Kalen Blazenheart

Changeling Allegorical

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 03:08:43 GMT

OOC: Housecleaning. I wrote this back in May, inspired by Edria, Kalen, and Selene all standing there at Gaius and Edria's wedding. Never posted it up, but am doing it now for posterity. Cross posted in the correct order for it at shardsofwonder .

~~~~

Beloved of the Goddess, He loves her each in turn
from Samhain's wise foretelling to Beltane fire's burn
Maiden, Crone, and Mother, each within their sphere
She is born in many faces, but each he has held dear

Back at this tale's beginning, before the thorny maze
The Crone was but a woman, and lived her mortal days
As mother to his infants, he husband to her wife.
Together they shared a love mostly free from strife

But a far greater purpose is destined for the Crone
Only in pain and anguish can herself be known
Unwilling though may be, he led her through the thorn
And there in utter turmoil, her prophecy was born

For a time he lingered there, bereft of the souls touch
Of the Goddess whose favor has graced his life so much
Blood is shed upon the sand and tempered steel is twirled
Sharing in her transformation before returning to the world

Then once the trials are over, the Mother is there to hold,
To share his righteous anger; it is she who makes him bold.
She is not for him to marry, what is wild should be not bound
But within her warm embrace his second nature can be found

The Mother, she needs no husband, but an equal love and mate
And to defend and serve the helpless will now always be his fate
As one in honor, strength, and courage; they the alpha pair
He shares with her the protection of the young within their care

They are sworn steadfast and loyal, but she can never be his bride
For it is to her younger self that he must needs be tied
Two out of three is not enough, to bind him to the whole
And to be consort to the Goddess three is his fated role

So then Maiden comes to him, frozen with trembling dread
Understandably wary of this man she is to wed
Pledges and oaths have been forged, to tie the unwilling pair
But a dedication to their duty is the one thing that they share.

A year of grief and tribulation blossoms into spring
And two hearts at odds does the Goddess together bring
Summer into Autumn, as do the seasons turn
Love and care for each other they are now to learn.

It is in these, his twilight years, when the Maiden grants him ease
The Mother learns calm acceptance while the Crone in vengeance seethes
Three in one, they have come, to stand together by his side
When, in the Beltane lighted woods, Her third face he takes as bride.

OOC: MOVING!

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 03:34:31 GMT

I am consolidating all my LJs down into one which will serve as both my OOC journal and my IC repository for fiction and odds and ends for all my Characters.

New Journal fo be found at : shardsofwonder

Still in the process of moving all archives over and getting tags and everything orgianized. But please friend! once it's all set up i'll be deleting this one.

Thanks!

~the manegement

Day 16, Just so we're clear

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 13:06:15 GMT

Holly,

It was just this weekend when we four stood together and said that we would work together to try and help the region, to create something better. It is in that spirit that I am writting this, for if I am going to work with you, If I am going to trust you, and you me, then I think it's only fair some things are out in the open. I'm not a person who generally minces words anyway.

Bandabras is my best friend. He has always been there for me, without question. This evening I returned the favor, and although I do not begrude him my time in the least, I can't help but notice that this is the second time in as many months that he has been nearly shattered by something you have done.

I can understand the concept of sacrifice, I'm a summer courtier. I can understand giving all of yourself for others. But even when I do so, I do so because it is a concious choice, and I never loose sight of my own passions or how my actions might affect those around me. Fullfilling others desires might be a noble goal, but when you do so with no concern or thought but fullfilling those desires for others, no matter your own desires or how it affects others... then it is a destructive behavior which will eventually get yourself or someone else hurt beyond repair. If this is how you choose to live your life, so be it...

But I find it very hard not to get angry when it effects my best friend this badly. Two times, I've had to comfort him from the depths because of you. Two Strikes.

I want to work with you to create something better in the southeast. I want to be able to trust you. But I am finding that difficult when I know that your desires and goals change depending on who you are around at the time and all it would take is one person you interact with to desire something contrary to our goals and you will start to waffle. And I have diffuculty trusting you when I see this sort of behavior despite whatever attachment you might feel towards a man who is absolutely stupid for you, and when I see how it effects him.

So fair warning, in the interest of coorperation. And I say this not as a Summer courtier or as a member of the Praesidium, nor as an Initiate of the Isle or any of my other positions. I say it just as a woman who is concerend for her friend, to another woman.

You are at two strikes with me. You hurt him like this a third time and It is going to be MY desire to do something about it.

~Kalen

Day 5

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:16:58 GMT

The Mausoleum is completed. A beautiful structure of domed white marble, like a mini pantheon. The coffins Vincent made are beautiful, the metal worked with a skill I never possesed... and likely never would now. One cannot create art when one's heart is gone.

Anger, Grief.... these two emotions my constant companions... nearly my only companions these last five days. Those that don't know look over me as if I were not there... and If I were an envious person I could so easily become bitter and resentful of my neice for the condolances and comfort the masses shed at her feet while I stand in her shadow... silent and supportive and in pain.

I have to hold it together, I am needed. I was left a duty, and that duty is all I have to cling to.

General

I never wanted to be General.

But I hold it together. I gather them together and I speak to them, the sorrow draining from me... my emotions dulling enough to let me do what needs to be done. Two wooden shields hung upon the wall of the Mausoluem.

My f**king nephew needs to consider his actions more fully before he takes them. He speaks kind words of support... for Edria agian... and then pulls Gwalchavad back from the dead.

Everyone else speaks with him... goodbyes and comfort exchanged. But the mere sight of him has shattered any control I have managed to coble together these last five days.

Anger.. so much anger... how could you leave me too? Grief... not both of you.. not both of you...

The rest of the memorial is a haze... any thought I had of ending it with a few words... to try and be inspiring as Gaius was and bind them together tighter in comfort and.... Gone... I can't even comfort myself now, or keep the tears from leaking from my eyes as I finally stop hitting and yelling at him and let him hold me as he continues to say his goodbyes.

And then he whispers to me.

Goddess I have never felt such terror.

I have stood on the field of battle and faced down Reavers and Goblins and Hedgebeasts by the score. I have faced Gentry and felt only the warmth of my wrath and steely resolve... I have survived a wyld hunt for goddess's sake...

None of it has scared me as much as this.

But how do you deny a dead man's last request?

When we are alone there is more yelling and arguing... I'm somehow screaming at him that I dont have anything more to give, that i'm dead... empty... dust on the wind...

I don't know how to tell him the panic that's set in... that if I do this it will be a lie to him and a betryal... because no matter how much I feel for him I would willingly give my soul to have Gaius standing in his place...

And he holds me and tells me he knows anyway, that he dosnt expect or want anything from me... that he just wants to comfort me and give us what he was too stubornly prideful to let us have while he was alive... and he teases me until he unwillingly draws the first smile to grace my lips in five days from me.

So I force myself to relax, and I let him hold me...and...

Eventually I sleep, and wake to see the sky dawning on the horizon. And any of the good the night did me washes away in panic agian as he says his last goodbye and vanishes in the first rays of light.

And any composure I might have had, any claim to duty or desire to live... gone.

,,,

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:51:35 GMT

Cowards.

Over twenty of us, escorting the accused to trial. Escorting the Judge and the prosecutor... Puck will likely be found guilty, but he will live to hear that verdict anounced.

Cowards, they couldn't wait an hour, when their hunting of the man would be seen as heroics... they have to kill him now...

Gunshots flying too quickly, Luteinent and Puck dead before many of us even have a chance to react. Gaius is yelling to get everyone inside and I escort Justice Drago into the safty of the temple... Everyone else should be right behind...

Pain... Goddess I have never felt such pain... Oaths shattered and I know... within the space of two heartbeats everything has changed.

I scream and run back the way I came, too late... she is running towards me.

