Of Waves and Horns

That is a question that Dy has heard in the back of her head so many times, though the voices change every so often.  Well, they used to.  Ever since her tightly held secret shared that voice has taken on a very specific person. 

“Will you ever answer my question?”  He spoke again, causing the satyr to tilt her head upwards and look right at the sun.  Yet in doing so doesn’t burn her eyes, as the stars that once occupy them look to be burned out. Where she is holds no reality.  She is in this oceanic space, on a surf board as she usually will be.  However this space was that of her own thinking..  the space she goes to when there is need to at least escape mentally.  “What do you see, sitting out there?  It has to be something, my wild one..”

She closes her eyes as this deep sigh escapes her.  The voice she hears tears more and more at her soul..  that piece of spirit that she held closed off for thousands of mishmashed years.   There was nothing else, not even Absolem was nattering on to the seer to keep her on track.  Keep her from just losing herself to her thoughts. Perhaps it is time for her to do just that, let herself fall to the calm and deep of this ocean.  Never to return to what lays beyond.  That spot of reality where people live. 

“I am..  so very tired..”  She says in a voice barely above a whisper.

“I know...”

“I miss you...”

“I know...”

Slowly her eyes open to look out along the span of deep tranquil waters. The satyr knowing why that she’s here.. knowing that there is something she needs to do.  Something she needs to gain control over.  Perhaps answering that question will aid her..  or perhaps it will send her back to a land where war is just around the corner.  A war that has already sent her back to Myriani.  

“What do you see?”

Her brows furrow while scanning the far off horizon, her element touching the line of another in a spot that can never be reached.  What is this supposed Oracle supposed to see?  And why does he keep asking?  Slowly her ears fold back against her head, not one to give up.. at least not for now.  This other feeling starts to remind her that there may be someone out there who depends upon her. Someones.  

“Is it.. what do I see, or what do I wish to see..”  She asks that voice, still keeping her tone to that soft whisper.

“I know what you wish to see.”

“You...”

“Forgive yourself.”

“I see...”

“Forgive yourself, my wild one.”

Her head lifts up as this form starts to take shape before her, the light of the setting sun behind this body causes her to squint.  Carefully she raises her hand up, trying to block as much as the blinding light as she can. However it doesn’t help her see..  

“Let me see you..”

“I am your past, forgive yourself and see the present.”

“I do not want to forget..”

“You won’t. But they need you now.”

Slowly Dy takes in this deep breath and once more closes her eyes, letting herself feel everything around her. His death was not her fault.  Nothing she could have done would have stopped it.  Regardless if she had just returned to her clan, or still screamed at her kinds’ God, Nikoli would still be dead.  Somewhere inside of her she knows this. But she keeps it as a barrier for many things.  Keeps it as a reminder that she is far from perfect, and not deserving of the life she has lived.  The love she has felt.  The friends she has made, or the skills and knowledge she has acquired.  None of these, she thought, are things she ever truly felt like she deserves.

“Forgive yourself, my love.. Tell me what you see.”

His voice dance across her ears as if he were whispering to them.  Her breath catches in her throat and she opens her eyes again, but nothing is there.  Just the water, the sky..  now the stars and moon rise through the horizon.  Dy lowers her gaze to the wood surf board that she’s been sitting on.  “It..  It is not my fault..”

“I know...  I’ve never blamed you.”

“I see..”

“Yes?”

The satyr takes in a measured breath, steadying herself as realizations and thoughts start to flood through her mind.  Her eyes start to widen as again the stars begin to burst to life in them..  the blue and purple dust of each one starting to give birth to more.  Each one a possibility, a vision, a life..  A sight she only saw once when she took some wayward potion.  That should have kept her mind opened to this, however her own locks and walls kept it closed. Walls and locks that the White Queen wanted the satyr to break through.

“You will never lose me..”

One moment the satyr is trying to make it to her apothecary, the request of her being able to see things weighing on her mind.  The next moment, however, she finds herself in a place.. brightly lit, decorated in finery though everything is white.  The scent of tea drifting through the air, which all leads both Dy and Absolem to realize where they are.  Some little hidden reality that the White Queen has tucked away.  A place that she exists fully..  Not only the queen, but a certain blue spotted and stripped feline with a all too wide grin.  

“Anáthema...” The seer satyr sighs out as she reaches up to adjust her glasses.  This kind of weariness washes out from her in a low wave.  “Now what...”  The blue eye pulses out, it’s drifting starlight burning brightly behind the dark lens.  Whatever Absolem says in her mind, she just snorts out over it.  Seeing as no one is there.. the satyr moves over towards one of the ornate white chairs that rests next to a round table.  The table is decorated with a white silk cloth, a china white thin vase that contains a single white rose..  As well as white china tea cup, filled with tea.  This card made with perfectly white paper lays near the tea cup and it’s saucer.  Carefully the Oracle picks up the card to look at it..  of course written in white ink. However, Absolem seems to be able to read it and relays the message to her.

“Drink the tea and wait.”

She blinks as this stronger wave of curiosity and confusion filters out from her.  “That is it?  Drink this and just wait..”  Needless to say, the is not what the satyr thought this day would be.  Not that she had ever thought she would be summoned to this place.  The Caterpillar simply confirms her question, though he questions if she’ll actually drink it.  Dy looks at the finery, raising an eyebrow quite high.. nearly vanishing under the small strands of braids that she chose to wear her raven black hair in.  “You know I do noht drink.. or eat..  she knows this as well.”  She shrugs while crossing her arms, poising her staff comfortably to her side.  The oily looking ball at it’s crooked end humming out as if it distrusts everything about the place they’re in.  However, she chooses to ignore it.. at least she can do the second part of the request.  Wait.  

But for how long?

Dyisi is not one to fidget, in fact the entire time she waits for whatever it is she’s meant to.. she sits there in that chair rather statuesque.  Despite how cold the tea becomes.  On occasion the blue eye pulses out, the starlight only barely visible behind the black lenses.  Perhaps an internal conversation taking place as she waits.  Compared to the stark bright whiteness of the room she’s in, the satyr’s black and purple clothing sticks out quite jarringly. 

“You really ought to drink that tea, you know She would not set that out if there wasn’t a reason too..”  The soft, almost purring voice suddenly fills the room.  The satyr takes in a breath as if she hasn’t been breathing since having taken that seat.  Her head turns to look directly where her senses tells her that the familiar pattern on The Cheshire is.. or rather where he’s moving too.  “Could never .. hide.. from you..”  Slowly his curling grin starts to come to view, followed by various other parts of him.  The blue cat just floating there in front of Dy, looking between she and the tea cup almost expectantly.

“You both know I do noht...”

“Drink?  Eat?  Oh yes we know, you silly ungulate.  However.. She would not put it out for you to do so.. without reason.  Or, perhaps just to see how long you’d wait..”  He interrupts her with a rather devious sounding laugh.  The seer just sighs out as she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.  The currents that move around her unseen shift to allow that weary feeling move out from her in low waves.  After a long thought out moment, she finally reaches to take the tea cup, being ever so careful with it.  When she brings it to her lips, the thing starts to shake and sputter the tea out, which causes her to hold it back an inch while looking at the persnickety cat suspiciously.  Complete with a singly eyebrow lofting to Vulcan heights.  “Gooowhaaannnnn we don’t have all day!”  The Cheshire tries to encourage her, plucking off his long bushy tail to use it to push her hand that holds the tea closer to her.  The blue eye starts to pulse out, which catches the cat’s attention and he just cackles out quite loudly. “Oh! You!  You you you..  still trapped like a Genie? Convince her!  Goooowaaaahnnnnn!”  He speaks to Absolem, who likely grumps to the Satyr now.

“Alright.. alright..”  Dy sighs out, waving the cat off with her staff..  which causes him to back off quite quickly.  His little bubble of fear causes this hint of a grin to tug at the satyr’s lips.  Where she might not bring that level of fear without manipulating emotions, that staff of hers seems to cause fear just by simply existing.  Again she tries to bring the tea to her lips, despite the shaking and sputtering out all of the tea that was in it. When the cup reaches her lips, the satyr feels something cold yet quite solid slip up against her lower lip.  She blinks as confusion and curiosity floods out from her for a brief moment.  Again she pulls the cup away, though this time without any protest from Cheshire.  She looks into the cup to see this oddly white gem like object just sitting there instead of tea.  Again she gives the cat this look which is only met by another cackle as he floats closer to her.

