Moor Dance

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You’ve seen the fairies dancing on the moor

You’ve dreamed of fairies dancing on the moor
How gracefully they start: how fair they are
But soon, they’re overcome with their own flight
They lose the roses nesting in their hair

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An audience of forest creatures stays

An audience of forest creatures stays
But carefully: those tiny feet still hurt
If they land on your spine or on your paws
And nobody wants broken foxes, no

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You’ve heard they should not fly, and this is true

You’ve heard they should not fly, and this is true:
Like bumblebees, they’re too big for their wings
So when one falls (at least, when not on us!)
We all have such a laugh, and you’d laugh, too

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But then you’d make a postcard out of it

But then you’d make a postcard out of it
(We’re very clear that cameras aren’t allowed)
Which we must confiscate, and that’s a chore
That’s why we don’t have people any more

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It’s so much simpler now to get a dance

It’s so much simpler now to get a dance:
They’d always pick the little girls before
But now we foxes, deer, and even owls
Will get a turn before the night is done

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If from afar you only see their grace

If from afar you only see their grace
And miss the darling clumsiness of them
And lose the laughter we find in their games
Then you have missed the best of them, and us
And that’s just fine: we stay mysterious
And you stay curious, and then the day
You stumble into Faerie without gear
Their laughter is the only sound you’ll hear.

Notes and Credits:
Enchantment opens on the 8th of August— that’s tomorrow! And get ready, because this is a beautiful round full of fairytale magic; the theme is Sleeping Beauty, and fantastic creators have made some beautiful things for you to see, play with, and take home to build your own fairy tales.
Dancing Fairy’s beautiful outfit: Les Sucreries de Fairy, Sleeping B in Purple (top, shorts, armbands, collar, crown, butterflies, wings) (Available at Enchantment on 8 August!)
Dancing Fairy’s lovely sandals: 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Sharla Sandals (Get them at We Love Role-play!)
Dancing Fairy’s thorn tattoos: Rainbow Sundae, Beauty’s Thorns (Available at Enchantment on 8 August!)
Dancing Fairy’s Perfect Skin: Wyrd, Saga (At the Wyrd Main Store!)
Lovely Forest Background: Pink Magic, Forest Decor (Available at Enchantment on 8 August!)
Body: Maitreya
Head: Catwa, Nora
Hair: Tram, 0314
Eyes: Madame Noir, Manu Eyes
Ears: Swallow, Magic Pixie Ears

 

 

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

A Dream Of Spirits

The fox journey has seemed at times surreal, at times frustrating, and at all times inscrutable. I do not understand why this spirit fox picked me, why he keeps showing up in my dreams, why he so desperately wants to show me this or that.

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I thought I was alone

But this time, I thought I was alone. It seemed I woke at the end of a bridge, and there was something abnormally quiet about it, at least at first.

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A sense of solitude

I really might have been the only person in the world, for those few minutes.

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Little visions

But then little visions began to come to me, little flashes of what else there was to see here.

And so I walked on, looking and discovering as I went. From path to bridge to little farm,  all seemed still and calm and somehow holding its breath as if waiting for something…

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And that’s when I met the owl.

The owl was the first living being I’d seen since waking up at the bridge. ‘Well, look at you’, I said. ‘You’ve got your very own perch, nobody around for miles, you’re the king of the castle, aren’t you’?

Have you ever heard an owl laugh? It is disconcerting; I’ll tell you that. ‘I am in fact the god of the village’, he replied with absolutely no irony. ‘But you’ll travel farther than just here today’, he said—like he knew so much. ‘It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this’.

Yes, he really said that. And then I felt a soft weight in the crook of my arm, and there was a much younger little spirit fox, and this one was a beautiful purply-blue colour.

‘Oh’! I said. ‘You got me another fox’!

‘Another fox’? asked the owl. ‘Has another one come down from the forest, then’? He looked, well, as nervous as I could ever imagine an owl looking.

‘No, no; this is a white fox that has been visiting me in dreams’, I explained.

‘Oh, that one’. He nodded, as if he knew so much. ‘Well, perhaps you’ll see him again when you get up there’. He nodded toward a break in the wall. ‘Best get moving’.

And so I did.