Growl and cling to her as we fall, crying... growl and snap at any who would approach.... keen over their bodies as they are laid out before us... love and motleymate, shieldmate and brother... the core of my family lifeless before me... Anger, rage, trembling with the need to run and stalk and hunt and feel their blood between my teeth and I cannot because she is sobbing 'don't leave me'....

Nwabudikane summons his ghost, and I cannot help but to whimper as I see him, it takes all I have to not throw myself at him sobbing... Edria first, Edria always gets to go first... And then he turns to me.

"Watch them all for me, make sure this dosn't destroy what we've built"

Don't ask me... Don't ask me, love.. I'm not strong enough to lead them without you.... I've never been strong enough without you....

Clinging to him, forhead to forhead, sobbing and in my eyes he sees the pain and guilt that the moment I left his side.... and he whispers 'it's okay' even though we both know that it's not and it will never be so ever agian..."I love you, Carriadon..." I sob, and he smiles in that way that always made my heart skip a beat and whispers that he loves me too... too many people around and even now I force myself to hold back for her sake... but our lips barely brush, feather light... our first kiss in two years... and the last... I let myself be pulled away so he can say his goodbyes to others, and it is only my children holding me that is keeping me from throwing myself at him and clinging and sobbing and begging him not to leave me...

Mallory gathers us to swear an oath, to seek Justice instead of Vengance.

I can't, I can't... I will kill them, I will kill them all...

But I swear the oath anyway, for his words are still echoing in the shattered remains of my heart "make sure this dosn't destroy what we've built..."

Johnny's outrage at the oath is like a knife twisting in my side, but I have nothing left to give, no comfort or wise words or leadership... I am hollow...

Drifting after Edria, lost in my own pain as everyone stops to offer her condolences and support...knowing I should be doing something, anything, but unable to find the energy to care or form words... ignore me, let me drift away, forgotten... a footnote in his story as his rightful widdow carries bravely on. I will lay my bones on his grave and let the dust of them mix with his...

Dog hands me tea, and at Edria's urging I drink, even though I know that it is likely drugged and they mean for me to sleep and heal and live... And I let them... Drinking what I am given and letting it drag me into restless oblivion... Because he asked... and If I am to do what I must I will have to learn to live without a heart.

Dunasheen, December 28th

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 06:56:45 GMT

Finally, after a wait of four hours that feels like four days… the hedge stirs. And the Reavers come against us… thousands strong… the walls of this old castle manned by a few hundred, at most.

There is always a moment, right before battle is joined, where you wonder. Wonder if the information you got was good, if the plans you made were enough, if there was some contingency you missed or if…

…what I like to do in that moment is to tell my brain to shut the hell up, wing a prayer to Brighid, and loosen my swords in their scabbards.

Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour's piercing ring
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight Those Bastards till They Yield
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

Battle is joined quickly, the archers and snipers laying cover fire…ordinance flying over our heads from the siege engines in the courtyard to explode naphtha and Greek fire all over the field. No siege engines on their side to come against the walls, that is a blessing, and as much as I dislike Jack I could kiss him for the airship raid which removed them from play.

Still, we are hard pressed to hold the walls… the sheer numbers against us make the prospect of holding the Dun long enough a dicey proposition. That nice young man, Arthur, turns to his contracts with fire, and everyone follows suit…even Gaius is standing there rolling boulders around on the field and Bandy is doing something with the river. I can’t deny that the use of elements isn’t devastatingly effective, but from where I am standing it is all I can do to keep the stray elemental flotsam and jetsam being thrown at us in retaliation from knocking me on my ass while I shout encouragement. I spare a thought for my own tie to fire, and promise myself that I will increase it when I don’t have shards of hail flying at my head. I feel bloody useless now, but I do manage to kick a few enterprising, stone climbing reavers from the walls while everyone is occupied playing with the elements… and I can’t deny that a well placed shout of encouragement here and there seems to be helping my Brothers keep their moral up… especially when I put the force of my glamour behind it.

It seems that that trick I first noticed in Denver has gotten stronger. I don’t know what I did to gain this blessing, but I sure as hell will use it. If a little glamour and some encouragement will help those around me, well then I will happily run myself out of glamour and shout myself hoarse.

Follow orders as you're told,
Make Their Yellow Blood Run Cold
Fight until you die or drop,
A Force Like Ours is Hard to Stop
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight till You're No Longer Sane
Let not one damn cur pass by,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

There is a moment when they breach the gate, and we all scramble to prepare for a bloody onslaught. I am inches from throwing myself into the courtyard and standing between the rush and the healers in the halls beyond, when General Sokol manages to hold the breach just long enough for the gate to be repaired. Dear Sweet Fiery Bridget, I know you like forging those that are yours… but have a kindness for my poor heart… that was entirely too close.

We all dig in again, prepared to continue holding the Dun for as long as we must, when we see the Calvary’s first charge, and the mess it makes of the Reavers rear flank. The pressure against the walls lessens, just as we had planned, as the Reavers scurry to turn their lines to face the new threat riding hell bent for leather up their asses. I have just enough time to see Aoife slicing her way through their lines like a hot knife through butter… Dominic, Goddess bless him, straggling along in her wake trying to keep up, before Celest comes running down the lines, relaying the muster order, and I am off the walls and in the courtyard forming up lines with the rest of the infantry.

Guard your women and children well,
Send These Bastards Back to Hell
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They Won't Come Here Any More
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight till Every One is Dead
Raise the flag up to the sky,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

We are out the side postern gate almost before we have time to think, following in the bloody wake left by the linebreakers. I try to keep an eye on Stitches and the others with us, to make sure that we move and fight as one… cause Goddess knows the few hours of practice we all got with each other this morning does not a cohesive unit make….

And then it almost goes all to hell.

Fucking mercenary Reebs… everything was going more or less smoothly until I look ahead and see that they have split off from the rest of the heavy infantry to go officer hunting, leaving the other four to stand back to back and try not to get overwhelmed by the hordes of Reavers crashing against our lines. Gaius shouts and my Brothers and I form up, shields and swords forming an impenetrable barrier that the Reavers crash against over and over as we push forward. I have Gaius on my right and Caius on my left, Gwalchavad on Gaius’s other side and Erik just behind using his strength to toss Reavers around like rag dolls while Bandabras darts all over the place with well placed thrusts between our shields… It is bloody and difficult but finally we reach the beleaguered four and pull them into the core of our line as the infantry surges forward again, completing the trap.

Dawn has broke, the time has come,
Move Your Feet to a Marching Drum
We'll win the war and pay the toll,
We'll Fight as One in Heart and Soul
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to Keep this Land Your Own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

There is a moment when you can feel the tide of battle turn, when you know you have won, despite the wounds and aches and the bloody business yet to do… And there is one thing you should never do during that moment…relax your guard.

Gaius has half turned, to shout an order back along the infantry… something about pressing forward… And out of the corner of my eye I see the flash of a blade.

I don’t even have time to think before I find myself between Gaius and the blow, stepping away from the protection of the phalanx and raising my blades to parry the strike diving full force for his back.

A moment’s break in concentration…that is all it took for our section of the line to be besieged again, and even as I parry the blow meant for my Sheildmate, there is another that breaks my guard…

Sound the horn and call the cry,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die...

Ever take a sword to the gut? It hurts…a lot. There is nothing but searing pain as my fingers go weak, and I drop my swords as I fall to my knees, seeing my own viscera spilled in the dirt before me. There is a terrible brightness from my left as I tumble over, and I see the Reaver standing over me pause as it seems the entire world pauses as well to take a gasping breath…. Or is that just me struggling for air as the world goes dim?

How Many of Them Can We Make Die...

