fannyfae: (Default)
Are you an only child? Write about your siblings or lack thereof.

I am an only child. Or at least I am the only daughter of my mother, who now rests in the Summerland.

I will not lie. There are reasons for this. My mother, who was a newly dedicated Priestess on the Fortunate Island, gave birth to me when she was only seventeen. She was seduced by an Unseelie Prince by the name of Gan Ceanach and I was the result of that union. She was a beautiful woman, so who could blame the Sidhe for finding her attractive, and Sidhe women are far less fertile than their Human kin? To put indelicately, I was born without being legitimized by my father....a bastard. Because of this, because my father had to be for all intents and purposes, forced to acknowledge the relationship, and therefore legitimise my claim to Sidhe blood, he and I have had a very strained relationship. The fact that he would never acknowledge her goodness, did not help matters any.

Maeve Fiona McKay was a doting mother, she poured all of her love and spirit into raising me for the four short years that I knew her. There was no time before tragedy struck for her to have married and had another child. Surely, there were other men in the village of Dunnlauden who would have gladly taken a Priestess of the Goddess from the Holy Fortunate Isle to wife, even with me being so young. When my mother died, it was a shock to everyone. No one knew, as I was later to find out, that she was murdered and by the very woman who was to become my foster mother.

I sometimes wish I had siblings. We could have at least have the comfort of each other even as if we had lost our mother. It is a very lonely thing to not have any real blood family around you. I suppose it is this lack of real family connection, outside of my mother's family who were scattered through various parts of the Highlands, has weighed a bit on my ability to be a better mother than I am. I have two daughters of my own but I know I am not the best of mothers. Those formative years were devoid of familial love and safety and because of this, I think it made things more difficult for me later in life.


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 395
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (stunned)
I waited until Gil and Lt. Brass had left before turning to Azazeal. Even then I made certain that my eyes were on them as I spoke softly. "This is not one of your better disguises," I said tersely.

Azazeal glanced at the retreating Grissom and Brass and then grinned at me. "On the contrary, Faelyn. I find it's quite effective. It's almost as good as having a badge and a gun around here. I'm sure that it must be the accent. Receptionists and Americans in general just naturally think that I must be telling the truth." He gave an amused smile, "Ah, Colonials!"

I resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to roll my eyes at him. "Why are you here?" I asked.
Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / CSI: Las Vegas / HEX Crossover ( Meta)
Word Count: 1124

OOC Note )
fannyfae: (Madame de Rochefort)
There is no time than when a woman is with child that her dreams are the most profound - and perhaps frightening as well. Since the death of my husband, I had left Versailles, but only after having to beg my leave from the Court from King Louis himself. The King said that he was very sorry to see me go, but that he completely understood my reasons for doing so. He promised to send a mutual friend to check upon my progress. That night I left Paris and travelled to my husband's ancestral home.

I dreamt last night that it was Louis de Rouvroy, Monsieur le Duc de Saint-Simon that the King sent to the Château de Rochefort. He was certainly one of the most well spoken and elegant of King Louis gentlemen at Court. He had a frank honesty about him that shocked many, and that Louis tolerated even when the Duc criticised him roundly for his excesses and those of the Court. When everyone there was quick to say, "Les femmes ne sont pas gens," - 'Women are not people,' De Saint-Simon was the first to speak out against the idea. Read more... )



Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / History
Word Count: 3175

The Comte de Rochefort ([livejournal.com profile] all_forme), Azazeal ([livejournal.com profile] 1st_of_the200 ) & Monsieur le Duc de Saint-Simon ([livejournal.com profile] de_saintsimon) all appear here in this little romp with permission from their respective scribes. This scribe thanks each of them profusely for their generosity and kind indulgence. :)
fannyfae: (Default)
four cities of the Fae. These are Gorias in the East, Finias in the South, Murias in the West and Falias in the North. There is, unbeknownst to many, a fifth city that exists within the centre of them all, heart shaped, absolutely hidden, and is quite central to the other four. This centrally located city is only spoken of as being the Glen of Precious Stones. The way to this place is necessarily secret, as is its True Name - just as the Fortunate Isle itself is hidden from the view of mere mortals. It is no wonderment to me now that the stone I was given in the forest on that windy day when I was four, a heart-shaped, uncut emerald, alluded to that very place. It took me another twenty years to ascertain what it meant and to actually reach the Glen of Precious Stones, but the gift had been with me since the beginning.

