13 February 2024

And here is where we finally get to see Lena and Frieda step into their own as terrifying fey creatures. I really dragged my heels on this one…

Isaac shrugged. “I might surprise you. My older sister was kidnapped by a fairy right after she was born, and because of that, they made a point to teach me all sorts of things about magic and how it works.”

Both women froze, and Deifra’s tea cup slipped from her hands to shatter on the floor. Alne asked, “Your… sister, you said?”

That’s when it clicked. The shack that was sturdier than it looked. The colors of their dresses. Their names. “You’re those fairies, aren’t you? Lena and Frieda.” Isaac couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

It seemed that was a mistake, though, as Deifra–Frieda–reached out into the air and pulled, like she was tugging on a string. Something yanked itself out of Isaac; he couldn’t see it, but he could feel it as it left.

In the same moment, both women shifted. Instead of a frail wisp of a girl, Frieda was now a full-bodied, statuesque woman, even a bit taller than Phillip. Lena was still short, roughly around Isaac’s height, but instead of an old lady she now had youthful even elfin features, with dark hair pulled back in a long braid.

Isaac tried to protest, only to discover he couldn’t make any sound. He could breath just fine, but his voice was just…gone.

“I could not risk that you might have some way to summon the Fairy Killer here. So, what is it you want, boy?”

Isaac’s expression soured, and he tapped his throat. In response, Lena passed him a sheet of paper and a quill. Once he accepted it, he paused. It didn’t exactly seem like the best idea to tell them he’d only shown up out of curiosity. Then he got an idea, and began to write.

“Could you help us find Aurora? We think Gothel took her to the Lost Wood, but anyone who enters winds up losing all sense of direction for months. Maleficent has tried to help, but she can’t perceive Gothel or anything related to her, so that hasn’t worked.”

9 February 2024

This was… really random. I don’t really know where my head was that day, other than the fact I didn’t want to think about anything too hard. I can’t even call it a crack-fic. It’s just… strange.

There is a question no one in Belobog or Penacony seems to know the answer to. Who, exactly, is the Garbage King?

Admittedly, this is because 99% (or more) of the population straight up doesn’t care. But you have those rare few–be they an eccentric Nameless or a certain struggling author–who know this secret could open the door to countless other discoveries.

So let’s ponder for a moment what sort of being he (or she) would have to be. What Aeon might he, and the trash can as a whole, worship? Not Nihility, for IX would not encourage such diligence; nor would Elation fit well, for his works are not bombastic or  entertaining enough. Neither Destruction nor the Hunt fit, and Yaoshi’s Abundance also is a bit too much of a stretch.

He could conceivably be some obscure, long-forgotten or presumed dead member of the Genius Society,; they are all eccentrics by nature, and if his devotion to trash was somehow inspired by a thirst for knowledge, it’s not inconceivable. HooH’s Equilibrium is an obvious choice, along with Preservation. A worshiper (or remnant) of Idrila the Beauty is not impossible, either; one who strives to find the beauty in anything, even the contents of a trash can, seems like it would fit well with such an eclectic order, as does one who takes care of trash to preserve the beauty around him. Finally, he could also have obscure ties to Harmony, in doing his part to make the world more clean and orderly.

8 February 2024

Lena herself had transformed into a nervous-looking woman with a hint of buck teeth. She frowned at Frieda for a moment, then huffed and plopped into a chair, arms folded. “Fine. But if they’re here to arrest us after all, I’m turning them both into frogs.”

Isaac refrained from commenting. He hadn’t paid much attention during Maleficent’s lessons, but he did know enough to know that wasn’t possible. There were plenty of other unpleasant things she could do, though. “No worries. That’s not why we’re here at all.” Then he had the most brilliant idea. “Could you help us find our way though the Lost Wood? We’re pretty sure that’s where Gothel took my sister, but we have no way of getting past her magic ourselves.”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you get the fairy-killer to do it? Surely she can handle something like that.”

