The Aurora Effect

“The truth is, there are many with your abilities. You are not special. You are not unique. As a matter of fact I can call up a map to point out each of your faction and wipe them out just as easily as I drink a cup of your atrocious tea.” My smile felt venomous as I spoke. It would do. No one from the Dragon Blooded factions needed to know that soon I would be aiding in their rebuilding. Especially as it stood. I was chained, ankles and wrists to a giant X in the town square in Yane. My tattoos showed in the square betraying my allegiance.

“If it were indeed so easy Miss, I believe you would have already. As for my tea, I believe you would have done well to drink it and not throw it in my face. Your kind is rare… We could have used you.” His sword graced my neck with a presence that –almost- felt threatening. I’d seen this all unfold. This wasn't my biggest concern presently.

I turned my head and looked to the east, eyes flashing as I did. The Dragon Blooded general looked with me and saw exactly what I did. A dragon king. They were primordial in every sense of the word. Or so he believed. The reality was much worse for him.

“Who is this?” The Dragon King boomed taking over the air space with a heavily accented tone. It stole all the air from the area and left the general speechless and paler. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head as he grasped for the strength of character to answer one of the sacred ones.

“A Sidereal, master.”

“Release”

His command was coarse but to the point. I blinked and let my vision come back to the present as the dragon blooded scrambled to his feet and let the chains loose, leaving me to fall. And fall I did, about three feet to the sandstone square. The dragon king smirked and walked over, letting a soft whisper over his lips.

“If I’m discovered, you will be the first to die, young one.”

I smirked and forced myself up. My muscles had started to deteriorate over the days stuck there, wobbly was the best I could manage. My wit however, remained as sharp as ever.

“You should fear me Young General. Your elders come to my rescue. They are more powerful –“ I was slapped, sending me for a brief ride through the air.

“And you should have respect for those you will serve.” The Dragon King frowned and gestured towards the horizon. I stood, wavering in my steps, attempting to wipe the blood from my mouth. The General laughed heartily as he watched his master walk away.  A savage roar filled the horizon as the dragon and I disappeared into the sunset.

“Was that really necessary, you beast?” I growled, my own investigation now back at the fore front of my consciousness. The Dragon King’s façade melted into that of a wily man, heavily tattooed in the tradition of the Lunars. His smirk play across his features as he remained silent.

“Brin… you are a treacherous ally. Luckily I haven’t figured out how to kill you… Just yet.” 

New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people. 

Dwarven Greetings

Sylvie growled, half thinking half wishing that screaming, punching a cardboard box full of packing peanuts and walking away would make her feel better. The truth being that it might but there were way too many cameras watching her. She leaned against the cold gray steel of the backroom shelves and stared out the open bay door. The snow fell softly as the calm, frozen whispers of winter graced the threshold. A shiver ran up her thin frame, prompting her to pull her sweatshirt tighter around herself.  She frowned and thought about all the different ways she could get someone fired as she approached the open door.

“Fucking people don’t even know how to close doors.” She shivered again and reached for the rope to pull down the gate. “This isn't a barn!” She tugged but the rope wouldn't give. “What the…”

“Listen, I told you we took a wrong turn at the last portal.” A light skinned woman walked forward from the open door and pointed on a map to her companion. The man frowned, though it was hard to tell through the mound of facial hair present. He took the map from her, gruffly and looked back out the bay door. Sylvie stood there, jaw hanging open, not entirely sure what to make of what was going on in front of her.

“Are you a dwarf?” She heard the words leave her mouth and then quickly regretted them. The man whirled his frame around. All… five feet of him. His long black hair fell down over his shoulders to his waist, with a beard to match. His bright green eyes glared at her and a slight snarl emerged from his lips as her breathed a reply.

“What else would I be, you daft lass?” His voice was deep and guttural, and more menacing than Slyvie had heard from anyone. The woman stepped between them and looked Sylvie over before smiling softly.

“You’ll have to excuse our companion...”

“She doesn't have to do anything but stand there like a hooked fish with her mouth hanging open, apparently!” The dwarf snapped and looked at the map. “No we’re here. This lass is the one. Let’s just get her and be off. Sylvia Cressfall, you’re now with us.” The dwarf’s snarl didn’t let up, and Sylvie’s eyes widened as he put away the map. He gestured to the woman standing between them and she winced.

“Miss Cressfall. Your hand.” The elven looking woman extended her hand. Sylvie, awestruck; put out hers and was met with the slenderest fingers she’d ever seen. As her eyes closed and consciousness flitted from her body, she focused on the dwarf, hoping for an answer. “Now lift her gently, Baldrik…”

“Gently? If she doesn't get a concussion, will that…”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on…” Slyvie’s voice faded as her world went black.

Letter #1

Dear You,

Sometimes, I wonder where we’re going to be in 10 years. I’ve seen how months can change a relationship. It takes so little to shatter a preciously built world. I hope that this will not be another case of that for either of us. I don’t think that is the case, but… you can’t say never to anything, I’ve found.

