fannyfae: (on the trail)
Fanny didn’t call Red King right away. She had waited simply because the man was a legend and although all it took for her break through was a contact via a friend and colleague and she had gotten the very thing that had alluded her most of the day, she couldn't bring herself to push send on her Blackberry. It seemed ironic, really. She had an almost uncanny ability at times to simply ask for things and the Universe would deliver. Now if she could only get such cooperation from the great man himself.
Read more... )


Muse:Faelyn / Frances MacKay / Francoise de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 2129
fannyfae: (18th Century)
Challenge #430
Option 1 - Paid Silence
Author Notes: This is part of a much larger historical piece set in the 17th Century, during the reign of Louis XIII.


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


I am far more nocturnal than I am a creature of the daylight. Perhaps I can attribute such to my Unseelie blood, or perhaps that has always been in my nature.. )
fannyfae: (enchantress)
1. What makes a good villain, in your opinion?
There is no 100% bad villain, just as there are no 100% good heroes. Either one would be boring as hell and there can be no suspension of disbelief in either case. I like a villain that you can find glimpses of that person's past - why they are the way that they are. When that happens, the reader can almost empathise with that character. It doesn't have to be emo, or overt. Some of the most powerful things can be articulated with a mere glance, a gesture, or just the smallest of nuances. Those kinds of things add to their complexity and makes the villain far more compelling.

2. Do you tend to write more for villains or heroes? I tend to write characters with more villainous qualities than not. In the character's mind, they know exactly what they are doing and why and as Faelyn is fond of saying, and the icon indicates, All is fair in the pursuit of power. Faelyn spent her life living by that creed because of who and what she is. Other characters, such as [livejournal.com profile] sheldonsandscia is a sociopathic little bastard. He does what he does and feels not the slightest bit of remorse, except in the very odd instance and with very few people. [livejournal.com profile] nomanselizabth does what she does because she is a queen, and as a monarch, unpleasant tasks that guarantee one's survival have to be undertaken. I don't know that any of them really sit around and dream up new and interesting ways to be villainous, however.

3. Who wins more often in your stories, the good guy or the bad guy? It's a toss up. Sometimes one side wins over the other, but everyone is a villain or a hero, depending on your point of view. My stories tend to be about survival and the character going for what he or she wants. Formulaic who wins and who loses scenario rarely enter into the picture.


4. Have you ever written a redeemable / reformed villain? A good guy turned bad? Yes. I wrote a muse from child to adult who was just sweet and cute and she slowly changed into something else that in no way resembled her former self. That was hard, because I really rather liked the inquisitive little girl that was there before she lost her innocence.

5. Are there any themes among your bad guys - do you tend to write zombie stories, fantasy villains, etc?
Again, it is about the redeeming qualities of each villain that my muses interact with. [livejournal.com profile] captainbarbossa, early on, in spite of his dangerous exterior and arrogance has things about him that provide those small moments of creamy delicious story flavour! [livejournal.com profile] 1st_of_the200 is a muse where you clearly do have a bit of sympathy for the Devil! There are lots of wonderful villain muses that my muses will itneract with. such as the Giovanni's from the World of Darkness fandom. It is a natural for Faelyn / Fanny since she is half Unseeliewhich means,
"Unblessed" She even went as far to marry the "bad guy from the Three Musketeers fandom, The Comte de Rochefort as played by [livejournal.com profile] all_forme because they understood each other as more "heroic" muses wouldn't have.

6. Are some of your antagonists non-villains, just at cross purposes from the hero?

I have NPC's for that purpose and most of them are just ignorant and foolishly try to stand between my muses and their stated goals. Of course each side has varying degrees of success, neither side can win all of the time. Besides, conflict is what drives a story.
fannyfae: (Within the cloak of Night)
Think about your character's backstory and answer as many of the following questions as you like:

1) How much of the character's backstory did you know when you started to play them?

I had a basic framework in which to work where Fanny was based off of one of my ancestors that my Grandmother had researched. She just sort of stuck in my head as being interesting and was pretty vocal. There was just the idea that she was Scottish, she was a village healer and that was it. Like most people of Celtic descent, she claims that there are Faery folk in her lineage. Read more... )
fannyfae: (Default)
To what extent are you willing to share the writing of your characters with others? Do you allow your peers to write your character into their stories, or do you get frustrated if they come to you with a suggestion involving your muse?

I have no problem sharing my Muse(s) with those whom I trust. That trust, however, has been built up over a period of time and those particular writers know me, know what my goals for my Muses are, and we have a mutual respect going on. Usually, it takes years to have built that up. My writing relationship with the scribe for [livejournal.com profile] all_forme, for example. If I have a bit of dialogue in mind, I will always run this by his scribe and vice versa. It has to be right. The same goes for any time I have written with or included [livejournal.com profile] civ_barbarian. I won't lie. There are times when I have written something and the Muse or his scribe will want me to change it slightly. Example, Hsu never uses the word 'worry'. He can have concern, but he is never worried. The same goes in reverse. 99% of the time, those writers with whom I have been writing for a good number of years know. Everyone in this circle of writers that we have created, either consciously or unconsciously, seems to have very good habits and will more often than not ask the other if 'X ' or ' Y ' is ok. We each do this by emailing or IM-ing the other(s) first before posting any of the content. Assumptions can have disastrous consequences in terms of misunderstandings, hurt feelings, or something as simple as just differing perspectives can derail a potential storyline or RP. So we all tend to talk it out first.

