs, they harden and twist, they grow stories, and magic is in them at their very core.

VII
The central poem is the poem of the whole,
The poem of the composition of the whole,
The composition of blue sea and of green,
Of blue light and of green, as lesser poems,
And the miraculous multiplex of lesser poems,
Not merely into a whole, but a poem of
The whole, the essential compact of the parts,
The roundness that pulls tight the final ring

VIII
And that which in an altitude would soar,
A vis, a principle or, it may be,
The meditation of a principle,
Or else an inherent order active to be
Itself, a nature to its natives all
Beneficence, a repose, utmost repose,
The muscles of a magnet aptly felt,
A giant, on the horizon, glistening,

IX
And in bright excellence adorned, crested
With every prodigal, familiar fire,
And unfamiliar escapades: whirroos
And scintillant sizzlings such as children like,
Vested in the serious folds of majesty,
Moving around and behind, a following,
A source of trumpeting seraphs in the eye,
A source of pleasant outbursts on the ear.

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A Source

Please, take an apple. They’re delicious. And sustaining. And they came from my meadow. They are created of only love, which is the most beautiful and twisted thing ever made and lived. I am no evil stepmother, and so there is no poison here, only story, and story never ends. Like stories, they are immortal. Like stories, I am immortal. And who knows—after just one taste, you may never be hungry again. Or, you may always be hungry. These two things are the same, after all.

X
It is a giant, always, that is evolved,
To be in scale, unless virtue cuts him, snips
Both size and solitude or thinks it does,
As in a signed photograph on a mantelpiece.
But the virtuoso never leaves his shape,
Still on the horizon elongates his cuts,
And still angelic and still plenteous,
Imposes power by the power of his form.

The sun is rising over the Book Forest as I give these words to you, words heard once and then forgotten but never forgotten.

XI
Here, then, is an abstraction given head,
A giant on the horizon, given arms,
A massive body and long legs, stretched out,
A definition with an illustration, not
Too exactly labeled, a large among the smalls
Of it, a close, parental magnitude,
At the center of the horizon, concentrum, grave
And prodigious person, patron of origins.

The sun is rising over the Book Forest as I offer you these apples, apples made from love and grown from the infinite well of story. Both these things, love and story, are without beginning and without end.

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Ever Changing

XII
That’s it. The lover writes, the believer hears,
The poet mumbles and the painter sees,
Each one, his fated eccentricity,
As a part, but part, but tenacious particle,
Of the skeleton of the ether, the total
Of letters, prophecies, perceptions, clods
Of color, the giant of nothingness, each one
And the giant ever changing, living in change.

—Wallace Stevens, ‘A Primitive Like an Orb’

Notes & Credits
Poem: Wallace Stevens, ‘A Primitive Like an Orb’. Modern poetry may not be your bag, but go back and read it anyway. Really. Read it like prose, out loud, don’t pause at the end of a line unless you feel it’s necessary; this is iambic, in the rhythm of human speech, and read it again. Wallace Stevens was an attorney and a business executive. He worked in the American insurance industry. And he got into a fistfight with Ernest Hemingway once. There’s a story that might be apocryphal— the year he died, Stevens was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in poetry. And at his funeral, it’s widely believed that one of the men he worked with was heard to say, “Really? I didn’t even know Wally wrote poetry.”

Avatar—
Body: Maitreya
Head: Lelutka, Lake Evolution Mesh Head
Skin: Ritual, Elspeth, Tone 1 (Get it at the Ritual Main Store!)
Tattoo Overlay: Izzie’s, Mermaid Scales (body and makeup)
Wings: Lovely Alien, Shimmer Fairy Wings
Ears: Swallow, Elf Ears High Definition
Eyebrows: Simple Bloom, LivSpring Neutral
Hair: Exile, Yvette
Lips, theMARS, Sanity
Eyes: S0ng, Marina Eyes
Clothes: Les sucreries de Fairy, Eve, Red Apple Crown, Red Apple Dress, Red Apple Garter
Leg Wraps: 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Ella Wraps (At the 1313 Mockingbird Lane Main Store, but 1313 also has a shop at the SL17B Shop & Hop event!)
Necklace: Kunst, Hummingbird
Environment—
Location: Awenia Faerie (not currently open to visitors, but things are in the works!)
Atmosphere: Fecund
Stuff: happening

The Known Alone

Dear Gwyneth,

I’ve begun this letter many times. Sometimes I even finish it. The first time, maybe even the first ten times, I wrote it, it started, continued, and ended with apologies. I think I’m past that now, which is one reason I hope that once I finish this letter, I may hit “send” and not regret it too much.

