Post by Elisandra on Jan 27, 2007 7:49:25 GMT -8
(Bound in woven silk ribbons of blue and silver with a rare blue harpy feather who's shaft is wrapped in fine silver wire with a single perfect pale blue diamond bead, used as a page keeper, attached to the books binding with a blood red ribbon. This feather has been carved into a pen. The pages within are made of thin sheets of linnen paper. The ink is a dark crimson. The writing is styled, but easily read, often with sketches in the boarders of the words. This book is kept by one she loves dearly to whom she gave it as a gift.)
________________________________________________
This book, in which I will keep my own words, I begin with the words of another, carried to me on the winds of the desert...from a bard in a far away land. They touch me as the ills of the mortal world that destroys the dreaming. As proof that love can conquer banality.
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
--Sir William Shakespeare Sonnet 66
===============================================================================
The ritual has left me feeling hollow...taken the so called "gift" of the demon which had seduced me into following him...and my wolf hunts far away. He does not know that I am no longer a gateway for the demon, and that our passions would not feed it. He stays away... to protect me, and my heart aches. I long to be held in his arms, to run in the woods, to hunt and sleep at his side. Fruit is not as flavorful, the Honey mead not as sweet and the silk I wear is not nearly so soft. It as if I have become numb again to the world.
I have my freedom though, and the people of the freehold. It is my duty to guard those I love from the comming winter. These are my people, and I would give my life for them.
(In the margin of the page are sketches of figures holding up a pavillion. At the bottom of the page is one of the figures, collapsed. Her face is more detailed, tears run from her eyes, and she looks completely exhausted)
This is a song I wrote...I feel it needs one more verse, but the words elude me.
Rodin's caryatid
cryin at my failures
feeling the weight of the world
my head spins from the vertigo
stalwart stanchion through years
face stained, wonderin’what future will hold
Ill help bear the load
for the others who are falling
weight too heavy for one alone
who will stand in my place
when it all comes crashing down
where will we find shelter
all the walls are broken shells
wind blown and scattered
time and tide etching away our facade
leaving only traces of what we once were
Ill help bear the load
for the others who are falling
weight too heavy for one alone
who will stand in my place
when it all comes crashing down
===============================================================================
(Pigments rubbed into the paper below the words, in twilight colors over the mountains. Clouds in the sky reflect the waning suns colors in pale shades of purple and crimson)
I include now some of the poetry I wrote before I found my way back home to the dreaming. The drawings are new though I find they are lacking substance in their style,not picture portraits, but misty sketches, as if seen walking through the dreaming.
Twilight
Dancing barefoot between shadows
on the raw edge of darkness and light
souls numb and bleeding
impervious to the cold
from the fire that burns within
===============================================================================
(Inserted into the book is a picture in charcoal of a girl with her arms held behind her back by a black hand, leaning forward on her knees naked, her hair draped forward hiding her face and pooling on the ground. There are spiders in the margins.The charcoal has pressed onto the page behind this poem to create a ghost image of the drawing)
Bound
Damp hair falls like tears that would not
covering her face
hands lashed, weight holding her down
her beauty and size deceptive in its danger
flesh against flesh, the struggle to be freed
letting go to find release.
===============================================================================
(an Image of a figure engulfed in flames rubbed into the picture with pigments of reds and yellows)
Muscle Memory
You stand behind me,
silently.
Arms wrapped
cloaking me in warmth
sending quiet waves
rippling
thoughts slip through mind
like water on hair
like kisses
felt
remembered
missed.
I still feel you inside me.
===============================================================================
(The next poem has a picture of a clear glass vase in charcoal, You can see a glassblowers shop sketched, distorted by looking through the vase.)
Terpsechore's fire
I go back to remind myself I once danced with fire.
honey on steel
colours change as the fire cools
smell of heat
the air so hot and still
the sweat disappears almost before it broke
leaving only a layer of salt
prayers said to the gods of fire
"Dont let this one drop into the glory hole!"
Learning the difference between uncomfortable and tissue damage
cold steel on hot flesh
After the saltant sculpture is put to rest for the night
another dance begins.
===============================================================================
(Mossy green and brown pigments depicitng a forest are smudged into the paper, giving the illusion of the words being written in the air in front of the trees.)