Conversely, if someone sockpuppets my Muse and does not run the dialogue or a situation that my Muse is in by me, I do tend to get a little terse about it. This is especially true since the majority of my Muses are OC's. After having been burned in the past, I am absolutely fierce about copyright issues. In my direct and personal experience, you have to be diligent about it, or believe me, you can get seriously burned. Once that particular demon has escaped, good luck bringing it back under control again! I don't mind if people talk to me, and I know them - and I am pretty open to write with most, it is just that communication is a requisite.

With canon muses, I don't think that you can justifiably raise any sort of fuss about such things. They don't belong to us, no matter how much we might wish it so. But even those canon muses, I do like to check with their current scribes as well. Azazeal ([livejournal.com profile] 1st_of_the200), is a canon muse that I think I have a fairly good understanding of. However, I ALWAYS run the dialogue and situation by his scribe because they have portrayed him in a very specific way. It is a matter of courtesy, really. You give what you expect as far as behaviour and treatment from others, and usually things tend to run much smoother that way.
fannyfae: (Default)
5 Reasons you would never ask your friends for advice.
1. They are not Fae or Sidhe and would not understand the perspective.
2. They are Immortal in the same way that I am.
3. I trust myself.
4. I handle things my own way.
5. They usually seek me out for advice.
4 Things you do with your money.
1. None.
2. Of.
3. Your.
4. Business.
3 Reasons you should possibly see a shrink.
1. None.
2. Merci
3. Beaucoup.
2 Places you will never forget.
1. The Fortunate Island - my homeland.
2. France - my husband's homeland, and my 'other' homeland.
1 Language you can speak
1. One? I speak at least nine proficiently. Oh, alright......Sidhe.
fannyfae: (Default)
For more than four hundred years I had been obsessed with getting Sebastien back from the Realm of the Dead. For that entire time, I sought, searched, experimented and continuously failed.

Then came the day when all was in alignment and I had all but given up. Azazeal had offered a suggestion, just a mere suggestion, moved my elbow in the Rite and even in a somewhat delayed reaction, all that I had aimed for in those centuries came to fruition at last. And as if to affirm that what we had done was right, and just and necessary, Jocelyn Ysabetta was conceived. Sebastien could not have been happier. Read more... )



Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 954

[livejournal.com profile] all_forme. [livejournal.com profile] 1st_of_the200, [livejournal.com profile] civ_barbarian, [livejournal.com profile] sunnotshadows, [livejournal.com profile] faedefrance & [livejournal.com profile] t_rainsborough are lovingly and reverently mentioned in this ongoing storyline.
fannyfae: (I didn't want to want you)
I was born in a small village called Dunnlauden, located near Cape Wrath on the Northwest tip of Scotland. All that you can see of the place now is a heap of rubble in the distance. That was the tower of the house of my Great Uncle, Angus McCleod.



All else are the small lines of stone foundations. Not until you're standing directly in it, can you make out the jagged thoroughfare that cut through the centre of the village.

The last time I was there was with Sebastien on business for Cardinal Richelieu. My husband relied upon me for introductions to the Crimson Cardinal's allies, some of whom were my own kinsmen. To say that it was awkward because I had barely seen any of my relations since my mother had died when I was very young is a supreme understatement. The mention of my mother and uncles and because my husband was French rather than English or even another Scot from a rival Clan, seemed to be enough, however. The fact that he was a Catholic and representative of France's chief minister and could handle himself with a sword also seemed to win a few more of my recalcitrant relatives to the cause.

To be honest, I do not go there often. I really have no reason to. All of my people, my family are gone from that place after the massacre that occurred there. Those that survived were scattered to the four winds; some still living in Scotland, others shipped off to to England to work in the very halls of their conquerors. Some, like me, ended up in France and still others went to the New World.

My ties to that place other than it being the place of my birth and where my mother is buried, were broken long ago. I grew up on the Fortunate Island and spend most of my time then as now either there or in France on my husband's ancestral lands. Part of the reason I dislike going to Scotland is that the weather in that place is probably the most miserable of any found on the Earth. The other reason I dislike it is perhaps more obvious. It's the ghosts that now reside in that place, that keep me away. That more than anything else gives me little in the way of desire to return.
fannyfae: (Lady of the Red Garments)
Names? I have quite a number of them. and if you were to put them all in a line you would get Frances Moira McKay Faelyn Nic Gan Ceanach de Rochefort.

I was named Frances for it's Gaelic meaning of 'freedom'. In Scotland where I was born, the sentiment of freedom was something that beat strong in the heart of every decent son or daughter born of that land. My mother's first name for me was a wish, a prayer and a hope that we could all remain free. Moira, I was named for my Grandmother - her name having two meanings, one meaning of the name is 'bitter' - the other being 'great'. No matter that Christianity's own Goddess, the Blessed Virgin Mary is the derivative of that name, together or separate, it has held true for me. I am not embittered, but I have tasted life's bitter fruits as well as great Power.

