There it was again, that music blaring from down the hall, turning over in her head and making her sick to her stomach. It was the redundancy that did it, making her teeth gnash and guts churn. She usually let her mind wander to violence against the so called music itself at that point, ripping it apart. Tonight, she just opened the bottle and took another pill.
Medicine made the pain of being trapped in this form more bearable. Some days, she was fine and almost forgot that she wasn’t human. That she wasn’t cut off from her magic and trapped outside of her true form, a pale remnant of what she’d been before. Most days, she forgot who she had been altogether, only the veil parting on occasion bringing the inescapable flood of memories that would tear her out of her safe cocoon and fling her into a world where she’d once been respected.
But life is fractured faerie wings...
The door squeaked open and her beloved left for the day. She was alone now with that insipid noise that thundered through the walls until the dull thudding notes matched the pulse of blood in her skull. The girl sighed and pulled on her shoes, heading out herself, not without grabbing her necklace and looping it over her head, letting it hang to rest between her breasts. It was just a blob, a twisted bit of fused quartz that probably looked hideous to anyone who didn’t know what it was. Petrified lightning, a moment frozen in time. To the girl, it was the closest thing she had to being able to touch lightning as she once had.
Sometimes she toyed with the idea of regaining her powers. Most of the time, it seemed a silly idea. She wasn’t some mystical force from another realm, no matter how others spoke of faeries and elves. But she knew there was something there, could not ignore it. It was a thousand little seemingly unconnected things that drew her to the veil, made her want to push past it. But she couldn’t if she wanted. She was in exile, for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom. Trapped in this human form, stuck away from her usual source of power, whatever that might be.
If I could fly, I would sing...
Sometimes the pain was a lot worse. Today was one of those day, but she just couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. There were days she thought she really had it, that breakthrough that would change her mind in such a way that she would be able to touch the current in a way in which she wouldn’t be burned. Last night had been a night like that, but, as usual, she was left without more than a pittance of ability. Sometimes, she wondered if that was all she had. Less than a human was even normally graced with, it was a small talent for healing others and creating warmth. She was also exceptionally beloved by lightning, to the extent that it tried to kill her whenever it got the chance.
Thinking about this was depressing. She honestly wondered if there would ever be a change.
It wasn’t that she’d been disowned or outcast directly. That was all she really knew. But something had pulled her away from the other fae. She wasn’t one of them anymore and, for all she knew, it was some bizarre vendetta or something equally as strange that had her trapped here among humanity. It might not be so bad... humans were such lovely creatures, with their passion and art and beauty and music that was born of having such short lives. It might not be so bad... if it didn’t hurt.
Playing around at making "quick" treasure scenes. The goal here isn't so much realism as it is finding a quick way to give a nice impression of a dragon's hoard.The first took fourty minutes, the second one about an hour. Playing with a lot of different effects in these.
Burning. The scent of woodsmoke assaulted her senses as the girl made her way along the trails that wound from city to wilderness and back again, linking the dangers of the wilds with the city’s safety. Or was it the other way around? The cracking mud on her shoes was being replaced with a thick patina of dust. Burning. The forest was on fire. There was a time that had mattered.
Perhaps she was too absorbed in the human world. One heartbreak after another with no feeling of connection, an isolation so profound that it seemed each time she reached out, others recoiled. So few humans seemed to know how to touch one another. She spoke to herself and whispered she was lucky. She’d found one who knew the isolation and saw it for what it was, one who fought through it and touched her spirit, who knew her.
Make it yours, or it will surely die.
Through his touch, she found her way out of a thousand dark nightmares. He knew her, knew who she was. But through the touches they shared and the truths he promised her, he could not tell her the truth she most ached to know.
“Who are you, anyway? Walking out here in the dark... what are you?”
The burning smell was wet. Rain met inferno in a battle dance somewhere in the distance. Storms were tricky. Rain could extinguish flame, but all it took was an absence of rain, a lightning strike, to start a wildfire. The thoughts made her steps lurch, her hand go to her necklace. To love lightning, to be loved by it so much, was dangerous. A fast, riotous relationship that left the lover reeling, the lightning trying to drag the mortal spark with it as its own spark faded. But when the lover wasn’t mortal...
You have the will and the fire to change life.
… But even gods could die, and what was a faerie to do with immortality left shredded on some lost shore? What was a human to do when caught on the border between life and death, all for love of that brilliant, uncontrollable flash?