Religion
Wearing a cloak of fog I wander
clear air filling my lungs
Nothing can match the peace here
Ancient Giants
watching
waiting
Only the mountain has more patience
Walking through the cathedral
a twig snaps under bare foot
Ferns sing Hymns
Mosses invite touch
Holy Ground
Birth, life and death in balance
This is my church.
===============================================================================
*New book as the other was filled with drawings and poems. This one is bound in silvery blue silk cloth with a black and red leather binding*
_____________________________________________________
I spoke with Lucian the other morning. I told him the story of Lady Fiona, and of the curse. He does not beleive in curses, and he does not understand the Fae, much as I try to explain to him what I am. At least he comes home late at night after hunting to sleep by my side now that the demon is gone from me. He curles himself around me protectively and falls asleep, worn out from the chase.
How do I tell him what it is like, to dance with shadows and moonlight, to love desperately...to feel and see and even touch glamour? He can understand my willingness to die for my people, but does not understand what we are and feels uncomfortable around us...and the distance grows between us.
There is one who understands me more than anyone I have ever known. I am drawn to shadows once again, only now instead of cold shelter I find heat there. Together we work to keep the Freehold strong and find ways to keep the Unseelie and Seelie of the court from fighting against one another in this time of peace for power.
The Queen, is a great leader, despite her change in court. I look forward to the things she has offered to teach me, and spend much of my days trying to move objects about. I fear, this proves even more difficult for me than calling the wisp. I can make a small rock wiggle, and managed to levitate a peach 1/2 inch in my hand once....but there was no control in it really.
What I really want to learn is how to heal mostly and also, how to walk in dreams...to know the minds of others while they sleep. To suggest they can dream waking and sleeping...create great works of art, love deeply and passionately, and play. To bring them back just enough of a taste of their childhood to open their minds to the dreaming and power it with their glamour. To keep the banality of mortality at bay as guard against the winter that one day will be upon us.
===============================================================================
Endless hours waiting in solitude
for stolen moments in time.
Fire burns white hot,
glowing from within,
unable to be contained,
bathing us in its tide.
Moonlight and Shadow dance together,
breathlessly awaiting the dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We watch each other, stealing moments alone. Knowing we should not allow what is happening to happen, but unable to fight it. We have really tried, but gravity works it seems.
He understands me in a way no one else ever has, save perhaps the queen herself. It feels as if I am drowning some days and other days like flight.
Lucian will return home soon. How do I tell him that our worlds have grown so far apart? That my duty is to my people, and I cannot just run off with him to the woods and howl at the moon, sleeping under the stars like wild things as we both once dreamed. I have no wish to change what he is, for it is beautiful and feral, and a large part of me still loves him deeply for everything he has done. I would very likely have perished were it not for his love and protection. I do not wish to leave him alone in this world. He has allready lost his family. He loves me I think because I am what he can cling to. He trusts me...and I betray him.
Ever am I drawn to shadows...and a shadow I have fallen in love with. He makes me feel as if I glow, and at times I am certain I do. I cannot deny it, were I asked directly, under oath. Thankfully, I have not been.
===============================================================================
The fire is too hot and the evening too cold.
I tried to drink, or eat, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.
The Rain finally stopped today in the freehold, but the winds blow constantly making it impossible to see. All I want is the solidity of a rock to hold onto in the shifting sands, but that is not to be. Like my wolf, I don't understand why...even though he has tried to explain it. I know what I felt when we made love. It was real. I didnt imagine it. But it cannot be. I will have to learn to stand on my own.
Lucian is gone. I broke his heart, and he his body. And I pray both will mend. At least I was able to fulfill one promice I made him...at least he knows others of his kind, and is able to roam free with them, learning the ways of his people. And one day, when the wounds are not so fresh, perhaps we can be friends.
I do not remember what it all means..Nobility...court. It is a strange place to be and I feel so lost. I have friends here though. And my duties as a guardian. I am kept from simply floating away, washed out with the wind and tide by them. But can that be enough? I have felt, even for such a short time, what it feels like to be whole, and now I am left empty again.
I itch, and I cannot scratch it for fear of damaging the ink. This work, probably the last for this artist, magnificent in its glory. I offered him more than serving Banality...told him life could be greater, that he would be renouned for his art. Blood now stains the room I left for them to sleep, and I am questioned. Death would have been his fate, and he would have hurt the dreaming following his intended path. I offered him more, and it was not enough. Is it ever enough?