With a shrug, Isaac replied, “Apparently, Gothel is terrified enough of Maleficent to put up wards and things specifically to defend against her. Something about old grudges?”

Both Lena and Frieda nodded, as if that made perfect sense. Isaac himself didn’t quite get it, but that didn’t matter. Frieda asked, “So what do we get out of this?”

“Hm?”

“What kind of payment are you offering for helping you get your sister back?”

7 February 2024

The idea of clockwork people, clockwork life, has fascinated me for a long time. While I was considering the subject, it kind of blended with the stories of Pinocchio and Galatea, which I realized are actually really similar. So I came up with this.

The hiss of steam and the whir of gears kept a steady rhythm all around Geppyg as he worked. That was fairly common in this section of the mobile fortress; it had to keep moving somehow.

His crooked fingers ran over the small gears and springs of his magnum opus; a beautiful, dancing automaton woman. Galatea. How many years had he worked on her now? How often had he despaired of ever finishing? It had taken him decades to accept she would never truly live, but… Well, he would do what he could, and that would have to be enough.

Just as he finished his most recent touches, a loud knock came from his workshop door. He hobbled over on his bad leg and opened it to find the most aggressively beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her dress was a deep violet, made of fine silk with fur trim, and somehow had not a speck of dust or oil stain, despite the tight, dingy halls of the maintenance zone. She must be a top-sider; what would she want with him?

She swept passed him and began studying Galatea. A sudden fear gripped Geppygmo’s heart; had rumors of his creation reached topside? Was this woman going to take his life’s work to use as a side-show curiosity at one of their infamous parties?

“Hmm. Intriguing. What is her name?”

“Galatea, your ladyship.” That question calmed him down somewhat. If she cared enough to know her name, she would at least properly care for Galatea well; that might be the best he could hope for at this point. Better than being forgotten in a foolish old man’s abandoned workshop.

“Galatea. A lovely name.” She looked up and gave him a knowing smile. “You love her, don’t you, Geppyg?”

He started. How did she…?

“If you want, I can bring her to life,” the woman said. A strange ball of light appeared in her hand, and she held it over Galatea’s chest. “She would be able to move and think freely, and she would love you. You’d be free to be married; I would officiate the wedding myself. What do you think?”

Geppyg’s eyes went wide. This was Aphrodite. Here. In his shop. Then he paused to consider the implications of her offer. He looked down at his gnarled and withered hands.

“If I werre still thirty or forty years younger, I may greedily accepted, your ladyship,” Geppyg said. He gazed fondly at Galatea, and even rested a hand on her shoulder. “But… If she is to live, she shouldn’t be tied to an old fool like me. No… no, Galatea is not my wife.” He looked Aphrodite straight in the eye. “She is my daughter.”

Aphrodite’s smile widened. “Done.” Then everything grew so bright, Geppyg couldn’t see anything.

6 February 2024

Hello! ‘Tis Phillip,

Though now much at a loss.

Two wayward children follow at my heels

Who, though royalty, need constant minding

Rooms we require to stay the night

Dear princess, can thou tend to that?

I’ll watch the prince and the horses

And a pigeon send to our queen

M-me?

In there?

No task could be more terrifying!

Ah… he left ere I spoke.

I yet lack the courage to decline…

One step by step,

To the dreaded counter I tread

T-, two rooms for us, please?

Eh? What meanest thou, where is my coin?

None on my person, and even had I,

Which coin is worth what?

At such a loss; what should I do?

E’en this simple thing goes awry…

Phillip, what cruelty is this?

The treasure, though found, is but dross

My eyes now see nothing but bones

And she, for sure, no princess can be

Spoke she ever otherwise?

Oft did they warn thee, thy mother and her friend,

Of the dangers of magic, now felt.

Is it a shock they spoke true?

Still, I’ll help where I can.

Already the pigeon alights

Both queens ere long should arrive

Inside, what a mess,

Worse than I had supposed.