There is supposed to be a moment, they say, when your life flashes before your eyes. Either they are wrong, or I have to be as contrary in death as I ever have been in life. As my heart thunders in my ears, not even loud enough to drown out the ragged roar I hear from Gaius, I see no scenes from my life, no grand montage. What does happen is I send a prayer of thanksgiving to my Goddess, that Gaius is still alive and fighting, that he still has Gwalchavad to protect him and Edria to love him. I am relieved that Celest is safe on the walls and I hope that she and her brother live long and happy lives. I see from the corner of my vision as my cheek rests on the bloody dirt that my large silent brother is ripping a Reaver in two in retaliation and I hope that this doesn’t hurt him too badly. I see my Shieldmate separating the head from the body of the Reaver that killed me, such a deep look of pained anger on his face that I wish to move if I could to comfort him…but I settle for sending a silent thought at him instead…

… I Love You, Cariadon …

But mostly I feel quiet and calm. It is a good death if my life is spent fighting for what is right, and in defense of those I love… And I am content as the world goes dark and fades away… confident that my Goddess has me well in hand.

How Many of Them Can We Make Die...

December 28th

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 19:49:44 GMT

The waiting is always the worst part. Staring out over the walls, eat a little something, steal a few minutes sleep, and then stare out over the walls again, waiting for the inevitable.

The plans are set… And though they may be simple, they are good plans. For something like this, it doesn’t do to get too complicated… anything too complicated wouldn’t last longer than the first rush of the Reavers upon the walls.

I am not afraid… though some part of me knows that that is a lie, and there is autumn’s touch in the wary watching and the careful checking and rechecking of the infantry positions. But it does not rule me, instead I feel a sort of fierce readiness, and I wish that he Reavers would get here already so that I can show them the true wrath of summer stirring within my breast.

In the meantime though, I watch… I watch and I comfort, strangely enough. I had been surprised when my niece mentioned that it might be time to raise me within the order, But Brighid’s will in this seems to be clear. I find myself in quiet conversations with others, keeping spirits high and calm when the interminable waiting would drag them low… even those of my niece. A traditional priestess I may not be, but the warrior priestess role seems to be second nature to me.

It is strange, how clear I feel… how alive. I fit into this war like a hand into a tailored glove. Even the waiting feels comfortable, because it is part of the whole. I see the same in Gaius, a lightness and energy in his step that has been lacking these past few years, clarity of purpose that we share. It has been a very long time since I have felt this close to him, our thought and action one… The general and his second, the right and left hands, the focus and drive tempered by heart and passion… Shieldmates.

And any hesitation I may have felt, and sorrow or pain that this would be the last time we fight as one… gone. Melted away in the growing light of dawn on the day of battle as we sat our vigil on the walls, neither of us able to sleep. I forget what was said exactly… Very few words were said, but they are more than enough, I only need to know one thing… he still wishes to be my shieldmate. We just may need to re-word the oath some.

So despite the waiting… the interminable, endless waiting… I am happier than I have been in a very long time… clearer and more content. Sitting on the walls with my family and comrades… Singing and telling stories to keep our spirits up… I feel nothing but love for those here… my neice’s husband, my shieldmate’s wife, my child by blood and the cubs I’ve adopted, my bondsman who already has become my brother, my brother who I love as much as I am able…even if it’s not exactly what he wishes from me… and all the others here on the walls and out in the hedge… the entire alliance.

The Reavers will come... and when they do we will stand strong, together… and Bright Fiery Bloody Brighid will smile.

12/14/08 Fini

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 01:48:52 GMT

It is a challenge of emotion and manipulation, she says, tempting him with baited words. In my mind I beg for her to be careful, because even I can hear the trap in her voice as she speaks, her hesitation to say exactly what the challenge is. He is about to break negotiations and leave with his prisoners. Out of the corner of my vision I can see the fall of his black hair spill over his shoulder as he leans forward, preparing to stand.

“I had thought that you would not be afraid to enter into such a challenge with one such as me” She taunts softly. He stills, leaning back in his hedge throne, the thorns creaking softly under the strong sudden grip of his fingers. “You have picked up bad habits since you have left home” He speaks, the smooth tones of his voice angry with nettled pride.

“Do you accept?”

“Who will be our subject”

She barely even pauses, “Kalen”

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck! I think, Mantle blazing as I hold myself stiffly still. I have heard the stories; I know what this Gentry is capable of when it comes to manipulating emotions… And I pray again that my niece knows what she is doing.

“This woman?” He comments, obviously thinking the same as me and confident in his ability to sway my emotions. “Done, I accept your challenge.”

She turns to me, eyes blazing with unshed tears as her voice rings across the clearing.

“Love” She commands me “Feel Love, as truly as you can, with all the fire and passion you have in your soul.”

Her words hang between us, and I blink, a slow smile starting to tug at my mouth as I realize what she means “That is easy, my Queen,” is my only response as I lean down to kiss her cheek, allowing my love of her to tinge my voice... my pride in her cleverness. I do love her, truly, I can feel it swelling in my breast as I straighten, crossing my arms again with a slight smirk.

“Do that” She demands of her former lord, knowing he cannot. “Make her feel True Love”

The hedge darkens and shakes with his anger and I hold my breath. But she is right. Love, true human love, is not something he understands. He can manipulate my emotions, enslave my mind, and make me think I am in love… but he cannot make me Love him, not truly.

After a few long moments it is obvious to me that my mind and heart is still my own, and I cannot help smiling as I say “I apologize my Lord, You cannot possibly make me love you any more truly than I love my Queen and my niece.”

The hedge continues to shake. “This one already loves another” He snaps at Edria, playing semantics and seeking to wound her by his allusion to her husband.

“She loved him long before this challenge” She replies calmly, turning aside his poor attempt.

“And my capacity for love is endless, your ability to inspire it is not” I add, perhaps unnecessarily, but it is true. My love for Gaius does not keep me from loving anyone else. Most especially not my niece whom he also loves.

The hedge creaks and groans all around us, manifesting his anger, but he is bound by his word and the terms he accepted. He cannot harm us.

“I told you I had much to teach you.” She says to him, before he threatens to move against Tampa or Gainesville, empty threats as our allies are protected as well.

Finally he concedes, swinging up to his horse and galloping away with his men.

Edria faints.

I move instantly into action, Telling Ryver to grab Arioch and the elemental even as I scoop her up in my arms. “Door!” I call back to the walls, and as Ryver and I pelt back to the safety of the hollow with our precious burdens the postern gate is opened and then barred behind us by Holly.

Within moments the freehold has banded together to heal the two that have been rescued, and I have Edria ensconced on a couch, cradled against my chest as she wakes.

And then there is laughing and hugging and the exuberant celebration which can only happen as you realize that you have faced the inevitable and lived to tell the tale. A tale Ryver is telling with relish, naming us ‘Edria the Wise’ and ‘Kalen the Brave’ to the hold as Gaius returns. He pushes through the crowd to sit with us, and he and I hold her between us as small flowers begin to bloom to life in her hair. He calls us stupid and foolhardy, laughing, and his love for us both is evident in the shining of his eyes.

"What was is brought you back from Arcadia?" Brandabras had asked me, counseling me on my lost connection to the world. I had said my daughter, but that was only partially true. It was love... A mother's love for a child.

A Love I feel for the woman in my arms, the daughter of my brother. Love is what brought me back, and in this moment, as Gaius and I hold her and laugh, I feel that warm calm center I have been missing for so many months... my love for him, my love for her, for my children recently found, for my brave summer court younglings and the friends and allies surrounding us...

And I wing a prayer to the Goddess, letting her know that I see her plan in the heartbreak and anguish of the last months and years, the trials and frustrations. I understand...

...and Love.

12/14/08 con't

Sun, 14 Dec 2008 23:55:12 GMT

She will not give him any advantage it is in her power to deny him. Her contracts coming to her aid and making her as beautiful as him, raising a throne of vines so she can sit regally opposite the throne of hedge thorns he has formed for himself.

I stand at the ready at her left shoulder, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ground before me. I know better than to look directly at him, my grip on reality taxed more than enough by being this close, hearing the tones of his voice.