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Up the long set of steps we went

And so we went out the gate and up a set of natural-looking steps that led up a hill (I don’t think it could be called a mountain) on a winding path.

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We came into a forest

We came into a forest guarded by two red foxes. That’s when my familiar fox appeared on my shoulder. ‘Watch those two’, he said.

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Mist in the forest

‘I can only watch one of them at at time’, I replied; ‘they’re too far apart’!

He snorted. ‘Oh, you’ve turned white now have you, little one’? he teased. ‘Any day now you’ll be calling me papa’.

The little one in my arms snorted.

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What are you telling us?

‘What are you telling us’? I asked. ‘Is that spirit fox for “not bloody likely”‘?

My (ha!) spirit fox laughed at us then. ‘Well, you’ll have to go on and explore without us’, he said. ‘We have some work to do here in the Kitsune Forest’, but you’ll see us again before long’.

It wasn’t as much fun to explore now that I’d had time with the foxes, but I won’t soon forget the beautiful market. It sounded every bit like a live market, except there was no-one there that I could see.

And when I woke up later, in my own bed in Faerie, both foxes were nowhere to be found. I am sure they will find me again; they seem impossible to avoid, after all.

Credits and Notes:

The Kitsune Tales round is still open at Enchantment until the 31st of this month! You’ll find so many lovely things there, some of which are shown in photographs above!

Items featured at Enchantment:
Dress: Les sucreries de Fairy, Yoko, Red Dress 3
Face Makeup: Venge, ‘The Legend’
Earrings: Bliensen + MaiTai, Kitsune, red
Cuddle Fox: Jinx, Cuddle Pup (in Spirit, then White)
Shoulder Fox: Harshlands, Mini Spirit Fox
Shoes and Socks: Exia, Akaru Zouri

Other items in this look:
Body: Maitreya
Head: Lelutka, Evolution Lake Mesh Head
Skin: DeeTaleZ, Flora skin for Lelutka in tone Celtic
Ears: Swallow, Elf Ears High Definition
Eyes: Anatomy, Fading Eyes
Hair: Kokolores, Kitten
Lipstick: The MARS, Apple Crush Dark

Location: All these photos were shot in the beautiful region of Kintsugi, Spirited Beyond. It is a stunning and contemplative build, presented on multiple levels, with some beautiful stories to experience as you travel through it. It’s currently featured on the SL Destination Guide, but there’s a link above for your ease of travel!

The Power of Hope

No; I don’t know what happened.

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In a moment of reflection

In a moment of reflection, I began considering our land and its predicament. I took myself to the water ritual dais and meditated for a while upon the great axe left there, sunk in the stone, for some foretold ruler whom many now believed would never come.

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What to do; what to do?

What to do; what to do? I was no great priestess; I had not been blessed with second sight or any measure of magic.

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The power of hope

What I did have, I realised as I stood there, with the mists rising fast around me, was some understanding of and belief in the power of hope.

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The moon both rose and fell

At that moment, it seemed that the moon both rose and fell, fell upon me, and if I were sentimental or superstitious, I might say it felt like music, even though it didn’t, really. But it felt like music.

Then, I turned.

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The moment we first saw one another.

The moment we first saw one another. I suppose I would say this is a moment to tell our grandchildren about, but even as young as we still are, I fear we won’t have grandchildren.

But I’ll tell you about it anyway. Or as much as I can. I don’t really know what happened, and she says she doesn’t know either. And believe you me, I have tried to coax the story out of her more times than you have, and she’s got a temper on her, my Gwen.

It happened in an instant. One minute I was sitting in the mead hall, having a drink with my fellows and speculating on next year’s raids, and the next minute I was on top of the Axe Rock. There was a little flash of light from below, and then this beautiful woman was turning toward me.

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He fell right on the rock.

That’s right. I looked up, and he was falling right out of the sky, trying to keep his balance and land on his feet. I was proud when he succeeded.

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So, no shit; there I was….

So, no shit: there I was! And I was like, well. If the gods dropped me here, I’d better have a go at this axe then.

Really? Do you have to say it like that?

Like what?

Like you would if you were twelve.

Surely you’re not going to scold me about my language. Who’s telling this story? Me. It is my story, and I will say “No shit; there I was” if I like.

I did start the story.