Dear princess, thy best was enough

But I have aplenty. Good sir, three silver a room?

Embarrassment, regret

Why thought I not to go ask?

What place have I in a world such as this?

Just allow me to hide away here.

5 February 2024

…into the building.

The smell wasn’t any better inside than out; something foul bubbled in a cauldron in the kitchen. Every shelf was filled with the strangest ingredients Isaac had ever seen, from eyeballs to salamanders to things he couldn’t even identify. The living room was equally cluttered; knick-knacks of all shapes and sizes covered every available surface.

Alne led them upstairs to a dimly lit room, where a frail girl about the boys’ age sat quietly behind a table. She wore an almost ethereal pink dress, like the wisps of a cloud at sunset, and her eyes had been hidden behind a blindfold. Alne said, “Deifra, dearie, you have customers. A couple of fine young men.”

Deifra nodded and reached out toward a crystal ball on the shelf. Once Alne had passed it to her Deifra asked, “What… kind of fortune did you want told?” Her voice was quiet, and felt almost cultivated to reinforce the idea she might fade away at any moment.

Isaac smiled at her. “Actually, I’m mostly curious about how it all works. What lets you tell people’s fortunes? What kinds of things can you see? How do you interpret them?”

“Dangerous… questions,” Deifra replied. “The spirits… won’t like it.”

“Besides,” Alne cut in, “it’s all terribly confusing. Even I got lost trying to make sense of it. Best leave it to Deifra.”

Isaac shrugged. “I might surprise you. I know quite a bit about magic and fate and all that; my godmother made a point to teach me, since a fairy kidnapped my older sister not long after she was born.”

There was a crash as the crystal ball slipped from Deifra’s fingers. Alne looked no less shaken as she asked, “And who, who did you say your godmother was?”

Everything clicked together. Green and pink dresses, a shack out in the boonies… Even their names. Isaac couldn’t help but smile widely. “Right, I never introduced myself. Prince of Lowenveil at your service; my godmother is queen of Venwald. You might know her as Maleficent.”

With a speed that belied her aged appearance, Alne bolted for the door. Unfortunately for her, that’s where Phillip had been hovering since they came in, and he was able to block the entryway.

“You don’t need to be so scared of me, Alne. Or would you rather I call you Lena? I’m not here to arrest you or hand you over to my godmother.”

Lena froze and looked back at Deifra. Deifra–or Frieda–shifted, and where there had been a frail girl, there was now an ageless, statuesque woman. “There’s no sense in keeping up the charade. Let’s see what the boy wants, Lena.”

3 February 2024

This wasn’t a very good attempt. It did help me gather my ideas, though, so when I went back to it a couple days later, I was able to come up with something much more coherent. I still hadn’t started treating Lena and Frieda seriously yet, though.

…into the building.

Everything in the house was either green or pink. From the walls to the knickknacks covering every surface, from the cabinets to the floorboards. On top of that, the place was so cluttered Isaac and Phillip had to be careful where they put their feet.

Alne led them to a small room upstairs, where a frail wisp of a girl wearing a blindfold sat at a table, sipping from a porcelain cup. She wore a pink dress that was quite ragged at the hem. “Deifra, dearie, we have guests. A pair of fine young men.”

Deifra turned to face her and nodded. Alne invited the boys to sit down, before she took a seat herself behind a large crystal ball. “Now, tell old Alne what sort of fortune you’re looking for.”

“Actually,” Isaac replied, “I wanted to understand how it works. How do you determine people’s fortunes? What kinds of things do you see? How do you interpret that?”

Alne’s smile grew strained. “These secrets come with great dangers, and for those not well-versed in the mystic arts, I doubt it would even be comprehensible.”

“Good thing I am well-versed,” Isaac said. “Ever since a fairy kidnapped my sister, over fifteen years ago, my family’s made a point to study this sort of thing.”