It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom. —Wallace Stevens

Well, we are more than three months into a pandemic lockdown as I write this, and I am in the known alone, because venturing into the unknown isn’t practical right now.

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So, I Googled you.

So, I Googled you. Of course I’ve done this many times over the years. I don’t know how long ago it was when I discovered you had a blog, but I’ve been reading it off and on, in between teaching terms and workshops. I don’t know if you’ve Googled me. All that software that says it’ll tell you stuff like that costs money and looks a bit dodgy if you ask me.

You remember that big old house my parents inherited from my granddad? You can see it out the window in the photograph above. Yeah; it’s mine now, for about ten years. They’re rolling over in their Tory graves every time they think of me now, because about ten people are living there at the moment. Usually I live there too, but the whole pandemic thing scared me when it first started, so I locked myself down in the garden house.

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I’m lucky.

I’m lucky. But then I think I was predisposed to be lucky. Now I just try to be grateful for it while not being an arsehole because of it.

I don’t think I ever took you and Fen and the others to the garden house; my mum lived here most of the time because she and my dad couldn’t stand one another. The garden is full of her things, and it’s a good place to remember her.

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I garden.

You’d laugh: I garden. Well, I keep the garden from dying. Most of these are wildflowers my mum loved, hollyhocks and Queen Anne’s lace and some campion, lots of clover. Oak, birch, and cherry trees, and I’m uncomfortable this year in the midst of all this growth.

Most of the kids in the big house are students of mine who either pay some rent or need a place to crash when their lives fall apart. They are respectful kids—I say kids; they’re older than you and I were when I last saw you. Anyway, they take pretty good care of the place and I have only had to go up there once since March when the country locked down.

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Time and time

Time and time. It’s funny: all that time we knew each other, all through uni, or mostly through uni, anyway, I knew you were special. I never would have guessed you were one of the Fae, though. I’ve wondered, often, why you hid it. Your parents seemed perfectly human, no Court allegiance sigils on the door, and you, I mean, I would almost have said that you were not at all concerned with the magical world. I guess a lot of us humans try not to be; it’s easy to have an inferiority complex if you consider that someone you know could be holding phenomenal cosmic powers, to quote Aladdin because I don’t know what else to quote here and my life revolves around other people’s words, except when it revolves around my own.

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And yes; I’m bored.

And yes, I’m bored. Don’t get me wrong: I live a lot of my life online, and so some things haven’t changed all that much. Classes go on, virtually. Workshop pieces trickle in via email. The publication date for my next book is still the same, though we’re concentrating less on physical book sales than ever before.

I would have said, at the beginning of all this, that my life wasn’t going to change at all, that I’d just move out to the garden house and treat it as a writing holiday, and for the most part that’s been true. It’s not as if I have a family, a wife, even a girlfriend.

But I’m restless now. My friend Des, you won’t know him, tells me it’s impossible to be restless if you never go anywhere in the first place.

But that’s really why I’m writing.

When all this is over, I want to visit Faeryland. The most recent craze to “go with the fairies” has died down a bit, and I know your Realm is a tourist spot. I’m not asking for special treatment, or a place to stay: I’ll arrange it all through DreamTime travel; they’ve got a pretty good reputation and I have a little spare cash lying about.

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This is Covie

This is Covie— he used to be called just The Book Dragon, but now he’s Covie The Book Dragon, because aside from the cats (they’re not around right now) and the birds, he’s the only creature I see on a daily basis. Every day I ask him if he has some new books for me. He never answers, because he is a plush dragon guarding a small pile of books. I promise I’ve not gone mad here.

Anyway, I’ve got this far without apologising or trying to promise you anything except for that bit about not being mad above, so it’s looking promising.

When all this is over, I’d like to plan a holiday to Awenia, spend a few weeks there, and maybe we could see one another? It’s been thirty years; I think that’s maybe long enough to rebuild.

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I’m still short.

I’m still short. I still like some of the same music, but I stopped dyeing my hair black and I binned the eyeliner collection years ago. I mean, I could probably still rock it if I put my mind to it, but I’d mostly rather put my feet up and enjoy my middle age at this point, you know?

You don’t have to answer this email. But I’m putting all my contact information at the bottom here, so you can get in touch if you want to. If you would rather I didn’t visit Awenia, that’s OK; just please let me know. Otherwise, I’m thinking this will all be over probably in the autumn, and I’ll plan to visit for a couple of weeks maybe in early October so I don’t run into your Samhain high season.

I think I’m going to press “send” this time.