It’s kind of funny that I sit and think about the 10 year future, given that for all the wondering… I can’t see anything more than use snuggled up talking quietly at the end of a long day. We’re still there, giggling at the other’s awful jokes and telling the other that it’s really not funny, trying to hide the smile still.  Hands intertwined, watching the Christmas trees’ lights change colors slowly, the room lighting up in a myriad of hues.

The scene is one I hope for. I hope that in so much time, I will still love you the same ways, but in so many new ones too.

With all my love,

Me

NaNo Dare 1 : Character in a Tavern

I dare you to start your creative juices flowing now. Take one character from your upcoming NaNo and put them in a bar full of Centaurs and other mythical creatures. 500 words minimum...

Somewhere in the fragile lines between sanity and insanity dwell, lies the bounds of reality. Erik knew this area well, as most mad scientists do. He sat quietly watching a train pass by on a long dead track. It ground to a stop, brakes clearly un-oiled as the squeals filled the evening air. Erik winced and stuck his pinky in his ear, wiggling it in an attempt to clear the noise from his mind. The doors opened and he stepped on board, trench coat encompassing the doorway. He tipped his fedora to the conductor, a smaller than average man, with long pointed ears. The tiny man smiled and gestured to the row of open seats. The train took off and a few minutes later, it was full of creatures of every description… all inbound to one destination.

The tavern was quaint. It was a medium sized brick building. It was an unassuming looking building during the day but at night, well… to be fair the sight of a minotaur crashing through the front windows sort of denoted the place as a bit… odd. Erik walked forward, smirking as an elf and a clearly inebriated dwarf left the bar pointing and laughing at the minotaur who was being helped to his feet. The creature seemed stuck between a howl and a chuckle and couldn’t decide. Erik passed through the front door to the bar, where a pretty, pale girl with black hair stood. Her face was perfect, symmetrically. He’d noted this several times, mostly while drunk. Her name was … Sylvia? He couldn’t remember. He did remember however, exactly where he sat every night he came. He moseyed over to the bar stool and took off his coat extending it to nothing, letting it be whisked away to the coat room. Ned was the ghost in charge of coats. He was the only one who could handle corporeal matters.

“What will you have tonight, Erik?”

‘Slyvia… Sally… she must have a name…’ Erik smiled through the confusion and shrugged. “Something to warm me. The chill in the air is quite heavy tonight.” The woman smiled and nodded.

“I think that’s just Ned screwing with you, but…” She poured an amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of him. “Here you go.”

“Scotch…” Erik’s smile grew and he picked up the glass, saluting her quietly. The woman smirked and leaned forward, whispering something into his ear. “Well of course I knew your name was Samantha… What do you take me for, my darling? How could I forget such an impossibly lovely woman’s name?”

“I take you for human, Erik. To ere is human after all.” She smirked, her eyes flashing red for a moment. She held his gaze for a moment before walking away to another patron, nodding and getting him a drink. Erik frowned and looked into his glass.

“ ‘I take you for human…’ “ He mocked softly and took a swig. The cool liquor brought the expected warmth to his esophagus, and began to migrate outward. He turned his attention away from the bar and … Samantha, looking around the room to what most would consider a freak show. To him… This was home.

From the Audience: A Look at Marie

“I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time. A place where the lines seem to blur together, no one really noticing boundaries. I invite you to take a seat and to watch the show.  The hangman and the puncture artist will welcome you with open arms and instruments, looking for a willing stretch of skin and perhaps an unloved neck.  Oh no, dear Clementine; this side show is anything but what you were expecting. No child.”  His voice was soft as he nudged her to the door of the arboretum. The woman was terrified. That was clear but then again, so was her enthusiasm. Her wide eyes, fighting for emotional control of them. The ringmaster saw it and simply, ushered her in. The ring sat waiting for the show, a crowd sitting quietly whispering to themselves. He sat dear Clementine down in the only open seat, taking her coat and placing it over the back of the chair. The ticket collector came to her, but the Ringmaster waived him off. 

“She is my guest.” His cool hand lay on her barely covered shoulder and his stare was just as cold. The ticket collector gave the girl and odd smile and then continued. Clementine looked back at the Ringmaster as he walked to the back of the theater.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Her gaze turned from fear to rapt excitement as the lights dimmed. Her focus was brought to the center ring. A small woman with a thin bone structure sat limply, piercings fresh through the skin near her joints. She looked… dead. Clementine gasped, seeing a bald gentleman walk up from behind her to the roar of the crowd.  He flourished and bowed, drinking in the moment. His hand extended to the girls, picking her hand up. Her eyes blinked. ‘She’s alive!’ Clementine inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  The woman was stunning. Simply beautiful… but she couldn’t be alive… No one in their right mind would put themselves…

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the show! I see you have already been greeted by our lovely Marie. Please, do give her a round of applause!” The audience erupted and the Ringmaster gestured towards the girl now suspended midair, giggling and hanging limply. A bald man stood behind her almost in the shadows, saluting the crowd, a grin across his own makeup covered face.  He tugged a rope and Marie’s head popped up looking over the crowd, eyes connecting with Clementines…

“Yes we have a new guest for the evening, thank you for noticing my dear.” The Ringmaster didn’t even look up but gestured to the girl in the audience. Marie let a smile slide across her lips as her master, tugged another rope and a series of smaller strings. Her hand raised and she waved gently, her fingers dancing up and down with the string, accordingly. Clementines stomach turned and she help a kerchief over her mouth. She felt faint but could not look away…The Ringmasters eyes glinted as he watched her reaction, starring at the girl. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she thought quietly as the show began to seem to revolve around her…

The Moment When...

