Tag Archives: theatrical muse

TM – Black & White

There is no such thing as black and white in the Realms of Magic. In fact, suffice it to say that in the Seven Realms of Existence, such polarities are such ridiculous constructs cobbled together by the dogmatic, the fearful and the overall unimaginative minions – usually at the behest of their betters. Such things are a way and means by which to control the masses. And the first step in avoiding such traps of mind and spirit is being aware of their existence. All magic is in fact varying shades of gray. The use of Magic, the endeavor of the Great Work, is really at the discretion of the one who wields the tool. Whether we choose to admit to it or not, the ability to make use of these things is as much a part of Life as anything else. Everything we do is a matter of intention. Whatever is a magical act, the only thing that changes it from “white” to “black”, positive or negative, good or ill, is the intent of the user. Nothing more…and certainly nothing less.

There are so-called Light and Dark Sidhe. Some base these comparisons on our physical appearance, or the realms that we inhabit. There are those who determine that the Seelie are to be considered the “Light” or ‘White” Fae and the Unseelie to be the “Dark” or “Black” Fae. Such considerations are bandied about as if somehow you can tell on sight those who would do you ill or grant you boon based on appearances alone. The oleander flower is breathtakingly beautiful – and white, and yet within it is harbored the most deadly of poisons. I have seen such Seelie cruelties that it would even take a hardened Unseelie assassin aback. Using such distinctions to connote that one side is better than the other, or that their intentions are fare more wholesome when held next to the other’s is the mark of the spiritually and experientially immature. All of us in our way and in our time could be accused of lighter or darker intentions or things that motivated the ends. But that would only further muddy the waters.

Sometimes one has to do a particularly black deed or deeds in order to preserve the overall balance of things.


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 383
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TM # 228 – 3 AM

Unus est, Trinus est; in Omni Angulo est.
Omnia comprehendit, Fuit est; et vobis erit.
Finis et origo.*

am by nature more nocturnal than I am a creature of the daylight. Perhaps I can attribute such to my Unseelie blood, or perhaps that was always in my nature. It is, they say, the nature of women, especially of creatures of the Night and of Magic, to use the hours of darkness to make mischief. I do readily confess, my most productive hours are during the hours of the night when I may go relatively unobserved. But on this night, I was not to be afforded such a privilege.

The clock had struck three times as a gentle reminder that my evening had spilled into the wee hours of morn.

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#226 – Looking Forward

Name three things that you’re looking forward to in the near future and why.

nly three?

I am looking forward to getting to know my husband, Sebastien again. How does one refer to oneself if you are no longer a widow and have brought your husband back from the dead? Re-educating him on how things now work in the world has been a challenge, if not for me, certainly for him. Sometimes the sheer look of exasperation on his face is enough to bring me to want to embrace him and reassure him that even though he feels a stranger in this now strange land, he is adapting admirably. I confess, it’s been a slow process, but I am definitely not sorry I brought him back. I am hoping that he is not regretful of it either.

The birth of our second child. It seems hard to believe that it’s been so long since I had Caroline. Now that Sebastien has returned, I find myself anxiously awaiting our second child. I am told both by intuition and by other means of divination that the babe will most likely be a girl. If that is the case, I have asked Sebastien if we might name her after his mother, Joselyn Isabetta de Rochefort. He has agreed.

And more immediately, I am looking forward to Beltane Eve. It is the anniversary of when Sebastien and I wed, and auspiciously in our Rites and Celebrations, it is also the coming of spring, As the day quickly approaches, my mind also goes to Caroline who is, it seems, finding love for the first time in her life. I have to keep reminding myself not to interfere. Stelios is a good man and I not only approve of his seeing my daughter, but I genuinely like him/ Even Sebastien has relented somewhat on the subject of, “That Spartan”, as he likes to call him. I have been able to get my husband to relax, however, I think like most fathers, he worries quite alot about being replaced. Of course, he never has to worry about that, but I suppose that is a natural instinct all the same.


Muse:
Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore/ Mythology
Word Count: 364
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#220 – Potions

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.
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TM Prompt 218 – Write about a lie your parents told you.

My mother never lied to me. At least she never did that I was aware of. She was a truly good person. My father, on the other hand, from whom I have inherited my Unseelie blood – he was not-so-good. It took an act of Will on Morgienne’s part to even get him to acknowledge the fact that he was my father. He would not be forsworn and actually say that he had not known my mother. He knew that he had – and so did everyone else. And I was the result of their illicit liaison. He did not lie – I will give him that. However, his allegations inferred that he highly doubted that he was the only possibility toward being my sire. In end, irrefutable proof was provided and Gan Ceanach was forced to acknowledge that indeed, I was his daughter.

I suppose one could argue that keeping such secrets, or harbouring such nonchalance is in and of itself tantamount to a lie. I do not necessarily agree. He and I still do not speak often, and when we do, our relationship is strained at best. We always skirt around the issue as to why he and I can never be a family. I guess in a way, those are lies, too.


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 198
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Night

It had been the night blooming jasmine and the way that it glowed in the moonlight that caught my eye. Most nights, if I had been on such a mission, I would have not stopped, not listened to the undeniable beckoning of the garden and it’s inhabitants. But this night was different. The moon was full and spring was first spilling out from the freshly thawed soil. At any other time I would often interact with those whom I called my garden or forest “allies”, and one more the delicate flowers seemed to reach out to me with a scent so sweet that I could not resist.

With slender fingers I reached out and caressed the leaves, petals and stalk of the ful shrub and I leaned forward to breathe the heady scent of flowers. The hood of my black velvet cloak fell back from my head as I did so.

“It was in the East when I first met you, O’ beauteous one,” I smiled at the prolifically blooming bush, speaking to it as if it were another person, “men have waged wars and spilled much blood on the desert sands just so they can catch a heady breath of you. They bring your scent and lay it at the feet of queens, princesses and women of all castes. Your promise is nothing more than the inspiration of love.” I looked up at the moon and smiled, “under Mother Moon’s gaze, there is no way for you not to accomplish that.”

The garden, I had noticed, had gone strangely silent. I was raised to sense the presence of others and now I felt the gaze of some one or some thing looking at me, listening. The sensation was one of cold, yet curious icy tendrils that reached out like a vine in the shadows that shifted. I pulled the folds of my cloak a bit tighter around me, and replaced the voluminous hood back over my hair and made my way back to the paved walkway toward the palace that was illuminated in a riot of light and colour.

Before I mounted the large marble staircase that led to the entrance of the palace itself, I caught glimpse of a darkly clad man leaning over, looking down at me, as if he had specifically been waiting for me to come inside If it had not been for the glint of his single eye in the reflective light indoors or from the moon I was not certain that I would have seen him at all. Not able to shake the same feeling that I had experienced in the garden as I ducked into the doorway. I was both invited and expected as a guest of the Court of Louis XIII and his Queen, Anne and to have tarried longer would have aroused suspicion. Still, I could not shake the image of the man who was dark as Raven whose one eye studied me relentlessly.

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / Fandom
Word Count: 496
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What Are You Waiting For?

I wait for perfect timing.

It does not mean that I am hesitant, or cowardly. I mean to master the art of timing, and in order to do that, you must learn the value of waiting. This involves the control of not only your own emotions but of those around you. I refuse to let those around me push me into rash decisions. Why would I let someone else set the pace? Those who rush, those who do not wait, those who do not pause long enough to carefully pay attention to the nuances of any situation often run headlong into disaster. Let others run headlong into the danger and those with cooler heads and a greater penchant toward strategy will find the precise moment from which they may harvest the greatest benefit.

I do not wait for reasons of self preservation, or out of anything other than playing the game of Power in order to win it. I will not be goaded, prodded, baited or cajoled one moment before I am ready to make my move. By doing this, I maintain control. I have taken years, decades, even centuries to build the foundations of Power as I see fit. Those who do not bother to deliberate judiciously will often mistake a flight of fancy or a passing trend for what lies beneath it all. Why not step back, observe and pay attention to what is really happening? But you cannot do that if you are continually in a hurry and have no sense of timing.