Love (not that kind; the kind old friends share),
Richard Caper

Notes & Credits
Plot:
Gwyneth, the primary narrator of Three Twisted Knots, is a character I’ve been roleplaying and writing stories about for almost eight years, and she is why there’s a blog here at all. Richard Caper is a blast from the past, one of the people who was with her in the automobile accident that set her on the path she now walks. He has featured prominently twice in the blog, and here are those links if you would like to read more of his story. 
The keeping of journals
“The past is never where you think you left it.” –Katherine Anne Porter

Richard Caper Avatar:
Body: Signature Gianni
Head: Lelutka Evolution Skylar
Skin: Poema, Zeus (Get it at Vintage Fair!)
Eyebrows: Arte, Fiore brows
Hair: Dura, Game 4
Facial Hair: Volkestone, Zek
Clothes: Cold Ash, Chelsea Boots, Larkham Jeans, Montana Tee
Eyes: Euphoric, Natha
Earring: Kunst, Eden
Necklace: EarthStones, Hoot Owl

Environment:
Location: Awenia (not currently open to the public)
Exterior—
Garden House: Trompe Loeil, Soleil Garden House
Big Trees (oak, birch, cherry), all from Heart
Flowers & Underbrush, all from Heart, except
Rose Field: {anc} Sugar Rose Field; and
Grass Clumps: The Looking Glass, The Shrine Tree Grass Clumps
Outdoor Table: The Looking Glass, Harmony Garden Tea Time Table & Chairs
Rockery & Birdhouse Tree: The Looking Glass, Harmony Garden Birdhouse Tree & Rockery
Gate and Fence: Pandemonium, Tall Pointed fence & gate
Fox Fountain: Foxwood, Fox Fountain
The Big House: Compulsion, Tudor Manor
Path: Happy Mood, Dirt Road
Interior—
Desk & Clutter: Nutmeg, Familiar Mess Desk, Chair, Cabinet
Bed: Nutmeg, Disarray Bed Dark
Lounge Furniture: Nutmeg, Dreamy Pastels Armchair, Coffee Table, Floor Pillows, Sofa
Dining Nook Table and Chairs: Apple Fall, Pottery Dining Table and Chairs
Breakfast Food: Apple Fall, Elvira Plate with Egg, Avocado, & Toast, Plate with Sliced Grapefruit, Rose Tea
Tea Pot: The Secret Store, Folk Teapot – Olive
Napkins and Towels: Second Spaces, Kitchen Colletion, Napkiins & Towels
Covie The Book Dragon was portrayed by the 2016 Lucentia Dwagi, a treasured memento of Fantasy Faire from 2016.

A Dream of Winter

Gwyneth Blog Header

Gwyneth:

My dreams grow more intense. I had the most haunting dream the other night, and I wasn’t sure about all the messages there seemed to be in it at the time, but now I think it must be about protection, and unity.

 

 

 

 

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I was standing in a place that I knew to be my Bower, though it was much changed.

I was standing in a place that I knew to be my Bower, though it was much changed. There was new snowfall everywhere, and I came to myself in a little copse of trees, all alight by some magic. How beautiful, I thought. I noted the house behind me, but it seemed obvious that I had just come from there. And there was a path, and you know how sensible these things seem in dreams: I walked down it.

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Everywhere, there was the mist that I have come to associate with thick, Fae magic.

Everywhere, there was the mist that I have come to associate with thick, Fae magic. To my right, I spied a gazebo that I was sure I’d seen before, and two little houses were on my left. I knew instinctively that these were Drysi and Eilian’s residences, and I wondered for a moment why there was no residence for Bronwyn. I made a mental note to ask Dyisi whether or not she’d seen anything about Bronwyn’s future. Perhaps Bronwyn is in some kind of danger. Then again, half the time I don’t know where she is anyway. At least, now that the number of injured we have just seen come through the Bower has convinced Eilian that books are more interesting than pretending to be a warrior, he can be counted on to be in his room studying most of the time, and I have some hope that he might turn out to be more sensible than I’d feared. And Drysi, well. I just hope our relationship continues to improve.

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But something else caught my eye.

But something else caught my eye. At the end of the path, there was a circle of purple flowers. I laughed to think of flowers in the snow. In their midst, there was a statue of a spring goddess, or I assumed she was some aspect of spring or summer: she certainly wasn’t dressed for the snow. I found that I was holding, somehow, five votive candles, which I placed around her feet and lit: three for our Realms of Earth, Sea, and Sky, one for the creative initiator of Fire, and one to the Shining Ones.

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Then I turned and saw what looked like  a garden wall.