There comes a moment when you stop, stare into someone eyes, and you can see yourself reflected perfectly back at you. Not the you that you imagine, but the you that the other person sees.

All of their fears, all of their joy, what they see within you, that comforting and perfect moment when you finally realize, it's not infatuation. It's purely, simply; love.

Whether it's love from someone you've taken into your life, through an odd series of events; or someone you've known forever, the feeling (familial or romantic) is profound. It's a moment that no one can ever take away from you.

It's scary sometimes, to know who loves you. But.. in those moments of uncertainty and fear, knowing, simply knowing that someone is out there who cares for you more deeply than any describable logical sense... you find strength. Within that moment. Within yourself.

No one is ever better off without you. YOU have made an impact. YOU are special and amazing.

Please. For no other reason than finally admitting the truth to yourself or someone else, tell someone you love them. Today, everyday, any day. Have the courage to be that moment for someone. Look into their eyes, and show them how much you care for them.

I recently had this moment with my partner. He and I starred into each others eyes and for a moment, I saw what it was that he saw. Within those deep mahogany brown pools, I saw love reflected back at me. Nothing complicated. Love, admiration and something I couldn't quite describe. Until we broke the stare and kissed. I knew what it was. It was something I've never seen married so cleanly together with love. I'll never forget that moment. It was a moment that I will carry with me and cherish for as long as I live.

Thank you, my love.

I sincerely hope you all have either gotten to experience this moment. If not, you will. I truly want to thank you all for allowing me to share my work and myself with all of you. This is in no means a good bye. Simply a moment of appreciation mixed in with a recent revelation in my own life.

Namaste,

Jessi

Between Genius and... Genius! A response to Goggles and Lace's Writing Prompt

“You're kidding right?” I growled into the communicator and shook my head, wavinga hand at one of the gremlins about my lab. He was holding some sort of paperwork, but quite frankly, I didn't care. This investor bullshit is not for me. “Fine. We'll have a prototype up and running within the next couple of weeks. I'll need more... Yes. Send a shipment ASAP. And not ASAP as in 'as soon as you please'. The traditional version of the acronym will do just fine.” I hung up before more demands could be made of me. I appreciate rich idiots like one enjoys ditzy blond play things. As long as they're sitting looking pretty and not speaking, it's 'all good in the hood'. I sighed and ran a hand through my ever increasingly longer hair. I should get a hair cut...

“Master!” I sighed. These little genetic manipulated mutations might have been a mistake...

“What?!” I snapped, squeezing the bridge of my nose. I was told once it fights oncoming headaches. Whoever said that was a fucking liar. The gremlin coughed and stood as straight as it could in front of me, thrusting paperwork at my free hand. I took it, bringing the yellowing papers up to my face for a closer look. It was plans... Plans I hadn't drawn up. I adjusted my goggles and peered closer at the papers.

“I made a few adjustments... With Mistress Annie's help...” His voice was raspy and sounded like that of an overworked child. High pitched and seeking approval while having this annoying undertone of whine that shot through me like nails on a... well you get my point.

“Ahh.. Annie was here today was she?” That girl was becoming too smart for her own good. I always advocated killing the girl. But no! Now she was attached to me.

I grumbled as I walked over to the wall of switches and levers. I left the decoy wall there for funsies. Felt like every mad scientist lab should have one, and what the hell, the gremlins love it. A mirror hung at eye level off of a piece of rawhide. I checked it thoughtfully, needing a moment to inspect myself before heading upstairs. Adopted child or not, she tended to be upset when I came upstairs looking like I haven't slept in 3 days... or had it been 4? Who knew at this point. The sun doesn't reach down here anyway. My eyes looked sunken in and closer to black then my dark brown eyes ever should. Pale. Sickly, she'd say. Healthy, I'd argue as always. No chance of skin cancer in the dark. Should tie my hair back. I stretched out my hand and a gremlin deposited a brush with a piece of string on the end. Perfect.

“Thank you Cedric.”

“Eyown, master.” I looked down and it was in fact. Cedric was taller. Less heavy around the middle. Also less likely to snap at a moments notice. I nodded.

“Apologies Eyown. Cedric was just right here.”

“ 'E got hungry. Went out to yard to catch dinner.” I chuckled as I tied my hair back.

“Very well. You should eat too. Go run along. I'll be back after I take care of Annie.” He nodded and galloped off towards the gate. That's two.. where was... Ah. I looked in the mirror more carefully at the pipes that led to the generator. Hanging upside down was the tallest of the bizarre little creatures, sound asleep. I nodded and stepped to the side, pulling the one functional lever on the wall, revealing my lift. It was a solid piece of steel with only two levers. One to go up, and one to go down. And it only went between my lab and the false fireplace in my bedroom. I took the lift, looking around the lab once more for good measure. Two of them outside and one snoring. And nothing out of place. Good enough to stop for dinner.