“What are you waiting for, pick it up!  It’s not like we have all the time in the universe...  Or do we..”  The Cheshire again tries to prod her to do what he wants with his tail in paw.  Her staff wasn’t having it and moves quite quickly on it’s own.. despite being held by the satyr.. to shoo the pesky feline away.  He vanishes quickly, only to emerge again further back, just glaring at her staff.  “If you do noht like, do noht provoke.”  Dy says with her ever present even tones, only giving Cheshire a half look.  This time Absolem judges that she really ought to pick this gem up.  Obliging all of this, realizing the only way this entire experience is going to end is if she does so, the Oracle gingerly picks the thing up.  It still felt cool to the touch, though the moment it rests in her palm it’s coloration starts to change.  Through the white, what looks like star specks start to appear in the familiar blue and purple coloration that the satyr is known for.  Again this strong wave of curiosity floods out from her as the crystal starts to warm up.  Quite quickly, in fact.  Before she can even realize it, this odd thing starts to burn and burrow into her palm rather painfully.  The warding that her tattoo usually gives against pain doesn’t work on magically caused ones.  So unfortunately for, the satyr feels everything.  Sharp curses and hissing intakes of breath come from Dy as she holds her wrist, not stopping the whole process.  Once the gem has made it into her hand, her skin heals up as if nothing had happened, but the pain moves through her body.  Straight up her arm as if the thing is crawling through her flesh and bone now.  The satyr somehow manages to stand up as it reaches her shoulder and neck, though her hands go right for her forehead.  She can feel the crystal start to push out of the skin just above her eyes.  

The satyr’s vision starts to blur from the experience, and she sways for a half moment before falling to the ground.  All she can see is this half blurred image of the Cheshire’s smile and what looks to be the White Queen walking up besides him.  

“That took long enough.  She always was a stubborn one.”  Her voice, muted through the pounding of the satyr’s heart in her ears.  

“Which is why she makes for a perrrrrfect Bishop!” 

“Did you deliver that message?  I am sure that.. King.. might be a bit worried.”

“Oh yes, yes, I am sure he has gotten it by now.  I even left him a little gift.. ah.. to remember her by.”

“Tsk, Cheshire, you know very well this was going to happen.  We will do what we must, and then send her on her way.”

“Ohhh.. well.. fiiiine.  Tick Tock then..  we have much work to do, much work indeed..”

After a dizzying moment of being encased in this milky white crystalline Bishop's piece, the satyr tries to steady herself.  Taking a moment to gain some sense of where she is, and what happened.  Carefully her trapped spirit moves to the cool smooth wall that curves in the familiar way of the Bishop's piece.  Pressing her hands against the border that keeps her within, she peers outwards to try and see what she can..  Giants around her, Maric's hand gripped around her crystal prison.. Aoibh passed out on his chest.. though the child/seedling was not in her range of view.  When Maric moves his head to look down to her, she perks up.. trying to wave.. to get his attention.  However the look on his face and how his head sank back to the ground told her how unsuccessful her attempts were.  The feeling that this was her life now sinks over her, and she slips down to where the side of her prison rests in Maric's hand.  Slowly she slumps down, curling her legs under her as she pushes her hands against the inside of the piece.. perhaps trying to feel him through the crystal.  After all of that, this is where she was going to be now?  In a piece that somewhere inside of her feels like a mockery of her past.  Is this all she is? A chess piece still?  However her ears perk when she actually feels something coming from the man that holds her..  this overwhelming exhaustion.  Her head cranes up to look out towards him again, just seeing the red of Aoib's hair and the curve of his hand and arm.  Both of her ears press back and she looks back down to his palm that her two diminutive hands try to press against.  All that comes from her was this feeling of being lost.. yet caged.

"Tsk..  Is this the gratitude I get, Bishop?  I kept you from being scattered to the ethers to who knows where.."  This soft sing songy voice fills the space of the Bishop's piece, one that Dy thought she had long left when that parallel of Wonderland ended.  That sweet, patient voice of a Queen that never faltered, even when her Court faced certain loss.  Dy lifts her head to look towards the manifestation of the White Queen, who lives up to her name in not just gowned in the purest of whites, but shines with this white ethereal glow that could blind.  Her head tilts while looking out towards the pair that could be seen past the crystal barrier.  Her white trusses curled and bouncing against the curve of her hauntingly pale features, some of which is pinned to the white gold crown that sets perfectly upon her locks.  "I see you have decided to join yet another court.  And here I thought The All Seeing was quite neutral.  Or has my Bishop also found an imbalance with this King you ally yourself with?"  The satyr slowly pushes up from the place she sat upon, reluctantly.  The way that the Queen's voice pulls to her had more to do with being her chess piece than having pledged any loyalty.  

"You...  You did this?  But how? I thought you gone like everyone else..  Nevaria fell.."  There is this amazement to her voice, clearly as this was the first time since the Chess War has she seen the Queen of the White Court.  Though the amazement is short lived when the Queen continues on, mentioning Maric as the satyr's new King.  Slowly she shakes her head, though this uncertainty holds to her.  Never did she join his court, nor his village..  So much has changed for the All Seeing, that she never truly recognized factions and courts.  Just people.. individuals that she would work with, develop relationships with..  Right/Wrong, Good/Evil, Seelie/Unseelie..  they held nothing to her.  It was Gwyn, Maric, Aoib.. Wren.. Nate.. Kern.. Even now her nibblings.. Sidhe, Phookah, Werekin, Goddess incarnate, and now trees alike..  To her that was a balance.  Her brows furrow as she shakes her head.  "I have given no loyalty to any court. My days of being a Bishop piece are over.  I give my loyalties to people..."  She insists, crossing her arms while drifting quite easily in the small space. "How is it that I am still your Bishop?  Or that you are even here?  Did you not fall with the rest? Is your Parallel still there?"  The satyr finds herself asking with great curiosity now, which is soon displaced when everything around her starts to shake then sink down under the grasses and roots.  With a gasp, she pushes herself up to where there is still a spot to look out from, trying to catch a glimpse of what's happening around the Winter King and his consort.  When things finally settle into this calm restful space, she finds herself trying to seek out Maric's face..  "He.. he is so worn.. so exhausted.." She whispers, sinking back down to where the Queen's visage is.  

The White Queen just watches the satyr as she moves about the space within the piece, her silvery eyes keeping a quiet watch.  This laugh that sounds like silver bells comes from the Queen though, finding how Dy seems to be at a loss on matters she normally knew.  "Being far from your body and exposed to that realm of dreams has not done you any favors, Bishop.  I see you are still stuck between selves.  So young, so innocent.. yet still trying to strive for who you were befall your whole world went so very topsy turvey.  Nevaria did fall, but as long as there are those who have survived it.. like you and your dear Absolem, none of us truly perished."  Dy's brows furrowed at the Queen's words, as if trying to make sense of it all.  Again her ears fold back, and she looks downwards again to her hands that try so hard to press into the hand that holds her prison.  "You will always be The All Seeing, and you will always be my Bishop.  Your House will always be Dust.  Remember who you are, Bishop.  Remember your place.  Even now I can see that you are growing so well into your title.  So very much an All Seeing.."  She smiles down to the satyr with this warmth and something that could be seen as .. pride?  However Dy just gives her this quizzical look.. "Oh yes, I know of your visions.  It is a shame Nevaria fell before you reached this potential.  It took far to long to find you a realm that could unlock it.  Cheshire was so sure you would have been fully grown long before now."  This causes the satyr to sit straight up, both eyes growing quite wide. "I just hope whoever uses you as their Bishop will not squander you..  Oh my.. I believe it is time for tea.  Oh do not look at me like that, Bishop, it is so unbecoming.  I shall leave you now..  I can tell you have much to think over."  Her silvery gaze moves to scrutinize Maric briefly, as if judging him for a quick moment.  "Yes, I shall think he will know what to do."  With nothing else said, the White Queen simply fades..  indeed leaving the satyr to her own now, locked in the piece that she is forever tied to.