Each of the Seven Realms of Existence must not only had to be perceived but traversed before I could enter any of those cities )



Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 628
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
1. Know when to speak and when to hold your silence. - Everyone wishes to be heard, especially in the midst of confrontation and the careful negotiations surrounding a conflict. When you are in the role of a diplomat, it is best to say less than necessary. So many statesmen seem to get a thrill listening to the sound of their own voices without the slightest notion that the more they say the more common they appear. And the more that they say, the more foolish they appear. When this happens, any hope to manoeuvre the situation, let alone control it, is lost. It is a far more dangerous thing during negotiations to say foolish things than to actually do them. Silence and the appearance of interest often renders the other side unable to read you and to judge your intentions. Humans especially like to have a clear notion of where you stand on any given issue. When you can control exactly what you wish them to know and nothing more. Silence is mysterious and so many cannot stand the suspense of that mystery.
Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 768

(credit and apologies must be given to Robert Greene's "48 Laws of Power" for the inspiration for this post.)
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Faelyn and her mother)
The relentless Scottish wind whipped my hair across my face as I made my way through the rocky crag to the forest glen. Glancing over my shoulder I could see my mother who was bent over a lichen covered rock, struggling to gather more herbs but also to keep what we had gathered from blowing away. Shaking her cloak back behind her, and not looking up from what she was doing she called out to me, "Frances, donnae go too far that I cannae see you, Lass." Read more... )

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 1828
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (usurper)
I have had long hair all of my life. Sometimes it has been more long than at other times. I remember when I was a mere twenty years old, my hair was long enough to reach to my feet. Even when my tresses were braided into a single plait down my back, it was a rope that reached well past my ankles. Such a thing, though a mark of beauty and femininity, is incredibly heavy and not very easy to take care of. It would take sitting by the fire for hours, brushing, combing, untangling, and waiting for it to dry. Anyone who ever recommended 100 strokes a night every night for a woman to brush her hair with never had to contend with it being longer than to their waist! Your arms end up being quite tired! It was about the beginning of the 17th Century when I cut my hair a little shorter,at least to my hips so that it became more manageable.

If you were to ask me, however, what kind of hair I would like to see on a man, I would have to answer, long and dark. I think it goes back to that first night, on the Fortunate Island, when all that I had in the world was my maidenhood. I clutched it to me like the fur robe which covered me on that large stone altar amid the standing stones. My hair was loose and hung about me, scented with the sharp pungency of rosemary and heather. He was tall, muscular and beautiful. If there was anyone who could represent the Stag King, it would have been the young man standing in the flickering shadows of the Bale Fires that night. His hair was as dark as the black basalt that I was lying upon and in our night together, our hair tangled around us so that we could no longer discern where the strands of one ended and the other's began. Perhaps it was his beauty that made me stay my hand and not take his life when I should have.

And nearly every man that I have ever loved and held dearest to my heart resembled him in some way.My dearest friend, my husband, my paramours - all of them held the same wildness the unslain opfer* did that night. Whether I relive it again and again, I am uncertain. I do not know that it really matters.I just know what I prefer.

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 413
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Opfer - A human sacrifice used with in some Pagan traditions. Usually one who is willing.
fannyfae: (Default)
"Check," I said softly as I pulled my fingers away from my queen. We had been belabouring our moves for hours and each move was as if my opponent and I were truly were on a field of battle. He looked thoughtful for a moment, measuring each man that he had remaining on the chessboard that he would willingly sacrifice to take his king out of peril. He did not move anything but rather mulled over the possibilities, each possibility passed over his features and faded until at last he moved a rook in the direct path of my opposing queen.