I opened the door to my chamber to see Annie, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Father.” Her voice was as flat as her stare. Over the glasses, and stern. I sighed and brought a smile to my lips.

“Yes, dear. How was school today?” I walked over and hugged her gently, though there was no physical response from her.

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I already know everything they can teach me. I showed Mrs. Boudain how to correct her nuclear fission equations. She's kinda dumb.” I had to chuckle. Mrs. Boudain had invented half those equations, and the other half she stole from her late husband. She never could get those ironed out quite right. It was at that point she had turned to villanry, deciding that if her late husband, Mr. Theodias Boudain was dumb enough to get himself killed saving the world, she'd better be on the side that lived longer. Villanry it was. “Why do I have to go?” Her voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped looking down at the 12 year old.

“Because I said so.” The fall back answer for every lame parent there ever was. I was quickly becoming one of those.

“Seriously? How about a real reason?” She blew her bangs out of her freckled face as the took to the marble banister, sliding down expertly. I walked quietly down he stairs starring at her while I thought.

“Because. You could be the smartest little child there ever was, the strongest little girl, or the most evil, however, you can still learn a thing or two about humanity within those walls.” I raised a brow, pulling a small pair of spectacles out of my pocket, and replacing my goggles with them. She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders fall in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Humans suck” She said slouching further as she crossed her arms.

“That may be true Miss Annie, but that's not up for debate. You're going to school tomorrow, even if I have to have Cedric bring you.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out. “Then it's settled.” The door gong sounded, a series of smaller bells going off through the hallway. “Go set the table, I need to answer this.” I had been expecting someone. Annie frowned and nodded, slumping off towards the dining room. I turned, footsteps echoing down the ornate hallway. I should invest in carpeting... though I feel I come to that conclusion every time I walk the halls. I pulled a lever by the door and stood, watching it swing open slowly. A woman stood before me, leaning against the doorway, holding her side. A slight smirk graced her features as she stepped through the door way, dropping her pack. She was a tall girl, blond hair and striking blue eyes, but that wasn't why she was interesting to me. She opened her pack, wordlessly handing me a couple of brass keys on a chain. From that very same pack came a brass box.

“Good.” I smiled and took the box under my arm, turning to head back to the dining room. “Clean up upstairs. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” I heard a soft whimper. I turned, eyes set ina glare over my glasses. She stood up as straight as she could and nodded. I turned and continued my trek.

“Was that Anya?? What'd she bring you?? Is it that? What's in the box?” The child's eyes and ears missed nothing, a wonderful and also wholly loath-able attribute. She pried at my arm in an attempt to release the box from it. I shook my head and slapped her hands lightly.

“I thought you outgrew this stage years ago.” I muttered and placed the box down on the table, sitting in front of it. It wasn't ticking, so the mechanism was deactivated. A plus. The keys in my hand fit into two locks on the box perfectly. The lid popped open with a soft hiss. Annie jumped behind me and looked over my shoulder as I pulled the piston from within it. Small, much smaller than the box itself, but none the less the part I needed. There was some miscellaneous crud in there as well, including a few specialty bolts for the dragon automaton I was tinkering with in my spare time.

Anya reappeared, now dressed more formally, bandages wrapped tightly around her waist and ribs. She smiled softly at Annie, who ran to her and hugged her, a bit too tightly. Anya gasped and Annie froze. “I'm sooooo sorry Anya!” She signed quickly as well as said it, backing off, a bit surprised. Anya nodded and patted her on the head signing “It'll be alright little one.” She bowed her head to me and sat down.

One of the help appeared around the corner and brought a tray with three meals piping hot on them. He was the only one that could cook around here. Might as well make use of it.

“Let's eat.” I smiled to the girls. For that one moment, life seemed normal. Projects underway, deadlines to fulfill, a girl set straight again, and one recovering from a successful mission. Sometimes it's good to be evil.  

Speak Out with Your Geek Out: Costumes Continued

So even though Halloween is still a month and a half off, I've begun onstruction of my costume for this year. Given my last post about how much I love costumes, I'm going to share with you some of the pictures I've taken of my construction so far. It's a hat! I do so love the hat. The materials used with 1/4 yard of single ply netting in both black and purple (not tulle, that's something much finer), a purple 3 inch flower, one glittery purple and black bird, some 1 in purple satin ribbon, and a cheap top hat from iParty. Below are the results!

What are you doing for Halloween? Send me your pictures! I'll proudly post them in a special Halloween Week series of posts.

<3 Jessi

Speak Out with your Geek Out: Costumes

Ok, ok. I'm sure you guys were expecting my first Speak Out post on gaming, writing, or something of that ilk, because I talk about it CONSTANTLY. However. There are a few things with which I frequently geek out over. One of them is costuming.

