Nag, Nag, Nag!

I swear, sometimes I wish I actually had to do everything myself, because then I would not be surrounded by dozens of demifae, all twittering at me to do this or that, or make a decision about that other thing, and why don’t I want a big formal dining room in the treehouse, and on, and on, and on!

2017.10 Hairology 3 BLOG - 1

“It’s not finished!”

“It’s not finished!” Clutie is jabbering in my ear as I survey the Treehouse living room. “You need a rug, another sofa, and what about something more formal in here? You never know who might be coming to visit!”

I sigh. I roll my eyes. “Clutie,” I say, “how many times do I need to tell you that this is my private home. There will be no diplomatic visitors. Friends come here, not dignitaries or emissaries. All that stuff will take place down in the pavilion.”

“But the pavilion is so open, Your Majesty.” She is whinging now, and right into my ear, and the timbre of her voice is beginning to drive me mad. Why did I pop to the Wylds and save her from the ire of the Unseelie Court, again?

2017.10 Hairology 3 BLOG - 2

Now I’m pacing.

Now I’m pacing. “Look, the kitchen is finished.”

“There isn’t a spice rack,” Clutie says.

Her constant companion these days is Arabelle. All Arabelle ever seems to do is nod and voice her agreement with Clutie. She does this now.

2017.10 Hairology 3 BLOG - 3

“Will you two shut up?”

“Will you two shut up?” I’m losing patience now. “Blah, blah, blah! How many times do I have to tell you: I cannot be in ten places at once. I have a town to finish, a Realm to polish, and then I have to go to the Supernatural Paranormal Whatsis Agency to apply for Open Fae Town Status, which is just dumb if you ask me. While I would love to spend the majority of my time here in the Treehouse snuggling up to my husband and entertaining you lot, I do have more important things to do.”

“It’s the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, Your Majesty.” Clutie’s smile is smug as she corrects me. “But we do really need a rug or something in here. These wooden floors are so cold.”

2017.10 Hairology 3 BLOG - 4

I stalk back into the kitchen.

I stalk back into the kitchen. “And Bran insisted on a mediaeval kitchen in here, so I can’t even toast bread! I’m going to designate one corner of this kitchen as belonging in the twenty-first century, and I’m going to get a toaster and a proper electric kettle and a microwave in here, and Bran can bite me.”

“I don’t think Bran would ever bite you, Your Majesty. I mean,” and her smug turns sly, “unless you really wanted him to.”

2017.10 Hairology 3 BLOG - 5

Now I’m angry.

Now I’m angry. “My relationship with Bran, and it’s none of your business anyway, is purely platonic and he’d probably drop dead of embarrassment if I ever tried to make it be anything more.” Great; she’s made me raise my voice. I take a deep, calming breath.

“That’s right, Your Majesty,” Clutie says, as if there’s nothing for her to worry about in the world. “Calm yourself down, and then let’s go talk about rugs for the living room.”

I actually growl. “Clutie.” And now my voice is soft, even, possibly dangerous. “You and Arabelle need to find something else to do. Right now. You are both dismissed, and I don’t want to hear another word from either of you until I’ve had two cups of coffee and some French Toast. Bran!”

Style Card:
Body: Maitreya
Head: Catwa, Lona
Eyes: Mesange, Sanford Eyes
Ears: Lumae, Leevi Long Ears
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins, Rood
Hair: No Match, No Return (Available NOW at Hairology!)
Headpiece: Una, Tiara Leaf
Suit: M.I.X., Autumn Jacket
Shoes: Empire, Xyris

 

House: LAQ, Serene Tree and Windmill House
Living Room Furniture: Libertine, Viscount Set
Kitchen Fixtures: Artisan Fantasy, Kitchen Collection
Kitchen Table and Chairs: Cheeky Pea, Modern Farmhouse Dining Set

Faery Companions: Ohmai, Gerbera Fairy Companion (Clutie); and Tulip Fairy Companion (Arabelle)

