#mythpunk — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #mythpunk, aggregated by home.social.
-
Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
-
Stegosaurus Ice cream
A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Chief #TimeTravelAuthors 08/7. If your work was an ice cream flavor, what would it be?**Ahead of us, the Jurassic jungle thinned, and the land sloped up. The trees were more widely spaced, but they still obscured my view of the cliffs we were heading towards.
I was grateful to be walking on fallen leaves rather than slogging through the mud. The ferns were still thick in patches, but I threaded my way through them with minimal effort. However, the #chief hazard remained: the native behemoths.
The stagnant air of the swamp was replaced by a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, and my thoughts strayed.
“Ice cream would have been a delightful addition. Hmm, what flavor would my recent adventures be?” I wondered, my fancies taking full flight.
“Something tropical: Mango or peach. Yes, mango would be pleasant. I’d enjoy that. Champagne cocktail flavor would be more appropriate, but do they even make that flavor? Okay, no cheating. How about horehound? That had a nice, old-fashioned sound. I guess that would be cheating too. Sarsaparilla then. That was an old-timey name for root beer, or at least I think.”
I should have paid more attention, as I received a nasty shock when a stegosaurus burst from behind a grove of trees where it had been hidden.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a carnivore. The only damage I sustained was a near-heart attack as the immense beast lumbered past. It was almost comical, with its plates rattling and its tail striking trees as it thudded past. There was a chipped plate midway down its back. It was only funny because I was far enough away that the tail posed no threat.
A minute later, Emily landed and apologised for not spotting it.
She looked nonplussed when I asked her, “Do you think a stegosaurus would like sarsaparilla ice cream?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Dinosaurs #Humor
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhostV2 EP 12: Post 123, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Puzzle #TimeTravelAuthors 08/3. Where does your main character live/where are they from?
As the images from my dream faded, I began to panic. The earlier questions haunted me: “Who was I? Where was I? Where had I come from?”
I had the strange conviction that I wasn’t from this time or place. That knowledge had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. What an odd way of putting it. Surely I meant lost in the void of my memory?
No, I meant the former: “Lost in time.”
I shook my head and struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t find any answers lying there. It was of the utmost importance that I learn more.
There it was again: that feeling of almost knowing. I knew the fate of the world depended on my piercing this veil of ignorance. That conviction burned in my mind.
I took stock of my surroundings: the Sphinx, crop circle, path into the forest, tiny wild strawberries winking at me in the grass. I #puzzled over what I should do first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 122, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 August #TimeTravelAuthors 08/1. Introduce your story (optional: use the word "wish")
For a long time, all I could focus on was the blue sky. A single, wispy cloud floated there. Then, my eyes drifted down to a marble sphinx that loomed over me, wings folded at its sides. I examined, uncomprehending, the weathered stains and moss growing in the creases of its sides. Ferns grew on its paws, along with a solitary scrubby bush. I felt heavy, and my brain was fuzzy. Then the questions occurred to me: “Who am I?” and “Where was I?”
The situation was dimly familiar. Hadn’t I forgotten everything before? Right, there had been that alley with the graffiti of the Eye of Providence, or was it a pink coral pyramid with giant azure dragonflies? I #wished I could remember, but it was all a jumble.
“Think! Think!”
“Rabbits and Templars. I had been fleeing them. Why? A meeting… Cyprus… 1191. That must be why I’m wearing medieval priest’s robes. And something about their calling a meteor to destroy humanity.”
I shuddered at the image of a flaming ball crossing a blue sky. Suddenly, a hot flash caused me to flush, leaving me uncomfortably damp with sweat.
I parted the grass I lay in, looking for Emily, but I was alone in a forest of #august oaks: gnarled trees whose branches brushed the Sphinx’s sides. Tall ferns crowded its bronze base, a path threading through them.
“Emily?” I muttered. Then, turning my head to look for her, I saw an open meadow sloping away from me. In its center lay a large trampled circle where feet had beaten down the grass.
“Fairies?” I asked myself. But that was crazy.
It must have all been a wild, vivid nightmare. Who’d ever heard of fairies or rabbits with rifles? The vision of them in Nazi uniforms and Templar surcoats flared in my mind and then faded.
A dream? It all had to be a confused vision, and Emily must be a figment of my sleeping brain. Why did that make me want to cry?
A tear ran down my cheek.
Welcome to volume two of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We open in the far future, 1,802,701 of the Common Era, and with poor Bijou only vaguely remembering Emily, the Lapin Cabal, the Illuminati, Templars, and the Covenant of Judas.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 121, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Brandy #TimeTravelAuthors 07/31. Author's choice/promo
The canister held by the Grand Marshal’s attendants was bullet-shaped, the size of a large artillery shell, and dull black like anodized aluminum. No twelfth-century smith had forged this futuristic object.
“I present Simon Magus risen from the dead,” said Sir Sablé with reverence.
A murmur swept through the room. Near me, a man muttered, “Magus? What heresy is this?”
Sablé’s hands passed over the container, and the front slid back. The vessel was definitely not of twelfth-century origin. It couldn’t even have been constructed in my own era. A head with a short, curly beard, and Palestinian features was revealed. His skin was an unhealthy color, blotched like ivory that had been buried for centuries.
Another murmur arose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Montferrat’s hand clench; knuckles white. Was his displeasure with this conclave the true reason for his assassination?
Simon opened his eyes and spoke, “Silence, for on your account I have risen; that I may guide the lost sheep and hasten the coming of our Lord.”
“But wait,” he continued. “I sense one who is not of you: a spider garbed as a holy dove.”