If you're one of my close friends, this is no surprise to you. I've done a few costumes in the past for friends, not in the least bit excluding my work on a Final Fantasy costume extravaganza. My interests in costuming have deep roots in my love of theater and the ability of clothing to transform a person. Sometimes all it takes is a new hat to make an outfit a thousand times better. Ok, maybe not a thousand times, but pretty darn close. Beyond a simple outfit change is the mental change that's taken on by the person to sort of become that figure that they're representing.

My personal experience in the world of costuming has been short but entirely fulfilling. A few years back I created the aforementioned final fantasy costumes for myself and two of my friends for Halloween. My costume alone took about 72 hours of almost non-stop work, and countless hours on the other two. By the end, Cloud, Tifa, and Lulu emerged to a Halloween party, with rounds of compliments and a ton of congratulating. I even got mentioned in Cloud's Best Costume acceptance speech. It was all a lot of fun and to be honest something I wouldn't mind repeating. I work on costumes for Ren Faires on the side, mostly for myself. Occasionally I'll work on something for someone else, with no pay, but entirely for the love of working with the fabric and seeing the 'customer's' thrilled face at the end of it. Watching them go through fittings and adjustments, so it fits them perfectly is great.

I've always be fascinated by this sort of change. Just watching shy individuals go from their day to day to these amazing characters all because of some make-up, hair, and wardrobe. This sort of change is expected of actors and stage-folk, however the change is most remarkable from those that you have friends of, most likely. Or at the very least, you've heard them whispered about in the shadowy corners of the gaming and convention worlds. Cosplayers and LARPers. No? Oh ok, just no idea of what they are. Time for a brief explanation.

Cosplayers are “short for 'costume play',is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” This sort of performance (and yes, it is a performance) can range from Halloween to any particular convention you attend. Often times at these conventions there are prizes for best cosplay for the weekend, with many contests and events for the costumed to parade around and show off their handy work.

LARPers are “Live action role players”. These individuals dress up in costume, must like the cosplayers , but take it a step further acting out their characters and recording their hits, misses, successes and failures within the game environment. More often than not these people can be found in groups over the weekends in the woods with their friends, practicing their craft. I should say right off the bat, that while most people have some degree of disdain in the gaming world for these people, I don't share in that opinion. Hell, I think it's great! Have I done it? No. Will I ever? Probably not. Why, you ask? Why don't you?

Regardless on your feelings on either of these categories, the idea of dressing up and acting is not a new one nor a terribly novel concept. It's trans-formative powers are amazing and quite well known throughout the world. Another wonderful example of the costuming art? Drag Queens. Love them! No really. I think it's amazing. I really do. I've watched a few on tv and then so many tutorials online about how to cover and fix and conceal things that, if I were a man, I'd have tried it by now. Helps that I have a ton of makeup. Another one of those; if you know me, you wouldn't be shocked moments.

Costuming and makeup offer the world a chance to see yourself in a different light, potentially a more positive one that will drive you to bring these sort of behavior that you may want to make slight changes in in your day to day. So think about it the next time you start your day on a sour note. Maybe throw on your favorite shirt, or spend a minute or two extra fluffing your hair. Something little that can help transform your attitude and the attitude of those around you.

Namaste,

Jessi

I am only responsible for three of these costumes, but
the party was amazing. Great memories.

Astor's Grace - Old WiP

               There was something about the look in her eyes. It was the sort of look that inspired confidence in her followers, her army. She was the sort of woman that men fought wars for. While she was painfully aware of her effect on men and women like, it wasn’t for her ravishing looks, as she didn’t possess those. She was fairly plain in her appearance. Long brown, straight hair; brown, never ending eyes; and a slightly crooked smile. She stood with a complex mix of feigned grace and awkward self consciousness, as she addressed her men. Somehow, when she spoke, she transformed. Her beauty shone through, like the way that the sun reaches the smallest of plants in the early hours of the morning. Her intellect was rapier sharp and just as quick, throwing in a crass joke or two to elicit a laugh from the lower ranks, and connect her to ‘the common man’; while eloquently tying in beautifully predetermined metaphors and imagery to inspire the utmost confidence from her ranks. Her name was Elena, and she was our queen. The one we would march for, the one we would die for, and the woman that I called my wife.

                She stepped back from the podium, sounds of applause still ringing in our ears. Elena walked off the stage with the power and grace of a well spoken official, but behind the thick red curtains of the stage, she let the sort of façade melt away. She reached out and hugged me tight, looking deep into my eyes for approval.

                “How did I do?” I had to chuckle as it was evident that the speech was a rousing success, yet she still asked. Honestly, I was the last person she needed approval from. She had a legion of young men willing to die for her. Me? I was an advisor to the tactics committee, and very rarely saw any action on the front lines.  I smiled and stroked her cheek.

                “You did good, kiddo.” I said, half sincere, half jokingly. She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.

                “One of these days, you’ll stop calling me that.” She said, pushing herself against me. I smiled, a small private smile and pulled her closer. A cough sounded from behind me, and Elena looked past me rolling her eyes.