Wall Art:
“Now I’m Pacing”
Black and White Photo: Starfall 04, by Bear Silvershade
Kitchen Painting: The Last Dance, by Eucalyptus Carroll
“Will you two shut up?”
Foreground: Music in my Mind, Part 2, by Kody Meyers
Background: Ilse of Serendipity, by Sandi Benelli (top); and
Winds of Change, also by Sandi Benelli
“I stalk back into the kitchen”
Kitchen Painting: The Last Dance, by Eucalyptus Carroll

I try to buy the photographs of artists I admire when they have gallery shows and put their stuff up for sale. It seemed only right that I decorate my personal space with the photos I love the most, those of my peers. Kody Meyers is a particular favourite: He and I were classmates at the Visionaire Institute, and his style and the elegance of his compositions never cease to amaze and please me. I’m honoured to know so many talented photographers, and I hope I’ll be able to talk about that side of my Second Life a little more in blogs to come. 

skinlogodiap   hairology-October

 

Waking to Autumn

Gwyneth:

Gwyneth:

Every day is a story here in the Wylds, and today, a day on the verge of the Autumnal Equinox, which we call Mabon, was no different. I’m accustomed to strange things happening in the treehouse, strange things happening in the Bower, and the Land itself makes changes when it wills.

And oh, my darlings, Autumn is coming.

I awoke in the ballroom, on the still-warm ground.

I awoke in the ballroom, on the still-warm ground.

I awoke in the ballroom, on the still-warm ground. The soft blanket of leaves that covered me brushed away when I turned and half-rose to consider my surroundings. I’d gone to bed in my cosy room in the Treehouse, with a warm fire burning and my magical tree lantern burning slow and low above my bed. But now, the trees were dressed for Autumn, and, it seemed, so was I. Leaf wings, a leafy dress, leaves twining round my arms and legs, and the funny pinpricks of new ink on my arms and legs, my hands and feet. Even my body felt different, my face. And the cluster of autumn moths that swirled and lighted on my cheek and surrounded my eye did not faze or annoy me. It couldn’t be just another day.

And, oh! Look, my loves, at the path from the ballroom.

And, oh! Look, my loves, at the path from the ballroom.

And oh! Look, my loves, at the path from the ballroom. Dressed in yellow and orange, the sky a twilight purple. I felt part of the landscape as I walked, barefoot, down the path an into the Bower proper. On my left, there was a large stone structure, which seemed to be at the centre of it all, but I turned in the opposite direction to see what else might be waiting for me, what the Land had done during the night.

When I turned right, I discovered a little greenhouse at the end of the path.

When I turned right, I discovered a little greenhouse at the end of the path.

When I turned right, I discovered a little greenhouse at the end of the path.

I couldn't stop myself from going inside.

I couldn’t stop myself from going inside.

I couldn’t stop myself from going inside. And I found — a room full of clocks. No less than nine clocks on the walls, on the floor, all set to the same time, pendulums out of sync with one another. The ticking alone might drive a woman mad, but when they chimed the hour — and it was seven o’clock in the morning, my loves, a time I think of as “Kitty Cat Breakfast Time,” since that was the time I used to get up and feed the cats back home in Southeast London. I am rarely up at this time here in the Wylds: night revels keep me busy and sleeping til noon is the custom here, of course. Unless you’re Nathaniel, who has to get up and deal with his morning meeting in Mysthaven each day, poor darling.

There was also a strange mask on the wall, some kind of glowing orb, unbelievable stacks of books, and somebody’s untidy and finished up of tea. Who knew what that was about. I’d come back and investigate later; for now, I wanted to take the third path, opposite the ballroom, and see what awaited me there.

Whimsical signs adorned the walkways.

Whimsical signs adorned the walkways.