I will don my mask and hide what I truely feel. Prepare for Carnival. Do my duty. I will sink myself so far into it that I do not have time to notice how he moves when he draws his blade to fight, or how the moonlight falls on his lower lip when we talk, the rest of his face in shadow. Not to touch him when he draws close to speak or know again the softness of his kiss. I will do my best not to let the love I still feel for him show.
===============================================================================
Carnival is over now, and the rain in the freehold has cleared, though it is still overcast. Suits me fine, though I would prefer fog to cloak myself in. Some days I find myself longing for quiet companionship, and others I just want to be left alone. I have yet to find what I long for in a mate. I thought I had...but I know now it is hopeless. I wish not only to be cherished for my looks, but for my mind. I need someone as ambitious as I am who will fight by my side, not keep me locked up in some tower, placed alongside other trophies won on a pedistal somewhere. Someone who understands the machinations of court, and is willing to dance through them with me. Who understands what it means to be Sidhe and does not despise everything that comes with it. I do not beleive such a creature exists.
Mostly, I just feel lost. Winter changes to spring once again. Traditionally it is the time the seelie court rules and the unseelie plan for the autumn to come. I long to learn more, still no one teaches me the things I should be taught. Her Majesty has retreated into her solitude, and the count who had offered to teach me has been buisy with his own duties. I feel awkward.
I am a countess, not some commoner. I should demand my rightful place to better serve our people. Perhaps then the queen will do as she has promiced and teach me. If she will not do it, then I will ask to travel into the dreaming for a while. Perhaps there is one there who will teach me the things I hunger to know.
My only concern would be Phaen. I cannot leave her alone to take the responcibilities of the Inn alone. I know not how time will pass if I were to go back into the dreaming. Would I return to find her an old woman, having missed the years with her, or would time pass faster in the dreaming, and more slowly here?
No, my duty lays here. I will not retreat into the solice of the dreaming to be comforted like some crying infant. I am a woman now, not a child. Its time I commanded respect and demand what is due me, not sit here, with my tail tucked, waiting for scraps to be handed to me.
===============================================================================
It has been weeks since I have sat in one place long enough to write. So much has happened over the last few weeks I can hardly believe it.
I spoke, and received what I asked for, and now find myself in this ocean of court life...clinging to debris to keep my head above the waters that threaten to drown me in them. I am treading water, but...I know one day I will have the skills to swim as the silkies do. I have hidden my skin somewhere safe where no one will find it and suspect my true nature. I have only revealed to my queen all of it, that she may be wary, and do what is necessary to keep the freehold safe from the net that threatens to trap us all.
Few see it laying hidden in the deep water, but with the threat to the elves children, I see it rising from the depths.
They think I am a pawn, easily played and captured to become a part of their plan. Let us hope they continue to underestimate me, and that I have not overestimated my own ability to land on my feet. The future of the fae in this world may depend upon it. A pawn, upon reaching the other side of the board without being caught...can become what is needed most to win the game, or can be the sacrefice needed to distract the enemy from the true threat that lurks.
Rithalis has begun his tutorage, teaching me how to speak and dress and navigate the basics of court life. This too is a part of the mask I must don now to garner the respect of the other nobility who manipulate the lives of the commonors in their plotting. It is my position to be a liason between the people and the nobility. Many I have spoken with do not trust the new nobles who have come from Dragons Eire. Ian, they trust more, as he walks and jokes among the people. Lady Danica they are suspicious of with her brooding ways and fine tastes when she comes out among the common folk. Lord Stygian is a bit to stodgy for the tastes of the commoners. He is seen from time to time, and even has shown excelent leadership to them, but holds his nobility around him, untouchable.
The members of the freehold have seen so few Sidhe nobility over the years, and the positions of court have always been attainable. Now that other nobles have come, the distance between us grows. Even my friends wonder where I will stand.
My friends, many of whom even now find themselves fighting dreams. I worry for Aly and her battles, and for Phaen, who is becomming more isolated. She rarely leaves her rooms now and sends Sage to help run things around the Inn. I only hope her majesty is able to help. Aly is a Thunderlord, she has fought against great odds...but Phaen is human. Strong though she is, her dreams can be stolen from her...I only hope the Queen is able to help. I must check in on Phaen now, and let her know how much she is loved, and try to get her out of her mothers' dress. The memory of her haunts Phaen and draws her farther from us. I will not give her up without a fight.