                “I’ve got to be the only ruler in all of fucking Astor that has to stop public displays of affection with my husband.” She grumbled and pushed away from me. I turned. It was Cynthia, her etiquette coach and the face of public relations for the kingdom. She was a sterner looking woman, with thinly rimmed glasses, and her hair pulled out of her face. Cynthia looked down at the stack of papers and walked forward, being joined by one of the military advisors on the way. I saluted the gentleman, recognizing him to be one of the generals of Elena’s airship fleet. General Dante Valk, leader of the 1^st airborne squadron, the finest pilots in all of Astor. Elena smiled and reached out her hand to the general who bowed and kissed her hand.

                “All allegiance to her majesty, may her grace protect.” Elena despised the greeting but it had a certain degree of formality to it that her station demanded. The general righted himself and Cynthia smiled.

                “Your Grace…”

                “Elena.” Elena said curtly looking at Cynthia a little harshly. The formalities seemed to be an unnecessary addition to her position and most unwelcome. I hid a small smile as I stood there beside her.

                “Your Grace, the legion facing Eltheener’s western border have begun the march towards their capital. Your general has informed me that an aerial assault, weakening their biodome would be the next step. It would weaken their citizens and allow for easier passage for our troops.” The general stood silently and I shook my head.

                “As much as an assault on the city’s dome directly, would aid greatly, it would also weaken our chances at any sort of eventual diplomatic negotiations.” A voice came from the shadows and a gentleman with long black hair came forward. His name was Liam and he was one of Elena’s diplomatic council members. Elena smiled seeing him joining the small circle. The pair had been close, since the two grew up together in the palace, the children of noble blood. The General frowned and waved his hand dismissively at Liam.

                “Diplomacy with the Eltheenians? Highly doubtful. Their leader is more hot headed than our own and half as wise. Do you really think he’ll have anything to do with us after we’ve barged through his countryside, and razed two of his cities to the ground?” The laughter in the General Valk’s voice was clear though he still tried, in vain, to hide it. Elena frowned and Cynthia’s face paled. Clearly she hadn’t intended for him to do any of the talking, though Liam was an unaccounted for variable in her original plan. Liam smirked and shook his head.

                “You seem to think that diplomacy has only one face, General Valk. For your uneducated, war like hind brain, I’ll speak in small words.” A small, but powerfully poignant smile passed over his features infecting Liam’s eyes. “Interrogation can come across as diplomacy as long as you don’t break too many bones. Keep insulting Elena, our queen, and I may show you that darker side, personally.” The way Liam looked at Valk made him and myself, uncomfortable. The sheer brilliance of Liam’s blue eyes and venomous personality seemed to culminate in his stare. He had always been protective of Elena, taking on his current position to remain close to her. I once theorized that the two were lovers, while I was away, though the thought seemed to fade as quickly as it sprung up. In all of Astor, he was the only man that made me feel uneasy; uneasy about my position in his eyes and uneasy about leaving my wife alone with him.  Elena held back a small chuckle, and covered her mouth, coughing slightly.

                “Ok. Enough. We should head back to the palace before anymore discussion takes place. Besides, I’m sure your families would like to see you tonight. I’ve had you all away for weeks, trying the bring morale higher.” Elena smiled and the group silently agreed, walking off to the airship. I waited for a moment before following knowing there would be reporters with their vid droids crawling all over the exit area. For all that it was public knowledge that I was her husband, it was considered to be a sign of weakness to have me so close to her at all times. While none of her trusted companions believed this to be such a thing, the general public seemed to have adopted that unsavory opinion. It hurt me to a degree to have to be apart from her on a personal level, but on an official level it made sense. She needed a strong positive image during the war.

Brian

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

I wrote this sentence over and over, trying to reassure myself of it's truth. Sitting in a diner surrounded by those untouched by anything paranormal seemed almost... freaky. I couldn't shake those eyes. I starred ahead for what seemed like hours, before the waitress came over to refill my empty coffee mug. I shook my head and smiled, thanking her silently.

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

Those creatures. They had no rhyme or reason to be there. Why Pennsylvania? Why that building? Why... me? As I closed my eyes, those four stained glass windows appeared in the blackness of my eyelids. Two with a chain and bell... two with a mirror. The vivid blue seemingly trying to create the illusion of clear sky... Those images with the red, red handles and banisters... I shuddered and looked down at my napkin. I had begun to draw them while I hadn't noticed.

“Breathe deep, Brian...” I found myself saying softly. Stop it! That's the name 'they' gave you. Your name is Adam...

“Are you ok, hun?” The waitress, touched my shoulder and caused me to force myself back into reality. I nodded, got up and handed her a twenty. The bill probably only came to five dollars but I needed to get out of there quickly and that was all I had on me. She said something I couldn't make out as I was leaving, probably to another table. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered now was myself. I am normal. I was touched. Madness surrounded me. I survived. I am... Normal.

Dreams became my salvation and personal hell. It had been weeks since that bloody day. I returned home to a mundane existence. I worked in a small shop that had allowed the vacation in the first place. I was starting to hate them for granting me that vacation. I shouldn't blame them for any of it, but somewhere within me, I did. For any other writer a trip that left them scarred would have been amazing material. For me, it was quite the opposite. I hadn't been able to write anything but nonsensical ramblings, and worse they always started with that bastard sentence I couldn't rid myself of.