The Clan McKay, called Mac Aoidh in Gaelic, meaning the 'Son of Aodh.' or 'Son of Fire' , were originally descended of the Picts - with clear and direct ties to the Sidhe, who are my Ancestors and whose blood I carry in my veins. Our motto is 'Manu forti' , 'With a strong hand,' and by the fourteenth century,the McKay's were most numerous in the Nothermost regions of Scotland, our family lands stretched from Cape Wrath along the north coast to Caithness. Over time we lost the whole of those lands to Clan Sutherland. This was long after I myself had left the shores of Scotland for the Fortunate Island and my husband's lands in France. The ties to my family there long since having dissipated into the mists of time.

The name Faelyn, however, was given to me when I was but a wee lass. It was a name that my foster mother, Morgienne had to claim for me from the Unseelie, for my father, Gan Ceanach, was none to keen to acknowledge the liaison between himself and my mother. With the threat of being forsworn in front of all the Unseelie Court, he relented at last, and the name was mine. The name Faelyn itself means, "Beautiful Fae". Only those closest to me ever use that name, though some, such as Hsu, never have used it. Sebastien will only use that name when speaking to me, and I suppose that this is appropriate, all things considered. Gan Ceanach means 'Love Talker', which is the name of my Sidhe father. Nic Gan Ceanach, simply means 'Daughter of Gan Ceanach', and tells those among the Sidhe whose daughter I am; not that my father and I have ever had much to say to each other.

The Noble House of my husband's ancestors was founded in the year 876 during the Merovingian times. The Houses of Rochefort and of Rochechouart are the oldest families of French nobility. The name originally from the Old French, roche, meaning ‘rocky outcrop’, and indeed, the de Rochefort lands are surrounded by beautiful mountains on nearly all sides. Suffice it to say that within my husband's veins runs blood that is more pure than that of the Kings of France. His line is from the Noblesse Ancienne - the Ancient Nobles, and the Noblesse d'Epee - the Nobles of the Sword. The members of his family, from the earliest times, have been an integral part of the history of France and have served as soldiers, politicians, officials and artists. The family mottoes are "Ante mare undae" or "L'esprit surpasse la matière".("Spirit surpasses Matter".) and my personal favourite, "Avant que la mer fût au monde, Rochechouart portait les ondes" ("Before the sea was in the world, the Rochechouart carried the waves"). If anything could be said to sum up the sense of self-importance that every de Rochefort and Rochechouart I have ever met has in full measure, it would be these words. I would say that I have also embraced this as well.


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 659
fannyfae: (Default)
1) Do you ever 'talk' to your characters?

Absolutely. Fanny especially. I do because to me, she isn't just a character, she is based on an actual ancestor of mine and part of my own spiritual belief system is that our akhu, or ancestors are not gone, they just moved to another address. As such, we do interact with them whether we realise it or not.

2) Do they talk back? Yes. Fanny is the strongest, but her voice is always quiet and dignified, she is never shrill. She is very precise in her speech, she does not use contractions in a sentence. Elizabeth ( [livejournal.com profile] nomanselizabth) is a typical loud Tudor monarch, and she can be extremely loud and obnoxious! Having two queens in my head can be a real pain in the backside. Fanny's daughter Caroline is very polite and she is of all my muses the "sweetest" and most gentle. When she does feel strongly about something - like she does about her music or about her beau, Stelios Lakiotis ([livejournal.com profile] immortalsparta), she can get a bit more chatty. Caroline's sister, Jocelyn ([livejournal.com profile] faedefrance), is very precocious as children go. I hear her mostly of a child of about six or seven at present, even though technically we never got around to telling the story of her being born. We knew she was coming, and then about a year or so later, she just started talking. Right now she is talking the most to Azazeal ([livejournal.com profile] 1st_of_the200), and she thinks he is neater than cake! What is worse is that he isn't even my muse and I can hear the two of them having conversations and planning all sorts of mayhem *facepalm* . I have the same problem with Fanny's husband, Sebastien de Rochefort ([livejournal.com profile] all_forme) deciding to visit. He was most obnoxious when we got a chance to see a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac in a store once. I told him if he wanted it, he could cough up the $1800 dosh to buy it! Thankfully in checking with either Azazeal's or Rochefort's writers, they get the same sort of thing with my muses visiting them, so it works out. Perhaps we are all just collectively insane?

3) Is there a particular ritual you have that lets you get in touch with your inner voices?

No. They just sort of pop up. It happens mainly when I am driving or shopping or just minding my own business. A lot of times I will be reading a bit of history or literature and one or two will expound on the event - or in Fanny's case she will talk about why something isn't quite what was depicted in history, but rather give a slightly different viewpoint. When I am doing my work as an herbalist, I sometimes will get input from her to check something and lo and behold find out that the Muse is right about something I had not thought about. Where the ancestor that I have based Fanny on stops and Fanny who is the character begins, sometimes that is not always very clear. She has very specific tastes in music, food and wine and things she enjoys. Some of those tastes, interestingly enough are definitely not mine. She likes chess, it bores me to tears, she hates embroidery, and I don't mind it - as long as I can find my glasses and see what I am doing. She definitely is of Celts ancestry and this is something that I have a little of, but it really is not a culture that for me is of any deep interest.