===============================================================================
________________________________________________
This book, in which I will keep my own words, I begin with the words of another, carried to me on the winds of the desert...from a bard in a far away land. They touch me as the ills of the mortal world that destroys the dreaming. As proof that love can conquer banality.
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
--Sir William Shakespeare Sonnet 66
===============================================================================
The ritual has left me feeling hollow...taken the so called "gift" of the demon which had seduced me into following him...and my wolf hunts far away. He does not know that I am no longer a gateway for the demon, and that our passions would not feed it. He stays away... to protect me, and my heart aches. I long to be held in his arms, to run in the woods, to hunt and sleep at his side. Fruit is not as flavorful, the Honey mead not as sweet and the silk I wear is not nearly so soft. It as if I have become numb again to the world.
I have my freedom though, and the people of the freehold. It is my duty to guard those I love from the comming winter. These are my people, and I would give my life for them.
(In the margin of the page are sketches of figures holding up a pavillion. At the bottom of the page is one of the figures, collapsed. Her face is more detailed, tears run from her eyes, and she looks completely exhausted)
This is a song I wrote...I feel it needs one more verse, but the words elude me.
Rodin's caryatid
cryin at my failures
feeling the weight of the world
my head spins from the vertigo
stalwart stanchion through years
face stained, wonderin’what future will hold
Ill help bear the load
for the others who are falling
weight too heavy for one alone
who will stand in my place
when it all comes crashing down
where will we find shelter
all the walls are broken shells
wind blown and scattered
time and tide etching away our facade
leaving only traces of what we once were
Ill help bear the load
for the others who are falling
weight too heavy for one alone
who will stand in my place
when it all comes crashing down
===============================================================================
(Pigments rubbed into the paper below the words, in twilight colors over the mountains. Clouds in the sky reflect the waning suns colors in pale shades of purple and crimson)
I include now some of the poetry I wrote before I found my way back home to the dreaming. The drawings are new though I find they are lacking substance in their style,not picture portraits, but misty sketches, as if seen walking through the dreaming.
Twilight
Dancing barefoot between shadows
on the raw edge of darkness and light
souls numb and bleeding
impervious to the cold
from the fire that burns within
===============================================================================
(Inserted into the book is a picture in charcoal of a girl with her arms held behind her back by a black hand, leaning forward on her knees naked, her hair draped forward hiding her face and pooling on the ground. There are spiders in the margins.The charcoal has pressed onto the page behind this poem to create a ghost image of the drawing)
Bound
Damp hair falls like tears that would not
covering her face
hands lashed, weight holding her down
her beauty and size deceptive in its danger
flesh against flesh, the struggle to be freed
letting go to find release.
===============================================================================
(an Image of a figure engulfed in flames rubbed into the picture with pigments of reds and yellows)
Muscle Memory
You stand behind me,
silently.
Arms wrapped
cloaking me in warmth
sending quiet waves
rippling
thoughts slip through mind
like water on hair
like kisses
felt
remembered
missed.
I still feel you inside me.
===============================================================================
(The next poem has a picture of a clear glass vase in charcoal, You can see a glassblowers shop sketched, distorted by looking through the vase.)
Terpsechore's fire
I go back to remind myself I once danced with fire.
honey on steel
colours change as the fire cools
smell of heat
the air so hot and still
the sweat disappears almost before it broke
leaving only a layer of salt
prayers said to the gods of fire
"Dont let this one drop into the glory hole!"
Learning the difference between uncomfortable and tissue damage
cold steel on hot flesh
After the saltant sculpture is put to rest for the night
another dance begins.
===============================================================================
(Mossy green and brown pigments depicitng a forest are smudged into the paper, giving the illusion of the words being written in the air in front of the trees.)
Religion
Wearing a cloak of fog I wander
clear air filling my lungs
Nothing can match the peace here
Ancient Giants
watching
waiting
Only the mountain has more patience
Walking through the cathedral
a twig snaps under bare foot
Ferns sing Hymns
Mosses invite touch
Holy Ground
Birth, life and death in balance
This is my church.