Then, I turned and saw what looked like a garden wall. But no ordinary garden, no. I could already see what peeked over the edges. It was our somewhat wilful Sithen Rose. I smiled to myself to see that someone had made it a much more secure enclosure than Davey’s well-meaning stonework, but then as I got closer I saw the gypsy’s mark on the gate post and smiled to myself.

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I swear, if ever there were a more menacing plant, I have not met it.

I swear, if ever there were a more menacing plant, I have not met it. Nor would I want to. As I entered the garden, one of the roses lifted up and followed my progress round the still-existing stone enclosure, and I could swear I heard a hiss. The Sithen Rose at the old Seelie Sithen in Ashbourne was a much more benign plant than this. I wonder if it’s exposure to Maric’s roses that has made it so, well, odd. I left the walled garden quickly, resolving to have that very structure built the moment I woke up.

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When I left the walled garden, I found the familiar field of flowers, blooming even in the snow.

When I left the walled garden, I found the familiar field of flowers, blooming even in the snow, and my beloved reading house. As I walked round, I saw that Wren’s treehouse still looked intact, so no need to worry about her future, at least for the moment.

The paths, now covered over with snow, seemed the same, though the central one now pointed toward the gazebo I’d rounded on my way to the Sithen Rose.

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As I drew closer, I realised the gazebo was more than just a decorative piece of the garden.

As i drew closer, I realised the gazebo was more than just a decorative piece of the garden. Beneath its mosaic roof was a council table with many seats.

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Of course, as with everything in dreams, this felt significant.

Of course, as with everything in dreams, this felt significant. Reflexively, i reached for the necklace I wore, then discovered that it felt unfamiliar. I looked down to find I was wearing an exquisite, perfect dragon, with a crystal clutched in its talons. The workmanship was so familiar. How odd that I didn’t remember purchasing this dragon necklace from anywhere, and how odd I’d have a dragon symbol at all: I just don’t think all that much about dragons, unless they’re Lilacor. Was I now being protected somehow by a dragon?

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I couldn’t resist a little play when I finally got to the beautiful and impressive looking council table, with its big wooden chairs.

I couldn’t resist a little play when I finally got to the beautiful and impressive looking council table, with its big wooden chairs. “Oh, Lord Daecharion. How awful to see you. Do please take a seat: I’ve iced this one specially for you.” This made me cackle like a madwoman in my dream.

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Still, there’s no denying the beauty and workmanship of this table.

Still, there’s no denying the beauty and workmanship of this table, even if all I could think to do with it on first glance was insult that stuffed old prick Daecharion. I did wonder what it meant, though: are we to be at war again? Will we be drawing up treaties? Are we to come together with other Fae royals from different realms and try to make sense of the cosmos?

All these questions started jumbling together in my head, and then next thing I knew, I was waking up in my own familiar bed.

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Well, the bed was at least familiar.

Well, the bed was at least familiar. Nothing else was. Oh, joy: a new season, a new Bower. I went to explore to see if my dream was true, and I found a magical ladder, similar to the ones that we had in my lovely Treehouse, to take me down to the new Residence’s main level.

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I descended in what I could only imagine must be intended to be Nathaniel’s office.

I descended to what I could only imagine must be intended to be Nathaniel’s office. It was full of dark wood and purple and old books. Not that I don’t like old books, mind.

 

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Of course, my eyes lit up when I saw the kitchen!

Of course, my eyes lit up when I saw the kitchen! No more sneaking to a different building to get a midnight snack! And the table is the same one from the coffee pavilion in the old place, so that’ll be familiar at least to the children. I must go round and inspect their little houses later on.

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And the rest of the main level!

And the rest of the main level! Such huge windows, and my beautiful desk, and a big window seat, and an artist’s corner with an easel! I suppose this means the Shining Ones want me to explore art again. I haven’t been painting in such a long time.

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And now I imagine the bower as a snow globe.

And now I imagine the bower as a snow globe. A little circle of light. How funny it would be, to live in a snow globe.

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There are dragons, and wolves, above the fireplace.

There are dragons, and wolves, above the fireplace. And I’ve been a brunette since I woke up from my dream. I don’t know what that means, either. But I am so happy not to be asleep again, like last year. I never want to sleep through another season. I think, had I not been sleeping, My King Janus might still be with me. I miss him every single day.