I have seen the edges of madness and escaped with my life.

'Brian' had become a constant in my life. I would see him walking around the shop while I sat behind the counter. He would run a hand over a female customers face. He would rearrange nonexistent items, furiously. It was always my fault they were out of order. He wouldn't hesitate in telling me later, when we were home. Today was no different. I dreaded going home to the silence. He was awful... Perhaps I had escaped with my life, but certainly not my sanity. Or maybe I was sane. I couldn’t tell anymore. I once had a firm grip on reality. Things seemed to be... fuzzier lately. I sat quietly in my armchair starring at a TV that hadn't been turned on in a month. His face showed up within it.

“Hello Adam.”

“Brian.”

“What did you do wrong today, Adam?”

“Nothing.”

The conversation always began like this. I stood to get away, but he followed me. He crawled out of the TV and walked along the walls to the stove. His hand came down hard on the back of my neck and the world went black.

I awoke on the kitchen floor, blurry vision showing me that underneath the stove needed to be cleaned. I rolled from my side to my back, closing my eyes again. They snapped open within a second and I looked frantically around me, unable to move from my position on the floor. I wasn't in my kitchen. I knew exactly where I was... and my heartbeat raced. They were here.

“Good morning. Brian told us you'd been misbehaving...” Her voice was sing-songy. I screamed. It was a scream no one would hear... Would it be my last?

To be continued...

To Write From the World of Dreams

“Dreams are a succession of images, sounds or emotions that pass through the mind during sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, though they have been a topic of speculation and interest throughout recorded history”~Wikipedia

The idea of writing from your dreams is not a new one. In fact there are several books on the topic, prescribed through many creative writing courses all over the world in modern curriculum. With that being said, I'd like to take this Monday's blog post to discuss just that.

The Imagination Unbound

One of the lovely things about dreams and the lucid state, is that in parts, things flow together. They cause one to almost feel as though there is nothing more natural than a potted petunia floating through the dangerous purple sky. It doesn't matter that it simply doesn't make sense, but allows the mind to meander in and out of the lovely absurdism that is created when our minds relax. The simplistic Dali-esque version of our brains actually speaks volumes as to who we are as a person. No. Stop right there. I'm not telling you that Freud was right and that you have an inherent crush on your mother/father and there's nothing you can do about it. I'm more getting at the fact that, the things you dream about are relevant to your life. These images can often be helpful reminders to the things that populate the waking world as well as our dreams.

Let your imagination that populates your dreams, flood into your writing, whether it be a journal (dream journal, for example) or your works of fiction. Especially your works of fiction. Imagination is your greatest tool. Use it!

Dream a Little...Awful Dream

Like dreams, sometimes there are bad stories. Bad dreams leave us rocked with an uneasy, fearful, and sometimes dumbfounded. These however can be launching points for some great stories. Why not take that moment in your dream where everything went wrong and use it as a pivotal moment in your next short? Or take the moment where things came to a sudden head and then you were left sitting on the side of the street, eating ice cream as a moment of peace within your storyline?

All of the oddities and awful things that happen in dreams can be used. Bad stories, give us things we can use, even if we have to trash the world around it. Why not use our awful, very bad, no-good dreams in a similar fashion?

Tell Your Inner Critic to 'Put a Sock In It'

Another of the great aspects about dreams and the dreaming, is that very rarely can you stop the dream. You can't just grab the reins and suddenly you're in control. Sometimes you can, but not often.

The lesson here is that sometimes, you just need to get that voice of doubt and your inner critic out of the way. These are the voices that keep you from achieving the impossible within the confines of your story. Take the story and just write. In the spirit of many writing competitions, like NaNoWriMo; just write. Ignore that inner voice. Seriously. What does that guy know anyway? You want a wombat themed race of semi-sentient individuals to overthrow the piranha pirates of Bangladesh? Do it. Flying naked mole rats. Why not? A lazy ferret to motivate your main? Ok well for some of us, that's a little closer to truth than fiction.

So write. Write all you can. Use your dreams and your imagination to guide you. Step back from the rules set forth by grammar and good taste, and begin! Those rules will be there when you're done. You can always go back through after and begin the refining process (psst it's called editing for a reason). Don't take all of your wackiness out of it. Be your crazy, dream possessed self and write what ever comes your way.

~Writing Task for the Week~
Are you an avid dreamer? Do you only dream once in a blue moon? Either way, keep a notepad next to your bed, and anything you find intriguing about your dreams, jot it down as soon as you wake up. Story seeds come from interesting places, and your dreams will often be the source for more than a few, whether you realize it or not.

Cheers,
Jessi

A Knight's Decision

"She's gone for the night, you'll have to return later, Knight." An eyeless Watcher stood outside of Illia's chamber. I shook my head and turned, taking my leave. I had no words for that idiot, and anything I could say would be recorded for an eternity. I knew his kind. A footstep behind me. I turned my head slightly, stopping in my walk. "She is not yours, do so remember that, good knight." I could hear those putrid lips part into a grin over his teeth, without so much as looking. I shook my head and continued walking. He was only right in that she couldn't ever be declared mine.

