fannyfae: (WWII)
Rage, the temerity of it all, of the Nazis to have burned the church at Orandeur-sur-Glane was unthinkable. Francoise de Rochefort’s heart nearly stopped in her chest when she saw her friend, Colonel Robert Grayson carrying the limp form of Amarante from his car to the front entrance of the chateau. The girl’s face, body and limbs were smudged with, blood, soot and ash. Her hair was singed and matted with blood, her clothing in tatters, shoes were also now missing. No, it couldn’t be like this, not like this! Not her! Read more... )

Muse: Francoise de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1819

Ths post originally appeared in the online novel "World Under Siege" on Pan Historia. Special thanks to the amazing scribes of[personal profile] all_for_me, [personal profile] sunandshadows [personal profile] ambrogino_giovanni, [personal profile] isabel_giovanni and [profile] civ_barbarian for the use of their musess in this work and for thier hard work and friendship over the long haul.
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)
Is 400 years (and more) long enough a period of time to be considered 'obsessed' about something? Even I would admit that I was more than a little obsessed with retrieving my husband, Sebastien back from the Realm of the Dead. Every Samhain and Beltane, when the time was right, I would try to pry open the gates of Hel, and to revive him, bring his soul back to my side. I was unable to accept that he was lost to me for all time and that I would go into eternity without the one man to whom I gave my heart.

The need festered in my breast, arched and turned it inside out and each failure made all of the previous other failures stand out like knives piercing me through. I was a sovereign, could I not change the law that said that a Sidhe Queen could only have One True Spouse and no other? Could I not break with Tradition? Perhaps. And in doing so, I could have had any number of spouses, and truly, one or two made me realize I could have gone on to love again. In truth, I did love again. (Or was it in addition to?) But there was the ever-present Sidhe stubbornness and a still, small voice that would not let me relent.

Who did Death think it was? Who dared to say that I could not command what I desired from the Seven Realms of Existence? I was sometimes called 'Faelyn the Arrogant', 'Faelyn the Fool', and even 'Faelyn the Besotted by a mere mortal man.'. It was true. I was. I still am in some ways. Even though I have won the fight, with Sebastien now gone, off somewhere, who knows where, have I truly won the war?

I sometimes think that Death ultimately proved my obsession a rather futile one in the end.

© Ma'at Publishing


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June 2017



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