I have bought her things that she likes. There was a statue of the Goddess Danu that she really connected with, and so I bought it. In my spiritual path we also have an ancestor shrine which is a small cabinet that is shared collectively and holds pictures and mementos from those people who are very much a part of who we are. Fanny ended up getting her own akhu shrine. In it is the statue of Danu, and a book that was written by the real life Comte de Rochefort printed in the early 1700's because she definitely wanted that as well amongst other things.

In short, I don't know really what Fanny is. She isn't like the other muses that I have in there, too. I've been approached about it by others who share the same spiritual beliefs and they have said , "she really isn't just a character is she?". I have to say, I don't think so and plead ignorance about just what I am dealing with. I just roll with it and continue to take dictation for her. Does all this make me nuts? Maybe. But aren't all we writers and artists just a little bit crazy anyway? ;-)
fannyfae: (medieval banquet)
"Real friendship or love is not manufactured or achieved by an act of Will or intention. Friendship is always an act of recognition." - John O'Donohue, 'Anam Cara: a Book of Celtic Wisdom'


Hsu Danmei was never a man to outwardly show any sort of discomfort in even the deepest and coldest snow. Indeed, my friend, my Anam Cara*, was one of the Hsiung-nu, and he would tease me of my intense dislike of cold and inclement weather. I kept my eyes on him as we rode through the mountain pass, I could see my breath and the breath of both of our mounts and the two pack animals cut through the bitter cold air and the snow that now flew almost completely horizontally. He turned in his saddle and glanced back at me as I struggled with my wraps and my tack uncomfortably, trying to keep myself warm. He dismounted and trudged through the drifts toward me. His expression was stern but there was no irritation on his face when he reached my side. Only his words were mildly chastising.

"By the Gods, Frances," he scoffed, glancing up at me. He refastened the ice-caked stirrup that I had knocked askew, and then pulled free the end of my all-too thin woollen cloak and tucked it beneath the front of the saddle to secure it and to preserve my body's warmth, "You were born in Scotland, and the weather there is miserable all of the time. I can't remember when I was there and the sun ever shown at all. You should be used to the cold by now."

"Even we Scots have the good enough sense not to sleep in the cold in the heather, wrapped in nothing but our plaids and our skins," I snorted derisively at him, "besides, it never snows on the Fortunate Island!" My skirts were heavy with the snow that had melted against my body heat, and I was beginning to shiver. I hated snow with a passion and I felt like a wet animal weighted down by yards of cloth that were refreezing and becoming stiff and heavier by the moment from the snow and freezing air. There was no respite from it and that made me even more irritable.

Hsu shook his head and gave my calf a slight squeeze through the folds of fabric before turning to go remount his own horse. "Well, we aren't on the Fortunate Island now, are we?" he said as he swung back into his saddle, and then shot back over his shoulder, "with any luck we won't be sleeping in the cold tonight either. There's a village just beyond this pass." cut for length & sexual content (NSFW) )

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 1771 (not counting quote)

*Anam Cara - Gaelic for 'Soul Friend'.

Special thanks go to the Scribe and Muse of Hsu Danmei ([livejournal.com profile] civ_barbarian) for his appearance in this ongoing story.
fannyfae: (Default)
The fire had left in its wake not only the devastation of property but so many who had been injured. I stayed as close as I could to those who needed my help. At one point, once the fire was out, the men sat, soot covered faces and limbs, waiting patiently for a cool sip of water. There staggering and exhausted I found Wyatt Earp, whom I had observed earlier.

Without thinking I handed him the cup of water in my hands. I must have looked as much a fright as he did having fought the great beast of a fire. He took it gratefully but as he did so he looked as if he could have keeled over. Letting the bucket in my hands drop with a slosh, I held his arm and guided him to the boardwalk. He said something softly that sounded like thanks but I didnae respond. I was myself aching and threadbare from the efforts of helping those who were burned, directing those who didnae know much of nursing to tie bandages and asking after herbes that we might commandeer for the cause. Read more... )



Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / History
fannyfae: (Default)
"I say that if a woman can only have power through a man, then let it be with the most powerful man she can find." –Attila

Any power I have gained I got by wits and my Will or because I took it as I saw fit. Certainly not merely because I allied myself with a powerful man. As a woman and a sovereign, I resent the idea that my sex is of no use except as a consort to a male authority figure Let a man find his power on his own. And if I find him worthy I may be inclined to take him as an ally. Where I come from, no man may rule but through the High Lady, and only then as her Consort. I have, in my very long and immortal life, known many a powerful men. And interestingly enough, one or two of them are still around in my life. The man that I chose as my husband and consort was not the most powerful man. However, he certainly was one of the most feared in all of France. The fact that I love him is a given. I hope that he shall forgive me for saying that the fear he caused, became as the fear of me. His power was in a different form, and it has proven to be most useful.Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore Mythology.
Word Count: 611
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] the_bigshow
fannyfae: (on the battlefield)
Name of Muse: Frances Moira McKay / Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom/Type of Muse: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Link to muse profile page: http://fannyfae.livejournal.com/profile
Mun name, nickname or handle: Christina, Xina, or [livejournal.com profile] niankhsekhmet
Best way to get a message to the mun: Write to fannyfae at gmail dot com
Do you use AIM or any other IM? AIM - Fanny Hackabout, ICQ 4699385 (if you use ICQ, all requests must be approved)
One hundred words about the muse that everyone should know:

Frances Moira McKay or Fanny Fae, born in 1444 Frances Moira McKay, of Clan McKay of Scotland, she is half-human and half Unseelie (Dark) Fae. She is the product of a devoted Priestess of the Fortunate Isle, and a Dark Sidhe prince, Gan Ceanach, which means "Love Talker".