The walk back to the guardhouse was always longest after not seeing her. I would inspect the guards, check weaponry for the evening, and call role, making sure everyone was accounted for. Those that weren't, were rounded up or let go. There was a zero tolerance policy for those trusted with guarding the Family, and the grounds. I turned the corner to a rowdy scene. I tilted my head to the side, seeing a few women scattered about the barracks, and upon quick glance, none of them were authorized to be there. Beer, everywhere. Clothing, sparse.

"Dammit." I grabbed the horn on the wall and blew. It's blare got their attention that was for sure. The women were up and out the door in under a minute, and the men, standing at attention, merely seconds after that. Some clothed, others, only partially. "Well, men, I'm glad you enjoyed your evening." I snarled. I couldn't stand the resentment in my voice. The men stood silent. I starred into each of their eyes for the moment and turned away, moving on.

"Your watches are assigned on the door. I trust there will be less women and booze at each of them. Harris and Milton, you're staying here for the night. Drunkards. Fall out." The two soldier remained, their attentive stares, now falling away in the realization that they'd been found out despite their efforts to appear sober. I frowned as the other men went off, grabbing trousers or shirts as they went. I frowned, directing the men to two seat against the wall. I paced in front of them for what seemed like an eternity.

"The outhouses need scrubbing and the horse stalls need to be cleaned out. I suggest you make yourselves useful. I gestured to the door and it flew open. I blinked, seeing two members of the Court standing in my barracks. Their white and gold robes, hidden poorly under the brown cloaks.

"Gentlemen." I turned my attention to the soldiers, practically throwing them out in favor of these two. The saluted and stumbled out, my hand going to my temples. "What an I do for you, gentlemen?"

"That should be discussed elsewhere and with the ones who sent us for you." The voice was soft but resonated with power, not quite of this world. He extended his hand back out the door to the carriage.

The carriage was black and could only lead me to believe it was going to arrive at the Mancers high court building. I looked at the two that now stood behind me.

"I see I don't get much of a choice in this actual decision. " My tone went from helpful to mocking by the end of the sentence. The two sort of chuckled though I'm not entirely sure what that noise was. I stepped forward to the carriage and sat in the vehicle. The lining was rich. Red velvet, gold trim, and the of course, black curtains. They were drawn for me, and a candle lit within the interior. I sat silently, waiting. If it was the Mancers looking for help from the order, it wasn't going to happen. Since their betrayal so long ago, aiding the Dreamscape split from the Nightmare Realm, the Order wouldn't trust them. Further more, I wouldn't trust them. I have my own issues with the Council.

The ride didn't take long, unfortunately. I would have hoped that I would be able to collect my thoughts a bit while on my way to a certain end. Those that didn't help the Mancers were either eliminated or were driven into madness. I sighed as the door opened and the brown cloaks had been removed. I instead was greeted by the open arms of a woman, whom I didn't recognize. Her dragon, however, did recognize me. It snapped and snarled, threatening a firey end at the word of it's mistress.

"Ah Knight Leoguart. I've been waiting for your handsome face." Her smile swirled upward and the sudden appearance of it, the dragon backed down but only slightly. I approached and bowed, taking her freely offered hand, kissing it gently. She giggled. A woman of her... advanced years shouldn't be giggling. I glanced upwards before standing back to my full height. She was an older woman. Blue-gray eyes that spoke to her wisdom, and bright white hair. Her face showed the marks laughter and tears had left streaked across her face. She was ... tiny. She stood maybe five foot five and weighed less than she should. Her eyes softened when I didn't say anything and she nodded, waving a finger in the air.

"So you want to know who I am. Well, over tea. Come now. It is breakfast time." Her invitation was a bit odd to say the least. It was in fact time for breakfast, though I wasn't sure where the hell the time had gone. A soft melody seemed to float through the air, and I found myself casting a protection spell over my being. She laughed hearing the soft incantation. "Oh darling, that will 'hardly' be necessary, but have it your way." She glanced back over her shoulder, her long white braid swaying back and forth as she walked. The dragon that had been at her side, now head butted the back of my knees.

"I'm going, already. No need to be rude, little one." The dragon hissed and headbutted me again, forcing me to lurch forward. I caught myself easily and moved forward, entering into the not so humble home. The interior felt relaxing and lived in but still immaculately clean. She walked across the hard wood floor, gesturing to a seat by the fireplace, a high backed leather chair sat waiting apparently for my arrival. I stood next to it, waiting for her to return. The house was lovely. Earth tones, greys, and brick adorned the abode. The fireplace was roaring , casting a flickering light to fill the room with it's warmth. Before I had the thought to say anything, she had returned with a tray. Two mugs for tea, a teapot, and some sort of pastry. It was the most hospitality I had seen in a very very long time. She placed the tray down delicately, though She plopped into the seat with a force I generally see from men twice her size. I smirked and sat down in the appointed chair gazing into the fire.