Having mentioned this budding new .. ability ..  before, I thought perhaps a bit of detail should be placed into it.  Reflective thought, if you will.  I shall preface this thought with..

I have never thought that having visions was something I would ever be able to have happen.  Not to me.

Of course to some this new particular happenstance comes at no real shock.  Again harking back to the time I had spent within a twisted dark Wonderland and having been given The House of Dust and title “All Seeing”.  People then thought I some kind of seer, even though it was not visions I had.  It was common sense and the ability to extrapolate and outcome based upon knowing though involved in any situation.  If person with short fuse enters a situation where .. to borrow a rather modern times phrase.. their “jimmies are rustled”, it is not hard to tell that an explosive outcome will happen.   Yet to many, just being able to “foresee” such an occurrence made me some sort of “All Seeing” visionary. This line of thought also carried over to a plethora of other realms I had been tossed into.  Common sense became seen as “prophetic visions”.  

Still, The Huntsman’s words remain in my head, along with the cries and screams these visions bring me. 

 "He begins to understand the nature of my homeland at last. And mayhaps even you will understand this land in time. You think it changes you here and there....but you do not truly see..." 

Will I?  Do I not see?  Is it meant to be?   Faerie is not the first realm.. land.. to change me.  Every realm I have been to has changed me in some manner or another.  Some in just a way of thinking. Some in a way of behaving.  It was Wonderland that has truly changed me on a level that it seems Faerie is now playing over.  This level of not just behaviors and thinking.. but to a very core of my being.  Changes here and there? I can not say I truly thought that. However I can understand why it is thought that I have.  My failing comes from using a language that I often find so.. limited.. that I can not easily convey what it is that I truly see, or feel.  Perhaps this is why my empathic senses had developed the way that they have.  To outwardly express what words simply can not do.  Or.. if I find myself linked to another.. allow them to know what it is I can not convey in words.  However, this is rambling and is no where near these visions.  All I can say is, The Huntsman is right, there is a nature to his homelands that changes all.  And it seems as if becoming an Oracle.. as those of my own “homeland” if you will.. call one who has such visions.. is what is to become of me here.

What is is that I see? Feel? Experience?  Terrible, traumatizing and horrific sights.  Demifae gutting another with a hook to dangle over a pit with some large vile beast within.  Others keeping a Sidhe bound and captured as they feed upon his flesh..  Goblins stealing away the horses while calling for war..  And a man who I can only presume as Roman screaming for help as lava crushes and burns his body. What’s more.. wounds suffered in these visions.. the hook to the gut of that demifae, the thousands of bite wounds to the Sidhe, and the burns and scorching from lava reflect upon my body.  No actual wounds.. but blood manifesting on me where these seen wounds are given to those I witness.  It is not bad enough that my particular empathic abilities echo out what it is I feel from these visions to the area I am within, and to those I am near.  Apparently, my empathic self will echo those wounds in my blood.  And this is not even all.  On occasion I find myself phasing from where I may be, to some place within the Faerie completely different.  Something that happens as well during visions it seems, though it looks to be random in it’s happening. What’s more.. I have to wonder just exactly how these visions and their effect upon me effect Maric through our bond.  With the one of the man and lava.. the man who I believe is Roman, he sent this comfort to me.. as if it all that wretched horror did reach him. Granted, he has other issues that hold much more importance.  Perhaps I shall be able to explain to him some time from now.  

Though that fact that who I saw within that vision.. who I felt and heard screaming for his life..  He sounded Roman. So, this leads me to think..  am I able to receive visions from other strands while within a different one as well?  Or.. am I for some reason receiving a vision of a poor soul in Hell being tormented for who know what reason?  There are thousands of souls there being tormented daily, why would this one be important for me to be .. graced.. with?  Should I see Egena or Galyanna again, I might ask them...

Another change, though seemingly insignificant..  After a particularly trying and brutal mental attack by Gwythyr’s accursed ghost, the light stripes and spots that had marked my skin took on a more blueish tint to them.  To wonder, really.. what is happening.  I could leave.. I have this capability.  Walk out of that realm and hope that whatever changes it has wrought upon me will fade.  The Huntsman has asked.. demanded in a way.. why it is I stay.  What it is that draws me. Keeps me there.  A question I can not answer.  A question that vexes Absolem quite strongly.  If he had his way, I would never return.  Which, quite frankly, it is likely good that he does not get a say.  

It could not be held back forever it seems.  Even when I tried, denied, buried it all down into the fathoms.  But.. nothing lasts forever seems to show to me that again, it is truth.  For him to tell me that he could love more than one, that there is more than one way of loving...  And that he desired me, wanting to love me as he is able.  That... that broke those chains and walls I thought would keep my heart safe from the pains that seem to only to have existed for me when it comes to that emotions.  Gone they all are.  Broken by Maric’s words and actions.. his desire to love me..  Freeing, perhaps. Though always with a measure of caution.

Whether this caution comes from past experiences when it comes to matters of the heart, or Absolem’s utter distrust of both Maric and Huntsman..  I can not be fully certain.  But even with that, I hold no regrets, none.  I would answer yes to his desires for me again and again..  Giving them what it is they need of me.  Accepting what it is they give for my own desires and needs.  Often I do find myself remembering those nights we have stole away together.  The feel of his lips against my skin.. the way his tongue dances within places most intimate..  I feast upon the passions from both Huntsman and Maric while Huntsman feasts upon mine..  Maric drinks of my vitae, rich from all the lust and passions.  Our bond.. this tether that strings he and I together in ways of emotional currents.  To share how we feel.. to communicate on such a level not known to many others.  It grows stronger with each intimate moment we share... 

I do need to keep this measured control, lest I fall too deep.. too hard..  grow too lost within him.  I love so completely, perhaps a reason women satyrs of my kin were not to love.. even though females were rare to be born.  One every hundred years or so.  But that is neither here nor there.  I am not apart of them any more.  I haven’t been for to many of thousands of years.  Though I seek not to claim him as my own.. His words of many kinds of loves, being able to love more than one..  that is something I have perhaps needed to hear.  To know and understand. For every other one I had taken as a lover would seek to hold me only for themselves..  then after such a short period, betray that love they wished from me.  Part of me can trust Maric, and Huntsman.  And I listen to this part..  And in truth..  I will celebrate his love for whoever he chooses to give it to.  With that also in mind, I have never sought to replace his love for Aoibheann.  I celebrate that love as well.

During her time away on this lengthy quest I could feel how both Maric and Huntsman were effected by her absence.  This pain, this loneliness.. a lost all which I have felt and known all too often.  All which had cause my own heart to scar and walls to raise over any desire.  All which he felt from me.. and in our pains we were drawn towards each other.  Our desires and needs called for each other.  So I helped him, I eased his pain.. I eased his loneliness..  eased the feeling of loss..  And I would do so again.. and again..  Just as I would listen to how he says my name in this deep resonating way that touches upon my mind and body in ways no man has ever done so before.  And how he pulls his name from my lips in screams and moans from night till morning.  

War seems to come in cycles.  Giving it enough time and there, before you know some faction.. a group with more beings in it’s population than sense in it’s ruler’s head..  will wish to flex a muscle they believe they have a right to. When it is one group who do this, there is some bit of management that can be had.  Unfortunately for the Wylds, more importantly for the Unseelie, they have two attempting to flex this muscle of war.  The whys I only know from brief bits of overheard conversations between Winter’s King and Summer’s Queen. There is no question that there is descent among the Unseelie court, as the Goblins and Demifae of their ilk have gone at lengths to reject that Maric.. The Huntsman, more aptly, as the King for Unseelie.  Why has he taken up this mantle?  He who is actual Unseelie King..  Janus..  Has gone on some, well to be honest I am not sure anyone knows what has become of him. I have never met this fellow of Winter’s keep, though I do know Gwyn misses him horribly.  The Huntsman then took up that throne.. I would like to say pro tem.  As that is not a seat any would wish to go empty for any length.  So he has it, and those two aforementioned factions within Unseelie have desire to accept him.