Style Cards:

Gwyneth in Red
Body:
Maitreya Lara
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Vlinder, version 8a, Catwa Applier, in skintone Apricot (Available, along with Maitreya and SLink appliers, at the 7 Deadly s{K}ins Main Store)
Head: Catwa Jessica
Hair: Calico, Theia (Available at The Secret Affair)
Crown: Noble Creations, Gold Crown (Group Gift at the Noble Creations Main Store)
Ears: BentBox, Sylvan Ears, Medium (Available at We Love Roleplay)
Eyes: IKON, Spectral Eyes, Gold
Dress: The White Armory, Crystal Solstice Gown, Ruby
Necklace: Otherskin, Gaurdians Mercury Tigereye (An Advent Calendar Gift at the upcoming Fair Play [opens 1 December])
Wings: Deviance, Sidhe Wings, Briar Rose (Rare)
Shoes: Junbug, Valkyrie Sandals, Red (even if you can’t see them!)

In the bower:
New Seelie Queen Residence
: LAQ, Picturesque Cottage
Children’s Houses: KTZ Houses, Pashoot
Statue: Paper Moon, Visage Stone Statue (Rare)
Flower Ring: The Looking Glass, Dream Fields Circle
Sithen Rose Walled Garden Enclosure: Spargel & Shine, Jardin Marisol (Available at Cosmopolitan)
Sithen Rose Inner Enclosure: Artisan Fantasy, Maiden Tor Stone Wall
Sithen Rose: The Looking Glass, Hearts Like China Roses
Flower Field: The Looking Glass, Ichi Fields
Stone Circle: Gor Con, Menhir Circle (Ultra Rare)
Storyteller’s House: 8f8 Storyteller’s Burrow (Rare)
Gazebo: Cerridwen’s Cauldron, Seelie Gazebo, Wide
Council Table & Chairs: Noble Creations, The Round Table (Available at  We Love Roleplay)
Trees: Studio Skye, Enchanted Woods
Signposts: 8f8, Storyteller’s Burrow, Sign Post and Direction Post
Snow-Covered Paths: Happy Mood, Dirt Road
Cobbled Paths: [DDD] Stoney Path

Gwyneth in Jeans
Body: Maitreya Lara
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Vlinder, version 8a, Catwa Applier, in skintone Apricot (Available, along with Maitreya and SLink appliers, at the 7 Deadly s{K}ins Main Store)
Head: Catwa Jessica
Hair: Analog Dog (natch!) Gwen
Ears: BentBox, Sylvan Ears, Medium (Available at  We Love Roleplay)
Eyes: IKON, Spectral Eyes, Gold
Shirt: Kitja, Nile Shirt, Grey (Available at Uber)
Jeans: Spirit, Abba Jeans (Available at Uber)
Boots: aDiva, Kenya Moto Boots
Necklaces:
Otherskin, Gaurdians Mercury Tigereye (An Advent Calendar Gift at the upcoming Fair Play [opens 1 December])
BAMSE, Moon Necklace (Rare) (Available at The Fantasy Collective)

In the House:
Bed
: Tarte, Enchanted Slumber
Nathaniel’s Office
Bookcases: 8f8, Storyteller’s Burrow, Grand Cabinet, Double Bookcase
Furniture: Artisan Fantasy, Valezquez Set, Hacienda Reading Bench
Kitchen
Table, Chairs, Benches: Trompe Loeil, Laney Table
Back Kitchen Fixtures: [DDD], Victorian Little Kitchen
Coffee Decor: Kunst, Coffee Gacha (Available at Shiny Shabby)
Food Prep Table: Ginger Line: Double Wood Basic Counter
Lamp: Velvet Whip, Moon Lamp (ultrarare) (Available at the Fantasy Gacha Carnival)
Fireplace Shield Decor: Artisan Fantasy, Symbolic Shields Triple Wolf (ultra rare) and Dragon Triquetra (rare)
Living Room
Couches, tables, and candles: Artisan Fantasy, Hacienda Living Room
Desk: Tia, Diplomat’s Desk
Easel: Solarium, Medhir Woods Easel and Painting
Artist’s Table and Bench, plus decor: Apple Fall, Old Stained Table and Old Stained Bench; Red Tea Towel, and Liberty Sketchbook
Curtains: ASO, Vintage Curtain (Available at The Fantasy Collective)
Kitten Painting: Antique Artistry, Yard Long Painting, Kittens
Lamp: Velvet Whip, Moon Lamp (rare)

Snow Globe: Turnip’s Skydome 2.0

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

Fair Play opens on the first of December and runs through the seventh of January. Make sure to check out the Advent Calendar there, where you can get a beautiful free item every day!

I’m absolutely chuffed to have been selected to blog for Noble Creations, whose beautiful things I’ve bought and enjoyed for some time now. I only blog stuff I love.

7dsFair Play Logo[NC] - Noble Creations - LOGO