He offers to parlay for the return of the two that wandered too deep. He wants to know who else we will offer in exchange. She offers him a challenge instead. If she wins, he will return the two he has caught. And more, he will leave this freehold, its members, and their allies and their families…alone. For now and forever. He will not act against them, directly or indirectly, through physical force or manipulation… no taking, no games, nothing.

It is a steep price, he says. And wants to know what she will offer if he should win.

“Me” She replies quietly

My nails dig into my arm as I unconsciously tense. I had feared she would try something like this, the lost look on her face and the calm resoluteness as she left the protection of the hold. But I hold myself still, I do not even growl. The only indication of my thoughts is my Mantle, blazing as bright and strong as Summer heat is capable of. Goddess, I hope and pray she knows what she is doing.

“Not enough” is his reply, making offer and counter offer. Challenge or not it appears he will take Ugati in exchange for the two, and he calls to the walls for him to come out and join us. I hear the scuffle and disturbance behind us, but he does not come out. I thank the Goddess that Holly has the hold well in hand.

“You, alone, are not enough in exchange for so steep a price” he says again, turning back to the offer of Challenge. “I have much to teach you, much I have learned since I have left” She says, bating him. It is still not enough.

There is something tickling the back of my mind, some repressed memory or knowledge trying to surface. I am not sure how I know, but I know there is one other in this hold he might be interested in having. I lean down and whisper in her ear “Offer me” at the exact same moment he says “I will take her.”

I straighten in confusion, and Edria looks over to me with a look that almost doesn’t dare. “Are you sure?” She asks me in Welsh.

I turn and look into her eyes, bolstered by my calm resolution and rage. “I am not letting you do that alone.” I respond back in the language of our family. Saying so much more with that statement… I trust you... and I will defend you, even into arcadia itself… I swear I will not let you face that alone… and if the worst happens… I will take your life before taking mine. Do not fear loosing yourself to that with me here. Never again, I swear.

He lays the claim again, and in all formality she asks. “As my Queen wills” is my formal agreement.

“Very well,” she replies to him “If I loose, you shall have the both of us.”

And the negotiations continue…

12/14/08

Sun, 14 Dec 2008 19:25:06 GMT

All I can do is sit with her, along with half the freehold. I know why her face is pale and the flowers wilt and fall from her hair, they do not. But even without knowing the cause, the freehold is here, sitting with her, the young ones in puppy piles at her feet as hands reach to touch and comfort.

There are things that need doing, for sure, But nothing that needs all of us. I am not fast enough to have followed the elemental into the hedge, and Gaius doesn’t need my help closing the hedge doors found on campus. Without even thinking about it I have decided to stay here, touching and comforting with the rest of the freehold.

It is no sacrifice, I don’t know why Gaius keeps forgetting that our oath means that I will care for and guard what he holds dear as I would care for and guard him. Even If I would stay by her side right now even without the oath…. Because I love my cub of a niece too and it hurts to see her like this.

The sound of hoof beats makes me raise my head, ears twitching at the sound. Within moments I am at the top of the wall, looking out of the freehold hollow to the trod beyond to see horses, goblins, and the Lord of Sable and Aster riding behind.

“SUMMER COURT TO THE WALLS” I call, immediately taking charge in Gaius’s absence. The freehold boils like a kicked anthill, positions along the parapets manned as the gates are barred. Edria rises from her seat and calmly climbs the steps to stand by my side over the gate, her look one of inevitability. It scares me.

“My Lord wishes to Parley” is the words of the goblin who rides up to the gates with a white flag flying from the standard which bears his lords colors. Sable and Aster hangs behind with his troops, the unconscious arrow-filled bodies of Arioch and the elemental he chased into the Brim draped over the horse he leads.

My Queen agrees, and an open sided tent is pitched before the gates. My mantle flares as I assess risk and danger. “You are not going without an honor guard, My Lady” I say to her in a tone which broaches no argument.

She looks at me with those tired eyes, flowers wilting in her hair, and I see the look of one who does not expect to come back. But she nods. “Two”

I arrange things quickly, Holly will remain behind to guard the hold and lead the summer court should this go as spectacularly wrong as it has every potential too. Ryver and I will Guard the Queen. We flank her, left and right, as we exit the postern gate and stride forward to speak with a Gentry.

GRRrrrr

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 21:52:02 GMT

I am so angry my mind can barely form the thoughts and my fingers can barely type them. More than angry...hurt, betrayed, such sorrow...but angry, so angry. Angry at him for going to HER instead of talking to me, angry at her for yelling at me about HIM agian....

I am done, I am so done. They all yell at me about fixing myself...but how am I supposed to do that when it's my loved ones driving me insane!

I am done, no more.

Yeah, that's Kalen all right...

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 23:56:49 GMT

Results for Miriam at dreamingpschye, Moira at faterose, and Me at forestgrye

OOC: What's your Sign?

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 02:39:20 GMT

FGotM in gainesville was awsome...and I am so going to post about it, but we just got home and i'm fried beyond all belief so the postings will happen later.

Now, for your amusement, I give you what kept us amused during the car ride... Which changelings we belive are which astriological signs.

In no particular order, just everyone i remember as i remember them:

Kalen- Aries
Dzoxzian- Capricorn
Gaius- Taurus
Edria- Libra
Blue- Gemini
Lance Drake- Sagitarius
Ae Lament- Leo
Kei- Pisces
Celeste- Aquarius
Van- Sagitarius
Holly O' the Thorns- Aquarius
Bandy- Scorpio
Danny Darling- Virgo
Nwabudikane- Capricorn
Cage- Cancer
Ryver- Gemini
Gwyneria- Virgo

And these people we couldn't reach a consensus on:
Wayland- Leo or Sagitarius
Durendal- Gemini or Scorpio

There were some other's but i've totally forgot them.... songofthebeast?

OOC

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 14:15:24 GMT

In case anyone was wondering, it is NEVER a good idea to watch Pan's Labrynth in character. From a changling's mindset the movie, which is already dark, is damn near a suspense/horror film.

Oi.

Sun, 09 Dec 2007 16:51:21 GMT

OOC:Changeling Inspirations

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 16:53:44 GMT

Not necciserily an inspiration for Kalen, but it's a beautiful poem and Lorenna McKennitt makes a beautiful song song out of it. It definately invokes a changeling feel...but more of the terrible beauty and lure of Fairie than what most of our characters are dealing with on the other side. I think it's good to remember that there is a magic to it all even if we all shout 'never agian' at any given oportunity (at least us summer courts).

"Here there be dragons" is magical and intriguing as much as it is a warning.

Stolen Child
Poem by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
Music by Loreena McKennitt
----------------------------------------------

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats
There we've hid our fairy vats
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.

Chorus:
Come away, oh human child
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light
By far off furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.

Chorus

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.

Chorus

Away with us he's going
The solemn-eyed
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.

For he comes, the human child
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand

Trainwreak

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 03:57:44 GMT

Too drunk to get on her bike and drive back Tampa…and too drunk to risk entering the hedge so she could get home that way.

Spectacular.

“Why the fuck did you have to finish off the bottle before you went storming out of there?” She berated herself as she hesitated in the doorway of the Praesidium’s house in Orlando. She was tempted to make a hedge run anyway despite the fuzziness in her vision. She had a tiny little cave of a hollow half-way between Orlando and Tampa that she would really like nothing more than to crawl into and pull the door in after her… but she’d learned the hard way that she was currently in no state to risk the thorns.

And that had nothing to do with the alcohol…Hedge-diving while depressed was a very, very bad idea for her…A Suicidaly bad idea, because when she was this depressed she started to loose the logic and reasoning behind why it was a bad idea to go too deep into the thorns…to close back to Arcadia.

“I want my cub…” the animalistic part of her cried, while the more logical part demanded to know why she had let one of her other cubs drive her away.