His eyes, the color of #brandy, burnt into me, and he began spewing Latin. “Te maledico ut sis terrenus. Alae tuae mihi caeduntur.”
I grew heavy, and the room seemed to be bathed in light. Knowledge flooded my mind: the bishop was Philippe de Dreux of Beauvais, hated by King Richard; and the Grand Marshal’s attendants were Gilbert Horal and Brother Aimery, Marshal of the Temple. I had come to the Holy Lands after my wife, Mary, had died in childbirth.
I suddenly understood Simon’s Latin. “I bind you. Ensnare you in your own web,” he chanted.
Emily was rushing towards me, but I felt weak and sick. I had only moments to react. I was being bound to this time.
“In the sacred and forbidden names of the Lord, be cursed…”
I wished to be far away, safely beyond the reach of the Lapin Cabal and its allies.
The lights flickered, and I felt as if my soul was being torn from my body. Then darkness descended.
When I awoke, I was lying in tall grass. Above me stood a weathered marble phoenix, perched on a bronze base. I looked around. I was alone. Emily was nowhere to be seen.
Thus ends Volume I of “Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost.” We have traveled from the birth of a spirit robbed of all memory of herself to the discovery of an eon-old conspiracy to destroy the world as we know it. An illustrated and revised version of this story is currently being serialized at:
If you would like to catch up or are interested in reading an improved version, please join me on one of those sites.
Nara Moore
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#PennedPossibilities 1085 — What is special about your world or universe?
A baroque mixture of creepy and romance; myth, legend, and folklore; and a sprinkling of poetry and metaphorical talk.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (2 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
Sir Sablé began winding down after the big announcement confirming the link between the book we had seen in the British Museum and the current meeting, saying, “Let the fruits of this gathering, our Garden of Gethsemane, be known as ‘The Covenant of St. Judas.’”
There were murmurs of dissent around me, and Sir Conrad's face showed his dissatisfaction. Frankly, I had to agree. I wouldn’t have been swayed either by the blatant heresy of his words.
However, the Grand Marshal was prepared for this and announced, “Some of you still doubt me. That is nothing new; even those who heard Our Lord with their own ears did not believe Him. Therefore, I shall show you the sign entrusted to me.”
He nodded to his attendants. They turned to leave, only to stop when Sir Conrad spoke. “And of King Henry?”
The Templar frowned and might have objected, but Conrad was too important a person to ignore.
“Henry is not privy to this conclave,” Sir Sablé said. “Let the Lord of England do what he does best: fight the infidels. Bois-Guilbert and Lancaster are here as John’s envoys. I have his noble word of support for our venture. Are you satisfied, Montferrat?” (So I was right; he was Sir Conrad of Montferrat. I was a tiny fish swimming with this era’s barracudas.)
“I am,” he answered. His face told a different story: grim, hard, and skeptical.
Sir Sablé’s knights left, soon returning with a metal canister. The sight turned me cold. Although the Grand Master presented it as a holy thing, I could sense its abominable nature. What fresh horror was about to be revealed?
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 120, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia (1 of 2 parts)
#Wss366 Boner #TimeTravelAuthors 07/29. proof/prove
“You may be seated,” Sir Sablé said. The Grand Master of the Templars’ voice was dignified, higher than one might expect, but the tone was that of someone accustomed to command. “Bishop Dreux, will you honor this gathering with a prayer?”
I recognized the priest he had called on as the person who’d challenged Sir Conrad earlier. Even though he was a bishop, he was clearly also a fighting man: strong, scarred; the bulk of his robes hinted at chain mail beneath. I didn’t understand the brief Latin prayer he led. It was a pity I hadn’t learned Latin at university.
While we prayed, Emily left my side, moving to the dais so she could hear what the rabbits were saying to Sir Sablé. It was a decision that would later #prove disastrous. A real #boner, as some of my cruder students might have said. (Why did these memories come back to me when I couldn’t follow up on them?)
Once the prayer had finished, the Grand Master addressed us. “You have been called here in the Lord’s name and shall be blessed for your piety…”
He continued in this vein for a while, and most of what he said wasn’t worth repeating. However, other parts of his speech had stunning implications.
- “Though unworthy, the Lord hath lifted me from the dust as our Lord Jesus did Mary Magdalene, and a heavenly host has vouchsafed me words. Today, I humbly bear their message for your ears.”
Behind him the rabbits made ironic bows that he couldn’t see.
- “As Saint Judas Iscariot sacrificed himself to bring about our Savior’s glorious act of redemption, we too are summoned to make the ultimate sacrifice, our honor. We may be reviled for our deeds, but we the faithful shall show the same devotion, to God’s will, Abraham did when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son. We will hold fast, knowing that our obedience is required to invoke the Third Coming, bringing a fiery end to this sinful race, Adam’s kin, and to call down the final judgment when the Lord’s hammer smites the world once again.”
A groan escaped me. For an instant I could see the Cretaceous–Paleogene fireball streaking across the sky, setting me ablaze. Fortunately, Sir Sablé’s speech had everyone enthralled, or perhaps they thought it was a gasp of wonder.
It was part intuition and part logic that led me to conclude that the Lapin Cabal intended to bring a meteor down on the world, as had happened in Yucatán. How or why I didn’t know. To this end, they recruited the gullible, the ambitious, and the truly wicked to do their bidding. The Templars, Illuminati, Nazis, and ICE-Nine were just examples of this.