Deifra’s cup fell out of her hands and shattered, and Alne froze in place. “I-is that so? But even still, I can’t just–”

It all clicked together. The pink, the green. Even their names. “You’re the fairies that were there, aren’t you? Lena and Frieda.” He gestured to Alne and Deifra respectively, a massive grin on his face.

This could be perfect. If these two could help him get through the Lost Wood… Not only would he be lauded a hero, but his sister could take over the kingdom. He’d be free to go on all the adventures he wanted.

1 February 2024

“Isn’t your godmother a witch? Isn’t this, like, child’s play compared to the things she can do?”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe? But Maleficent’s even worse than Mom is when I get near magic. I think she blames herself for what happened with my sister.”

It took another hour or so to reach the shack in the center of the swamp. A rickety old sign teetered at the edge of the island, with the words, “Fortunes and Potions! No Refunds.” The shack looked dilapidated at first glance, but closer inspection revealed it was actually quite sturdy, and just designed to look bleak.

With a grin far too wide for the dreary atmosphere, Isaac said, “Well, let’s check it out!” He marched right up to the door and pounded on the door, with Phillip only a couple steps behind him.

A scratchy female voice called out, “Just a minute!” A short time later, the lock clicked and the door opened a crack, revealing a hunched, beady-eyed woman even shorter than Isaac. She wore a fraying green dress over her stooped frame. “Yes? What can Alne and Deifra do for you?”

Alne and Deifra… Something about the names tickled the back of Isaac’s mind, but he put it aside. “Hi! I heard you do fortunes?”

“Yes, yes! Come in, come in!” The old woman led them into the building…

31 January 2024

This is one of the results of the outline; I got a firmer bead on Isaac’s characterization, and so started rewriting his scene to fit better. It still took some effort to get right, though; I’ve been trying to pin Lena and Frieda down as comic relief characters for a long time, and… well, if I want the fae to be threatening, they really can’t be. But that’s for later.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Prince Isaac looked back at his friend, a tall, stocky boy with brown hair. Phillip was knee-deep in much, and based on his expression, the smell of the swamp didn’t particularly appeal to him, either. Isaac smirked at him from the log he stood on. “Because you find standing guard outside my door just as boring as I find my lessons?”

“That still had to be better than this.” Phillip stepped into a particularly deep area and cursed.

Isaac shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not that bad.”

Phillip glared up at him, and finally found a dryer patch of ground to wade to. “You know your mom’s going to be pissed at us when we get back, right?”

“I’ll just tell her I was trying to find my sister. It’s even sort of true.”

Phillip just raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s true! I’d love to find a way to bring her back. Then she can be crown princess, and I’d be free to see the world and go on adventures and such.”

“That seems like a terrible idea.”

“Worse than leaving me in charge?”

For a long moment, Phillip didn’t reply. “Lowenveil’s doomed, isn’t it?”

Isaac’s grinned widened, while he did his best to ignore the little prick he felt at Phillip’s comment. 

“It’s all kind of moot anyway,” Phillip added. “Unless we find some kind of fae magic of our own, we’ll never be able to get through the Lost Woods anyway. Which reminds me… What were we after out here, again?”

“Rumor has it there’s a couple of strange women out here pretending to be witches. Thought it might be worth checking out.”

30 January 2024

This was a lot of fun! I struggle with coming up with outlines for my stories, and particularly putting said outlines to paper. I’m not sure why; it just seems boring to me, I guess? So I had a thought. What if I made it a more creative project? So I started writing my outline as a poem. It’s not a particularly amazing poem, but it is fun to write, and has helped me decide how the story goes. I have two other Rapunzel poems continuing where this one left off as of this writing (April 24). I really enjoyed the formatting to convey the different POVs, though I’m not sure how will the second poem will translate.

Come one, come all,

And see the blessed babe

Aurora, our light,

Our hope and delight.

Fae gifts touch her

Good health, and grace, and more

What cost have these?