When she was a mere four years of age, Fanny's mother died under mysterious circumstances and she was immediately raised by Morgienne, the Lady of the Fortunate Island as her own. Later it came to be revealed that Morgienne herself was complicit in the death of Fanny's mother. In an act of blood vengeance, she killed her foster mother, usurped the throne and she assumed the role of High Lady of the Fortunate Isle.

Fanny is fascinated by all forms of Power and is an adept of it and often quotes its "laws" and nature. At times she is capable of the most incredible acts of abject cruelty and on the opposite side of the spectrum can sometimes be compassionate to a fault. Her most fatal flaw is an audacious arrogance that she rarely sees within herself but often drives her mun to distraction. She is quite loyal to those whom she deems as friends.

Available to roleplay? Yes, especially with those muses and situations that have an actual plot.
Posting tag: fannyfae, RoTM
Link to memories or tag page showing RotM posts:http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=fannyfae&keyword=RoTM&filter=all (warning: I've been really bad about my memories, but I am getting better about them!)

crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] realmofthemuse
fannyfae: (Within the cloak of Night)
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. )


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn © Ma'at Publishing
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore & Mythology/ Three Musketeers
Word Count: 2865
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

OOC Note: Special thanks to [livejournal.com profile] all_forme and his amazing mun for the dialogue and input. :)
fannyfae: (tiarra)
Why is it when you are what some might consider beautiful, that they often like to assume that you must at least be stupid as well? As if the gods could not be bothered to give you both intelligence as well as attractiveness! I find myself being talked down to on a regular basis. Then if by chance they do find out that you actually have wit and intelligence to match the package, they almost instantly become intimidated by it. Every moment that follows thereafter they spend trying to discern what your flaws are. I have seen some literally scrunch up their faces with determination while trying to ferret out what it might be that could be my Achilles' heel.

I recently received a correspondence from a ruler of my acquaintance.

I am astonished that you have come to know how to read and write, Madame! Surely this is an unnatural state for a woman! Such things, in my experience, are unfit for women to know. Begging your pardon, I find it unbelievable that you do not have a male scribe to dictate your correspondence to! Surely your race and your people know that it is absurd to teach learning to women! Surely a woman as beautiful as yourself has no need to take upon herself such tasks that are ill suited to her. You, Madame, should beseech your greatest advisers to find you a suitable match who can alleviate such concerns from your brow. Certainly some women are quite able to handle the arduous duties of commerce and rulership, but if left unchecked without the guiding hand of a man, a woman will be left helpless and fall into the trap of mental imbecility. Your people do a grave disservice to you, Madame, if you are left to your own devices so tragically!

A woman's attention should focus upon her appearance, with the closest attention to her garmenture and appropriate jewellery. She should be of good temperament and docility in order to be nothing but the greatest pleasure to her husband. Giving a woman over to learn those things which are the realms of men gives her to arrogance and self-conceit. Such are the consequences of filling a woman's head with more than she can readily handle. It is by far the best institution of the Gods that most women should die upon the pyre with the bodies of their husbands, since they are mostly incapable of acting for themselves. These are wise regulations for any man to live by and women should feel protected by such considerations to her care!


I am unclear as to how I should react to such a ridiculous missive! I have ruled alone for many more years than this over bloated and certainly overdressed popinjay has been alive. If it were not so tragic it would be laughable. My only hope is to one day meet this man face to face and make his wives widows and with the right of conquest set them all free and leave his wealth to dispose of as they choose.

But what is true, it was not so very long ago that even the so-called modern world viewed women with such disdain.
fannyfae: (take a bite)
have had numerous "chance" encounters whereby my life was never the same. I would be lying if I thought that my life's course had not been in some way affected in one way or another by an encounter that was just happenstance. I could say this of every deep friendship or intimacy of my life. The meetings were never planned. Nothing was ever contrived or conspired. Perhaps that is what always led to the longevity of such liaisons.

It was the first and by virtue of that fact, most memorable chance encounter was when I met He of the Silver Arm, the Red King, Nuada, that comes immediately to mind. He was the Supreme Sovereign of the Tuatha Dé Danan, and a wonder to all who knew him or had ever heard of him. It was determined by Morgienne that I would go to the Great Council to represent the Fortunate Island. Looking back I somehow believe that Morgienne sent me in the hopes that I would fail or fall victim to some dark, Unseelie Prince. Surely Queen Annwynn, the Queen of Air and Darkness would be sending her heir, Itet.

I pulled the dark cloak about me tighter. This would be the first time I had ventured out of the Black Forest in a very long time. but in this I had little choice. I had followed the Red King, Nuada, to Berlin. The very survival of the world depended upon alliances that could be drawn up here. I had passed through the first gates and fortifications, only to be stopped by a guard at the second.

“What is your purpose here, madame?” the human man, obviously of French origin asked me.

“I am here to see King Nuada, “I said simply in his own language.

The young man scoffed, shaking his head, “Sure, he said returning in French, "and just whom may I say is here to see him? ”

I pushed back the hood of my cloak to reveal my face. The young Frenchman looked at me with astonished eyes. The lightning bolt of recognition of my face clearly made him nervous.