“None of you have taken the time to find out about me or why I feel as I do for months… None of you." Edria had snapped at her, glaring unsteadily over the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table between them. "You've got a damned sight more work to do than a few drinks to get me to fall into all that trust and love you pretend to offer.”

Kalen growled under her breath as she struggled to deal with the overwhelming waves of hurt and anger that her niece’s summary dismissal had caused. Not the least because she had been right. Kalen couldn’t speak for the rest of the Praesidium but she at least had been downright awful to Edria when she first moved down…and now even though she was doing her damdest to mend things all she seemed to do was make them worse. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I used to be good with children…” She thought for half a moment before having to remind herself yet again that Edria wasn’t a child anymore.

That was probably part of the problem. Her one-track bestial mind had trouble working with her logic sometimes…and ever since she had found out that Edria was one of her brother’s twin little girls she couldn’t help but look at her and see a smiling child with dark hair and bright eyes. But she wasn’t the same four-year-old Kalen had used to carry around on her hip. She was a woman…all grown up, tormented in Arcadia, and completely different from anything Kalen would have ever expected.

“She’s Autumn Court for goddess's sake … what the hell were you thinking getting her drunk and trying to make her face her fears? As if treating her like one of your summer court younglings was going to help…” Kalen thought derisively. Though she had to admit Edria had done a good job of trying to keep up for someone who didn’t drink.

Poor girl was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Kalen finally made up her mind and headed for the practice field in the back yard. At times like this when there wasn’t really anything else to do…there was really only one thing to do.

She unsheathed the twin swords from her back and shifted her weight so her feet settled solidly into the sand covering the ring. She forced herself to take one long, slow cleansing breath before she started moving through the first practice forms she’d learned from her mentor over twenty years ago. Even partially drunk the movements were second nature, ingrained into her muscles and bone, shifted ever so slightly to accommodate the changes her body had undergone in the decades since her escape from the hedge, the wounds she’d taken in various battles. Slowly her mind calmed as she moved smoothly from form to form, the movements becoming progressively more complicated. She focused on the motion until all else seemed to fade away, settling into what Mother Silver had called a ‘perfect catharsis’ that point in practice where the body overrides the mind.

Parry…thrust…block…turn…swing…thrust…parry…There was nothing but the twin swords whistling through the air and the swish of sand shifting below her moving feet.

And then the clang of metal on metal.

He would have never been able to sneak up on her like that had she been paying attention. Normally the fact that he had anyway would have irked her, but tonight she was glad of the company. She wouldn’t have asked for it, not after that trainwreak of a conversation with her niece…his betrothed… but it didn’t surprise her that Gaius had come anyway. The two of them always seemed to know when something was off with the other.

She let the sword he had stopped mid-stroke slide down the length of his gladius and under his guard as she pivoted out of the form and into an attack without missing a beat. Two swords had become four, clashing in the moonlight as they pressed each other back and forth across the ring. No wooden practice blades here, they had never used anything but live steel against each other…any thing else would have been an insult to each other’s skill.

This is what she had wanted to try and explain to her niece only she had never gotten the chance… the intimacy born of guarding each others back through dozens of campaigns…the intuitive understanding…Perhaps if Edria knew what being shield-mates really meant, she wouldn’t be so threatened by it.

Even though he was the better brawler of the two of them, they were very evenly matched with their weapons of choice. If she had wanted to start invoking her contracts she could easily have gained the upper hand…but skill against skill alone…her twin short swords verses his paired gladii…

They’d danced this dance a million times before…and it was only going to end when one of them made a mistake.

That mistake was going to be hers.

She blinked in muzzy confusion as she watched her left sword go flying across the ring, followed almost immediately by her right. The disarm was a simple trick, one that would have been simple to avoid if she’d been less distracted and less drunk. Gaius gave her a look as she stood there, slightly unsteady on her feet now that her muscle memory had been broken. He set aside his gladii and retrieved her swords for her.

“It’s not like you to fall for that” he remarked conversationally as she took her swords back from him and returned them to their sheaths.

“I know” was all she was able to get out before her jaw clamped shut again on all the hurt she had been trying to avoid. Gaius was one of the very few people she would cry in front of, but even then she would only allow herself to do it but rarely. “Arcadia made me too strong to cry…and too unyielding to have a simple damn conversation with family…”

“Pax” Gaius said, wrapping one scaled hand behind her neck and gently pulling her head forward to touch foreheads with him. She unconsciously mirrored the gesture, wrapping her opposite hand behind his neck, careful not to scratch him with her claws. “What is wrong Signpost?”

“Nothing that sobering up won’t help a great deal” She replied with a tired sigh, “Sobering up and some patience”

Because patience was apparently what this was going to take. Kalen couldn’t talk to Edria like family, because they barely knew each other. She couldn’t treat her as Summer court, because Edria was an Autumn. She couldn't act as if they were new friends, because she'd poisioned those waters herself when Edria had first moved down. If she and her brother’s cub were going to learn to relate to each other at all, they had to start from absolute scratch.

“A great, great deal of patience”

Preliminary Character Sheet

Fri, 14 Sep 2007 02:01:47 GMT

Preliminary sheet, Goodness knows I need more merits and skills...but I need more xp too for that matter...
By all means offer suggestions...

Name: Kalen
Player: Brittany Griffin
Cam Number: us2005053447
Chronicle: Camarilla
MC Level: 4

Concept: Pagan Warrior
Virtue: Hope
Vice: Wrath

Seeming: Beast
Kith: Hunterheart
Court: Summer

Intelligence: ooo
Wits: oooo
Resolve: oo

Strength: oooo
Dexterity: ooo
Stamina: ooo

Presence: o
Manipulation: oo
Composure: ooo

Skills:
Investigation: oooo

Brawl (Dirty Tactics): ooo
Survival: oo
Weaponry (Short-swords): ooooo

Animal Ken: ooo
Socialize (Banter): oooo

Merits:
Ambidextrous: ooo
Mantle: ooo
Two Weapon Fighting: ooo
Striking Looks: oo
Hollow (cave): Wards: o
Fast Reflexes: oo

Wyrd: ooo

Contracts:
Fleeting Summer: oooo
Stone: o
Fang and Talon(Mustelidae): ooooo

Seeming Blessing: 8 again on animal ken skill, Can spend Glamour to add to dice pools involving Presence or Composure (1 for 1)

Kith Blessing: Does Lethal damage when fighting unarmed

Seeming Curse: Suffers a -4 to untrained Mental skills

Size: 5
Defense: 3
Initiative Mod: 8
Speed: 12
Armor: N/A

Health: 8
Willpower: 5
Clarity: 7

Glamour: 12 Max / 3 Per Turn
Wyrd: ooo

XP Log:

Creation:
Strength 4
Dex 3
Int 2
Wits 4
Manipulation 2
Composure 3
Investigation 4
Brawl 3
Survival 2
Weaponry 5
Animal Ken 3
Socialize 4
Wyrd 2
Ambidex (3)
Two-Weapon Fighting 1
Mantle (summer) 1 (free)

XP (Mc4=150):
-24 Wyrd 3
-10 Two weapon Fighting 2&3
-15 Int 3
-10 Mantle 2&3
-4 Striking looks 2
-6 Stone 1
-40 Fleeting Summer 1-4
-4 Fast Reflexes 2
-10 Resolve 2
-10 Stamina 2
-15 Stamina 3
- 2 Hollow (cave): Wards 1
(-150 total)

Background Timeline, revamped

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 02:29:42 GMT

Well I guess one good thing came out of the approval's addemdum being released, in re-vamping my background and timeline it became a lot simplier
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1953- Joanne (Meredith?) born, Western Massachusetts to rich upper class family.

1969- Hitchhikes to Woodstock at 16 with a group of friends, gets grounded

1970- Attends Radcliff College for women

1974- Meets and begins dating Philip Weston who attends Harvard Law.

1976- Finally Graduates after 6 yrs. Took longer because she goofed of and spent a great deal of time involved in hippie movment, pagan ties, and switching majors several times.