You have a tongue, woman.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Anyway; it’s not like you really need me to tell you the rest of the story; the whole world knows the story now. That was the day I first laid eyes on my Gwen and the day she first laid eyes on me. And of course, I was like, well. If the gods dropped me here, I’d better have a go at this axe then.

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It’s my axe now.

It’s my axe now. And that is the tale of how, in one day, in the space of one minute, I met both my destinies. If you were my grandchildren, I’d tell you to go to bed now, and maybe you should even if you’re not my grandchildren.

Good night, Enchantment.

Style Card:
Items featured at this King Arthur round of Enchantment, which closes in only a few hours:
Nordic Ritual Platform, Nordic Ritual Altar, and Axe in the Stone: Harshlands, whose note about why they designed the pieces they did inspired me to weave a little story around them.
Moonlight: Puke Rainbows, Sparkling Moonlight
Davey:
Armour: The Scarlet Fae, Valinor
Gwyneth:
Dress, Colar and Armwarmers: Les Sucreries de Fairy, Aveline
Skin: Ritual, Elspeth, Nimue

The rest of the stuff:
Davey:
Body: Belleza, Jake
Head: Catwa, Skell
Hair: No Match, No Refuge
Skin, Not Found, Ash (currently at Shiny Shabby)
Ears: Mandala, Steking Ears, Season Five
Gwyneth:
Body: Maitreya
Head: LAQ, Noelle
Hair: Little Bones, Reason (currently at Uber)
Shoes: Beyond the Mists: Ribboned Dance Shoes (Pure)

 

The Re-invention of Saga Silverman

It started last Saturday. My father had another of those never-ending receptions, and in the absence of my mother, I got to be the one parading around the mirrored hall, greeting guests and keeping a smile plastered on to my face.

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Of course, the dress was stunning.

Of course, the dress was stunning, a Senzafine. I’m sure someone on Father’s staff knew who my favourite designers were and took care of it properly. And I knew I looked lovely, like a mediaeval princess in a modern palace. At least, that was the impression I was trying to give.

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Someone Else in the Mirror

But the truth was, every time I caught a glimpse of my face in the tall mirror at the end of the hall, I saw myself more as a prisoner than as myself, if that makes any sense. It was like watching a stranger’s face, like seeing someone I didn’t recognise.

That’s when I decided that I, desperate rebel against my father by day, dutiful daughter by night, was going to make a change. I couldn’t do this any more.

I did make it to the end of the night.

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The last time….

But, once all the guests were gone, as I made my way back to the dressing room where Father’s PA waited to help me out of the dress, I knew this would be the last time. And as I walked out of the mirrored hall, I did not look back.

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Staring at the city

Once I got home and into my pyjamas and slippers, I stood for a while at the window, just staring out onto the city. I instructed the autophone to connect me to my mentor—let’s just call him Sampa. Of course that’s not his real name, but it sounds good next to Saga, which is my real name.

“You’ve got to get me out of here,” I said.

“What do I look like, the relocation squad?” He laughed at his own joke.

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I was serious.

“I’m serious, Sampa,” I replied. “I can’t do another one of Father’s functions. I’m starting to think I’ll lose it. Brandon von Oslo was almost attractive to me.”

“That does sound like an emergency.” Sampa didn’t sound as if he understood the urgency of the situation.

“Did you know that if you look out on the city in exactly the right way, it’s like a forest of will o’ the wisps?” I asked. I was squinting and looking out the window. “But I can’t see them at my father’s house. I get headaches there. Something heavy is on my head when I am there.”

“Ohhh,” said Sampa. “OK, let’s think about this. Do you have enough to live for a month or two without income?”

“Oh, I don’t worry about that,” I said. “You can always get work as a tattoo artist, pretty much anywhere you go. Do you know any tattooists who are really far away from New York? You have to: you know everyone, don’t you?”

Sampa cleared his throat. I heard pages turning in his obsolete little book of names and numbers and compromising information. “I have… hm. Four or five friends here in New York, even one upstate, but that’s not far enough away for you, is it?”

“Not remotely,” I said. “Ooh, a shooting star! I’m going to make a wish right now!”

Sampa chuckled. “Let me get back to you,” he said. “I may have a friend of a friend, but I’m not sure where he’s located these days.”

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I started taking pictures off the wall.