The implications were staggering, and from Emily’s face, she recognized it too.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 3 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 MeccaWhile waiting for Elaine to arrive, Saya listened to thrushes in the bush, and Sheila continued smoking, much to the displeasure of the troll, as the fumes wafted down under the stone span.
After a pause, The Adventure of Nike spoke. “I can’t believe that troll. It said that I stank.”
Picking up a spray of elm leaves that had fallen from the trees, Saya hid her amused smile behind it. “Maybe you should go back and complain.”
“Humph.”
The two fell silent again until Elaine, the Ashen Witch, strolled up to the bridge. [Again, in case you’ve forgotten who that very handsome witch who had just stepped on stage and the bridge is, it’s me.]
Indeed, like the others, the local gulls had forced me out of the sky, and I was making my way to the Three Goats Inn and Tavern. The thought of their famous bread pudding and cream puffs hurried my steps. My heart lept at the sight of the bridge. I hurried across it only to have someone bellow at me from below. “Who’s that crossing my bridge?”
Turning, I found a huge, lumpy monster climbing over the span’s parapet. At four meters in height, it was a dominating figure. The leprous skin covering its enormous frame resembled lichen as much as anything else.
“I’m Elaine, and if you’re thinking of eating me, you should reconsider. Instead, I can recommend in…”
“Shut up! Two previous women promised me a luscious dinner, and here you are.”
“It wouldn’t have been those two ladies, sitting under that elm,” I said, pointing to where Saya and Sheila sat. “This is truly a #mecca for scoundrels. Even for a troll, you were foolish to listen to them. One would think a mountain goat had kicked you in the head.”
“Enough,” the troll thundered and charged toward me.
Modesty forbids me from describing how I dealt with the troll, but in the end, it went sailing over the parapet and fell into the river, where it sank like a lead stone.
As for my fellow witches, they were obliged to treat me to as much sausage, bread pudding, and cream puffs as I could eat.
[FINIS]
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 3 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 MeccaWhile waiting for Elaine to arrive, Saya listened to thrushes in the bush, and Sheila continued smoking, much to the displeasure of the troll, as the fumes wafted down under the stone span.
After a pause, The Adventure of Nike spoke. “I can’t believe that troll. It said that I stank.”
Picking up a spray of elm leaves that had fallen from the trees, Saya hid her amused smile behind it. “Maybe you should go back and complain.”
“Humph.”
The two fell silent again until Elaine, the Ashen Witch, strolled up to the bridge. [Again, in case you’ve forgotten who that very handsome witch who had just stepped on stage and the bridge is, it’s me.]
Indeed, like the others, the local gulls had forced me out of the sky, and I was making my way to the Three Goats Inn and Tavern. The thought of their famous bread pudding and cream puffs hurried my steps. My heart lept at the sight of the bridge. I hurried across it only to have someone bellow at me from below. “Who’s that crossing my bridge?”
Turning, I found a huge, lumpy monster climbing over the span’s parapet. At four meters in height, it was a dominating figure. The leprous skin covering its enormous frame resembled lichen as much as anything else.
“I’m Elaine, and if you’re thinking of eating me, you should reconsider. Instead, I can recommend in…”
“Shut up! Two previous women promised me a luscious dinner, and here you are.”
“It wouldn’t have been those two ladies, sitting under that elm,” I said, pointing to where Saya and Sheila sat. “This is truly a #mecca for scoundrels. Even for a troll, you were foolish to listen to them. One would think a mountain goat had kicked you in the head.”
“Enough,” the troll thundered and charged toward me.
Modesty forbids me from describing how I dealt with the troll, but in the end, it went sailing over the parapet and fell into the river, where it sank like a lead stone.
As for my fellow witches, they were obliged to treat me to as much sausage, bread pudding, and cream puffs as I could eat.
[FINIS]
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 2 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 HobgoblinAn hour passed, and Saya began to drowse. The water of the stream sang her a lullaby, and the sweet smell of grass lulled her senses. The troll had long disappeared from view, its camouflaged skin blending with the stone of the bridge.
“Ah,” she said and pinched herself as a witch with two long blonde braids approached. The gray road dust begrimed her white coat and brown pants. And as the Charcoal Witch had guessed, a cloud of tobacco smoke surrounded the new figure.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” the troll bellowed as the woman neared the center of the span. Both of the troll’s hands and a set of horns, like rotting stink horn fungus, appeared over the parapet. A lopsided head with hair like Spanish moss; gigantic, goggling frog eyes; and jagged yellow teeth soon followed.
“I’m Sheila, the Adventurer of Nike, and who wants to know?” the witch replied, blowing blue-gray smoke toward the face.
“Cough, I’m… cough, McGruff the… cough, Troll, and I’m going to eat you, Miss Nike.”
“You’re not my type, big boy,” the witch said and blew another cloud of smoke toward the troll. “But there is a fair maiden close behind me in black robes and a pointy hat, with ashen hair and amethyst eyes. Oh, and she has a witch’s star like this,” and she pointed to one pinned to her coat.
Puff, puff.
“And you might ask, Mr McRuffian, who this person is?” Sheila continued. “It is Elaine, the Ashen Witch.”
[That’s me, the Wandering Witch!]
“Cough, cough. You stink!” the troll gasped.
Shiela readied her wand. “Have at me, big boy!”
“I’ll wait.” Cough. “I’d rather eat a #hobgoblin than you.”
“Humph,” Shiela said and continued on her way. Upon reaching Saya, her eyebrows went up.
Saya waved to a grassy spot downwind of her and said, “Shall we wait and see what Elaine does?”
Shiela nodded and took a seat.