“Tell him that the the representative Lady Morgienne, of the Fortunate Isle.....the Halfling wishes to see him.”

The young man was about to deny me once again, when I heard a voice, one that was used to commanding many speak.

"Allow her, Henri," he said.

The shadows outside the penthouse of King Nuada were cool, and a welcome respite from the bustle of the City of Berlin. I peered from the tall double doors that were slightly apart. From inside I caught the scent of Seelie Incenses. When my escort opened the doors to announce my arrival to the King, I kept my face a mask.. As the door swung open for me to be received, I caught sight of the wizened, yet handsome head.

Nuada.
I stood barely inside of the door, for a fragment of a moment unable to move and I could not help but feel the rising tide of apprehension that rose from deep inside of me. It was as if each step had to be forced. I’faith it is hard to stand before the one whom many call the Great Seelie Uniter. I inclined my head but did not bend my knee, for as representative of Fortunate Isle, for me to do so would have implied allegiance. Morgienne would not have stood for it, and now was not time for that.

“You come at an inopportune moment, Halfling,” Nuada said quietly, appraising me, "Strange that Morgienne would have sent you.” His power was a palpable thing, and it instilled awe in that part of me that was human. "So, what do you think when you look upon your own people, Faelyn?" he asked.

I gasped, amazed that he already knew my name. "Her Ladyship thought it better that I should come," I managed, "I have seen but a few of the Fae, Majesty" I inclined my head again.

With a soft approving chuckle he came toward me. When he at last stood in front of me he lifted my chin between his fingers. "Then there is much you will have to learn about your own kind."

And so over the following days Nuada told me those things which neither my mother, nor my foster-mother, Morgienne, would do. It was he who was the one who instilled in me what it was to be Fae. Nuada was to me as my father was not. While I like to think of myself of possessing all of the tenacity needed to succeed in life, Nuada and our chance meeting stands out most in my mind as having set my feet upon my present course.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 795
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (tiarra)
t all depends upon whom you ask, really. I am told that I am far too ambitious, far too arrogant, or far too beautiful to be of much use to anyone. I was once accused of being rather nice to look at, but with the added caveat that one should never turn their backs on such a woman. They would never know what exactly what to expect. People perceive shall perceive things as they will. Perceptions are not so easily changed and yet there is great power in being both underestimated as well as overestimated in the eyes of others. It keeps more than a few of them in a suspended state of terror. That, too, can be quite useful when the time comes.

To be completely honest, there are very few in the world whom I care about what they think of me. These individuals, of course, know who they are.

Everyone else can go hang.


Muse: Fanny Fae, © Ma'at Publishing 1995 -2007
Fandom: Original Fiction © / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 157
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (tears)
Close your eyes and think about what you've been missing in your life lately. It could be a person, pet, place, thing, occasion, feeling. Anything at all that you miss dearly.

~*~*~*~
I lay my head against the cairn. It was just a pile of rocks, under an oak tree that was at least four hundred years old. The sharp edges of the limestone pressed uncomfortably into my tear-stained cheeks. I pulled the dusty folds of my veil about me and whispered into the evening, wondering if Sebastien’s spirit could hear me, and yet deep inside I didn’t care. My lamentations were as much a balm for my own soul as they were an entreatment to my dead husband.

I always told him how much I missed him. I whispered to him of the children I never bore to him. I knew he wanted them, as much as I ever did. I was certain in that otherwhere, somewhere in the Universe, he knew that we must have born them in that other place.

Of all of those in my life before, it was him that I missed the most. I think that I barely spoke for nearly a year after his death. Sebastien was to me not only my husband and consort but everything I had ever imagined in a way that a man would treat me. His face would light up the instant I entered the room, and I could feel my own face illuminate just as brightly when he approached me. Ours was the perfect relationship that could be considered the stuff of legend.

But my heart, on the other hand,on the day of his death, had been broken. I had worked the magic, entreated the gods, worked the spells to bring his once-immortal self back to where I was. I tried to stack the deck of the cards of Fate in my favour so that I would never have to be without him. Whether or not the magic succeeded, was immaterial. I was here, he was gone, his body resting under this pile of stone, entombed, and nothing could ever change that. In the whole of existence. I could never begin to find what it was that I had held so dearly again. In the depths of my heart, I knew that I could never replace what I had lost.

The Fae or the Wytch from the very beginning of his or her life, learns how to live between the Worlds. It is something that we have always done. From time to time, in the whisperings of the wind, I would hear what I could perceive to be Sebastien’s voice. At other times, even with no breeze, I would feel the slightest touch, as if his fingertips were brushing my face. I would lean into the perceived touch, and for a moment, just a fleeting fragment of a moment, I would feel that love that surrounded me so often before enfold me once more.

A single tear rolled down my face, and dropped onto a piece of limestone that jutted out further from the others.

“ I miss you, mon amour,” I whispered to the wind. I continued to tell him how every night I would light a candle in a shrine that I keep to him. Did he see from wherever that he was that I would lie awake at night and my body ached to feel that same warmth that I felt at my back all of those many years ago? If I could do it over, I would have never have left his side, no matter what anyone said. My tears flowed now, steadily and I bit back choked sobs.