1976- Edria/Eden born to sister/brother/cousin?

1977- Settles down and marries Philip.

1978- Daughter Celia is born.

1980- Taken

1986- Returns, kills daughter’s fetch. Joanne’s fetch is blamed, found guilty and incarcerated in mental institution.

1986- 1990- “lost years” Have no idea what to do with this time, probably spent it angry, confused, and wandering

1990- Moves to FL, joins summer court

1992- Rescues Herbert Bloodroot from the hedge

1995- Helps point Gaius and group the correct way out of the hedge.

1997- Joins up with newly-formed Praesidium

2000- Start on-again-off-again fling with Gaius, lasts till his betrothal in 2007

2000-ish.- Helps drive goblins out of Tampa freehold, settles there. Forms Motley with Wayland Smyth, Herbert Bloodroot, and (Andrew’s Character)

2000-present- Rescue Josh, Kris, & Rene’s characters from hedge, Form ties with Jandori to pass on rescued changelings for help in mortal world. Possibly join Order of the Isle as well in 2007.

Problems with timing agian

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 22:35:42 GMT

thanks to the newly published list of approval levels I have to completely re-work my background agian....as having been in arcarida twice, recaputured or not, is global approval. i thought i had arrived at an elegant solution to the problem of timing by having Kalen get recaptured right after escaping and killing her daughter's fetch, but now that is not to be.

So as i see it i am left with two choices...

Either She kills her daugther's fetch BEFORE she is taken...which i don't lik because memory of her daughter is a big reason she escaped the first time and i want the animlistic 'you are not my cub' thing wrapped up in it.

OR, I have to move up the whole time line which might ruin the closet hippie flower child concept of what she was before she was taken.

Also to consider. I don't want her to come back from arcadia to find that her 'daughter' has grown up too too much while she was gone...agian i want the whole animalistic 'ypou are not my cub' reponse and that looses something if cecilia's not a kid anymore when she gets back.

grr...stupid global approvals

Taken pt.1- Background Story

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 00:53:24 GMT

Massechusetts
Summer, 1973

Joanne kicked off her shoes at the garden gate and escaped to the fields beyond. Cecilia was down for her afternoon nap and Joanne had stood Diane’s company as long as she could manage. She loved Philip dearly, she wouldn’t have married him if she didn’t, but she just could not stand his mother. For his sake she tried not to pick fights, but at times like this, when he was away on another business trip, the two of them grew very weary of being along in the house with each other.

Well each other and the staff, but Diane would as soon show up to a fancy dress ball in jeans and a linen smock shirt than stoop low enough to have any real conversation with them.

Joanne tried not to stew, tried not to focus on the disapproving look she’d gotten as she’d given up the pretense and made for the back door. Diane didn’t understand her at all. All she saw was the ‘social deviance’ and ‘distressingly liberal ideas’ her daughter-in-law had picked up in college. She couldn’t see what her son saw… Philip had always told her that he loved her spirituality, her free spirit, her innocence. Joanne smiled a bit lopsidedly as she crossed the sun baked grasses of the fields, headed for the line of trees in the distance which sheltered a small stream. She adored him for it but she still didn’t understand why he, and everyone else for that matter, seemed to equate nature-love for innocence. Just because she liked to play barefoot outside….

It was hard to explain, there was a certain freedom to be found in feeling the cool dirt between your toes, the wind in your hair. Goodness knows; if she hadn’t met Philip she probably would have run away to some commune or another…spent her days high, listening to Hendrix and composing hymns to the earth mother.

Or not, her family might be more relaxed than Diane, but dropping out of school to join a hippie commune would have still disappointed them greatly…and she didn’t think she could have done that to her mother.

Joanne sighed as she reached the line of trees and stepped into their shade. That’s what it always boiled down to. Philip might call her a free spirit all he liked but truth was she was as bound as anyone else. Bound by social convention, the fear of disappointing. She couldn’t run away to be a child of the woods, not when there were so many expectations to live up too.

That was the real problem. She fought with Diane not because she was a free spirit and her mother-in-law was an oppressive curmudgeon…but because she realized that nine times out of ten she bowed to Diane’s social expectations, and every now and again she had to do something to shake things up, to remind herself that she was still alive beneath the careful façade of society wife she’d fallen into. That inside she was still the girl that had hitch-hiked her way to Woodstock because Philip had decided at the last moment he didn’t want to go.

Joanne smiled again at the memory, God that had been one beautiful spectacular fight they’d had when she’d gotten back. That’s when she’d realized that she could marry him; because he’d been upset, not because she’d gone, but because she’d gone without him.

She loved her husband, and adored her daughter, so why did there sometimes seem to be something missing? She sat on a large rock by the stream and let her bare feet dangle in the water. She’d always found this little nook peaceful, the sunlight filtering through the leaves giving the area a dreamy drowsy feeling. She let her mind drift, trying to let go of simmering anger she felt at Diane, and at Philip for leaving her alone agian with his mother. Tried to let go of the longing for something more.

Slowly a peace crept over her, as if the silence of the trees and the bubbling of the stream were a balm to her soul. THIS is what Diane could never understand about her, the peace she found in just being still, held by the earth and kissed by the sun.

The sun? Joanne felt an unaccountable shiver as the glade seemed to darken. She opened her eyes to find that the wind had picked up and the dreamy dusky haze had faded to a brooding twilight.

“There must be a storm coming in” She thought as she stood and began to move back upstream. It was really the only logical explanation for why dark clouds had all of a sudden covered the sky and blocked out the sun.

Cecilia- Background Story

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 02:26:14 GMT

Summer, 1973

Massachusetts

The sun was bright in the meadow behind the back garden, adding to the fuzzy contented feeling Joanne had playing with her daughter. She’d spread out a large checkered blanket, the tall un-mown grasses with their multicolored flowers rising all around giving it’s soft woven surface the feeling of a secret fairy glade. She hummed to herself, finishing the crown of flowers she was weaving and plopping it unceremoniously upon Cecilia’s tiny head. Her daughter giggled and promptly pulled off the crown, pulling it apart in an attempt to see how her mommy had made it. Joanne smiled indulgently and continued to hum, eventually segueing into one of her favorite songs, the one she had named her daughter for.

“Cecilia, You're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home”

Her daughter beamed up at her, recognizing both her name and the song. She placed her crown of flowers haphazardly back upon her curly black hair and clamored to her feet, spinning and dancing about the blanket. In her childish way she even tried to sing along, doing quite well for a child not even three years of age.

”Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home
Come on home”

Joanne nabbed her daughter’s tiny hands and ‘danced’ with her, remaining sitting cross-legged on the blanket and swinging her and Cecilia’s joined hands in time to the song. The next verse Cecilia didn’t know very well, and couldn’t understand if even if she did; So Joanne sang it by herself, putting on a funny caricature of a face and singing it in a high-pitched voice.

”Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom
Making love!
I got up to wash my face,
When I come back to bed
Someone's taken my place”

Cecilia giggled at her mother’s antics and Joanne took the joke further by mock-scolding her daughter, making a ridiculous parody of one of her mother-in-law’s lectures.

“Now don’t you go and be like the Cecilia you’re named after…no breaking men’s hearts for you. No your going to be a good girl and never be a free-loving hippie flower child like your mother. We wouldn’t want to waste all that good breeding of yours by having crazy ideas like your mother now would we? No, nothing but the best for Cecilia Weston, she’s going to marry a Senator…”

“Crazy Old Bat” Joanne thought derisively. Good thing Diane distained to come play out of doors with them, though Joanne would probably get an earful about letting Cecilia stay out in the sun too long. She’d been fighting with her Mother-in-law practically since the day she married Philip. Diane had liked her well enough when she’d thought Joanne was just another society girl, attending Radcliff just to find a husband like half the girls there. But once they had gotten to know each other and Diane had discovered that her daughter-in-law had some distressingly liberal ideas and had even, GASP, attended Woodstock, things had just gone downhill. Her mother-in -law was convinced that Joanne’s past was the reason that Philip would never have a successful political career like she had wanted for him…the fact that he wasn’t interested in politics not withstanding.