The sound of music caught her off guard, and this time it was no pounding, redundant beat that clawed in through the backs of her eyes and left her wanting to weep. No, this music left her teary eyed from the sheer simple poetic beauty of it, and she found herself compelled to step off the trail, foregoing the accumulation of more dust and making her way to the corner. But the music faded. There was no musician, no blond haired bard standing on the corner, strumming strings with a worn plectrum. And yet, she could picture him. Not the wilds, but the fields, the city, the pulsebeat that spoke of life and love and hidden dangers to be embraced. Music. The string that ran through all cultures, no matter how primitive. The very first stirrings of civilization. She paused in her steps, reaching out, trying to touch where she knew the music had originated. The girl fell, and blackness closed over her like a coffin lid. Rain reached the city’s edge and graced her form.
Part three of Fractured Faerie Wings
Do not ask for a truth you are not ready for.
The scent of damp woodsmoke had been returned, handed back to the universe and exchanged for the scent of apple blossoms, the noise of the city exchanged for the buzzing of polinators. Here, she was not wet. She’d never seen it rain here. There was a bit of common sense that jarred her, spoke in a soft whisper that it had to rain here sometime. How else would the trees grow? Her hand rested upon the bark of one such tree, and she gazed up into its branches. The apples that hung on it were every stage of ripeness and the flowers in every moment of bloom. But where was He? And where was She?
She wasn’t there, it seemed, but He was sitting beneath one of the trees, softly strumming a dulcimer. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he was playing her instrument. She didn’t wonder for a moment how it had gotten here. At home, it was broken and regularly lost tuning because of it. Here, it sounded like a miracle of sound. She supposed that had something to do with whose hands it rested in, whose knees it sat upon.
Truth can damn you, as surely as it can bless you. Are you ready for the sign?
As she approached, He set the instrument aside and gave her a smile. The Blonde Bard. He reached for her hands, drawing her down into the carpet of grass. Here, she did not have to worry that the apples would rot on the ground and draw stinging wasps. She allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace.
“Why am I here?” She could not find other words.
“I think you know.”
“I came here.”
“You came to me.”
“... I came to you.” It wasn’t as hard to admit as the girl had intended. It was the truth, a soaring but terrifying truth. After almost six months of Him taking interest in her, she’d accepted and come to the deity’s side.
“Oh, it’s been longer than that. You’ve been mine for a very long time.”
And one truth often brings others in its wake.
And so there was music, and there was love. It was as though music itself loved her, and the strings hummed in her blood long after the song of her screams faded from the sky above the orchard.
“I forgot to ask for my boon.”
“My blessings are always yours, so long as you are Mine.”
She awoke to the smell of a familiar room, the warmth of home. He was there, her beloved, his brown hair dampened by the rain. He appeared concerned, but perhaps not as much as she would have thought. They spoke of how he’d found her, unconscious in the rain, and brought her home. He fed her, and they spent the evening watching cartoons to try and force the serious nature of the situation to recede into the background.
At one point in the show, a character had a revelation about the nature of his own self. Acceptance. It pulled a thought from the girl. All you have to do is accept. And though she was not ready to embrace, she was ready to know, to accept. And the sign, some vague thing of unimportance to anyone else, followed in the animation of the show.
It was like being struck again, electricity pouring through weary veins. The sure knowledge that she was fae, was something other than human. But the knowledge was not embracing, and thus her power would not be hers yet. But. She knew. For now, that was enough. However, she found herself suddenly at a loss. She’d wanted to know, wanted this fact so much, that she had no idea what to do with herself now that she had it. She didn’t even know which faction she belonged to.
All things in time. She would find the answers. They would find her, when she was ready. For now, it didn’t matter. For the moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace, the steady sound of rain outside, and the knowledge that she had just a bit more information than she’d had before.
Be ready. When you let go, you will truly be ready.
So, I don't know how long ago this was asked for, but here! Pictures of my jewelry I make!
Locket altar for the Goddess Sigyn. I didn't make the locket base, but I did put the pieces together Lokean heart with a garnet. Back of the pentacle necklace Front of the same pentacle Flower necklace, rather large but very light weight. Chest burst tentacle necklace. Very fun to wear. I've fallen on this one while wearing it and it stayed perfectly intact.
I love doing stuff like this and hope to have a small online store in the future.
Just a note, except for the tentacles, all of the above pieces of jewelry are for sale and will be sanded and sealed before being shipped. I do want to mention that the locket is a bit delicate. Some of these pieces are a bit roughly done purely because I lack the proper tools. I am also selling the painting "peacock petals".
In addition, I am taking jewelry commissions pretty much all the time. Lockets are limited by availability of the components. I do have one base, so I can take one locket commission currently. Lemme know what you want and we can talk price. I will also do one of a kind abstract paintings (like way back in the first post), but be aware, these take about three weeks to dry in the summer (more in the winter) and cost a bit to ship.
Edit: I will also digitally ink and color art works for people, however the cost depends on level of complexity.