“I’d have stayed by your side and taken out the first person who’d even remotely looked like a threat, "I whispered, "had I been there sooner, I know you would never have lost."

And yet, my heart manages to whisper things which I do not want to believe. All that I want, have ever wanted in the whole of existence, was him.

I closed my eyes once more, and felt the softest caress, and with it a whisper, a whisper that I could have sworn, was saying my name. I wiped my eyes and drew myself up, re-arranging the folds of my sari.

I bent toward the tree by the grave, and pressed my lips to my fingertips, then to the base of the tree.

"Gráím thú,* I whispered in Scots Gaelic, knowing that if Sebastien's Spirit could hear me, he would know this phrase that we had between us. It was the one phrase that I had taught to him in my own language.

* "I love you."


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore/ Mythology / Meta
Word Count: 792
Cross posted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

O' Fortuna

Apr. 9th, 2006 11:34 pm
fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
Fortune. Some people have it, some people seek it, some claim to predict it, and some say that it favours the brave. Write a ficlette inspired by the word 'fortune.'

O Fortune,
like the moon, you are changeable,
ever waxing and waning;
hateful life. first oppresses
and then soothes, as fancy takes it;
poverty and power
it melts them like ice.

Fate - monstrous and empty,
you whirling wheel, you are malevolent,
well-being is vain and always fades to nothing,
shadowed and veiled, you plague me too;
now through the game I bring my bare back
to your villainy.



e are all slaves to fortune of one kind or another, whether we will or no. Some view it as fame, that magickal elixir that will insure immortality of a kind. From the great Greek warrior, Achilles, to the meanest scullery maid hoping to catch the notice, if not fleeting, of her Lord, fortune takes many forms. Fortuna, that fickle Goddess is ever changeable. Her insignia, the wheel, is like the spinning wheel of the Fates, and very much like the wheel of mediaeval torture. Sometimes it is torture to endure the turns that the wheel makes within our life. It is at the centre of the Wheel and in our life that balance is found. The Wheel of Fortune also can become like the wheel of a ship, whereby we make it to serve us - rather than being dictated by it and blown about by the winds of Fate.

All who knew Morgienne knew her to be intelligent as well as ruthless. It is perhaps to her that I owe my present position, for so often there is no glory for a woman unless she were to be far more ruthless than any man could ever be. It was I who took the Wheel of Fortune within my grasp and wrenched it free from the hands of the Fates and from Morgienne.

I face the same now as she did then. I know that Fortuna shall cast her gaze from me and affix it upon another. And for their time, they shall rise up and I shall be seemingly plunged down, cast from power, rent asunder. Unlike Morgienne, however, I will remain and rise up again. This I know. You see, I have one thing on my side. That one thing is the gift of incredible age, for even as my enemies who will rise to power, they too will fall and I will still yet live. Though the profane shall pass away, the spirit is constant. It is imperishable. The answer to the riddle of the Sphinx, also found within the symbology of the Tarot, is Time. Time is what I have plenty of. And so goes the cycle of life.

So spins the wheel of Fortuna.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 369 (Not including the portion of translated lyrics of "O' Fortuna" from "Carmina Burana" by Carl Orff )

Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (slick)

never knew my father.

I never even met my father until I was grown to womanhood, and even then, it was long after the passing of my mother, my trials under my foster-mother, Morgienne, and my usurpation to become High Lady of the Fortunate Isle.

Gan Ceanach, an Unseelie Prince, known by many names, came to my mother, a devoted young priestess, much to the chagrin of the High Lady of the Island, Morgienne. Within a moon, they realized that my mother was with child. That child was I. He never came to my mother again, not even when she gave birth to me. My father’s brand of Fae arrogance exceeded that of all others. He couldn’t be found, let alone be bothered it seemed.Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore/ Mythology
Word Count: 455
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (18th Century)
“She must never find out what happened to her mother,”Morgienne’s voice hissed, “the favour of Gen Ceanach was mine to take and that bitch, Moira, overstepped her authority. At any rate, it doesn’t matter anymore )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character /Folklore /Mythology
Word Count: 401
Crossposted to[livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Failure...

Feb. 10th, 2006 11:47 am
fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
ailure?

I don't believe in failure. Defeat and retreat are not synonymous with failure. The only way that a person could ever truly fail is if they gave up, or worse, refused to try. Everyone has setbacks, everyone experiences defeat. But to crumple up and decide that the experience is a failure is to refuse to learn from it. The refusal to improvise, adapt and overcome is where failure lies. I have had my fair share of defeat and dined on heaping servings of crow.

One such incident during the Fae Wars was when the Fortunate Island fell to the forces of Prince Itet. I had thought I would be able to hold the Ancient City against him and his allies. We were an island of Priestesses, though some of us were trained in weapons and warfare as well as the Temple arts, we were defeated - I was defeated.

But from the moment my foot touched the helm of the barge that carried away from home, I looked over my shoulder at the city and knew that I would return to retake what was mine. In the mists, the towers stood imperious and proud, behind them lay the mountains, a deep lapis blue. The banners of my house still flew from the pitched rooftops of the castle, but not for long. By the time that we were halfway across the bay, some of Itet's army had made their way to the tower and were pulling down the banner.

