when even strangers knew our names

((RP MODE))

At the end of days, at the end of time
When the Sun burns out will any of this matter?



This, then, the land given us, the land in the far place, far from our old habitations. This the land bordered by all things not us, not ours, not created from our hands.

This, then, the land leaving our grasp.

Who will be there to remember who we were?
Who will be there to know that any of this had meaning for us?



The sithen never grown by word of Queen or courtier, the Ravens never gathered, the Sidhe never called. Did she know, my Queen? Did she know all along?

And in retrospect I'll say we've done no wrong
Who are we to judge what's right and what has purpose for us?



The wild night pulls at me, urging wings to fly, urging words from my throat, in languages I may never have known, that no one but the Queen might know...and I speak nothing, I do not move, I stand and breathe and look.

With designs upon ourselves to do no wrong
Running wild unaware of what might come of us



Not our land, no longer.

We assess no blame to the Empress; dandelions are made for mobility, nomads to wander and bloom and blow again, travel their coin, bright color their joy made form. We give her all honor for even the momentary use of her land, to gather our strength.

The Sun was born, so it shall die
So only shadows comfort me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



But I, I am not sure it is enough. We are so few in this place, and we hear rumors of others rising, other branches of the Sidhe, Unseelie and otherwise. Do they remember the truth of us? Do they remember we were once more than cruelty and blood?

Do we remember we were once more? I do, I know, I was called as I am, dark and bright both, the woman who bled, the wronged who tortured, the dancer in the darkness, the lover on the green.

I know. I remember.

Each day shall end as it begins
And though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Clouds race overhead and the moon is bright and full, shining down silver as a new-minted coin. All the better to look, and note this place that I, at least, shall miss. One more forgotten home, soon, but I will remember. I always remember.

The Sun was born, so it shall die
So only shadows comfort me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Dandelion seeds puff past me as I sit on the land, thinking. Home is where you find it, I think, and Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in. But these are human notions.

Each day shall end as it begins
And though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Though it is true, the Unseelie, all the fae-born, they, we, are connected to the land, to nature, to the passing of seasons. What are we without the land around us? Trapped in boxes of wood and stone, steel and iron--what are we then?

Can we hold longer, our so-small Court, scattered to a dozen different lands, forgetting that we once knew a single ruler and traveled at the whim of her will? When she calls next, will we hear her and come?

Without a thought I will see everything eternal
Forget that once we were just dust from heavens far



I do not know. I know I heard another call, and traveled in the odd form this release, this mourning for the lost had given me, only to face another potential loss to come.

The form, the face, I'd consigned myself never to see again, and now, I barely recognized it. Creeping from floor to floor after hours, slipping past the somnolent nurse on duty--that was the easy part.

Finding the right floor, that was trickier, but--to be fair, there was only one locked ward room that glowed green.

As we were forged we shall return, perhaps some day
I will remember us and wonder who we were



And no counting how long I stood there with only my circling thoughts for company. The crackling warmth on the air, the tingle along my skin's surface I had bitter understanding of, altering my very cells even as I stood there, let alone moved closer.

And no idea if I should stay or go. My healing skills were not the best on the best days, and all of them seemed to require contact, and...

...such poison, now, in that immortal form. I remained unconvinced I could force myself closer. Eventually, with heavy heart, I turned and left, creeping out the same way I'd come, and winging far away from Regency.

Winging my way home. Or one of them, anyway.

This, then, too, perhaps...leaving our grasp.

(Lyrics taken from VNV Nation's End of Days.)

waiting as the panic grips my hand

((RP MODE; also Confused Mode))

The naga comes to Brythony, and cannot ascertain where she is.

These lands may be more tricksy than I am.



I had not affixed our new lands in memory; I admit, I could have done this with ease just one day previous, but the sudden arrival of our new lands, you see, blew every thought out of my head as if my thoughts were dandelion puffs.

Even so, when I plucked from my chaotic memory the location of our lands, and enspelled m'self to go to that location...I was taken aback to find myself falling through the air.

I have not been here before. Of that I am quite sure.



Because, me being me? I would remember being exposed to a floating skull and crossed bones. With a collar. And a smokestack.



The naga reaches solid ground.

I learned another thing today, something I'd not quite known: nagas do not like falling to the ground. I tried to guide the fall, tried to hover, but the snake nature made me twist and flail in midair and I despaired of reaching solid ground in one piece!