Whimsical signs adorned the walkways. This one says, Once upon a time…, and the one just to my right says, Some Place Else…. I was fascinated by the signs and their little messages, so much so that I almost missed the treehouse (not the Treehouse: there was no sign of my beautiful Treehouse!) just behind me in my quest to get to the little stone house I could see peeking from behind the trees.

But first, there was a field of magical flowers to run through.

But first, there was a field of magical flowers to run through.

But first, there was a field of magical flowers to run through. Don’t tell Bronwyn, but I love running through those shimmering flowers as much as she does. Soon enough though, I turned to the red door.

The sign reads, "Storytellers Burrow".

The sign reads, “Storyteller’s Burrow”.

The sign reads, Storyteller’s Burrow, and the bell outside rang clear and bright when I pulled the cord. I could only guess what I might find inside.

inside, it was dark and cosy.

inside, it was dark and cosy.

Inside, it was dark and cosy. Every surface seemed to have at least one book, and more likely ten or twelve: the fireplace behind me is filled with books. I perched on the edge of this sofa to adjust to the dim light and get my bearings.

Morning light filtered in through the windows.

Morning light filtered in through the windows.

Morning light filtered in through the windows. A window seat filled with books. A broken clock, also filled with books. Books and more books, everywhere I looked.

Shelves and shelves of them.

Shelves and shelves of them.

Shelves and shelves of them. The back door leading out into the flower field was propped open with a stack of books, and there were books lining the stairway up to an alcove where there was a bed, and a desk—once again, piled high with books. Nathaniel will love this place, was all I could think.

I wandered through the flower field and back to the path...

I wandered through the flower field and back to the path…

I wandered through the flower field and back to the path… where I found the large stone structure I’d seen before from afar. it looks for all the world like some kind of ancient temple, with arches for doorways and very few actual doors. Wulfrich will not be pleased at the lack of security here, but it will give the guards and Knights something to do when they’re not out fighting goblins or trying to contain those animals affected by the plague spreading through the Realm. But I don’t wish to think on those things.

The temple itself was almost completely bare of furniture, save for  tea-room on the bottom level and a half-finished looking feasting hall in the large room on the higher level. Looks like I have a job to do, decorating such a place. But there are bedrooms for all the children, though I suspect Wren might spend much of her time in the little treehouse: she seems to like treehouses.

i walked through all the arches and courtyards to find one closed door.

I walked through all the arches and courtyards to find one closed door.

I walked through all the arches and courtyards to find one closed door. And I knew the Land had given me a fine and private place.

Inside, my familiar old couch—we call her "Justine".

Inside, my familiar old couch—we call her “Justine”.

Inside, my familiar old couch—we call her “Justine”.

And a simple table for private meals.

And a simple table for private meals.

And a simple table for private meals.

I sank down onto the rich red rug, and knew I was home.

I sank down onto the rich red rug, and knew I was home.

I sank down onto the rich, red rug, and knew I was home. The bed behind me seems made of trees, and I admit I retired to it, shortly after checking that my dressing and communication mirror was in place. I had Bran bring me a cup of chamomile tea (and thank the goddess the tea parlour was set up: there’s even an espresso machine there!), and then I retired to that lovely great bed for a much needed mid-morning nap.

I’m pleased to have so many spaces for people to stay: it looks like we will have refugees from Mysthaven staying here until we take care of that little problem with His Unseelie Majesty back at Mysthaven Castle. My hope is that Galyanna can take care of it on her own and my beloved won’t have to get involved, but there’s no telling what can happen when he is involved with things. I still get shivers when I think of Gwythyr Gwynn, and unlike the others, I say his name. Because while a name has power, speaking it gives me power. And I cannot show fear of him. I cannot.

And now, now that my morning nap’s done and I’ve been at this crappy old PC in an Internet Café, in a city that looks not unlike photographs I’ve seen of Seattle, and where there are no obvious Fae (I’m glamoured to the gills as I write this), I must get back. There is so much to do if I’m to have the place ready for the Samhain Ball, barely more than a month away now. So much to do.