"Enjoy your victory...for now, Itet," I whispered. My mind and my heart burned with thoughts of revenge. In that moment such dark emotions often serve to spur us back from the precipice defeat.

The bargeman mearely looked from his pole at me as if I had lost my mind. He was, however, both careful and wise to remain silent.


Muse:Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character, folklore, mythology
Word Count: 282
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
This is an installment from Pan Historia, and the novel, A Spider's Web, placed in 13th Century Scotland. This istallment is told from the point of view of Sir Bothain MacKay, who is Fanny's father in the story. Anything I write around Fanny is usually in first person, but this particular piece is not. If the reader would forgive me, I am a bit rusty on third person writing.

(Scotland) Somewhere Between the Highlands and the Sea

ir Bothain MacKay turned in his saddle to look at the heavily veiled and cloaked figure that rode behind him. They would only have to endure the relentless Scottish downpour a few more miles and then they would be home.

It had been years since he had lain eyes upon his daughter, and now it was as if he didn’t know her. She had married a Copt, she did, an Egyptian. As far as Bothain MacKay was concerned, they were barely Christian, barely saved from the heathen Moors that was quickly threatening to overrun the remaining followers of Christ in Egypt. The latest Crusade had been bloody and brutal and the forces of Christendom were taking a beating. Read more... )
fannyfae: (Default)
hen the snows of February were deep on the Island of Scotland, it was not so on the Fortunate Isle. Through thick clouds of incense and herbs burned on thuribles and pain I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She, like her father in his youth, had masses of red hair. Her birth, something that might normally have been hailed as a fortuitous event upon the Isle, for me there was only a strong sense of foreboding. )

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 1000
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (slick)
I was born near a small village between Cape Wrath on the Coast of Scotland, and the Highlands, deep within those ancient lands that had been held since time immemorial by Clan MacKay. I was born the daughter of a devoted Priestess of the Great Mother Goddess, the Mother of all Fortune and Magic, and my father was an Unseelie Sidhe nobleman. I was born in the times when Mankind and Fae lived in peace.

Shortly after I was born, my mother took me to the Fortunate Island, where she had served the High Lady, Morgienne. I was still a babe at the breast when she died. Morgienne raised me as her own daughter, and I grew up on this strange island where all women upon it know all of the magic in the whole of the world of humans, and a good portion of that magic that is used within the Fae realms as well.

It is a beautiful Island with lakes and mountains, rounded by deep meadows, and orchards of apples, peaches, mangoes and every manner of fruit that has delighted the world since the beginning of time. No hail, nor torrential rain nor snow has e’er fallen upon the Fortunate Island. The wooded groves and deep forests know every manner of magical and healing herb, and plenty is the only order that there can possibly be. There are marble shrines and temples that dot the Island. Lazily stretching and shaded paths wind past the ornate and impressive structures, some of them feeding into the Island’s centre, and some meander toward the shores of the lakes or to the sea. My childhood was spent exploring every realm of this place. Every cave was a palace, every forest glade a fortress, and in my youngest imaginations, even then, I ruled as Queen.

My favorite tree on the entire island is the ancient mimosa that is large and gnarled. It’s branches and foliage that look like miniature palm fronds, are profusely interspersed with the pink feathery flowers that hold the essence of the most sacred perfume to our people. It would take nearly a hundred stone of flowers to produce one ounce of the sacred oil. I have a small blue bottle of the perfume that has lasted me nearly five hundred years. That tree was my very best friend, when at times I felt that I had none. Its spirit and mine are bonded as every priestess is bound to some totem animal or plant spirit. Even as a child I would sing to it, or play beneath it. At other times I would sleep nestled safely in its branches, as if the tree was a great and loving father, rooted in the rich yet sometimes rocky soil of the Fortunate Isle.

Somehow, over the course of my life, I have ne’er tired of living on an Island. I have gone to many islands. I have conquered them, been stranded upon them. I have been met by hostile natives on the beaches of still others, and yet, each one, in its own way, reminded me so vividly of the Island home where I grew up, and the one place that I will never forget.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 535
fannyfae: (Default)
I would like any and all of you to make a comment here and tell me something you don't like about me. Don't hold back, whatever you want to say won't effect how I feel about you, so you can say what you want, with no reprocussions. Tell me why you hate me. But try to impress me. Being a Wytch I have heard all manner of reasons why I would be hated. Be original.
fannyfae: (Default)
A Wytch, if she is one worth her salt, is in essence always alone, whether she be surrounded by people or not. We stand on the precipice, one foot in the world of form and the other outside of it. Not so very long ago, however, I had set my sights on finding my old paramour, Douglas. In the course of events, I was able to connnect with his niece, Morgan Adams, who was a great Captain in her own right. It was upon her kindness that I found myself thrust. It was at this time, over dinner in her cabin that I was asked to recount this very question.

Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 935
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (slick)
I'faith, there has been much in my life to be proud of that I have done. When I was a very young priestess on the Fortunate Isle, I brought down the High Lady after her many years of rule. Some say she ruled by terror and manipulation for a hundred years. It was a determined young girl with a gift for deciet that brought about her undoing. That girl was myself. Instead of basking in that pride, I walked away from it, and rather than take up the mantle and rule there as Morgienne had, I left.

Read more... )

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 419

Profile

fannyfae: (Default)
fannyfae

June 2017

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 21st, 2017 03:43 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios