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Aug. 23rd, 2011

lol

(no subject)

I think I might be ready to come back to lj but I'm not sure.

Dec. 11th, 2009

writing

Between Dreaming and Awake (cont'd)

"How did I come to arrive in this place?" I asked the badger-person, because he seemed to know infinitely more about my current station than I. He looked up at me and smiled, and gestured that I should follow. Together, we three began to thread our way through the trees.

"I expect that the Lady of Birds sent you here. She has been missing from here for some time, and this is her home."

The golden-haired gentleman scoffed. "I don't believe she means to return. She wouldn't have left her own party. It was truly the most beautiful affair that the world has ever seen, and she just walked away! The insult!"

The badger-person shook his head. "The whole thing seems wrong. I do believe she means to return, and I believe she sent you here."

I listened to all this with fascination. "You mean Avialle?" I asked.

The gentleman nearly jumped out of his skin. "Quiet!" he exclaimed. Though he whispered, his voice held great intensity. "You never know who is listening!"

Utterly confused, I looked up to stare at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

The badger-person looked no less concerned, but his words were a bit gentler. "We do not speak names so cavalier in this place," he replied. "The trees have ears and endless memory. I'm sure you understand."

I didn't, but I nodded yes anyway. There were many things about this place that I didn't understand, I only hoped that they would become clearer with time.

"At least I know now that my suspicions were correct," said the badger-person with a good-natured smile, though the golden-haired gentleman still glared. "It is then much more necessary to see you out of Hearts-Desire and into the next kingdom."

"What do you mean?"

"It isn't really important," said the badger-person.

He'd scarcely gotten the words out when the golden-haired gentleman interrupted. "Three witches are holed up in the White Castle and they'll want you dead, I'd expect."

This statement had a very predictable effect upon me. "What? Why?"

"He is waxing melodramatic," said the badger-person.

"They have stolen the home of our mutual friend," the gentleman replied.

"You mean Avi--?" I barely made it through half her name before they both shushed me again.

"They may send agents after you," admitted the badger-person. "It won't be a problem if we can make it to Merry-Chase before they know you're here."

"Unlikely," said the gentleman with a derisive laugh. "Methought I heard the chiming of a hunting-bell sound."

"Hunting-bell?" I cried.

The badger-person sent a significant look in his direction. "Hush," he said. "You heard nothing of the sort. You are trying to frighten him."

"I'm not frightened," I lied, as though this would belay the conversation, but they seemed not to even hear me, and continued to speak as though I were not present.

"He is not nearly frightened enough."

"I am only allowing you along with us because you know the quickest way. The last thing I need is for you to fill his head with paranoia."

"What is Merry-Chase?" I asked.

"Keeping information from him isn't going to help either," said the gentleman. "It's best that he is aware of the danger. You know what we are facing."

"Shut up!" I finally screamed. They both fell silent and looked at me, flabbergasted. "I mean. I'm sorry. It isn't that I don't appreciate what you're doing for me, but I don't understand what any of this is about. Or what it has to do with...her."

Aug. 27th, 2009

rdj

Random Words

So over at Clockabye we are undergoing a major overhaul, and narrowing our focus to two really awesome, clean games with better laid-out story and canon. This is actually something that I'm really excited about, and I'm looking forward to moving forward with.

I have sort of put myself in charge of organizing the player-generated canon (as well as the staff-generated canon, really) which is cool but it also means that I'm going to figure out how to make the massive collection of short stories, artwork, poetry, long stories, etc. more palatable to the uninitiated. Fun work, but work nonetheless.

Today has been the most ridiculous day of work ever.

In case you care to look at pictures, here's one:
http://toxic-fairie.deviantart.com/art/Roy-G-Biv-134899190

Aug. 18th, 2009

flea

In the Space Between Dreaming and Awake


“They keep getting younger.”

I did not open my eyes right away. I had plenty of sensations to process without examining my surroundings visually. A cool breeze skimmed my fever-hot skin. I smelled something herbal and sanitary, and I was reminded of a poultice my father had made me a few years back for a bee sting. 

“Surely you aren’t implying,” said a second voice, “that she took this child to her bed.”

What I presumed to be the first voice made a sort of snorting sound. “And why not?” he asked derisively. “I don’t understand her motivations any more than I do yours or anyone else’s.” The voice was obviously that of a man, but it struck me as beautiful, musical—all the things a woman’s voice ought to be. 

“You are being unreasonable,” said the second voice. The gender of this voice was not so readily apparent.  It sounded somewhere between male and female, much like the voice of a child, but not.

I opened my eyes to find myself staring at what appeared to be a forest canopy. Light streamed through the leaves in jagged strips as I squinted up at the branches.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” said the first voice, something of a pout in his tone. 

“Yes you are. She insulted you, and you’re flinging insults back at her even in her absence.”

“I think <i>you’re</i> being unreasonable.”

“Don’t be absurd.” The genderless voice paused. “He’s opened his eyes.”

A barest moment later, my view was occupied with the golden haired head of what I could only assume to be the first voice. His face, much like his voice, was beautiful and yet clearly masculine. He had high cheekbones, eyes the color of a storm-soaked sky, and hair that hung too long in ringlets about his face. “Well, good morrow there, wanderer,” he said.

 

“Excuse me,” I croaked. Once the words had been squeezed from my throat, my breath erupted into a coughing fit, and I rolled onto my side only to feel cold dew against my cheek. The earth beneath me was loamy and soft, so I hadn’t noticed until this precise moment that I was lying on the forest floor. “I’m sorry,” I managed to get out between wheezes.

                The man looked at me as though I were insane. “What for? You aren’t going to bring those tiresome politics into this--<i>I’m sorry </i> this, and <i>please-and-thank-you</i> that, and meanwhile no one bothers to bring gifts or call people by their proper titles. It’s absurd!”

                “He is apologizing,” said the second voice, “because he cannot talk.”

                The owner of the genderless voice now appeared at the other corner of my vision. It looked much as it sounded, genderless. It appeared to be just below my own height, and was covered from head to toe in a fine blue fur. Its face was masked like a badger’s, strips of darker blue migrated down from its hairline to border the eyes.

                “Still, no need to apologize,” said the man. “People ought to apologize for talking too <i>much</i>, not too little.”

                “Can you move?” asked the badger-thing, completely ignoring the golden-haired man.

                Once my coughing fit subsided, I nodded and pushed up first on my elbows and then until I was sitting up on the damp grass. “Where are we?” I whispered. Even unvoiced, the words stuck in my throat as though they were made of barbs and broken glass.

                “Heart’s-Desire, of course,” replied the man, and the badger-creature only nodded its head.

                I looked down at my body. Where there had been bloody black wool, there was only a dressing gown of crispest emerald green. It let quite a bit of the breeze through against my skin. There was no sign of blood at all, which was more confusing than alarming.  I managed to tuck my feet beneath me and get to a standing position.  "Heart's-Desire," I repeated, tasting the words as though they were the first thing to pass between my lips in my entire life.  "I haven't heard of it.  Is it in the country?"

The man laughed.  "In a manner of speaking."

"It is quite pleasant," I replied, more out of politeness than anything else, because I thought the place might be the gentleman's house.  Of course, though the words were spoken out of politeness, they were factually correct.  The three of us now occupied a copse of trees whose branches stretched impossibly into the sky, raking their thorny fingers through clouds like milk blossoming in tea.  Beyond the copse was a green meadow that rose steadily into a low hill upon which was seated a huge manor, the likes of which I had never seen.  It was covered in beautiful stained glass windows, whose reflections made it seem that the sun radiated from the building itself.

"I should hope so," the gentleman replied.  Now that we were all standing, I could see that my own garments were less out of the ordinary than they had originally struck me.  The gentleman was naked from the waist up, and below the waist he wore a pair of trousers that looked almost to be made from a giant leaf.  The fabric was waxy, green, and veiny.  It looked exceedingly expensive.