But thankfully, my descent slowed, which is a very good thing, I would think, for both the snake-side of my nature at present and the Empress of all Dandelions who has so graciously extended the protection of her lands to the Dark Court.



This is the very far edge of the lands that belong to the one naming herself Nefairyous. Of course it's an assumed name, but who among the Unseelie has not, at some point, sought the secrecy of cover? Behind me lay the spreading estates of Mr. Gilbert Sapwood, storyteller of much reknown in the lands of Caledon and New Babbage.



And just to be clear, that moment in the last tour of Brythony wherein our small band discovered the singing mushrooms?

Those self-same mushrooms can be seen under the spreading willow just off to the right. And thus is the Unseelie Court now bordered.

Our lands used to be larger, yes. But we have been much scattered, and put through much along the way of travel, and this is a boon unexpected. We will accept, we have accepted, and it is joyous to be in fae lands again.

Now, we simply need to meet and decide what will exist here, in this fae-formed place.



Besides dandelions. She is the Empress of them, after all. They will, of course, be staying.

The naga slithers off; adventures await.

every moment marked with apparitions of your soul

You gotta love product placement. This was taken at Trap, part of the Deviant Kitties store-set, during their skin sale. (If you don't get why it's funny, click for the larger picture and look for the thing that says Bare Rose.)

Last night, Miss Subversive Vavoom invited us on a self-guided tour of the new sim for Brythony, Brythony Caer Llyr. All lands, she said, were ours to wander, but the ones to the east, as she did not know that neighbor well. And we did our best to hold to that guide, and mark no place permanently, and leave as quietly as we had come.



Brythony slept when we arrived, but such magic came through the sleeping soil as to refresh my fae self entire. Feral wild magics guide this isle, for all they've been contained and, to an extent, controlled. Thatched-roof cottages, low hedge walls, Celtic knotwork wrought in wood and green...t'is a lovely place, indeed.



Near the base of a large spreading willow, we found a grouping of singing mushrooms, their green radiance lovely to my eyes. I had not, I admit, seen such a wonder since leaving Lumindor, and the first sithen. I could not but help imagining how my Queen would fare in these lands. Such rich food after so long privation...and how would our sithen change and grow?

I pondered such things as we wandered.



For a moment, I stopped breathing, power in these stones sweeping over me in a wave. Little enough, they slept dormant as well, but it had been so long disconnected from any place of power...

Of course a storyteller lived near to this place. When he does not relate tales and legends at the Falling Anvil in New Babbage, Mr. Gilbert Sapwood recites myth and myth-made-real at these stones. We dropped coin in his cup and moved on.

We passed a low fence of stone and iron, staying well back, pausing to be amused by a squirrel eating acorns. I looked for oaks, saw none, and looked down in time to see the wee one snatch another acorn out of air. Oh, wild and feral magics indeed, wild and feral land, and such beauty in the green...Fern-bedecked and glorious. This was what my heart had been needing to heal.



We passed an odd place. It looked like the fencing for a sheep paddock, or something similar, but all it held was a hill, and mist, and fish and ducks swimming through the mist. The mist was solid enough to stand on.

We stood there, speaking quietly in the gloaming, until the Queen's Consort jumped the fence. That quick, she was back, sitting astride the fence as if naught were wrong, but she was breathing oddly. Fawkes decided to risk it out of curiosity, and jumped the fence as well. The mist held, but the koi swimming through it surged, and I watched as normal grace and skill left the hands I knew as they scrabbled to pull their owner to safety.

Miss Neome and I looked at each other.

"Vicious, man-eating koi," I said solemnly. She nodded.

"Could be worse," she replied. "Could have been vicious man-eating monks." I nodded at that.

We turned and walked away.



Our circuitous path took us across a wide and empty field that swallowed me entire for a long moment. I came up, gasping and spitting earth, to find my companions leagues away. I called out to them, and they came forward as I walked back, and together we meandered back to where the magics were somewhat more controlled. Dandelions sprang up in our wake, the seeds blowing in cascading waves through the nightspawned wind.



We spent the rest of our hours by the pond with much calmer koi, watching the dandelions spawn and puff, fade and spawn again. Fertile magics indeed.

My verdict, after our night of wandering? I think Brythony will pair wonderfully with Winterfell, and with those parts of Caledon that embrace the night as well as the day. I'm not sure all residents will find such enchanted lands to their liking. Magic and science are uneasy partners, after all.