Currently they tended to lock wills over how Cecilia should be raised…But Joanne would be dammed before she’d let Diane turn her daughter into another vapid high-class society girl, only interested in appearances.

Her daughter had plopped her tiny fists upon her hips, scowling back at Joanne as she mock-scolded her. Joanne wondered if her little girl knew that she was making fun of Grandma. She didn’t think so but still she approved of the show of will. She stuck her tongue out at her daughter, her heart soaring to see the sunshine smile spread across Cecilia’s face and into those bright green eyes.

“That’s right little one, break as many hearts as you like. Live your life the way you want to and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not Grandma…not even Mommy. Though for Mommy’s sake please be kind….

Oohh…Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home
Come on home”

Cecilia grabbed her mother’s hands and started dancing in her toddler way again. Joanne kept singing and pulled her daughter into her lap, tickling her sides to hear her golden laughter.

”Jubilation!
She loves me again
I fall on the floor and I'm laughing”

Joanne rolled back onto the blanket, hoisting Cecilia up into the air above her. The half-dismantled crown gave way, sending a rain of flowers down upon Joanne’s face and scattering petals all over the blanket. Cecilia shrieked in joy as she pretended to be an airplane.

”Jubilation!
She loves me again
I fall on the floor and I'm laughing…”

Joanne lowered Cecilia so that she was cuddled against her mother’s shoulder. They rested there for a while, Cecilia falling asleep curled in her mother’s arms and Joanne lulled to peace by the warm sunshine and the humming of the meadow insects. She rubbed her cheek against Cecilia’s soft sweet smelling hair, her mind still, perfectly happy and content.

Having Cecilia in her life was worth a million mother-in-laws.

What's in a name?

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 16:58:54 GMT

So I decided that calling the character "Boudicca" was too damn obvious...though I do want something with a similar feel. To that end I've complied a short list of cetlic-y names based on their meanings, or just the fact that I like the way they sound...

Ardara- Fort on a hill
Arlene- Pledge
Bryna- Strong one
Edana- Tiny Flame
Eshana- (sanskrit) Wish, desire
Fallon- Of a ruling family
Kalen, Kaelin, Kaelyn- Pure
Sorcha- Bright, Radient

I am really leaning toward either Fallon or one of the Kalen variants as they sound strong and unapologetic and not too feminine. But I thought I'd post up here and ask opinons.

"Boadicea" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 19:00:17 GMT

While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,
Far in the East Boadicea, standing loftily charioted,
Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,
Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony Camulodune,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.

`They that scorn the tribes and call us Britain's barbarous populaces,
Did they hear me, would they listen, did they pity me supplicating?
Shall I heed them in their anguish? shall I brook to be supplicated?
Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!
Must their ever-ravening eagle's beak and talon annihilate us?
Tear the noble hear of Britain, leave it gorily quivering?
Bark an answer, Britain's raven! bark and blacken innumerable,
Blacken round the Roman carrion, make the carcase a skeleton,
Kite and kestrel, wolf and wolfkin, from the wilderness, wallow in it,
Till the face of Bel be brighten'd, Taranis be propitiated.
Lo their colony half-defended! lo their colony, Camulodune!
There the horde of Roman robbers mock at a barbarous adversary.
There the hive of Roman liars worship a gluttonous emperor-idiot.
Such is Rome, and this her deity: hear it, Spirit of Cassivelaun!

`Hear it, Gods! the Gods have heard it, O Icenian, O Coritanian!
Doubt not ye the Gods have answer'd, Catieuchlanian, Trinobant.
These have told us all their anger in miraculous utterances,
Thunder, a flying fire in heaven, a murmur heard aerially,
Phantom sound of blows descending, moan of an enemy massacred,
Phantom wail of women and children, multitudinous agonies.
Bloodily flow'd the Tamesa rolling phantom bodies of horses and men;
Then a phantom colony smoulder'd on the refluent estuary;
Lastly yonder yester-even, suddenly giddily tottering—
There was one who watch'd and told me—down their statue of Victory fell.
Lo their precious Roman bantling, lo the colony Camulodune,
Shall we teach it a Roman lesson? shall we care to be pitiful?
Shall we deal with it as an infant? shall we dandle it amorously?

`Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!
While I roved about the forest, long and bitterly meditating,
There I heard them in the darkness, at the mystical ceremony,
Loosely robed in flying raiment, sang the terrible prophetesses.
"Fear not, isle of blowing woodland, isle of silvery parapets!
Tho' the Roman eagle shadow thee, tho' the gathering enemy narrow thee,
Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle, thou shalt be the mighty one yet!
Thine the liberty, thine the glory, thine the deeds to be celebrated,
Thine the myriad-rolling ocean, light and shadow illimitable,
Thine the lands of lasting summer, many-blossoming Paradises,
Thine the North and thine the South and thine the battle-thunder of God."
So they chanted: how shall Britain light upon auguries happier?
So they chanted in the darkness, and there cometh a victory now.

Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!
Me the wife of rich Prasutagus, me the lover of liberty,
Me they seized and me they tortured, me they lash'd and humiliated,
Me the sport of ribald Veterans, mine of ruffian violators!
See they sit, they hide their faces, miserable in ignominy!
Wherefore in me burns an anger, not by blood to be satiated.
Lo the palaces and the temple, lo the colony Camulodune!
There they ruled, and thence they wasted all the flourishing territory,
Thither at their will they haled the yellow-ringleted Britoness—
Bloodily, bloodily fall the battle-axe, unexhausted, inexorable.
Shout Icenian, Catieuchlanian, shout Coritanian, Trinobant,
Till the victim hear within and yearn to hurry precipitously
Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd.
Lo the colony, there they rioted in the city of Cunobeline!
There they drank in cups of emerald, there at tables of ebony lay,
Rolling on their purple couches in their tender effeminacy.
There they dwelt and there they rioted; there—there—they dwell no more.
Burst the gates, and burn the palaces, break the works of the statuary,
Take the hoary Roman head and shatter it, hold it abominable,
Cut the Roman boy to pieces in his lust and voluptuousness,
Lash the maiden into swooning, me they lash'd and humiliated,
Chop the breasts from off the mother, dash the brains of the little one out,
Up my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us.'

So the Queen Boadicea, standing loftily charioted,
Brandishing in her hand a dart and rolling glances lioness-like,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters in her fierce volubility.
Till her people all around the royal chariot agitated,
Madly dash'd the darts together, writhing barbarous lineaments,
Made the noise of frosty woodlands, when they shiver in January,
Roar'd as when the rolling breakers boom and blanch on the precipices,
Yell'd as when the winds of winter tear an oak on a promontory.
So the silent colony hearing her tumultuous adversaries
Clash the darts and on the buckler beat with rapid unanimous hand,
Thought on all her evil tyrannies, all her pitiless avarice,
Till she felt the heart within her fall and flutter tremulously,
Then her pulses at the clamoring of her enemy fainted away.
Out of evil evil flourishes, out of tyranny tyranny buds.
Ran the land with Roman slaughter, multitudinous agonies.
Perish'd many a maid and matron, many a valorous legionary.
Fell the colony, city, and citadel, London, Verulam, Camulodune.

Revised (A lot!) Backgound timeline

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 18:31:09 GMT

1949- Joanne born, Western Massachusetts to rich upper class family.

Ties- Cousins with Eden/Edira’s Mother?

1966- Attends Radcliff College for women, majoring in British literature. Sympathizes greatly with some aspects of the hippie movement, but kept really becoming one due to family’s expectations.

1968- Meets and begins dating Philip Weston who attends Harvard Law.

1969- Wants to attend Woodstock but doesn’t because Philip doesn’t want her too.