‘Tis secret, hidden so none may see

But one, late come

Maleficent, queen

Fae’s foe, pronounced the woe

Gifted the sweetling child

For Gothel, nightmare again

Traumas cloud all thought

The child she takes

Spirited away from the kinslayer’s grasp

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down crimson hair

Cooped in the Tower, trapped not with bands

But fear of what lays beyond

Fear begets fear, and so she stays

Cautious, quiet, mostly content

Only wandering through paints and in dreams

“Tis glorious adventure seek we this day!

Is it not so, dear Phillip?

Perhaps more grueling than glorious,

But so it is. What mischief make we today?

Why, two fairies over yon,

Would make quite the excellent catch

And with debts to claim

Perhaps a princess, my sister, at last

Through forest and fog

Evading the kidnapper most foul

To a grand Tower’s base

And yet, where lies the door leading in?

Eh? People? Outside?

And worse, family, to boot

What can be done? What should be done?

Can hiding avail me aught?

No, still here, still striving

Why seek they one such as I?

My doom is near, already at the doorstep

Yet still… To speak for a bit should suffice?

She is not who I’d dreamed

This sister of mine

All the adventures I’d yearned, and more,

All shadows and reflections and gone

Too timid by half, and no thanks

Still, her choices are hers, not mine

If here she will stay, ne’er to travel,

I’ll visit so often, at the least

What is this scent?

A human, a boy

Intruders in my abode?

A thief in the night

Or that woman’s spy

He’ll not take her from me!

Spare him his life

But instead, steal his sight

See, child, the mercies I show?

Rage

Despair

The only kin I’ve known

Mercy? What mercy?

I was never yours

Though ne’er I planned to leave

Then as you took, take I in turn

Your sight I’ll trade for his

And if you think I’m yours to keep,

Perhaps it best I leave you

My home…

What have I done?

That… who was that?

Not the Rapunzel I raised

The power, the fury, the magic within…

Like her. It was her, again.

Maleficent.

Blind

Lost

Confused

Whate’er did I do wrong?

A touch of fingers

A gift of sight

But no less lost than before

29 January 2024

This isn’t canonical. It was an alternate idea I briefly considered of pulling in other shenanigans for the more bull-headed version of Aurora, but I think that would have gotten complicated. That, or I was just reading a lot of magical girl-themed stuff on Royal Road at the time, and decided to play with it a bit.

“Too easy,” the creature said, picking at a fingernail.

Rapunzel sputtered. Here she was, offering up her cleverness, her health… She was even putting her life on the line! And this diminutive furball had the gall to say that was too easy?

Reading her thoughts–whether through her expression or more magical means, Rapunzel couldn’t tell–the creature said, “You were willing to let go of all that long before the princeling ever showed up at your doorstep. You’d already resigned yourself to a short life.” Then the creature smiled far too wide for its face, and with far too many teeth. “No. What I want is far more precious than that. I want your leisure.”

“My leisure?”.

The creature nodded. “Suppose I do as you ask. Let them all free, wake them up. As an added bonus, say I even let you live as well. What happens then?”

It took a moment for Rapunzel to understand what he was getting at. There’s no way her family would let her go after all this. She wouldn’t be going back to her Tower. No, she’d have duties, responsibilities, expectations.

She’d have to become a princess.

27 January 2024

Rapunzel had only been in the library an hour or so when the Tower notified her that someone was outside. It was very odd; had Mother forgotten something?

It was not Mother she found, though, when she poked her head out the window of the receiving room. Instead, it was a couple of boys; one was blonde and fairly short, while the other was tall and quite stocky, with sandy brown hair. The blonde one called up, “Excuse me! Sorry to bother you, but is your name Aurora?”

Rather than reply, Rapunzel pulled her head back and slammed the window shut, before she curled into a ball in a corner of the room. Aurora. That was her real name, right? Which means that boy was probably…

“My brother!?” Rapunzel squeaked. She looked back up at the window and realized she’d basically just slammed the door on a prince, even if he was a relative.