===============================================================================
*New book as the other was filled with drawings and poems. This one is bound in silvery blue silk cloth with a black and red leather binding*
_____________________________________________________
I spoke with Lucian the other morning. I told him the story of Lady Fiona, and of the curse. He does not beleive in curses, and he does not understand the Fae, much as I try to explain to him what I am. At least he comes home late at night after hunting to sleep by my side now that the demon is gone from me. He curles himself around me protectively and falls asleep, worn out from the chase.
How do I tell him what it is like, to dance with shadows and moonlight, to love desperately...to feel and see and even touch glamour? He can understand my willingness to die for my people, but does not understand what we are and feels uncomfortable around us...and the distance grows between us.
There is one who understands me more than anyone I have ever known. I am drawn to shadows once again, only now instead of cold shelter I find heat there. Together we work to keep the Freehold strong and find ways to keep the Unseelie and Seelie of the court from fighting against one another in this time of peace for power.
The Queen, is a great leader, despite her change in court. I look forward to the things she has offered to teach me, and spend much of my days trying to move objects about. I fear, this proves even more difficult for me than calling the wisp. I can make a small rock wiggle, and managed to levitate a peach 1/2 inch in my hand once....but there was no control in it really.
What I really want to learn is how to heal mostly and also, how to walk in dreams...to know the minds of others while they sleep. To suggest they can dream waking and sleeping...create great works of art, love deeply and passionately, and play. To bring them back just enough of a taste of their childhood to open their minds to the dreaming and power it with their glamour. To keep the banality of mortality at bay as guard against the winter that one day will be upon us.
===============================================================================
Endless hours waiting in solitude
for stolen moments in time.
Fire burns white hot,
glowing from within,
unable to be contained,
bathing us in its tide.
Moonlight and Shadow dance together,
breathlessly awaiting the dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We watch each other, stealing moments alone. Knowing we should not allow what is happening to happen, but unable to fight it. We have really tried, but gravity works it seems.
He understands me in a way no one else ever has, save perhaps the queen herself. It feels as if I am drowning some days and other days like flight.
Lucian will return home soon. How do I tell him that our worlds have grown so far apart? That my duty is to my people, and I cannot just run off with him to the woods and howl at the moon, sleeping under the stars like wild things as we both once dreamed. I have no wish to change what he is, for it is beautiful and feral, and a large part of me still loves him deeply for everything he has done. I would very likely have perished were it not for his love and protection. I do not wish to leave him alone in this world. He has allready lost his family. He loves me I think because I am what he can cling to. He trusts me...and I betray him.
Ever am I drawn to shadows...and a shadow I have fallen in love with. He makes me feel as if I glow, and at times I am certain I do. I cannot deny it, were I asked directly, under oath. Thankfully, I have not been.
===============================================================================
The fire is too hot and the evening too cold.
I tried to drink, or eat, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.
The Rain finally stopped today in the freehold, but the winds blow constantly making it impossible to see. All I want is the solidity of a rock to hold onto in the shifting sands, but that is not to be. Like my wolf, I don't understand why...even though he has tried to explain it. I know what I felt when we made love. It was real. I didnt imagine it. But it cannot be. I will have to learn to stand on my own.
Lucian is gone. I broke his heart, and he his body. And I pray both will mend. At least I was able to fulfill one promice I made him...at least he knows others of his kind, and is able to roam free with them, learning the ways of his people. And one day, when the wounds are not so fresh, perhaps we can be friends.
I do not remember what it all means..Nobility...court. It is a strange place to be and I feel so lost. I have friends here though. And my duties as a guardian. I am kept from simply floating away, washed out with the wind and tide by them. But can that be enough? I have felt, even for such a short time, what it feels like to be whole, and now I am left empty again.
I itch, and I cannot scratch it for fear of damaging the ink. This work, probably the last for this artist, magnificent in its glory. I offered him more than serving Banality...told him life could be greater, that he would be renouned for his art. Blood now stains the room I left for them to sleep, and I am questioned. Death would have been his fate, and he would have hurt the dreaming following his intended path. I offered him more, and it was not enough. Is it ever enough?