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 2 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 HobgoblinAn hour passed, and Saya began to drowse. The water of the stream sang her a lullaby, and the sweet smell of grass lulled her senses. The troll had long disappeared from view, its camouflaged skin blending with the stone of the bridge.
“Ah,” she said and pinched herself as a witch with two long blonde braids approached. The gray road dust begrimed her white coat and brown pants. And as the Charcoal Witch had guessed, a cloud of tobacco smoke surrounded the new figure.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” the troll bellowed as the woman neared the center of the span. Both of the troll’s hands and a set of horns, like rotting stink horn fungus, appeared over the parapet. A lopsided head with hair like Spanish moss; gigantic, goggling frog eyes; and jagged yellow teeth soon followed.
“I’m Sheila, the Adventurer of Nike, and who wants to know?” the witch replied, blowing blue-gray smoke toward the face.
“Cough, I’m… cough, McGruff the… cough, Troll, and I’m going to eat you, Miss Nike.”
“You’re not my type, big boy,” the witch said and blew another cloud of smoke toward the troll. “But there is a fair maiden close behind me in black robes and a pointy hat, with ashen hair and amethyst eyes. Oh, and she has a witch’s star like this,” and she pointed to one pinned to her coat.
Puff, puff.
“And you might ask, Mr McRuffian, who this person is?” Sheila continued. “It is Elaine, the Ashen Witch.”
[That’s me, the Wandering Witch!]
“Cough, cough. You stink!” the troll gasped.
Shiela readied her wand. “Have at me, big boy!”
“I’ll wait.” Cough. “I’d rather eat a #hobgoblin than you.”
“Humph,” Shiela said and continued on her way. Upon reaching Saya, her eyebrows went up.
Saya waved to a grassy spot downwind of her and said, “Shall we wait and see what Elaine does?”
Shiela nodded and took a seat.
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 119, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 North #TimeTravelAuthors 07/25. unite/together
Things in the council chamber soon settled back to how they had been before, with people ignoring me. I was small potatoes and, having incurred the ire of Sir Conrad, I was not someone to befriend.
Meanwhile, talk of King Richard advancing from the #north towards the Holy City was rife at one end of the room. On the other side of the room, Sir Conrad was extolling the need to #unite under his banner, emphasizing how feuding over the throne of Jerusalem weakened the defense of the lands they’d secured. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if I warned him that he would be assassinated by the end of next year.
Silence fell as two knights entered and ascended the dais. Everyone rose, and the Templars dropped to one knee. The rest of us bowed our heads as a lean, muscular man followed them. His face was that of a warrior: short, grey-streaked hair, darkly tanned, a trimmed beard, and a scar over his left eye. A lapin dressed as a Templar page stood on either side of him.
His human attendants announced, “Sir Robert IV de Sablé, Grand Master of the Holy and Valiant Order of the Knights Templar, Lord of Cyprus.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 119, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 North #TimeTravelAuthors 07/25. unite/together
Things in the council chamber soon settled back to how they had been before, with people ignoring me. I was small potatoes and, having incurred the ire of Sir Conrad, I was not someone to befriend.
Meanwhile, talk of King Richard advancing from the #north towards the Holy City was rife at one end of the room. On the other side of the room, Sir Conrad was extolling the need to #unite under his banner, emphasizing how feuding over the throne of Jerusalem weakened the defense of the lands they’d secured. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if I warned him that he would be assassinated by the end of next year.
Silence fell as two knights entered and ascended the dais. Everyone rose, and the Templars dropped to one knee. The rest of us bowed our heads as a lean, muscular man followed them. His face was that of a warrior: short, grey-streaked hair, darkly tanned, a trimmed beard, and a scar over his left eye. A lapin dressed as a Templar page stood on either side of him.
His human attendants announced, “Sir Robert IV de Sablé, Grand Master of the Holy and Valiant Order of the Knights Templar, Lord of Cyprus.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 118, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Foil #TimeTravelAuthors 07/15. fail/loss
Breathing seemed to have stopped in the chamber as people awaited Sir Conrad’s answer. He was clearly someone whose opinion was important to the Templars. My guess was he was Conrad of Montferrat, a contender for the crown of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. If he objected to my presence or challenged my identity further, I would be at a #loss on how to remedy the situation. The worst outcome would be that he’d have me arrested.
Emily grasped my hand, and I prepared to time-trip away if our plan was #foiled.
“You may stay,” the lord said. “But I’ll insist you enjoy the hospitality of my camp after the council. I trust you will provide more proofs.”
I bowed and took my seat, aware that Conrad’s gaze was still on me.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Templar #Templars
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 118, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Foil #TimeTravelAuthors 07/15. fail/loss
Breathing seemed to have stopped in the chamber as people awaited Sir Conrad’s answer. He was clearly someone whose opinion was important to the Templars. My guess was he was Conrad of Montferrat, a contender for the crown of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. If he objected to my presence or challenged my identity further, I would be at a #loss on how to remedy the situation. The worst outcome would be that he’d have me arrested.
Emily grasped my hand, and I prepared to time-trip away if our plan was #foiled.
“You may stay,” the lord said. “But I’ll insist you enjoy the hospitality of my camp after the council. I trust you will provide more proofs.”
I bowed and took my seat, aware that Conrad’s gaze was still on me.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn
-
Charlotte’s Web Part 2
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 lodge #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when…I stopped and looked around. The only creature visible was the pig, so I asked, “Did you speak, Mr. Pig?”
“I did. I am Napoleon, president of the great farm. And you, young lady, were about to destroy the fine work of my Minister of Education, Miss Charlotte.”