It took another ten to fifteen minutes to work up the courage to crack the window back open and peek outside. Just then, a metal hook struck the wall near the window. It was connected to a rope, leading down to the bigger boy, where the blonde boy encouraged him.

Mustering all her determination, she (sort of) shouted, “Please don’t throw things at the Tower! You might damage something!”

The two boys paused and looked at each other. The prince called back, “What did you say?”

Rapunzel repeated herself, at least a smidgeon louder, but the two boys just turned to each other and shrugged. She didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t hear her. She could step outside, but that was… scary. Not to mention the mess her hair would cause. On the other hand, if Rapunzel let them in, that would upset Mother, right? 

But what if they left before Mother came back? That could could even be her excuse to make them leave if they tried to stay too long. Right? Rapunzel could do that.

Nodding to herself, Rapunzel flipped the lever to let her hair down. The boys looked up in surprise, but the prince quickly started to climb up, with the other not far behind. Unfortunately for Rapunzel, they were already halfway up before she realized she’d have to actually talk to them. For a whole conversation. It was a small miracle she hadn’t started hyperventilating by the time they made it inside.

26 January 2024

What would Malenia do in the world of Genshin Impact? Other than wreck everything, I mean.

Malenia said nothing for several minutes. “This world is too cheerful.”

“Eh. Sure, Teyvat certainly has a different feel to it than the Lands Between, but… its got its own shadows. Come, follow me.”

I led the goddess incumbent up Starsnatch cliff toward Dragonspine. I’m pretty sure I kept our arrival secret from the bastards on Celestia; from what I’ve seen, they wouldn’t take too kindly to our arrival.

The monsters die swiftly. The only surprise comes when the ruin guard near the Temple of a Thousand Winds caught sight of Malenia during a waterfowl, and even that wasn’t too much trouble. I don’t think anyone knows what to make of her; she is colored like a pyro character, but if there’s one element she’s not connected to, it’s fire. …Isn’t she basically a dendro character?

“Why is the lightning on this gods-forsaken world purple, of all things?” Malenia grumbled.

I blink. “I…actually don’t know. Let me check.” A quick, out-of-universe google study later, and… “Huh. In real life, natural lightning tends to look more purple. Maybe in the Lands Between, it looked yellow because of its association with grace and the Golden Order?”

Malenia nodded, musing on that as she impaled the hilichurl archer who’d prompted the question. SHe looked across the river, at the snowy foothills of Dragonspine. She took a deep breath in and commented, “Smells like home.”

“What, snow and the ever-present sense of danger?”

Malenia gave me a noncommittal grunt and jumped across the river. I sighed, then whistled for Torrent so I could follow behind. No sense in freezing to death before I even make it to the Nail.

25 January 2024

“Good morning.” I greet Isaac as he walks in, although I don’t turn to face him. Instead, I stare at a series of paintings along the back wall, each a different version of him; short and proud, tall and laid back. A jokester, or too serious for his own good. Caught up in a thirst for adventure.

“Morning.” He looks around. “What… is this place?”

With a sweeping gesture, I turn to face him. “This? A fragment of a dream. A space between realities.”

“Huh.” Isaac cocks one eyebrow as he looks at me warily. “And why have you brought me here?”

“Because I want to understand you.” I conjure up a table and two chairs. “I want to know how your story changes you, and to do that, I need to know who you are at the beginning.”

I take my seat, and Isaac follows suit. “Okay… What do you want to know?”

That brings a wry smile to my face. “That is the question, isn’t it?” I conjure up a bottle of something–sparkling cider, perhaps–and offer him some. “Drink? It’s not alcoholic.”

He shakes his head; so this version is cautious. That seems a bit at odds with someone who would chase down witches and fairies on the off-chance they can help find Aurora. Perhaps I’m reading him wrong?