Aug. 10th, 2009

shoes

(no subject)

So apparently I am to the point where I fall asleep at 7pm without notice and sleep straight through until 8am.  Go figure.  But that's what I did last night.  One minute I was climbing into my bed to watch a little Buck Rogers and play on my lappy, and the next thing I was opening up my eyes at 8 this morning.

Then I come into work only to find that boss-man has left a 12 page call list and a 10 page list of updates to client files that need to be done.  Of course I still haven't finished the 7 pages of web updates I left open on Friday.  I think I would probably be in panic mode if I hadn't already made up my mind that I don't really care.

Also, I think I need to start looking for another job because I get the distinct impression that our company is about to go the way of the dodo.

Happy Monday, everyone.

Jul. 30th, 2009

shoes

And yet more inane babble...

So, ever since recovering from my stomach flu of a couple weeks ago, my stomach has not been the same.  I have gone way down in my capacity for both amount and greasiness of food.  I suppose I could look at this as a bad thing, but I've chosen to make mental lemonade and accept and revel in the fact that I have lost at least three pounds in the past two weeks.  Woohoo.  So hopefully I can keep this up and shake some of the weight.  And hopefully, my inability/lack of desire to eat greasy food is a permanent thing.

Last night Dani and I went to the movie theatre to see an opera.  They have been doing this for awhile, the operas are filmed at the Metropolitan Opera (the only reason I have ever entertained the notion of moving to New York City) and they broadcast them in HD to movie theatres across the country.  The one showing last night was Barbiere di Siviglia, which is in my top five countdown (or so) of favorite operas so I thought it would be fun, and I managed to convince Dani to join me.  It was pretty awesome, which is to be expected of one of the world's premier opera companies.  I had somehow never heard Juan Diego Flórez sing before, and he was absolutely incredible as Count Almaviva.  Everyone in the cast was fantastic, but he really stood out for me.

I do think it speaks to my lack of experience in opera and musical theatre that for all of Almaviva and Rosina's love scenes all I could think about was how loud the other person was probably being in the other's ears.  But honestly, it doesn't matter how many plays I've sung in, all I can think of is my first lead in a musical (which was Brigadoon, FYI) and how loud the dude playing Tommy sang in my face.  And then I start thinking about how lame Brigadoon is, and how much of a tool in general Tommy-actor was, and then I go off in a wholly different direction from where I started.  Kind of like now.

Anyway, I'm contemplating another mass-internet-name-change.  The last time I did this was in like 2003 or something when I changed everything from selonie to toxic fairie because I was trying to shed the stigma of the whole otherkin thing and I wanted to disassociate myself with that bunch as much as possible.  Toxic Fairie was a good name then because it was trendy enough that it made me come off as "normal"...but more than anything it was sort of a joke because I was at the time tending toward the bitchy end of the spectrum and it was like "ha-ha get it toxic fairie" and yeah.  Long story short, I'm over the name and I'm thinking about changing it again.  Of course I have no idea what I want to change it to, it seems like the made-up names tend to not lose their charm as fast as word-names...but part of me really wants to go with monadology because...I don't know.  Just because.  Because I love Leibniz and having a nice obscure word like monadology as my name would entertain me. 

I don't know though, we'll see.

Jul. 25th, 2009

lindsey

blah blah words

I think I didn't even realize that I was in a funk for the past few months but the past few days I have been like...100% happy...and it feels almost weird. I'm loving it quite a bit.

Also, Mario Batali is the iron chef today, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Got a message on my myspace from an artist I respect very much asking me if he can use a remix of one of my songs on his album. I'm honored, flattered, and giddy...but I also have some work to do on that.

SO! Life is good, everything is grand. I went to DDE today and bought Ofelia (my overpriced Asian ball-jointed doll) new stockings and shoes. Photos can be found on soulrepository, if you're into that kind of thing.

Jul. 23rd, 2009

shoes

Stuff! Also, Things!

I think I've finally kicked the stomach flu that had me bedridden for a good three days. The good? I only have to work two days this week, and I am pretty sure I lost at least a pound from not eating in the past 72 hours. The bad? I'm EXHAUSTED. You would think that for coming off of three days of doing nothing but sleeping and occasionally vomiting that I would not want to sleep anymore. WRONG. It's all I want to do. The ugly? Well, that stuff isn't fit to print, not even digitally, so no gory details here.

So....the story you guys have all been reading (if you've been reading it)? Finished. Yep, that is the end of Chapter One of the life of our hero and I have not yet decided where to pick it up again. SO....this is your chance to tell me what to do. If you have any input as to where to pick back up, leave a comment. Here are your choices: in Faery, in Victorian London, in 1920's London, your choice. But if you have a different idea make sure you're specific. If you say other I'll kick your ass, hahaha...

Jul. 16th, 2009

flea

Covent Gardens, 1701 (the last)

This one's cut, because it's a little bit long...Collapse )

Jul. 8th, 2009

flea

Covent Gardens 1701 (again...)

Miss Barton's footfalls were not immediately apparent behind me, as she was rather light on her feet and anyway, I was not exactly paying attention. I heard her coming only a fraction of a second before she had knelt down beside me and laid her delicate hand upon my back.

She was an awful lot of crinoline and heavy, fancy fabrics, and so her dress spilled over my foot and came to a drift that reached nearly to my thigh. I looked up and was instantly arrested by the look on her face. Her eyes were a warm brown, nothing at all like the ethereal black of the lady from the cellars, but all the more comfortable to look at for it. A concerned look melted into a smile as our eyes met, and I found myself helpless but to smile back.

"Pardon me, Miss Barton," I said, though my voice sounded tremulous and tiny in the corridor.

"No need to ask pardon," she replied. "The opera is frightfully dull, I can't say as I blame you for leaving so quickly."

And just like that, she had alleviated the tension. She didn't expect me to explain myself, and I was so relieved I nearly fainted.

"Shall we walk?" she asked as she rose, and she took my arm as though I were some aristocratic dandy like Montagu. I smiled, and nodded, and we began to head down the corridor away from the private box. "I never used to come to any of these things," she said, once we had put some distance between us and the box. "Uncle Isaac does not typically frequent the opera either, but more and more it seems that our acquaintances seem to be the types to flock here in droves. It makes me actually miss the boredom of days at home, punctuated only by the rowdiness of the coffee-houses." She paused, and I glanced up to see a faraway glint in her eye. Just as quickly as it had come, she banished it.

"But I can hardly imagine that your father approves of the opera either," she continued. She had a way of taking slow but long steps, and it made her hips sway with a swish of fabric from her crinoline. It was clear that she was quite conscious of this movement, though perhaps not of how seductive it was, and for whatever reason, I found that dichotomy bewitching. I almost forgot to answer her.

"Oh, he disapproves of it entirely," I replied. "What with all the dancing and singing and men dressing up in women's clothing."

Miss Barton burst into giggles, which made me laugh in turn. "How serious!" she managed to get out between giggles. "You Calvinists take exception to the oddest things. Their transvestitism is all in good fun. I doubt they mean to offend the Lord's sensibilities."

This statement seemed blasphemous on at least four different ways, which struck me as both strange and brilliant. "Well I don't know if they mean to offend the Lord," I replied, "but they certainly excel at offending my father!"

Miss Barton laughed again, and so did I, and I am certain that if there had been anyone save us in the corridor they would have thought us utterly mad. To laugh so unguardedly in a public place with a pretty girl on my arm seemed to me then to be just about the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me, and I made up my mind to do it as often as possible.

"Uncle Isaac had told me that you are a solemn child. I daresay I'm seeing another side of you entirely."

I grinned crookedly, and blushed a little. "It's my reckoning that I haven't laughed this much in a long while. Maybe my entire life!"

"Well then," she replied, "I guess that I'll refrain from insulting his judgment of character. And you ought to smile more. I can't imagine what it is that has you seeming so serious."

I decided not to mention that I had no idea what made her so jocular, and only smiled back.

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