Monthly Archives: March 2008
urely you jest.
What is our life but a series of moments? We move from one moment to the next and especially those of us who are essentially Immortal. How can any one thing, any one event influence those of us whose lives span centuries?
To be fair and to begin at the beginning, I would say that it was the moment I discovered that the death of my mother, my acceptance into the Sidhe Court, especially the acknowledgement by both the Queen of Air and Darkness, and my father, Gan Ceanach, my ascension as a Noviate and Initiate on the Fortunate Island were all a part of an elaborate scheme by my foster mother, Morgienne. To have everything you have ever done, to have everything snapped in half in a single realizing instant – it cannot be described. Any semblance of purity of intent or innocence that I may have had up until that moment were slain at my feet. I stood over the body of what was that wide eyed, trusting and dutiful child-priestess, covered in her blood. The ground was littered with the broken shards of everything that she ever believed before that moment. In her place stood the like form of a young woman who had been implanted with the very seeds of vengeance. The coming months would see to the germination and the full and proficient bloom that rendered asunder all that stood in the way of her ambition and quest for Power. My eyes were at last open.
I would like to thank the very generous soul who gifted me with paid time over on Insanejournal. I think I know who you are…in fact I am pretty damned certain. While I am grateful yes, I most definitely expect. That means that I expect you and our mutual cohorts to be over on Pan Historia ASAP. 😉
I will be sending instructions to you in email.
OOC: Takes place after THIS post but certainly before Faelyn is with child.
aelyn staggered home. She had indulged in the most brutal and wanton pleasures of the flesh with Marius. Every muscle ached as she got out of the car and all but limped toward the Chateau de Rochefort. Her body was a mass of cuts, bruises and contusions that she would most likely need to take at least a little time to heal. Inside the house, probably waiting somewhere near a fire with a glass of brandy, and filled with barely-masqued concern would be her husband. With as much control and quiet as she could muster with her aching finges, she closed the door silently behind her. Inwardly she hoped that no servant was still up and awake in order to make a fuss. Right now she knew that she and Sebastien would most likely have words. Surely she was certain that she would not welcome all that there was to discuss between them.
As suspected, Sebastien was sitting in the library, with a glass of brandy that was not likely his first, and a book. Even at this vantage point she could sense his brooding. She knew that he would not be pleased and she tried very hard to sound as normal as possible as she entered into the room. “You’re up late,” she said softy.
If you could buy a magic potion, what would it be?
Solve et coagula, et habebis magisterium.*
hy would I purchase from anyone else that which I as an Aedept can make for myself? The Alchemical Art, that which is part and partial of the true potion maker’s trade, cannot ever be separated from it’s core. The Art comes at a price, and so, too, come the fruits of it. So many people, humans in particular, seem to think that a potion is in fact an easy way to those things that they want. If they knew what was involved, the costs exacted for partaking of such fruits that come from the labours of the Magus and Alchemist, they would think twice before agreeing to that cost.