He squirms a bit in his seat. “What is it?”

“Ah! My apologies. I didn’t realize I was staring quite so intently.” I lean back and place my hands in my lap. “I do have one question, though. Why put so much effort into finding Aurora?”

“Well… She’s my sister, isn’t she?”

“Indeed.” I take a sip from my drink. “But you’ve never met her. She was taken before you were born, and I daresay most of the nation has given up hope of ever getting her back, especially this close to her sixteenth birthday and her predicted demise. SO what keeps the spark going for you?”

“I… The adventure of it, I guess?”

I nod to myself. “Then… Are you actually expecting to find her?”

That stumps Isaac for a long while. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” He paused. “I guess… before I stumbled into those two fairies, I never thought it was possible? And then I was so caught up in it all I never thought about what it might mean.”

24 January 2024 part 2

I like the idea of Mela. Largely inspired by a combination of Nerissa Ravencroft’s vtuber lore and Uta from a One Piece movie (though I haven’t actually watched it myself; just saw this).

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

The old priest froze, then turned to look at Mela. “She’s the demon king! You heard her just now. She could ruin everything we’ve worked for!”

“You mean everything you’ve worked for.” She stepped forward, a sinister smile on her lips. The old priest paled, but before he could say anything, Mela said, “You see, from my perspective, there’s nothing to gain from antagonizing her. Either she keeps herself under control and does nothing, in which case attacking her and spouting accusations only makes us look like fools, or worse. Or perhaps she does lose control, as all you old codgers claim she will.” Mela’s grin turns vicious, and her arms spread wide. “Wonderful! Then people will finally remember why they need a saintess. And if she follows through on her threat…” Mela stepped right up to the old priest and whispered in his ear, “Then I’ll finally be free of you, won’t I? Free to pull my own strings.”

The old priest backpedaled away. “You, you can’t be serious! You’re the saintess! You’d sacrifice everything for power?”

“I did learn from the best, after all.” Mela turned around and started to walk away. “I should probably thank you for that lesson.”

24 January 2024 part 1

Tried to work on Rapunzel, then changed to a different story so I could feel less frustrated.

Phillip paused. “Like, the other fairies who were there the day your sister was taken?”

“Yep.”

“They’re not the ones who took her, though, right?”

Isaac shrugged. “We’ve known where Gothel is at for a few years now. The problem is, we can’t get there; she’s got some magic that keeps people from getting close. So I figured, why not counteract it with fae magic of our own?”

Phillip’s foot pulled free of his boot, causing him to curse. “And why… *oof*. Why would they ever agree to help us?”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “They owe my family a debt.”

23 January 2024

“Remind me. Why are we here again?”

Isaac lifted an eyebrow and smirked at his friend. Phillip was currently knee-deep in muck, and the odor of the swamp didn’t help improve his mood. “Didn’t I tell you? There’s been reports of a pair of witches around here. What kind of prince would I be if I let my people suffer such things?”

“No, I get that part.” Phillip grunted as he jerked one foot free. “What I mean is, why are we here? Don’t you have an army specifically to take care of stuff like this?”

Isaac hopped over to another dry patch of ground. “Why? Don’t think we can take care of it?”

Phillip responded with a flat look. “Isaac, we’re fourteen. What, exactly, do you intend to do if there really is a witch?”

For a very long moment, Isaac didn’t respond. “Did you know? This report was very strange. A large number of otherwise credible people have encountered these ‘witches’, with all sorts of strange, almost unbelievable stories. A bald man started getting his hair back, only for a number of local pets to start losing patches of fur. A family spends one year nearly destitute after a visit, only to get a double crop the year after that.”

Phillip squelched another step forward. “Yeah, okay. And?”

“The strange part is, no one can agree on what they look like. Youn, old, frail, stocky… There is only one detail that never changes. One of the witches is closely associated with green, and the other with pink.”