1970- Graduates and marries Philip. Philip is up-and-comer in business and his mother has political aspirations for him. Her mother-in-law is satisfied with Joanne’s standing and breeding, but thinks her head is too much of a ‘flower-child’ and has some ‘strange ideas’ having been exposed to too much hippie subculture in college. Joanne and her mother-in-law clash frequently over ‘appearances’. It is a society Marriage, Philip and Joanne are fond of each other but there is no real passion.

1971- Daughter Celia is born.

1971-1974- Joanne adores her daughter and spends most of her time and energy raising her. Being an ideal mother is something that her mother-in-law can’t argue with even though they clash occasionally on how Celia should be raised.

Note- Joanne’s personality at this time is that of an innocent ‘free-spirit’ given the freedom to choose she likely would have been a hippie but she is very bound by family expectations, both her own family and that of her husband. She has a longing for ‘something more’ in her life but doesn’t really know what it is so she dotes on her baby girl, hoping that one day her daughter will have more freedom to be her self than her mother has had. Has a real ‘get back to nature’ vibe, exasperated by British romantic poetry and the old English/Celtic literature she studied in college.

1974- Taken one fine summer day while outside by a Fae who specializes in kidnapping mortals for other Fae lords. She is replaced by an expertly created clockwork and mechanical fetch who fits into Joanne’s life rather better than she did, falling into the role of ‘mechanical socialite wife’ with ease.

1974-1976 - Philip eventually becomes uneasy as his wife seems to grow cold and brittle, having lost the inner spirituality and fire that had drawn him to her in the first place. ‘Joanne’ and her mother in law get along much better but Philip begins to have concerns about his wife’s mental state as she seems to have an increasingly pronounced emotional disconnect with him and their child.

During this time Joanne is in the thrall of ‘The Grim Hunter of Grace’, the Fae lord who had contracted for her capture. Originally intended for his harem, Joanne amuses the Lord with her attempts to fight back and she becomes more of a ‘pet’ to torment and play with instead. He seems to understand that she would rather die than fully submit to him and so no matter how severe her punishments he always makes sure she remains in excellent health so she can never have that final escape from him. He hunts her himself, sets other animals to hunt her, uses her as the ‘bear’ in bear baiting, keeps her chained in squalor to his hearth for months at a time when he gets distracted or looses interest. Under the hunter’s tortures she becomes more and more animalistic, but holds on to the memories of her daughter, even though this also eventually fades to an instinctual concern over her ‘missing cub’

Ties OPEN- Any other changelings in The Hunter’s thrall. She has a distain for his concubines as she sees them as weak-willed and far to willing to submit to his attentions and mind games. Probably had contact with other beast-type Changelings or warriors she was forced to fight with.

1976- During a time when The Hunter has turned her loose on the grounds so he could have the amusement of hunting her for sport, Joanne manages to harness both her anger and her fuzzy memories of her daughter to escape through the hedge. She returns home to discover that her Fetch seems to be living the expectations of her life better than she had and that no one misses her. She stalks about the grounds of her house, knowing that her Master is coming and she should flee, but unable to drag herself away. Finds Celia, who is now 5 or 6 playing outside in the garden by herself one day, as her ‘mechanical mother’ can no longer be bothered to come play outside with her anymore. Joanne takes a chance, blows as much glamour as she can to re-enforce her mask, and approaches her daughter. The child originally accepts Joanne without question but after the first joy of reunion Joanne begin to notice that something is not right. She quickly becomes convinced that Celia is a fetch, a very clever and well made fetch (with normalcy echo), but a fetch. Celia also begins to seem to notice something wrong with Joanne, though she is very confused by this being unaware of her own nature. This only re-enforces Joanne’s belief that it is a fetch. Joanne hesitates taking action, torn between her instincts and the fact that even if it is a fetch it is extremely life-like and so like her little girl. She is debating what she should do when ‘Mechanical Joanne’ comes outside angrily looking for the child who has wandered off. ‘Mechanical Joanne’ sees Joanne and uses the echo that will summon Joanne’s Keeper. Joanne is forced to act and kills Celia’s fetch, but before she can decide to attack her own fetch or flee The Hunter appears and drags her back into arcadia.

Tie OPEN- Celia, She could have been taken at the same time as Joanne was originally, or later. She could have been taken by the same fae lord kidnapper, or by a different one. Time running funny in arcadia if someone wants to eventually play her she can be any age, and really any kith. She was also taken so young that she may not even remember her mother or her mortal life.

1976 to Present- Unable to explain the death of her ‘child’ Joanne’s fetch is assumed to have finally snapped and killed her own daughter. Philip has no trouble believing this as he was already beginning to suspect that his wife was having mental problems. “Joanne” is tried and found guilty, but for appearances sake she is quietly incarcerated in a mental institution upstate. The family doesn’t really speak of her anymore except in quiet whispers, she becomes the quiet family scandal that no one talks about.

1976- 1989- Still in the thrall of The Grim Hunter of Grace, Joanne becomes increasingly angry and predatory. His tortures for her escape are severe but he still will not give her the satisfaction of death. She attempts to run several times over the years, driven by the vague knowledge that her daughter is still out there somewhere, but is always hunted down, dragged back, and tortured severely.

Ties OPEN- Again other changelings in The Hunter’s thrall, or any other changelings she may have run across if The Hunter were to use her in contests against another Lord/lady’s thralls.

Ties OPEN- And changelings involved in any of her numerous attempts at escape.

1989- With each failed escape attempt her anger, rage, and concern over her ‘missing cub’ grows until one escape attempt leads her near enough to the hedge that she begins to scrabble back some intelligent thought. Resists the urge to dive right back into arcadia to look for her daughter, realizing that she’ll only be recaptured and that if she’s going to do her daughter or anyone else any good she needs to leave and rebuild.

1990- As New England is too dangerous, what with her being a convicted murderer and her fetch still locked up and able to summer The Hunter if it thinks she’s in the area. The character moves to Florida, eventually establishing herself in the freehold of Tampa. Takes Pseudonym ‘Boudicca’ from Alfred Lord Tenyson’s poem, identifying with the Icini Queen’s rage and vengeance, and the fact that she burnt down half of Brittan to avenge her daughters. Begins to work within the ‘Celtic barbarian warrior woman’ template as it helps her to balance her animalistic nature with her higher ideals. Rises quickly in the Summer Court as her nature leans to a very close affinity with it’s ideals.

Ties Open- to someone who helped her get onto her feet once escaped again and relocated to Tampa around 1990.
Ties Open- Summer court ties.

Ties Open- Anyone in the area that shares her leanings towards pagan religion and mythology

1990- Present- a lot depends on Tampa’s VSS. Makes career of lurking the edges of the Hedge, helping other lost to navigate its twists and turns as they escape. Also considers herself the first line of defense against Fae incursion. Mostly concerned with her vengeance against the Fae and has trouble establishing mortal ties. Has probably served as Summer Queen a couple or several times over the years but now considers herself to be ‘retired’ even though she does still take a lazy interest in politics. Will probably not really get too involved in politics unless the politics of the freehold start interfering with her ability to follow her own pursuits. Will defend the Freehold and other Lost to her last breath, extremely loyal to those she’s either ‘adopted’ or sworn too. Harbors a secret hope that Celia is still alive somewhere, and that one day they’ll be reunited. Occasionally has to fight the urge to go diving into arcadia to rescue her daughter, realizing that this is suicide and will help nobody.

Ties OPEN- to any changeling in the Tampa/Orlando area that wants help through the hedge while escaping. Either full out help and protection, or something as simple as showing up to point out the correct trod.

Ties OPEN- Old political ties from around 93-99 when she was active in politics.

Ties OPEN- Lovers. She has had many over the years, Will tend to go for other warrior types but that is not a necessity, and will only sleep with men that have proven that they are strong and worthy.

Ties Open- Ties with like-minded Lost who’s focus is rescuing other changelings or taking the fight to Arcadia.