This is where I shall sigh.

Of course I shall do what I can to help Maric during this.  I have no love of war, and had long desired to avoid any other such actions.  That, as per usual with most that is upon my path, will happen.  My desires or no.  Though I should need to exercise utmost of caution as well.  My domain is still being rebuilt, what energies I needed to give to start this process has been given.  Myriani has been growing, but she and the lands she builds are not strong enough to tether myself to her and it.  So should I be brought to my last breath, I fear I shall fade and end up quite literally, who knows where.  I have not told anyone, there has not been any chance to. Granted Maric should know this..  even if this means his desire to protect me will likely grow stronger.  ...Yes, I shall go on to as why in a separate writings.  It is a growing experience that needs it’s own place.

When Dy returned to her domain, her safe haven and place to find her center, it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming out.  Against herself, against her decisions.  Against how foolish she now believes she has become. Yet.. perhaps not.  Absolem moves from her mind to take his form as usual when they return.  Everything seems to be status quo..  He takes up his spot upon his mushroom with his hookahs and books, grumbling about the events that took place in Mysthaven.  Grumbling about his opinions on Maric..  All of which the selini deftly ignores.  As usual.  Even Nytchya is there, zooming around on that contraption of hers.. chasing the fairy lights that appear and disappear on the lush green grass.  The loons calling to each other out in the tidal pool of a lagoon, the laughing gull sails overhead with all the grace and skill that he has.. All while evening starts to creep over everything.  Evening where the owls wake and the peepers and bull frogs start their nightly chorus with the crickets and other assorted nightly birds.  Her sanctum.. her safe place..  Little did the satyr know.

She stands in this one spot, by the pool where Myriani grows strong.. enjoying the way the sun and the wind feels in her branches.  It was a calming place, which the satyr needed after the rather enraged outburst she had back in the village.  One of the world tree’s branches moves to wrap around Dy’s shoulders as if she recognized that the satyr was a bit disjointed.  She smiles softly to the tree, lifting her hand to gently trace her fingers along the brown back and purple leaves..  “Your mother.. she would be so happy to see how strong you have grown..”  Her tone has soften quite a bit while the anger had long melted away. Causally her focus moves to the white stone statue of this woman with a stag’s head that stands next to Myriani. Not many deities had been able to effect the satyr in a positive way. Illustree was able to, and because of that Dy had sworn to protect that goddess’s tree as well as any descendants. Myriani was the only one to survive the war that torn her mother’s land apart. The satyr lets out a soft breath, gave the branch one last caress then moves off towards her alchemy building.  The sileni figures that since she is here, she might as well finish off a few odd chores with the odd experiments and such. 

After an unknown amount of time, and having moved from doing busy work to sitting out near a burning fire pit, the satyr seems quite settled.  Content even.  Not that this was a rare thing to be, after all when one can be anywhere and any place content moments are not that hard to find.  Keeping them, however is another matter entirely.  For the time being, she is content.. to sit, Nytcha curled up in her lap..  and to work out more equations and calculations. “Spirit stone.. if placed with right runes, enchants.. wards..  mmn, nai..  this might be able to hold that one.  If anything long enough to get that piece of him out of vaults..  somewhere where he can noht attach to anything..”  While she ponders between slowly dragging her hand down the back of her familiar and writing something down.  Nytchya, however, wasn't having any of it and slams her small paw down on the book. The cat looks right up at Dy and she just raspberries out at the sileni.  Dy raises her brow upwards in a sharp arch, the atmosphere changes into this confused feeling as that is what the satyr begins to feel at her cat’s actions.  “You.. do noht think this will work?”  She asks, curiosity taking over from the confusion.  The feline chirps and merowls as she shakes her head while pulling her lips back to show her sharp teeth.  Dy just looks at her with this sigh.. “Oh.. so you have been agreeing with ..him.. I see.  Well it will noht do you any good.  It is a perfectly viable idea.”

This is a well worn argument between Dy and Absolem.. and now it seems her familiar is in on it as well.  It’s an argument that gets cut short this time by a blinding flash of light floods the normally peaceful domain.  So much so that the birds all start shrilling out in a panic.  Even Nytcha shrieks out and dashes to hide somewhere off into the woods.  The sileni bolts upright, rushing towards this telescope she kept out for her own studies.  All around her the grass, flowers.. even old growth looking trees start to wilt and decay. Something that tells her that something went seriously wrong. As she got to the telescope, the light dies down just as quickly as it had blown through. This allows her to at least find the point of it’s source.. which is a point in space the satyr instantly wished she did not see.  A near by star collapsed into a super nova and while the light from such an action reached her domain first, barreling towards it now was the heat, radiation and all the other mess that comes from this cataclysmic event.  And this sends a chill down her spine..

“O̱ theoí mou ..”  She breaths out, the initial shock finally wearing off enough for her to actually do something.  Not that there is a lot of time, but the satyr springs from her spot to yell out for her familiar.  “Nytcha! Nytchya!  No time, we need to go, now!” Her rushing course brings her to Myriani while Absolem instantly merges back into the satyr’s mind.  Her panic had clearly told him something more than just a sudden burning light and decaying trees that they clearly had to go. “Where?”  He asks quickly, the sileni not taking the time to explain.  Instead she places her hands on the world tree’s trunk while uttering quick appologies.  Not having any time to explain further she starts to speak and old incantation, one that she wished she never had to use.  In essence she resets Myriani back to a sapling so as to easily save her.  This scared sadness floods over the satyr’s senses as the tree truly was at a loss to what was happening, let alone why she was being reverted to a sapling.  “It is ok.. it is ok.. we just need to go..  NYTCHA COME ON!” She swivels her head as panic begins to grow the closer that wave of interstellar disaster continues it’s course. Gently she picks up the poor world tree, opening her bag so as to gingerly give it to the humonculous that lives with in it. “I swear if one branch is harmed..”  She breaths out towards it..  then again she starts to scream for the cat.. however Nytchya just darts out of the underbrush and tactfully dives into the open bag.  With a steady sigh of relief, Dy latches it close and then without another word.. sidesteps into the Inbetween.. leaving what was left in her domain to the fate of that Super Nova that hurdles towards it.

Egena had her twins, and for some reason I was asked to aid in their birth.  Perhaps it is to remind me that I am not above that concept of hell?  Not that I need such a reminder..  Not that such a concept truly maters to me either.  However, there I was.. being handed the female child. Being asked to ..clean.. it.  I did what I could while the male child was being brought into it’s new world. Horns upon it’s head which lead to more pain than I could wick from the child that was giving birth to him.  Such pain that she now harbors this anger towards the other child that seeded her womb.  It will work out as it is meant to, however that is to be.  But apparently when Marc went to see his children Egena was none to happy with him.  

All the more reasons in this mess that crop up.. all of them giving me solace that I can not go through with it myself.  Out of all the egregious acts that have been done to my body.. having a deranged Malkavian who knows flesh grafting taught to him by an even more deranged Tzimisce take apart and remove my uterus and ovaries seems to be something I am actually quite thankful for.  I am definitely not the motherly type.  Perhaps something my clan has been spared by my actions before it became to late.  But who knows.. perhaps if I had gone back to them.. I would have been a good mother.  I do know that I do not wish to know.  Consider this little old satyr quite content not being a mother or having any children.

I did bring Lilicor over from the strand that Esterwell resides in.  Made a whole trip of it since Alec had wanted to also show me the new world tree they have. The one that was once Ardan’s branch.  That was a conversation in and of itself.  He seemed quite proud and happy he has this tree...  happy to introduce a world tree from a whole different strand into that realm.  Who knows what will happen.  Perhaps it will acclimate and that realm will acclimate to it.  Perhaps both will reject each other and well.. that could be quite catastrophic.  I can not say for sure which or where the realm’s actual world tree is.  I have not found it, nor will I go looking.  What was also said, after I had asked..  is that all Alec knows is that those of Faerie took something precious from him.  Of course I could not tell him.. not that I did not know, but I swore I would not reveal.  Granted I let him believe the former over the latter.  Perhaps this is something I should tell Maric of, if given the chance.  Or even Gwyn..