Style Card:

Gwyneth:
Head: Lelutka, Stella
Skin: Lumae, Nisha Bare (New at the Lumae Main Store!)
Hair: No Match, No Angel
Ears: Lumae, Leevi Long Ears
Eyes: Mayfly, Luminous, Mesh Eye (Borealis)
Makeup and Moths: SlackGirl, Flies (Available at Apply Me!)
Dress, Arm and Leg Vines: Jinx, Amelia Autumn (Available at The Color Me Project!)
Wings: Faeline Fairy, Akemi, Fire
Necklace: Miamai, Rise In The Sun
Arm and Leg Tattoos: Things, Agneis & Airell Tattoo (Available at The Secret Affair!)

The Bower in Autumn:
Ballroom: The Looking Glass, Enchanted Ballroom
Moon and Stars Net: Refined Wild, Nightly Netting
Forest: Studio Skye, Enchanted Forest
Pathways: Happy Mood, Dirt Road
Signs, Stone Houses, Bookcases, Couches: 8f8, Storyteller’s Burrow (Available at The Arcade Gacha!)
Clocks: Remarkable Oblivion (Available at The Arcade Gacha!)
Large Stone Structure: Cariad, Priory of Elandriel
Gwyneth’s Bedroom/House: Cariad, Highlander Cottage
Couch: Libertine, Justine
Table and Chairs: SonToria, Farmstead Table and Chairs
Bed: On A Lark, Twig Bed
Flower Field: The Looking Glass, Ichi Fields

WLTB 500x500

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

After the First Death

Gwyneth:

Gwyneth:

After they left, I stood in the reception room for a long time. Just stood there. The silence that settled over the room after I gave the order seemed inescapable, as if even my breath might disrupt the quiet, the heaviness, of that moment.

He attacked Drysi. A goblin attacked my daughter. Galyanna and her Talon, Dakkon, brought the half-dead creature to me, to ask me for justice, to ask for a decision on whether he should live or die.

I asked Galyanna to tell me the circumstances under which she'd found the creature.

I asked Galyanna to tell me the circumstances under which she’d found the creature.

I asked Galyanna to tell me the circumstances under which she’d found the creature.

It seemed he had happened upon Drysi and Mikachu and had done considerable damage to poor Mika before Galyanna had arrived, attacking Drysi also in the process.

They’d tried to get some information out of him, but he knew little and when they brought him to me, he was half dead. I called for Wulfrich.

Dyisi was there, probably canoodling with Kern before this business began, but she swiftly came into the reception room to act as witness.

I heard the story. I thought, only for a second, and I looked to Wulfrich for advice. He saw my unspoken question (he always does), and he nodded.

I told them to kill him, but not to spill his blood in Faerie. I could have declared war on all the Goblin Kingdom for this breach, but I didn’t.

I ordered the taking of a life.

I ordered the taking of a life.

I ordered the taking of a life.

I ordered the taking of a life.

I can’t stop saying it, thinking it, going over it in my head. There was no other way. Had we returned him to his people, his life would have been worth only what information he could give them, and who knows what he’d know or remember in his distressed state. Better, I rationalised, that Dakkon kill him now than he be subjected to the tortures of his kith back in the Goblin holds.

I ordered the taking of a life. A life.

I ordered the taking of a life. A life.

I ordered the taking of a life. A life. A being once living is now dead because of my words, my order, my power.

A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London

Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

The majesty and burning of the child’s death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further
Elegy of innocence and youth.

Deep with the first dead lies London’s daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.

—Dylan Thomas

Style Card:
Body: Maitreya
Hair: EMO-tions, Genesis (new at the EMO-tions Main Store)
Skin: Pink Fuel, Sora Alabaster
Dress: Faida + Fallen Gods, Nuit Reveur Azure, Nuit Reveur Silver
Necklace: Empyrean Forge
Bracelets: Wimey
Ring: JCNY
Treehouse: LAQ
Couch: Libertine, Justine