On the other hand, when you can make those around you believe that they control things, that is when you hold the greatest amount of control of all. I do not mind watching them hurry and scurry about. When you can convince the other side that they must hurry, that time is of the essence – especially when you have all the time in the world, that is a great secret to winning the game. When you set the pace, control the clock, and can force your opponent’s timing, you gain the upper hand. It is that application of pressure that can make them snap – especially when you are the one setting the deadline. I will wait as long as necessary for the precise and most advantageous moment. I make them yield to my pace and when the time comes to strike, I do so decisively and without mercy.


Muse: Fanny Fae/ Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 403

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# 158 -Talk about a memorable (or unexpected) kiss

t had snowed for the first time just two nights before Christmas. Everything around the Chateaux was blanketed in white, the trees hung with ice and snow. A shroud of mist made everything glow with an ethereal blue-white light.

The forest was a kingdom of ice, my horse and I trod carefully among the ancient oaks and evergreens, weaving along where I thought the trail might be, the snow coming easily to the fetlocks of my mount. It was not a deep snow, but judging by the sky and the scent of moisture in the air it was clear that more snow was on the way.

On the Fortunate Island, we never have snow. But in England as well as Scotland and France, snow comes every year. Somehow it seems that everyone hopes for the innocent blanket of white to symbolize the anniversary of the coming of Christ. All the while everyone around me both at Court and in the countryside was preparing for the Christmastide festivities, my heart was as cold as the snow.

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Topic # 157- What is your worst quality as a significant other?

have always been extremely selective about who I take to my bed. So in this I am already not what most would consider ideal as a ‘significant other’. The worst quality that I know that I possess in that particular role is the fact that I cannot make that person, the centre of my world. More precisely, I will not. Princely responsibility is my spouse, and Power my paramour. Most husbands or lovers cannot bear the thought that it will rarely be them who keeps you up at night. It isn’t that I prefer the company of pen and parchment to the tender ministrations of my consort. However, if the needs of the Realm are not met, then there will truly not be time to languish under their attentive touch.

Nuada understood this, for he, too, was a sovereign. The Red King would have his own responsibilities and commitments to which he had to attend. And it was understood between us what was required. In time, we both knew that neither of us would place the other above that which was needful. We were both wed to Sovereignty and Sovereignty would always command our fidelity. The others in our lives, both Mortal and Immortal – most of them nobility, either Fae or Human – could at least relate somewhat to the concept of noblesse oblige. A long time friend, sometimes lover, a warlord no less, and I often talk of such things. Athos, once himself a Comte, and later, for much, much longer, Sebastien, also a Comte, understood very well what it is that I am saying here. It is not that I did not love them. I did and do. But that has little if anything to do with the true order of things.

Love, in fact, may very well be Lord of All in the eyes of the world. But to me and those like me, it does not erase that which needs to be done. For me, every word is calculated, every move carefully contemplated. Every breath is measured, strategised and meted out with these considerations in mind. Life is a chess game, and love both a battlefield and an accoutrement. Not many would put up with such in their significant other.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 373

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Tunnel (prompt for )

hen I was in gaol in Port Royal for pyracy and Wytchcraft, I was kept in a dank cell. On occasion the bright light of midmorning would be just so from the rooves of the other building and the light would shine in illuminating my otherwise dark world. About a head taller than myself was a window, barred and slicked with black mildew and grime from years of moisture that ran down the walls making them slimy.

But there was a way, that if I were to reach from the stone slab that served as my bed, and precariously stretched just so, hanging by my fingertips, from this vantage point I could catch sight of a tunnel. This tunnel led from the courtyard of the prison directly through to a craggy shoreline and from beyond that you could see the ocean. On days that I was very fortunate, I could actually see ships sailing by. It was the vision of these great graceful crafts that I was reminded that there was still freedom outside of the walls of my cell. Through that window I could glimpse and remember what it was like to live in a world that was clean, not slimy and dark or filled with the rats that both stole my food and terrorized me.

It was by that very tunnel that I left with Captain Christopher Mengs who had pressed me into service aboard his own ship as a cook. My garments, save for the cloak that he had threwn over my shoulders to cover my dress that was made far more of rips than it was of cloth were soon to be replaced. With the smell of brine in my nostrils I walked through that tunnel, a mere two steps behind Captain Mengs, toward freedom.


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn &copy Ma’at Publishing
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 299
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