But, as I said.. I brought Lilicor over to the Faerie.  Part so that he can see his son and grandchildren.. and part because he wanted to be where he could truly show his dragon self and not be hidden.  Squashed in a human shape.  Perhaps I should teach him the transmutative spell I use to appear human.  Though he does wish to be a realm walker like I.  Sadly, I can not teach him my ways...  as it involved a curse.  While I can sense his jealousy over the fact that I can easily slip into the Inbetween and to other realms..  He just does not fully understand the repercussions.  Telling a dragon such things though, is often the same as telling a brick wall to take two steps to the left.  But, he seems to be adjusting well, having already claimed the Druid.. now mage.. tower in the druid’s grove.  Of course such an action also let a “danger” out into the Faerie. Since the Faerie can not go a week without a danger within it. 

I am still trying to work out how to oust GwythyrGwynn’s Unseelie King Ghost out of the vaults.  Of course with a dragon on my side..  this might now be easier.  Again, another thing to sit and discuss with Maric.  Maric.. Huntsman.. sigh..  I keep hearing the same question over and over from The Huntsman as he takes me in the most intimate of ways.  Why am I there? Why do I continually return to the Faerie?  There is a part of me that rages inside when he holds me.. when it is the Huntsman in control of Maric’s body.  It wants to scream out that perhaps it is him that I keep returning.  Absolem will have none of that though.  If that one had his way, I would never return to the Faerie.  Sometimes I wonder if his protectiveness is because he has to live in this body with me, or he is tired of seeing the ..as they say.. fall out.. every time my heart breaks.  And we both know that being close to either The Huntsman or Maric will only lead to such.  It is not my place to be close to either, and as soon as Aoibheann returns, he will rightfully be by her side.. forever.. as it should be.  And I shall be but a memory.. as it should be.  

Wards.. done.   And I do hope they stay put this time, and they should.. I designed the two for the village to lay on Maric’s own magical talents.  While I know many may think that weak of me, all told in truth, it often takes a wise ..mage.. to know what can or can not be obtained.  The Faerie is so full of wyld magic that I often find casting quite tricky.  Then again, I am not of those lands.  Cursed outcast, wanderer mage, whatever it is those who live there care to call me.  So when it comes to tricky spells and wards, a wise mage will let one who has the better experience with how magic works in their own home cast those spells.  And you know what?  In doing so, all of the wards stuck.  Yes, I channeled one, but it took some dealing with the earthen to allow me to be that channel.  It worked, everyone is happy..  Maric, Aoibheann, Wren, Gwyn, and Nathaniel had a hand in that ward with the earthen.  More the merrier as they say.

Aoibheann has been sent on this quest to find Ardan’s mate.  Yes, Ardan.. the Faerie’s world tree.  Even he shall have a mate.  Which makes sense.. every realm that housed Seelie and Unseelie, their groves held a tree.  Both of who’s roots entwined through the ground together.  Here was the first place that only had the one tree to share.  While It is not my place to think anything of such, as each faerie realm holds differences, perhaps it is a good thing that each court get their tree.  Balance.

Balance.. that all tricky hold between one and the other.  Kith and Kin, Seelie and Unseelie, Good and Evil.. so forth and so on. Even what lays within us.  Balance between our actions and what actions have been done towards us. And when something happens that you have no understanding of, no point of reference, no.. experience with..   You could feel as if you are drowning. 

When Aoibheann had been pulled off to wherever it is that their goddess had decided she should look, a place I had only managed to glimpse, this caused a rage.  That part that Maric now contains, The Huntsman..  who is a royal sidhe as he once told me.  It became apparent that he had no frame of reference for the pain that being separated, even for a moment, would bring.  He was drowning and took Maric with him.  Of course even he was pained by their Rabbit’s absence.  A pain I know through repeated experiences.  Only none of those who I have lost will return.  Perhaps it was because of this I felt compelled to help him.  To be a hand to pull him from the depths of rage and pain that pulled him down under.  Again, I will not go into the details of how it is I aided him..   Some things are quite personable.  Deep roots, deep pain..  I did manage to pull him back, bring him to the surface once more.  In doing so, he saw that I drowned a long long time ago..  A scarred corpse that lives due to her own actions so many life times ago. Who just floats wherever the waves may take me.

Now he wishes to heal me. Bring a life back to me that I have long left for dead.  Protect me, offer me aid..  And I do not know what to think of it all.  I am torn and there is no balance.  Absolem insists that he has been taking me, my loyalties, and my will to help he and his village for granted.  It is something my other continually reminds me, bringing up those who have done the same time and time again.  And I do not know what to believe.  My senses tell me that I can trust him, that there is this genuineness.. his actions have not betrayed what they have told me. I.. do not know what to believe.  Did I make the mistake in letting him too close..  How much closer can he get?  How much closer can I afford to let him get..  I already fear that Absolem will be right that again I shall be hurt, and I do not think I could handle it again.  Yet I dare not hold hope that I could ever be.. fixed.. or healed.  I have been broken far to long to even pretend that I could be healed.. I could wish, hope, dream again.

After having left the Wylds, narrowly escaping the grasp of the enraged Winter King in his fits of Eclipsed Moon and lost love, Dy stands in the village hearing his anguished howls and roars off in the distance.   The Cu who had coxed her out there to begin with now off to lick and heal her wounds.   Through the satyr’s thoughts, she can only assume that the likelihood of this encounter is far from over.  Call it a sileni’s intuition.. or something that she who has lived for life times can readily see.  Regardless to her, however, she will deal with it when the time comes.  His pain is there and she can feel it pulsing raw, hot, and fuels his hunger.  A pain the satyr is all too familiar with.  But for now, she had other matters to attend to.  Matters that she has been looking forwards to for a while now.  Giving the back archway one last meaningful look, the blue eye just rolling in it’s own sarcastic way, then turns to the side... slipping into the Inbetween with ease.

Her first stop is to her own domain, the small pocket of tranquility and tropical  paradise.  It is just a quick stop, one where she can drop off her staff as well as to pick up the small black feline that races around.  Still wearing these aviator type goggles as she does.  Dy can’t help but to chuckle as Nychta jumps up into her arms, almost as if she can sense where her owner is about to take her.  “I see you are more than set, Nýchta mou.” She says while adjusting the goggles on her familiar.  “Try noht to get to lost..  if you find McGarrett, stay with him.. ok?”   The cat just tilts her head and lets out this loud mewl, which Dy takes as an ok regardless.  

“I long for the day when I can just..stay here...”  Absolem’s voice fills the air, his normal put out mood causing the sileni to just sigh out as she guides the cat to her shoulders.  “I long for a day where you can just enjoy yourself..” She retorts, this wry smirk tugging at her lips.  There is this grumping sound and the Caterpillar resigns to just go with it.  “I will say, hitting that dark one in his face with those powders..” 

“Was a necessity as I have no desire to do any physical harm to him.  Now, can we just go.. have a good time, nai?”  She cuts him short then just walks into the Inbetween once more without giving him a chance to respond. This was an argument she had no desire to even have, plus there was fun to be had at the commune.  Not that she’d be late, as she can just walk herself at the right moment in time.  Just did not want to be stuck debating with that deep drawling voice.