“I don’t see Miss Charlotte’s work, Comrade Napoleon.” I figured from what I had seen that the title would endear me to the swine.
“It’s ‘Your Excellency.’ Some animals are created more equal than others, and I am one such. And if you just look beyond your nose, you will see the fine tapestry, woven by Minister Charlotte.”
Now that I looked, there was a spider’s web that I had been about to brush aside. “That is indeed a fine web, Your Excellency. It even has writing in it: ‘Alternate Facts are True Facts.’ That is an interesting statement.”
“Indeed, and yesterday it read, ‘Rage is Freedom.’ That was something I said in a speech.”
I nodded. I didn’t understand how that worked, but I wouldn’t openly disagree. Instead, I brought up my reason for visiting. “The sign says I can get food and lodging here. Is that true?”
“Are you an ambassador from one of the local farms?”
“No, I’m just a wanderer.”
“Then we can #lodge you in the North Pasture and provide a bucket of raw oats and hay.”
“Oats and hay?” I asked incredulously.
“All animals are created equal, and if oats and hay are good enough for the donkey, they are good enough for you.”
“Perhaps you might find something better. Maybe bread? I am not used to oats and hay.”
“I see the minister has woven you an answer.”
When I looked, the web had changed. An enormous spider sat in its middle; around it was spelled out: “Half the oats at half the quality is good economics.”
What kind of warped reasoning was that, I wondered?
“I will have the dogs show you the way,” Napoleon said. He waved, and a pack of dogs came from a nearby thicket.
“Oh, dear!” I exclaimed. “I forgot I’m expected down the road a way this evening. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Your Excellency.” The dogs looked fierce and were giving me the evil eye. Besides, who had ever heard of feeding guests raw oats and bedding them in a pasture?
There was a swine-like grunt, which I took for a farewell, and I hastily retired. After all, “Retreat is the highest form of bravery.”
[FINIS]
-
Charlotte’s Web Part 2
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 lodge #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when…I stopped and looked around. The only creature visible was the pig, so I asked, “Did you speak, Mr. Pig?”
“I did. I am Napoleon, president of the great farm. And you, young lady, were about to destroy the fine work of my Minister of Education, Miss Charlotte.”
“I don’t see Miss Charlotte’s work, Comrade Napoleon.” I figured from what I had seen that the title would endear me to the swine.
“It’s ‘Your Excellency.’ Some animals are created more equal than others, and I am one such. And if you just look beyond your nose, you will see the fine tapestry, woven by Minister Charlotte.”
Now that I looked, there was a spider’s web that I had been about to brush aside. “That is indeed a fine web, Your Excellency. It even has writing in it: ‘Alternate Facts are True Facts.’ That is an interesting statement.”
“Indeed, and yesterday it read, ‘Rage is Freedom.’ That was something I said in a speech.”
I nodded. I didn’t understand how that worked, but I wouldn’t openly disagree. Instead, I brought up my reason for visiting. “The sign says I can get food and lodging here. Is that true?”
“Are you an ambassador from one of the local farms?”
“No, I’m just a wanderer.”
“Then we can #lodge you in the North Pasture and provide a bucket of raw oats and hay.”
“Oats and hay?” I asked incredulously.
“All animals are created equal, and if oats and hay are good enough for the donkey, they are good enough for you.”
“Perhaps you might find something better. Maybe bread? I am not used to oats and hay.”
“I see the minister has woven you an answer.”
When I looked, the web had changed. An enormous spider sat in its middle; around it was spelled out: “Half the oats at half the quality is good economics.”
What kind of warped reasoning was that, I wondered?
“I will have the dogs show you the way,” Napoleon said. He waved, and a pack of dogs came from a nearby thicket.
“Oh, dear!” I exclaimed. “I forgot I’m expected down the road a way this evening. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Your Excellency.” The dogs looked fierce and were giving me the evil eye. Besides, who had ever heard of feeding guests raw oats and bedding them in a pasture?
There was a swine-like grunt, which I took for a farewell, and I hastily retired. After all, “Retreat is the highest form of bravery.”
[FINIS]
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 117, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Sty #TimeTravelAuthors 07/11 Saturday breathe/breath
When the conclave ended, I needed to talk with Emily. She wouldn’t say things like that unless she meant more. Although we had only known each other for a few weeks, I hoped her flattering words weren’t just fluff. Right now, though, I needed to focus on my Templar impersonation.
Even if I had wanted to discuss our relationship then, I couldn’t, as Petros had returned with what turned out to be one of the worst meals I’d ever faced: tough, fatty meat and coarse, gritty bread. With the help of the sour wine, I choked it down. I had no choice but to eat it if I wanted to maintain my pretense.
Relief came partway through the meal, when another servant arrived announcing: “If you will follow me, M’Lord.”
I handed Petros the remains of the food and followed the servant into the courtyard and to the central citadel. At the door, we passed a squad of knights in full armor standing guard. They were grim figures, many with scarred faces visible beneath their helmets. Even the fortress gate hadn’t been guarded this well.
Once inside, I was led to a chamber dominated by a raised dais at the far end. Men sat in chairs around a table running down the center of the room, their gazes turned to fix on me. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rose from one of the chairs and announced, “Sir William de Lancaster, in the service of my friend the Prior of Aymer.”
“I heard you died,” another voice said.
Silence fell, and all the faces turned to look at the speaker: a man with a full, trimmed beard and narrow eyes. A #sty marred his handsome Latin features.
“Lord Conrad, I vouch for him,” Bois-Guilbert replied.