"Most women would have relegated themselves to their embroidery at this time, Frances," my opponent said settling back into his leather wing chair, stretching lazily, as if languishing like a cat that had been too long by the fire, "but not you. If I didn't know better, I would say that you pay closer attention to tactics and strategy than you do to the womanly arts of lace tatting  )



Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Wprd Count: 1955

OOC: A special 'thank you' goes to the writer and muse of Hsu Danmei ([livejournal.com profile] civ_barbarian for the appearance of the muse in this entry.) :)

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

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

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


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 383
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
Unus est, Trinus est; in Omni Angulo est.
Omnia comprehendit, Fuit est; et vobis erit.
Finis et origo.*


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

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


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 1497

(*"He is one, he is three, he is in each corner,
Everything will be understood. He was, is and will be to you.
The end and the beginning.")
fannyfae: (diamond necklace)
Name three things that you're looking forward to in the near future and why.



nly three?

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

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

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


Muse:
Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore/ Mythology
Word Count: 364
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (decolette)
If you could buy a magic potion, what would it be?

Solve et coagula, et habebis magisterium.*

hy would I purchase from anyone else that which I as an Aedept can make for myself? The Alchemical Art, that which is part and partial of the true potion maker's trade, cannot ever be separated from it's core. The Art comes at a price, and so, too, come the fruits of it. So many people, humans in particular, seem to think that a potion is in fact an easy way to those things that they want. If they knew what was involved, the costs exacted for partaking of such fruits that come from the labours of the Magus and Alchemist, they would think twice before agreeing to that cost.
Read more... )


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 650
fannyfae: (Default)
My mother never lied to me. At least she never did that I was aware of. She was a truly good person. My father, on the other hand, from whom I have inherited my Unseelie blood - he was not-so-good. It took an act of Will on Morgienne's part to even get him to acknowledge the fact that he was my father. He would not be forsworn and actually say that he had not known my mother. He knew that he had - and so did everyone else. And I was the result of their illicit liaison. He did not lie - I will give him that. However, his allegations inferred that he highly doubted that he was the only possibility toward being my sire. In end, irrefutable proof was provided and Gan Ceanach was forced to acknowledge that indeed, I was his daughter.

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


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 198
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Night

Feb. 10th, 2007 08:41 am
fannyfae: (Within the cloak of Night)
It had been the night blooming jasmine and the way that it glowed in the moonlight that caught my eye. Most nights, if I had been on such a mission, I would have not stopped, not listened to the undeniable beckoning of the garden and it’s inhabitants. But this night was different. The moon was full and spring was first spilling out from the freshly thawed soil. At any other time I would often interact with those whom I called my garden or forest “allies”, and one more the delicate flowers seemed to reach out to me with a scent so sweet that I could not resist.

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

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

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

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

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / Fandom
Word Count: 496
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
I wait for perfect timing.

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

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

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


Muse: Fanny Fae/ Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 403
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: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
have always been extremely selective about who I take to my bed. So in this I am already not what most would consider ideal as a ‘significant other’. The worst quality that I know that I possess in that particular role is the fact that I cannot make that person, the centre of my world. More precisely, I will not. Princely responsibility is my spouse, and Power my paramour. Most husbands or lovers cannot bear the thought that it will rarely be them who keeps you up at night. It isn’t that I prefer the company of pen and parchment to the tender ministrations of my consort. However, if the needs of the Realm are not met, then there will truly not be time to languish under their attentive touch.

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

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



Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 373
fannyfae: (hanging)
hen I was in gaol in Port Royal for pyracy and Wytchcraft, I was kept in a dank cell. On occasion the bright light of midmorning would be just so from the rooves of the other building and the light would shine in illuminating my otherwise dark world. About a head taller than myself was a window, barred and slicked with black mildew and grime from years of moisture that ran down the walls making them slimy.