It didn't take long for her to make it towards that oddly placed dimension that the commune settles in.  Her point of entry still is upon the dunes that rolls down towards the ocean and bonfires.  All of those were again out as she has a habit of arriving early morning hour.  Let the revelers rest out where they normally do, sprawled out near the now smoldering coals that used to be roaring fires in the previous night.  Nychta eyed a few of them and started to squirm so as to jump down off of the satyr’s shoulders.  “Ptch, let them sleep, Nychta mou, they have a busy day ahead of them.  Mayhaps we can find foals. You can run with them..”  She reaches up to snag the cat before it can escape. Nychta huffs out and just takes on this rather sullen look while being carried away from the beach.  As she makes her way into the commune proper, the satyr’s senses begins to come alive with the sights, sounds, smells, and the emotional patterns that belong to those within range.  She takes a moment to stand still, just take it all in, let it all sink and become where she is in the now.  As usual when she arrives in this place at such an early hour, the scents of breakfasts being grilled up in various stalls and open aired homes flood the area.  Various folk’s attempts to wake the still sleeping members that live throughout the commune’s eclectic lay out.  Even the sounds spark this familiarity, the shouts from young ones racing through the makeshift streets that network among the various buildings.  If one were to view this whole scheme from above, it may very well be reminiscent of  a spider’s web.  Though at it’s center, instead of a giant spider.. is this massive gnarled tree that seems to rise up towards the sky near endlessly. Leaves of so many different types of trees grow from branches that equally look to be from different types. Some sending “air roots” down like banyans and ficus, others covered in moss much like cypresses.  Some call it Yggdrasil, others the Cosmic Tree.  Regardless it’s name, it houses many different tree living beings while it’s trunk and many of the low branches lay decorated with banners, flags, wind chimes, and so much more.  At it’s base, where roots sprawl out much like a mix of oak and ficus, many gather in preparations for the oncoming celebrations.  Many of the folks gathering placing colorful hand prints along the smooth bark.

Finally she is rousted from her moment when Nychta lets out this loud mrowl while trying to wriggle free from the satyr’s hold.  She just sighs softly and lets the pesky familiar go, to which the cat just darts off with not so much of a look back.  Likely wanting to go beg for any of the random cooking meats who’s scent floods the air.  The blue eye just flashes a few times with yet another sarcastic looking roll, and the satyr lets out an exasperated sigh.  “She will be fine, she might find twins to run around with..”  The sileni just mutters towards that drawled voice in her mind.  “For now, why do we noht just enjoy this day, nai? It shall be fun!”  The eye just flashes out and just looks out towards some other direction, thoroughly not contented to have fun.  At least it gives Dy a rest from his grousing.  Not letting Absolem dampen her good mood, this mood moving out from her in low rolling waves, the satyr just happily makes her way down along the winding paths and streets.  Music begins to drift out through the air sending this upbeat melody through out the mishmash of buildings, tents, and other assorted shops and dwellings.  Something that sounds to be Hindi or Arabic, which just causes many to sway and groove along to it’s beat. Occasionally even the sileni finds herself swinging along with a passerby, her hips  moving in perfect well practiced moves of a seasoned belly dancer while she moves in this circle around those who had joined in.  However her steps takes her away from the group, to which she does wave to with a cheery laugh before moving on her own way.  At first it seems as if she had no destination, just wandering for the sake of it.  Which knowing her might be closer to the truth, except that after a bit she finds herself in front of one of the many healers’ tents.  Red and white flags flutter in the sea breeze as well as the scent of various medicines and herbs fill the air. 

The empathic senses that tells her who nears easily tell her that within the tent sits the man she is often told to avoid.  She wasn't going to do so, not now at least.  Especially when her senses tells her that who he sits with isn't there.. even though the body is still kept alive.  Dy takes a deep breath, looking at the thick flaps that bears the healer’s symbols in many different cultures..  the canvas itself dyed the same red and white as the flags.  Absolem again spoke up in her mind, questioning this idea.. She nods solemnly, knowing that it should be done.  Carefully the satyr pushes her way into the tent filled with those pungent scents, looking around until she finds who she seeks..  Matthias.  The Nemean Lions’ Patriarch.  Sitting in the corner where his wife and Matriarch of his people’s body lays suspended upon one of the beds.  Her body, having long given up her soul, is being kept alive through the healer’s magic and the gnome’s technology.  She is being kept like this because Matthias refuses to give her up.. refuses to accept that her soul had left.  With careful and silent steps, the satyr moves towards the grief struck man and settles down next to him.  If anything, she understands the pain that comes from Matthias, all too clearly.  Perhaps that is why she allowed herself get volunteered into this whole mess.

“Please.. please tell me you are close to being able to make her a new body to move her soul into.”  His deep powerful voice, tainted with his grief fills the silence.  Dy just shakes her head slowly, with no ability to even give a false promise.  That would hurt even more.  “There has been some.. complications.  But we are still working on for --”  

I fear a pity has grown for me.  A pity I held hopes would never spark, or see any light.  

What does love mean to you?  

That is what I had found myself asking Aoibheann after she had ..rather awkwardly.. hugged me after sensing that an old wound had been churning just under the surface.  A wound that has been with me my entire existence. One I hope to keep buried, locked away.  

Her answer, well.. I shall just say that it is one that many will say.  All that love should be.  At least then I knew, she has not been touched by that tainted pain.  If there is any hope to have, she will never be tainted with it.

The trip through the Inbetween from Gwyn’s bower to her own domain, her own sanctum, was as uneventful.  The satyr’s mind doesn’t seem to be focusing on any one single thing. The festivities were as she could have expected, comfortable.. energetic.. and filled with those she knew.  With the exception of being pulled into this awkward group dance, it was quite well.  Though the ending of the party where everyone with the exception of Wren and herself split to their own coupling to.. well.. do what it is that couples do.  So the satyr did what it is that she’ll always do in cases like this.  Draw herself back to her domain under the guise of doing possible experiments.  While it is likely Dy will fiddle with some plan, or drawing.. or even experiment..  Truthfully the moment when she arrives the sileni just stands in the center.  Beneath the swaying trees, where the fragrant scents of hibiscus as well as the ocean are carried over the gentle breeze.  There she stands for what could easily be days, or weeks in any other given realm.. just to feel that breeze, to take in the scents, to hear the birds that call out from the deeper woods. The loons that call out from the lagoon that curves along in behind this tall jut of rock.  Even the gull that circles overhead adds his call to it all.  What calms her though are the deep ringing tones that come from this little meditation shack to the side of what is her abode.

Absolem manages to separate himself from the satyr’s mind, a trick that can only work within this sanctum.  His spirit forms on top of his mushroom which is tucked under the large smooth trunk of a nearby Ficus. Little mushrooms sprout under that taller one while books lay in stacks in the surrounding area.  There he picks up one of the many volumes before picking up the hose from his hookah.   Content is he to just read and smoke.  While he does so the satyr’s familiar, Nychta, zooms around trying to capture little faerie lights that twinkle along the lush grass, or one of the numerous fireflies that dance in the air.  Every so often she darts into one of the Grecian style pavilions that serves as Dy’s library and alchemy set up.  Not terribly large, but it does the trick well.  If the feline gets to pesky, one of the more sentient books will likely chase her out.

After a fashion, she finally moves towards the pavilion that houses her alchemy set up, having found some simile of balance once more.  She did say she was to experiment with thermite and sodium.  So she thought she might as well make that a truth, and not an excuse to leave a somewhat awkward for her own mind place.  It doesn’t take terribly long for her to rummage through the various drawers to find the supplies she needs.   While she kneels to get to one of the lower drawers where she actually keeps the rather volatile items and solutions.  However she pauses while reaching for the mason jar that contains the thermite, her hand poised just above it’s air tight lid.  Her mind begins to churn out s multitude of ideas, schematic and schematic, plans.. thoughts on how to even go about part of this goal.  Softly she sighs and pulls her hand back away from the jar while forcing herself to sit back onto the cool marble flooring.  Slowly she sinks her head down into her arms that prop up over her knees.. lost to her thoughts..

“Why are you doing this again? What purpose does it hold?”  The deep rich and well defined English accented voice belonging to the Caterpillar finally rings out near her, despite being just outside on his mushroom.   It takes a while for Dy to even realize she’s being spoken to.  That there is a voice in her ears that serves to beckon her back to the forethought.  Harsh, and indifferent as it is.  She blinks, finding that while she had been lost, Nychta had taken up napping just on the back of her shoulders.  She smirks softly while reaching to poke the black feline until she finally snaps awake with a questioning mewl.  Carefully the satyr snags and maneuvers her familiar around to her lap as she sits herself in a way that there is one.  “Because..  If we do noht remove that .. thorn.. thing that is down in those vaults..   well, besides that shade of unseelie king past will likely destroy that entire cast..”  She begins in before being cut off..

“Yes yes yes… But you always prattle on about doing all of this trite for others. Help that dark one fix his castle, ward his village.  And for what, you silly little goat?  Then if you even manage to aid in saving the castle.. all so you two can concoct this body for that timid ghost..  And why are you doing that? Out of the goodness of that easily broken lump you call a heart?   No, no wait.. you are not just doing this for them, this is also for you to give that festering lump Matthias hope for his son to have a new body.  None of this is for you!”  Absolem’s voice chides the satyr as she sits there still.. Not moving while listening to the other’s harsh words.  The cat tries to gain Dy’s attention by pushing her head up into the hand which had been giving her much desired pets.  “You are alone! You will always be alone while letting people take of you over and ov..” “Enough.”  

“Enough of what? I am force to sit here, within you while your own soul twists and tatters!  Yes that dark one gave you one night of..” “I said.. enough.”  

The satyr stands, Nychta making only a slight sound while she jumps from the disappearing lap.  Quickly she snatches up the sodium, a few small spherical glass bottles, as well as the jar of thermite then seeks out portioning spoons.  If she was angry, the satyr had long ago developed ways to keep that anger from surfacing.  Though the Caterpillar’s words did spark the slow burning anger deep inside of her. For the longest of times, she worked to carefully craft herself into this unphased, unaffected by such emotions being. One who can withstand what it is that she has been through.  Ignore the pains, press on, act as if it did not bother her until finally it stopped bothering her.  However thick this armor she’s crafted around her, the loneliness and anger still ate at her. Chipping at that armor and the bindings she has that kept the surface that she portrays calm, unphased..  “I do what I can for those who asks because it is I have left.  Regardless what outcome may be.  It is all I have left!” She spits out, the anger welling inside causing the sky of her domain to darken considerably. “I do noht do this for thanks, for appreciation, for love.  I do this because it is all I have to keep me going!  Yes.  I am alone.  Yes. That is how it will always be.  I will noht sit and pretend that some day this will change.  So, enough.  Read your books and be done with this!”  The thunder that usually stays off to the distance begins to grow louder as the wind starts to pick up in it’s speed.  All apparent that the atmosphere of the satyr’s domain linked to her on some level.  

“I can tell.” Absolem sniff out in a rather undignified manner.  “After all you let that waif of a girl tantrum at you for doing a favor.”   The satyr folds her ears back the anger welling up in a churning bubble.  However it hits that armor and instead of burning outwards she takes in a breath and everything returns to that calm.  The thunder returns to it’s low distant rumbles while the wind returns to it’s light breezes.  “She did noht have to thank me for anything.  Mayhaps she will understand why I had done such.  Or mayhaps she will never.  But eventually she may even learn that anything pertaining to magic that she wishes to learn so much comes with a price.   Regardless whatever ward that could have been made, a price was to be paid.”  Her voice holds this tone devoid of everything. Hollow in it’s sound, spoken as she collects the last few pieces she needs.  “I took on this price because of his love for her..”  Slowly her ears droop downwards as this pain of that loneliness the Caterpillar poked at manages to break out through the swirling currents that she has around her.

“Obviously.. how noble of you.”

Dy just lets out this long measured breath then turns to head to the Grecian style temple that serves as her abode.  She had nothing more to say to the vitriol that the Caterpillar seems to have this day.  This tired wave creeps up on her and she just simply wanted to place her mind on a different task.  Something that requires her utmost attention so that she wouldn’t risk lapsing back into the depths of her memories.  Nothing says “Pay attention to me!” like highly explosive materials!

It seems as if Maric has grown to trust me enough to come to me for more and more aid for his Village.  Not something I mind, as I do enjoy helping where I can.  His village though has such an imbalance to it, that I would be remiss not to help him.  This time he needs more wards.  One that like the original one I had put in place when he, Nathaniel, and Aoibheann had gone missing.  The next is one is to in a manner.. prevent rifts from opening in the village.  That or give him the ability to control who can and can not enter through a rift.  That one may be a bit tricky, as I have told him at his request.  There are many types of rifts made by many different people.  Counting my own ability to slip to and from the Inbetween.  This ward may take a bit of time to build this ward for him.  Though he says I would be one who he would allow to slip into the village as I normally do.  His next requested ward is for protecting Aoibheann as she sleeps.  A dream ward, one to keep troublesome dreams and likely walkers from entering her Dreaming.  I said I would look in my books to find one, as I have no hold over the Dreaming or dream wards.  However, I know I will just return to the Commune and see if Grandmother Spider.  If there is anyone who has the ability to create what it is Maric wants, it is her.

I know I am not going to enjoy the price though.  

Prices, everything comes with a price.  These wards he desires from me did indeed come with a price.  The poor man has been asking me for months what he can do to repay my aid of his village. My original request has long ago become pointless, and in truth.. I have had no idea what he could pay to me.  After all, he allows me to sit under the tree out in the middle of his village.  He has treated me with kindness, respect, and I have often enjoyed his company.. as well as his mind.  He is a curious one, and I know I have mentioned a few times how he has gone from a vampire of Methuselah repute..  and then blended with a piece of The Huntsman’s soul.. He is also now King of the Unseelie and the Winter Court.  And in truth, he holds a respect from me that not many have. A respect that is not given lightly.  

Perhaps it is because we are both quite old, perhaps that it is because we both draw on, and feast upon passions.  Perhaps we both sensed what was needed.  Whatever it was, there was a break in the dams we have kept build. One moment.. that was all that it took.  One touch..  one kiss...

The levies broke...

I will not be as so crass as to describe what transcribed between us.  There are many things I shall keep to my own memories..  This is one of them. 

We sat in the library of the castle in Mysthaven..   Myself, Johann, and Maric.  Whatever it was that the two gentlemen had spoken of prior before myself being brought in remains between them. What I was told was that Johann was offered a place at the castle, as well as being it’s librarian.  I am quite happy for my ghostly friend.  He has had a rather rough path, and now he is given a place and working for one I know will protect him.

However, me being there was to ask Maric to help with an experiment that I know that his aid will be highly beneficial.  He has an impressive laboratory, he has vast knowledge and skill when it comes to alchemy and magics.  We will need both, if not more.  But I am quite sure this is something we can do.  It will take a great amount of time, which is to be expected.  It must be protected, before something can take a chance to completely foul up this attempt. Which means there are other factors we must take care of before we can even lay down the ground work.  Wards on the village must be enacted.  And Gwythyr’s shade must be evicted.  He, I fear, is the greatest kink in this plan.  Why?

We want to.. build.. create.. a living body for Johann to take on.  To give him a chance to live once more.  In the most simplest based theory it sounds simple. A ghost is a soul without a body.  Give them a living, working body, devoid of a soul and the ghost should be able to claim it to live once more.  Do not get me wrong though, I am not foolish to think it truly is that simple.  Sure I had said that Gwythyr’s shade is a huge risk and worry, simply because unlike a ghost.. he has great power. He will be able to take over whatever it is we could create. Likely hurting Johann in the process, if not me and Maric as well.  Why this is a problem is because Maric’s laboratory is in those vaults where Gwythyr’s shade has claimed.

Being that this is a shade of a royal Sidhe.. and the once Unseelie King..  he is unaffected by iron.  This is what The Huntsman part of Maric has told to me when we were trying to decide on ways to handle this particular situation.  I know that he might have felt me something of a silly one with such a thought. But truly, I had to find out..  given how fae, even royal fae of different strands have different rule sets. Some are just as affected by iron as their lesser fae beings.  Some have issues with various different metals..   Though... fire.  That may be to our benefit..  Sadly that is not an element I have control over, however that does not mean I can not formulate something of white hot flame to use.   

Greek Fire...