The man waved a hand, dismissing the objection. “Let the Lancaster speak for himself. Matters are too weighty for him to remain unchallenged.”
Sir Brian’s face grew red, but he remained silent.
I took a deep #breath, pointed to my throat, and choked out: “Miracle… Swallowed… Lead…Released…”
A third voice spoke, a bishop by his appearance. “My lord, Marquis, what say you? Will you deny the Lord’s miracle?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 117, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Sty #TimeTravelAuthors 07/11 Saturday breathe/breath
When the conclave ended, I needed to talk with Emily. She wouldn’t say things like that unless she meant more. Although we had only known each other for a few weeks, I hoped her flattering words weren’t just fluff. Right now, though, I needed to focus on my Templar impersonation.
Even if I had wanted to discuss our relationship then, I couldn’t, as Petros had returned with what turned out to be one of the worst meals I’d ever faced: tough, fatty meat and coarse, gritty bread. With the help of the sour wine, I choked it down. I had no choice but to eat it if I wanted to maintain my pretense.
Relief came partway through the meal, when another servant arrived announcing: “If you will follow me, M’Lord.”
I handed Petros the remains of the food and followed the servant into the courtyard and to the central citadel. At the door, we passed a squad of knights in full armor standing guard. They were grim figures, many with scarred faces visible beneath their helmets. Even the fortress gate hadn’t been guarded this well.
Once inside, I was led to a chamber dominated by a raised dais at the far end. Men sat in chairs around a table running down the center of the room, their gazes turned to fix on me. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rose from one of the chairs and announced, “Sir William de Lancaster, in the service of my friend the Prior of Aymer.”
“I heard you died,” another voice said.
Silence fell, and all the faces turned to look at the speaker: a man with a full, trimmed beard and narrow eyes. A #sty marred his handsome Latin features.
“Lord Conrad, I vouch for him,” Bois-Guilbert replied.
The man waved a hand, dismissing the objection. “Let the Lancaster speak for himself. Matters are too weighty for him to remain unchallenged.”
Sir Brian’s face grew red, but he remained silent.
I took a deep #breath, pointed to my throat, and choked out: “Miracle… Swallowed… Lead…Released…”
A third voice spoke, a bishop by his appearance. “My lord, Marquis, what say you? Will you deny the Lord’s miracle?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
Charlotte’s Web Part 1
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 Sty #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when...It all started when the witch got lost. The country she was going to wasn’t supposed to be far, yet the sun was nearing the horizon, and the only signs of civilization were neat country farms. Hunger gripped her belly, and she descended from the sky to view the signs posted outside the farmhouses.
Brushing her long, ashen hair away from her amethyst eyes, she read a small sign next to a farm gate: “Eggs.”
Eggs would be fine if she could cook them, but that seemed unlikely at the moment. What she wanted was bread and a place to sleep. A hay loft would do, but a proper bed would be better. Her pointy hat, long black robe, and the witch’s star brooch often impressed country folk, and she could trade fortunetelling for a meal and bed. The announcement that they would have a two-headed chicken in the spring or that their ewe would twin usually clinched the deal.
Who, you might ask, is this clever lady? It is, of course, I, Elaina the Ashen Witch.
There was no help for it; eggs were out, so I continued on my way.
The next farm had a sign next to a stile. Beyond was a #sty with an enormous, fat pig that examined me closely. Still further away, I saw a collapsed windmill and a barn with the words “All Animals are Equal” written on the side. An odd slogan for a farm, I thought.
What interested me most was the sign, though, and after a bit of puzzling over the poor spelling and odd writing, I made out what it said: “Fod and Ladging fer all COMERADES.” I was unsure if I were a comerade or even a comrade, but given the late hour, it was worth a try. I could definitely use “fod” and “ladging.”
“Hold there, comrade,” came a voice as I mounted the stile, “can’t you see the marquee?”
-
Charlotte’s Web Part 1
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #CharlottesWeb #AnimalFarm
#Wss366 Sty #ScribesAndMakers π11 It all started when...It all started when the witch got lost. The country she was going to wasn’t supposed to be far, yet the sun was nearing the horizon, and the only signs of civilization were neat country farms. Hunger gripped her belly, and she descended from the sky to view the signs posted outside the farmhouses.
Brushing her long, ashen hair away from her amethyst eyes, she read a small sign next to a farm gate: “Eggs.”
Eggs would be fine if she could cook them, but that seemed unlikely at the moment. What she wanted was bread and a place to sleep. A hay loft would do, but a proper bed would be better. Her pointy hat, long black robe, and the witch’s star brooch often impressed country folk, and she could trade fortunetelling for a meal and bed. The announcement that they would have a two-headed chicken in the spring or that their ewe would twin usually clinched the deal.
Who, you might ask, is this clever lady? It is, of course, I, Elaina the Ashen Witch.
There was no help for it; eggs were out, so I continued on my way.
The next farm had a sign next to a stile. Beyond was a #sty with an enormous, fat pig that examined me closely. Still further away, I saw a collapsed windmill and a barn with the words “All Animals are Equal” written on the side. An odd slogan for a farm, I thought.
What interested me most was the sign, though, and after a bit of puzzling over the poor spelling and odd writing, I made out what it said: “Fod and Ladging fer all COMERADES.” I was unsure if I were a comerade or even a comrade, but given the late hour, it was worth a try. I could definitely use “fod” and “ladging.”
“Hold there, comrade,” came a voice as I mounted the stile, “can’t you see the marquee?”