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

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


Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn © Ma'at Publishing
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 299
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
hat keeps me up at night does not have anything to do with any sort of act that I have come to be ashamed of for having done. My loss of sleep will on more ocassions than not has more to do with matters of State, rather than the careful attentions of a lover. Would that I could actually be the hedonistic despot that I sometimes get accused of being. )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 431
cropssposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (take a bite)
don't know why I should deign to answer such an insulting question. Lamest excuse? I make no excuses. I need none. Excuses and apologies are for the weak. Mistakes in life happen because the world is just too damned unpredictable. Anyone with any sort of real power to wield does not make excuses. They are very careful to make their mistakes in such a fashion that even those with the sharpest of eyes are left to wonder if the so-called mistake was not intentional in the first place. An excuse or worse, an apology for having made one, can prove fatal, and so they are avoided. If you apologize, you will be judged by lesser and greater persons as to your intentions or your competence. You must never leave room for doubt on that count, I assure you.

An excuse satisfies no one; therefore you should never give them. Nor should you ever under any circumstance accept them.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 163
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Comfort

May. 31st, 2006 11:18 pm
fannyfae: (Default)
o many put their trust and their definitions as to what is comforting or comfortable in terms of things that are external. For me, having to live between the worlds, in various places, at varying times, there really are few things that I place trust in that are outside myself. Some would say it's having a full belly, the warmth of a fire on a cold winter night, the love of another, their caress upon their skin, and the feel of soft, clean sheets in a spacious bed with plenty of room to manoeuvre with that lover are the very definitions of comfort. All of those things, I find, are relatively easy to obtain.

The one thing that is most difficult to obtain, and is absolutely essential to contentment is being absolutely comfortable with oneself. After as long a life as I have had, and as much history as I have seen, you have plenty of time to learn to become comfortable with yourself. Many never achieve that in the whole of their lives. Once you are armed with this one elusive quality, you can be comfortable anywhere in nearly every situation. True comfort is having the ability to wield the power that allows you to control your own life. There is something wholly reassuring to being able to say with conviction that you bow neither neck nor knee to anyone and knowing that there are few, if any who have sufficient intestinal fortitude to try to prove you wrong.

That is where I find comfort.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 225
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

Mother

May. 28th, 2006 10:52 am
fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
erhaps in my child's mind I made my mother into far more than what or who she truly was. I was probably all of four years old when she died. My mother was everything that I am not. She was so young, innocent, and full of life. Like me she had dark hair, but unlike me she had blue eyes. Perhaps it was her blue eyes and sweet song that attracted my father, Gan Ceanach. The things I do remember is that she was the one who taught me about the plant spirits. She taught me to interact with them and listen to them. Perhaps it was her innocence that made such a thing natural to a child. In that world, what little I remember of it, I felt safe and loved. The world was full of things that begged exploration, and there was nothing anywhere within it that was not exciting and wondrous to me.

Then all of that ended.... )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore /Mythology
Word Count: 583
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
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: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
"Any man who tries to be good all the time is bound to come to ruin among the great number who are not good. Hence a prince who wants to keep his authority must learn how not to be good, and use that knowledge, or refrain from using it, as necessity requires"

~ "The Prince", Nicolo Machiavelli, 1469-1527


hey say that who we are is a product of the events of our childhood. I imagine that my life would offer no exception to that particular adage. I decided at a very young age that I would never be the victim of someone else's power and control. I suppose it could be said that it was always my ambition to rule, if not over others certainly over all aspects of my own life. I daresay that I have achieved both of these things.