I started taking pictures off the wall. Really, I wouldn’t need to pack much. And I should remove the “odd” body paint, as Father had called it when he looked at me earlier that evening. And get my hair bleached and dyed. The apartment is one of Father’s: I would just leave all my shit, except the art stuff and the pictures and clothes that would work with the New Me… who would she be? I thought of kittens and unicorns.

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I liked thinking of kittens and unicorns.

I liked thinking of kittens and unicorns. I’d barely sunk onto the couch when the autophone rang again. “Answer,” I said sharply.

“Saga, I’ve got something for you, but it’s a little weird.” It was Sampa.

“Since when is anything we’ve done together not been weird?”

“Point. Anyway, yes; I do have a friend of a friend, but he’s,” Sampa coughed. “He’s in Alexandria, of all places.”

“Alexandria as in Egypt?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, that’s definitely far enough away.” I considered it for a few seconds. “Maybe I can visit the pyramids and meet some ancient gods and learn all about mummies?”

“Or maybe you could work part time in this tattoo shop until clients see what you can do and your business starts to explode.”

“Also a plan,” I said. “I’m pretty sure people like me.”

“They won’t like you down at Dragon in the morning,” Sampa warned. “Shop has got an opening, but my friend can only hold it for you for one week. I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

I laughed outright at this. “Order?” I laughed again.” Order is the enemy, Sampa.”

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That didn’t make it any better.

That laughter didn’t make it any better or any more fun to close the security gate at Dragon for the last time, just a couple of days later. They’d begged me to stay just a few more days, but I said I had to run off and play with the fairies for a while. They laughed at that. I really don’t think I’m all that funny. I really did mean I had to run off and play with the fairies for a while.

I got my hair bleached and pastel rainbowed, packed two bags and a bulging carry-on loaded with my laptop, tablet, and mobile phone. I locked the door of my apartment and shoved the single key underneath. Father—or one of his assistants—could find it when they came around looking.

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And that’s how I found myself on a plane to Alexandria.

And that’s how I found myself on a plane to Alexandria. Once the in-air wifi kicked in, I sent goodbye notes to all my social networking accounts and then locked myself out of them.

Everything is going to be different now. I have pink suitcases full of frilly clothes for fun and work clothes for work. I have holographic body paint. I have my portfolio. I have my own delicate needlework on my thighs, of course, and other people’s in other places. Every picture is a story, every window is a picture, and there are little sprites that come out when the stewards dim the lights on the plane so all these people can sleep.

Style Card:
In all photos:
Body: Belleza, Isis
Head: Genus Project:
Eyes: Go&See, Anona Eyes
Choker: Spell, Branch Choker
Poses: all from An Lar

In the mirrored hall:
Skin: The Plastik, Elvenne, Ahriman
Gown: Senzafine, Varhendis (Available at We Love Roleplay!)
Necklace: Kunglers, Adele Necklace
Hair, Magika, Love
Environment:
Photo Box: D.U.S.T., Mirrored Hall Photobox, 3D

In Saga’s Apartment:
Skin: The Plastik, Elvenne, Ahriman
Hair, Magika, Love
Dress: Les Sucreries de Fairy, Kimberly Long Dress
Slippers: The Dark Fairy, Unicorn Dreams
Environment:
Apartment: Focus Poses, Hello New York
Chair: Ison, Wooden Chair
Couch and Chair: Dreamscapes Decor, Fairy Tale Couch, Fairy Tale Chair
Coffee Table: Bazar, Toronto Coffee Table
Blue Tapestry: Consignment, Stardust
Other tapestries: DRD, Vagabond

At the Tattoo Shop:
Skin: The Plastik, Elvenne, Ahriman
Hair: Magika, No Tears
Jeans: Semller, 25 Point Jeans
Top: Goth1c0, Kath Loose Dress
Boots: DRD, Dirty Combats
Environment:
Shop: Focus Poses, Guetto Background
Tattoo Sign: Daniel Fettuccio, Neon Dragon Tattoo Sign

On the Plane:
Skin: The Plastik, Draziele, Alabarus
Hair: Magika, Solace
Clothes: Giz Seorn, Montana Outfit
Lipstick: Cazimi, Tinted Lipgloss, Natural
Environment:
Plane: FoxCity, Flight Club (Day Travel)