-
Time Argonaut: A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Smut #TimeTravelAuthors First time someone time travels
The lab was messy, as always, with stacks of books; dusty and disordered alchemical equipment; a row of lab rats; melted candles; incense ash; and, of course, a large open space where I could draw pentagrams and magic circles.
The scene wavered unpleasantly, not visually but in how I experienced it. It was similar to when I’d abruptly gone off my antidepressants: a spinning sensation of unreality. The last round of spells had left me feeling this way. Pompilius called it being unanchored from time.
More prosaically, Patroclus chirped happily upon seeing me, hoping for snacks. As the first animal to time-travel, I pampered him. Having risked his life for me, he deserved hazard pay. No matter how I felt, I wouldn’t ignore him.
After feeding my time-argonaut his favorite treats and stroking his pink-dyed fur, I cleaned the area where I would place my texts. My assistant was no neater than I was; messier in fact. I would never leave my #smut out for everyone to see. That is, if I actually read porn.
I closed the copy of “The Peach Sisters Visit the Beach” and laid it aside. While I didn’t enjoy siscon, who was I to judge? That cleared enough space for me to open a rare volume of Faustus Pakt. Cross-referencing it with Pompilius’s Spiegel, I double-checked my magic circle but found nothing to correct.
This was it. I was ready.
My future self had hinted that this experiment would end in tragedy. Funny how I’d refused to give details, only babbling something about rabbits. But I wouldn’t let that stop me. I had worked toward this moment my entire adult life.
Once the candles were lit and the incense was burning, I stepped into the circle and began the incantation. The unsettling perceptions I’d mentioned grew stronger. Then, there was a ripping sensation as if my soul were being torn from me, and the room faded.
I had done it! I was a time-argonaut!
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial
-
Time Argonaut: A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story
#Wss366 Smut #TimeTravelAuthors First time someone time travels
The lab was messy, as always, with stacks of books; dusty and disordered alchemical equipment; a row of lab rats; melted candles; incense ash; and, of course, a large open space where I could draw pentagrams and magic circles.
The scene wavered unpleasantly, not visually but in how I experienced it. It was similar to when I’d abruptly gone off my antidepressants: a spinning sensation of unreality. The last round of spells had left me feeling this way. Pompilius called it being unanchored from time.
More prosaically, Patroclus chirped happily upon seeing me, hoping for snacks. As the first animal to time-travel, I pampered him. Having risked his life for me, he deserved hazard pay. No matter how I felt, I wouldn’t ignore him.
After feeding my time-argonaut his favorite treats and stroking his pink-dyed fur, I cleaned the area where I would place my texts. My assistant was no neater than I was; messier in fact. I would never leave my #smut out for everyone to see. That is, if I actually read porn.
I closed the copy of “The Peach Sisters Visit the Beach” and laid it aside. While I didn’t enjoy siscon, who was I to judge? That cleared enough space for me to open a rare volume of Faustus Pakt. Cross-referencing it with Pompilius’s Spiegel, I double-checked my magic circle but found nothing to correct.
This was it. I was ready.
My future self had hinted that this experiment would end in tragedy. Funny how I’d refused to give details, only babbling something about rabbits. But I wouldn’t let that stop me. I had worked toward this moment my entire adult life.
Once the candles were lit and the incense was burning, I stepped into the circle and began the incantation. The unsettling perceptions I’d mentioned grew stronger. Then, there was a ripping sensation as if my soul were being torn from me, and the room faded.
I had done it! I was a time-argonaut!
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 116, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 West #TimeTravelAuthors 07/3 Main character’s appearance
Sir Bois-Guilbert led me to a limestone room on the #west side of the inner courtyard. The unadorned chamber was furnished with plain wooden furniture, emphasizing function over aesthetics. This wasn’t a barracks, nor was it a stateroom. The choice of the room made clear my status in Bois-Guilbert’s estimation.
“I’ll announce your arrival,” the noble said. “We weren’t expecting you.”
He gestured to a silent, bow-headed servant standing in the background to hand me a goblet of wine. The man’s status was clear not only by his subservience but also by his rough, spun white robes.
“Petros here will take care of your needs,” the noble said, then dipped his head and departed.
Emily waved adieu and followed closely on his heels.
She wasn’t gone long before she drifted in again, signaling for me to get rid of the servant.
“Petros, food.” I kept my order brief. It felt odd to treat someone with such arrogance, but it was in keeping with my role.
After Petros genuflected and left, I turned to Emily. “Go ahead, but hurry. We don’t know how soon he’ll be back.”
"They suspect nothing," she said. "There was some talk of the miracle, but no one suspects anything. What will you say if you're asked about it?"
I touched my throat. “When I refused to recant my faith, they forced me to drink lead. Upon my miraculous survival, I was released.”
“It's a good lie,” Emily said, resuming her report. “You need to take care, though. I found drawings of you and Georgina. They’re not very good, but they look enough like you that if someone compared them to you, they might guess your true identity.”
She smiled. “Your figure was Rubenesque and your face was rounder, rather than trim and modern. The nose was especially bad, largish, no match for your cute, button-like nose. You’re wearing a white Grecian gown, like something from a painting of Roman gods. They had your hair correct: flaxen with porcelain skin. As long as you don't speak, they won't suspect anything. Your French sounds nothing like theirs.”
“Trim and modern?” “Cute button nose?” “Porcelain skin?” I blushed.