I learned first hand how the powerful could either take the power they had and could give great benefit to those around them, or cause incredible pain and suffering. As a child, it was Morgienne, the woman who was then the High Lady of the Fortunate Island who took my mother from me. It happened when I was very small and I did not learn of her treachery until I was on the edge of womanhood. When I did learn of it, it became an all consuming passion; an obsession. I made it a point to study all forms of Power, its Laws and Mysteries. I committed them all to memory and I used them and turned them on upon those who would choose to exploit me and mine.

Even as a child, my ambition was to rule. To be successful, I learned the art of duplicity, which at any court is absolutely essential. With Morgienne, I was unmerciful as she in fact was unmerciful. Constantly over the course of my life, I watched, I observed all the while discreetly insuring that I would take my revenge as well as the throne of High Lady of the Fortunate Island. All that need happen was for nature to take its course. At last, the people saw her for what she truly was, her star began to fade and she was weak enough to be struck. If I had been convinced to be foolish enough to let her live, the viper would have reared up and bit me once more. Morgienne would not have been merciful, and so the viper was destroyed, swiftly, without hesitation and all remnants of her regime swept away. My childhood ambition was at last realized, my desire for vengeance had at last been exorcized.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore Mythology
Word Count: 380 (Michavelli quote not included in count)
Cross posted 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: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
ye. I have. More than once and certainly for a variety of reasons. My first kill was nothing so noble as self preservation or self defence. I poisoned my foster mother, Morgienne, former High Lady of the Fortunate Island. I did this in part because she had taken the life of my own mother, and partially because I wanted to usurp her place on the throne of the Fortunate Isle. *shrugs* And why not? She deserved what she got, just as I deserved the throne.

The others that have met death by my hand, it really had less to do with vengeance and more to do with what was in the interests of self-preservation and political expediency. Rarely has there ever been malice behind the taking of a life on my part. One of the great Laws of Power is that you never put too much trust in friends and you learn to use your enemies. And when you destroy an enemy, you need to crush your enemy totally. There can be no chance that the head of the snake can rear up and bite you later on, or that the progeny of the serpent you just slew will in vengeance return to roost where you are. A certain detachment is required, lest you become sentimental and soft hearted and forget that an enemy once smitten and left to live, tends to have a very long memory indeed.

Character name: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Disclaimers warning: Frances Moira MacKay,aka Fanny Fae, aka Faelyn,
et al are based off of one of my ancestors and are therefore sole property of ME!
Challenge topic: Have you killed anyone before?
Rating: PG

Word Count: 238
Crossposted to: [livejournal.com profile] random_fic
fannyfae: (slick)
hen I first considered the question, i'faith, I thought I would like to know what it is exactly that [livejournal.com profile] king_of_goblins or [livejournal.com profile] curly_bill, thought about any given thing. Both of them seem to elude my way of thinking for rather obvious reasons. Jareth, because I consider him my friend, and yet there is always something that is held in reserve in our friendship on both sides. Bill, because though I like and honestly care for the man as the best friend of my husband and godfather to our daughter, Caroline, I donnae understand him. Some days I think that Bill would help me in a fix, and others I think he wishes he could strangle the life out of me, if it would not cause any sort of detriment to either John or Caroline. I also thought, too, about wondering how [livejournal.com profile] redking_nuada felt about me after all these aeons. By all rights I should have agreed to be Nuada's bound consort for longer than I was, but I had to go my own way. We both knew that.

So at last, I come up on the one person whom I would really like to know what he was thinking - even though most days and at the deepest levels I have convinced myself that I already know. That person would be my husband. Although I am certain that he loves me with the whole of his heart,I want to know why he loathes himself so much, and refuses to forgive himself ever for the wrongs that he has done in life. I want to know why love and understanding cannot penetrate that dark shell that still threatens to overtake him. I know that despair and tragedy have followed on his heels for most of his life, and yet it has been quiet, peaceful and blessed many times over.

Maybe if I were to see it from his point of view I would know why. I would know once and for all why there are things beyond my understanding of Power. There are still things, small things that matter so very much that elude me - even with regard to the one person whom I love more than any other.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character /'Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 359
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

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