I did finally get to speak with Gwyn, though not as long as I would have liked.  she had many questions, some I only had half answers to.. some I had none.  But I spoke of what I could while she let the fish in the stream we were visiting each other at.  I do not think she was quite pleased to hear that Janus had tried to harm .. well to be honest in all things here, he did harm.. Maric and Aoibheann.  Though I am not sure as to why anyone would find this surprising.  While I know I have never met the Unseelie King, Janus.. so it is unfair of me to make any say towards who he is as a person.  However, he is the Unseelie King, and Unseelie are generally... at least in my travels through the strands of universes..  not nice beings.  So the very notion about what he did to Maric and Aoibheann did not surprise me in the slightest.

Gwyn, though.. ahh Gwyn.  One of the very few I have been able to know in multiple strands.  She is quick witted, blunt yet with a sharp tongue.  I do enjoy her company as she seldom mn, as they say, sugar coat her words.  Also she is one of the very few who do not insist I pick a side in matters.  Perhaps she understands my position and path.  Of that I see as a relief as I care not for sides, or for right or wrong, good or evil.  When you have seen the Inbetween as I have, you know that such concepts have no baring.  There is balance.. there is just being with all the shades of colors we use while making our way along our paths.  But Gwyn, I could sit and speak with her for hours.  

Egena ..  Egena has become pregnant.  Marc is indeed the father of this soon to be child. I had provided them with means for protection against such a thing, however.. neither knew how to use them, and it seems that Egena could not wait to learn.  She had already dragged Marc to Dorina’s cabin for.. flying lessons.  I am sure Egena will be a good mother, she knows what not to do..  That and she does have people to speak with when she is in need of aid.  My only hope is that she does not ask me to babysit.  I am not afraid to say no.

There is something happening as of late.  Something that actually has me by surprised.  Which is not an easy feat.  Johann, Xanus, and Eo had in some way found their way to the Wylds..  Johann said he walked here.. likely having phased through the same means many others have..  Xanus was dropped up by a dufflebag.. Who did such is up in the air, as they say.  Eo, well.. Eo being what he is, he can do much the same as I.. travel to other dimensions. Their presence have brought this piece to my mind and heart..  as I have missed them greatly.  I missed Johann’s shy and meek mannerisms, I missed Xanus’s lecherous wit and crass yet very skilled in magical ways mind, and I have missed Eo’s company and conversation.. and how close we have gotten.  Though while Johann and Xanus have been here for a bit now, Eo has only just arrived.  There is so much in the way of catching up we shall have..  thankfully I may know of a more.. private.. location..

 Now this leads to something between Johann, myself, and Maric..  and Maric seems to have taken a shine to Johann..  gave him a position as the castle’s librarian and allowed to live within the castle walls.  This pleases me, as the poor ghost was in need of someone who could care for him.  However, our plans I will save for another entry.. as it will be a very long explanation and detailed.  However I will be having a private meeting with Maric soon to go over ideas.. also, he has need for my help with something once more.  Though I can not deny, there is this pull..  but is it from him, or from me? Hmmn.. that might be something we shall find out.  

It becomes spring within the Wylds as my my dear friend Gwyn wakes up from her winter's slumber. Gwyn being the Seelie Queen of the fae courts.  So much has she missed, while so many have missed her.  Though it seems she shall finally be more and more about. Perhaps in time for what ever is next to cause upheaval.  I have my suspicions and inclinations, however I shall keep them to myself.  For now.  It is for the best, truly, as the parallels for this strand have far too many possibilities.  To tell what is exactly to be for sure is quite impossible.  So thus, I shall leave it at that and enjoy that spring and summer shall be upon this place.  Bringing with it the warmth so many have longed for.

What did take quite many by surprise is that Maric, after having gain acclimation with this Huntsman shard.  This mix of the two gave him the ability to lay claim to the Unseelie throne in Janus's absence.  I have heard from a few of the elven crows that his take over was quite impressive.  Perhaps it was a fight I would have enjoyed to watch.  Alas much of these changes are done without me chancing to witness.  Perhaps I have grown more guarded in my age.  Perhaps I am just not at the right place at the right time.. a sign I am losing my touch.  How Maric will retain both Lordship of his village and now King of the Unseelies, remains to be unseen..  or seen.  He is a very capable man, so worries of such do not exist within me. 

Egena has been keeping company with me a few nights here and there.  Mostly when many have gone to bed or off to tend what it is that is needed. She says she worries for me, that I have not been taking care over my own existence. Perhaps she worries that I help everyone who asks of it, and do nothing to help myself.  That I do nothing that is for me solely and do everything for others.  There I sit, under a tree within the village for all to find me.  For all to ask for their needed aid, or needed advice.  Perhaps I do not see the same problem with this that she does.  If she believes that none help me with my issues, well..  I do not know what issues that can be helped.  

Well, there is one.. but there may be a time and place that it can be cared over and dealt with.  Or I will adapt around this need so that it is no longer a need. This would not be the first time I have had to do such.  When one need becomes too difficult or impossible to fill, leave it by the wayside..  Change it.. move on.  I can not let it become a point of contention within my path. It was.. fun.. while it lasted, as they say.

I had done a tarot card reading for my own self.  It's.. outcome.. may back up this idea.  Much of what was given were cards that spoke of needing to let go, to move on, to leave behind.  I have done this with so many places, people, companions, ways.  It is nothing new, in fact it has become a huge part of my path that I am not surprised that these cards have so strongly picked up upon it.  Perhaps I will at one point put the whole of the reading here in these pages. Though I may not.  I know what they gave for advice.  Perhaps I shall let that rest as it is.

I had found this deck of tarot cards.  Now, I can not say that I have ever found use in fortune telling.  Especially since telling the future is not possible as people are lead to believe.  There are so many different parallels, strings..  possibilities that it is not a simple matter of saying "Yes you will have this happen." Or "No, what you want will not be."  There is just no possible way to know this for certain.  I can see the parallels that connect to each strand, to each world.  The futures, the pasts, the presents.   All of it.  But there is no way I can define what will be because the possibilities are endless.

This deck of cards might be a reminder of this, or it might be a way to help with giving the advice people seem to come to me for.  After all, you are not just seeking futuristic visions with them.  Maybe it is gimmicky, a farce, but it is fun.  I am actually enjoying the use of them.  Also I do find them quite helpful with the advice giving.  However, I am also seeing if these cards will develop their own personality, their own spirit.. consciousness.  After all, most items that stay around me for some time do end up that way. Perhaps them being used in the Wylds.. the Faerie will expedite such.  It shall be a curious and interesting experiment.

Aoibheann and Wren were the first to, as they put it, get a reading from these cards.  Wren just out of her own child like curiosity and amusement, Aoibheann.. well..  I know and felt that she was quite wary of them.  However, she accepted a reading perhaps out of her own curiosity.  What she seeks though is to have a child.  While I will not reveal what the cards shown, I will say I hope she found comfort and the advice that will help her in them.  Or at least in what I had said while during this reading.  Many things may change, and it is her actions that may dictate how her future will end up.. with or without child. 

This does lead us, in a slight way, towards Maric.  The lord of Mysthaven..  who now plays host to The Huntsman.  Who now seems to have taken up the Unseelie throne, pro-tem.  Given how Janus has seemingly spirited off to places known only to him, and Gwyn is still trying to fully wake from her winter's slumber..  there needed to be someone upon one of those thrones.  Though I will say I am impressed with how well and quickly the two managed to come to an agreement.  Managed to come to an acclimation so that they may work together.  I will admit, the combination of their vocal tones is quite appealing.  Perhaps seductive to anyone who could fall for such.

Both he and Aoibheann ask me what it is I wish for payment for what I have done for they and their village.  What is the boon that they owe.  Normally I do have knowledge of what it is that shall be paid to me.  I do keep my debts own in such ordered ways.  However, what it was that I would have said seems quite pointless now.  So I fear they shall be asking what they owe for some time now.  Granted I am not one to hold boons over the heads of those who owe me.  Perhaps there will be a day when there is something I shall ask for. But for now, I will just sit under my tree.. study the cards from this deck I had found, and give aid and advice to those who ask.