I will don my mask and hide what I truely feel. Prepare for Carnival. Do my duty. I will sink myself so far into it that I do not have time to notice how he moves when he draws his blade to fight, or how the moonlight falls on his lower lip when we talk, the rest of his face in shadow. Not to touch him when he draws close to speak or know again the softness of his kiss. I will do my best not to let the love I still feel for him show.
===============================================================================
Carnival is over now, and the rain in the freehold has cleared, though it is still overcast. Suits me fine, though I would prefer fog to cloak myself in. Some days I find myself longing for quiet companionship, and others I just want to be left alone. I have yet to find what I long for in a mate. I thought I had...but I know now it is hopeless. I wish not only to be cherished for my looks, but for my mind. I need someone as ambitious as I am who will fight by my side, not keep me locked up in some tower, placed alongside other trophies won on a pedistal somewhere. Someone who understands the machinations of court, and is willing to dance through them with me. Who understands what it means to be Sidhe and does not despise everything that comes with it. I do not beleive such a creature exists.
Mostly, I just feel lost. Winter changes to spring once again. Traditionally it is the time the seelie court rules and the unseelie plan for the autumn to come. I long to learn more, still no one teaches me the things I should be taught. Her Majesty has retreated into her solitude, and the count who had offered to teach me has been buisy with his own duties. I feel awkward.
I am a countess, not some commoner. I should demand my rightful place to better serve our people. Perhaps then the queen will do as she has promiced and teach me. If she will not do it, then I will ask to travel into the dreaming for a while. Perhaps there is one there who will teach me the things I hunger to know.
My only concern would be Phaen. I cannot leave her alone to take the responcibilities of the Inn alone. I know not how time will pass if I were to go back into the dreaming. Would I return to find her an old woman, having missed the years with her, or would time pass faster in the dreaming, and more slowly here?
No, my duty lays here. I will not retreat into the solice of the dreaming to be comforted like some crying infant. I am a woman now, not a child. Its time I commanded respect and demand what is due me, not sit here, with my tail tucked, waiting for scraps to be handed to me.
===============================================================================
It has been weeks since I have sat in one place long enough to write. So much has happened over the last few weeks I can hardly believe it.
I spoke, and received what I asked for, and now find myself in this ocean of court life...clinging to debris to keep my head above the waters that threaten to drown me in them. I am treading water, but...I know one day I will have the skills to swim as the silkies do. I have hidden my skin somewhere safe where no one will find it and suspect my true nature. I have only revealed to my queen all of it, that she may be wary, and do what is necessary to keep the freehold safe from the net that threatens to trap us all.
Few see it laying hidden in the deep water, but with the threat to the elves children, I see it rising from the depths.
They think I am a pawn, easily played and captured to become a part of their plan. Let us hope they continue to underestimate me, and that I have not overestimated my own ability to land on my feet. The future of the fae in this world may depend upon it. A pawn, upon reaching the other side of the board without being caught...can become what is needed most to win the game, or can be the sacrefice needed to distract the enemy from the true threat that lurks.
Rithalis has begun his tutorage, teaching me how to speak and dress and navigate the basics of court life. This too is a part of the mask I must don now to garner the respect of the other nobility who manipulate the lives of the commonors in their plotting. It is my position to be a liason between the people and the nobility. Many I have spoken with do not trust the new nobles who have come from Dragons Eire. Ian, they trust more, as he walks and jokes among the people. Lady Danica they are suspicious of with her brooding ways and fine tastes when she comes out among the common folk. Lord Stygian is a bit to stodgy for the tastes of the commoners. He is seen from time to time, and even has shown excelent leadership to them, but holds his nobility around him, untouchable.
The members of the freehold have seen so few Sidhe nobility over the years, and the positions of court have always been attainable. Now that other nobles have come, the distance between us grows. Even my friends wonder where I will stand.
My friends, many of whom even now find themselves fighting dreams. I worry for Aly and her battles, and for Phaen, who is becomming more isolated. She rarely leaves her rooms now and sends Sage to help run things around the Inn. I only hope her majesty is able to help. Aly is a Thunderlord, she has fought against great odds...but Phaen is human. Strong though she is, her dreams can be stolen from her...I only hope the Queen is able to help. I must check in on Phaen now, and let her know how much she is loved, and try to get her out of her mothers' dress. The memory of her haunts Phaen and draws her farther from us. I will not give her up without a fight.
===============================================================================