22 January 2024

I decided I would try to write a poem a week. I’ve liked the idea of it, written some poems in the past. I haven’t quite lived up to that goal; March was crazy busy with a lot of personal stuff, and I barely wrote anything at all. But I’ve done better than I feared. And I’m quite fond of this one, though I don’t think it matches any specific formula. This particular poem was inspired by a post on the Elsewhere University tumblr I saw, in the item exchange series.

Once, in fair trade,

The greatest of friends of friends did I gain

Found in a glass

Silver-back, hand wide,

Thus neither of us would pass through

Days we spun tales,

Glories and mundanities both

And I counted dear

The quiet times passed

Spent with my reflection and I

Alas, then dropped

Reflection now shattered to bits

Some cruel, some sharp

Not a one kind

And no way to return them whole

Be wary, dear friend,

Though gladly I’ll sell

This mirror brings its own thorns

19 January 2024

Really short. I was wondering, there are sentient weapons; why not sentient tools? Then, I apparently had trouble focusing. Partially inspired by this song on Youtube.

“Good morning. Will ye be crafting anything today?”

I sighed and pulled myself out of my bedroll. There was no sense in replying; the hammer and I both knew I’d left that life behind me long ago. Fool that I was.

I walked out of my tent to see my compatriots preparing breakfast around our little fire.

16 January 2024

…when she was going outside. “Are you heading out?”

Mother nodded. “We’re running low on flour, and we could always use more bacon. I also wanted to look into getting you more medicine.”

Somehow, Rapunzel was able to force her grimace into something resembling a smile. “I’m fine, Mother.”

“You’re fine now, but what if something happens later?”

By then, I’ll be dead. Rapunzel kept her mouth shut, though. That would definitely upset Mother. For her part, Rapunzel herself had come to terms with the idea. For the most part. It was strange to think she only had [a few weeks] left, though.

Meanwhile, Mother hovered around the covered easel. “Is this your latest project?”

“Wait, don’t–!”

It was too late. With a flourish, Mother lifted the sheet from the canvas. At first, she didn’t respond, still as a statue. Then her face distorted, shifting from one face to another. Old, young, thin, pudgy. The rest of her soon followed suit, changing shapes and outfits faster than Rapunzel could process them. Always blue, though. Mother always wore blue.

This was a bad one. Mother wasn’t saying anything. When she talked, Rapunzel could at least piece together what was freaking her out and calm her down. But when she got like this… Rapunzel had no clue. And if she said the wrong thing, she might just make it worse.

Rapunzel took a deep breath and moved closer. “Mother?” When the fairy didn’t respond, Rapunzel braced herself and hugged her. It was always a strange sensation, hugging Mother while she shifted forms. “It’s alright, Mother. I’m here. We’re safe; you’re safe.”

Mother finally looked down at her. Rapunzel took the opportunity to gently guide her away from the painting toward the door.

“She… she was there, Therese. With her. It… it had to be a trap, even though she looks so kind…”

Therese again, huh? As near as Rapunzel could tell, that was the name of one of Mother’s “sisters”. However that worked for fairies. “It’s okay. They’re not here. She’s not here. You’re safe. See?”

They’d gotten far enough away the Tower was able to put up a wall between them and the painting. Mother was finally calming down; she settled into the shape of an old woman with a stooped back. “Yes… yes, you’re right. Thank you, Therese.” Mother patted her hand and tottered off.

Once she’d left, Rapunzel sank to the floor and heaved a sigh of relief. That went…fairly well, this time. No animal shapes, at least. Still, it would probably be a few days before the Tower trusted her enough to let her work on Hannah’s painting again.

Later

“And to you, Princess Aurora, I grant the gift of good health.”

As she spoke, Lena grasped for the threads of fate from the child’s future, selected the one she needed, and wove it around the child. She felt immensely proud of herself; if only all those naysayers could see her now! Who cared if it was a small country out west, leagues from the nearest faehold. Now, she walked among royalty.