“I’ll do that,” I said, barely keeping from stuttering.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 116, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 West #TimeTravelAuthors 07/3 Main character’s appearance
Sir Bois-Guilbert led me to a limestone room on the #west side of the inner courtyard. The unadorned chamber was furnished with plain wooden furniture, emphasizing function over aesthetics. This wasn’t a barracks, nor was it a stateroom. The choice of the room made clear my status in Bois-Guilbert’s estimation.
“I’ll announce your arrival,” the noble said. “We weren’t expecting you.”
He gestured to a silent, bow-headed servant standing in the background to hand me a goblet of wine. The man’s status was clear not only by his subservience but also by his rough, spun white robes.
“Petros here will take care of your needs,” the noble said, then dipped his head and departed.
Emily waved adieu and followed closely on his heels.
She wasn’t gone long before she drifted in again, signaling for me to get rid of the servant.
“Petros, food.” I kept my order brief. It felt odd to treat someone with such arrogance, but it was in keeping with my role.
After Petros genuflected and left, I turned to Emily. “Go ahead, but hurry. We don’t know how soon he’ll be back.”
"They suspect nothing," she said. "There was some talk of the miracle, but no one suspects anything. What will you say if you're asked about it?"
I touched my throat. “When I refused to recant my faith, they forced me to drink lead. Upon my miraculous survival, I was released.”
“It's a good lie,” Emily said, resuming her report. “You need to take care, though. I found drawings of you and Georgina. They’re not very good, but they look enough like you that if someone compared them to you, they might guess your true identity.”
She smiled. “Your figure was Rubenesque and your face was rounder, rather than trim and modern. The nose was especially bad, largish, no match for your cute, button-like nose. You’re wearing a white Grecian gown, like something from a painting of Roman gods. They had your hair correct: flaxen with porcelain skin. As long as you don't speak, they won't suspect anything. Your French sounds nothing like theirs.”
“Trim and modern?” “Cute button nose?” “Porcelain skin?” I blushed.
“I’ll do that,” I said, barely keeping from stuttering.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#ScribesandMakers #Introduction
I am a web novelist of #Mythpunk, #UrbanFantasy, #HistoricFantasy, #TimeTravel, #Fantasy, and #Sapphic Fiction—fueled by #Folklore & #UrbanLegend. Currently on my 4th light novel series: Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost.
Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost
For Love of a Konbini Idol
My Girlfriend Almost Got Me Killed (R18)
Arisu: The Girl Who Saw Ghosts
I also write Poetry: Tanka, Renga, and Rengay.
And I am an urban photographer -
#ScribesandMakers #Introduction
I am a web novelist of #Mythpunk, #UrbanFantasy, #HistoricFantasy, #TimeTravel, #Fantasy, and #Sapphic Fiction—fueled by #Folklore & #UrbanLegend. Currently on my 4th light novel series: Bijou the #TimeTravelingGhost.
Bijou the Time-Traveling Ghost
For Love of a Konbini Idol
My Girlfriend Almost Got Me Killed (R18)
Arisu: The Girl Who Saw Ghosts
I also write Poetry: Tanka, Renga, and Rengay.
And I am an urban photographer -
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 115, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Carbon #TimeTravelAuthors 07/1 Introduce your time travel story
The sergeant glanced at Lot’s ring and said, “Wait,” and gestured to a soldier.
“I’ll be back to warn you if there's a problem,” Emily said as she followed the man into the fortress. I grew nervous as we separated; what if I had to time-trip away?
That wasn’t why I was sweating. Though the noon temperatures were quite temperate, I was standing in the sun. Nor could it have been the situation we were headed into, the heart of the Templar/Lapin conspiracy.
Who was I kidding? It was both. I was on the verge of learning what the Illuminated Ones and other assorted villains were up to. Maybe I would even learn why I had been reincarnated as a time-traveler. Either that or fleeing, having given my enemies warning that I was sniffing around their doings. The dime could drop at any moment and my partner might or might not be there to escape with me.
I didn’t have long to wait before a man dressed in a Templar’s surcoat emerged, accompanied by Emily. You could tell his status at a glance; instead of the more common coarse cotton or wool cloth we had seen so far, his clothes were made of richly embroidered material trimmed with ermine. The surcoat was made of good quality silk. His hair was well-tended, oiled, and, I think, perfumed.
There was nothing of the dandy about him, though. The sword at his side would have taken both my arms to lift. However, his heavily muscled arms would have had no trouble with this task. Stern blue eyes stared out at me from a weathered face, tanned by the Palestinian sun.
“Brian de Bois-Guilbert,” Emily announced.
I bowed and, in a hoarse whisper, said, “My humble greeting, Sir Bois-Guilbert,” pointing to my throat. This was a man with whom I daren’t take risks. If he heard my French, I’m sure it would betray me.
“Sir William, it is good to see you alive. This is a most welcome miracle.” He replied. Then, in a sterner voice, he said, “Your ring.”
I held out Lot’s ring.
He pulled off a glove and compared the ring on his hand with the one on mine. Finding them #carbon-copies a smile broke out on his face. “This is indeed an unlooked-for pleasure. Welcome and enter. We must find you a stirrup cup to celebrate your arrival.”
I had passed the first hurdle.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 115, 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 Carbon #TimeTravelAuthors 07/1 Introduce your time travel story
The sergeant glanced at Lot’s ring and said, “Wait,” and gestured to a soldier.
“I’ll be back to warn you if there's a problem,” Emily said as she followed the man into the fortress. I grew nervous as we separated; what if I had to time-trip away?
That wasn’t why I was sweating. Though the noon temperatures were quite temperate, I was standing in the sun. Nor could it have been the situation we were headed into, the heart of the Templar/Lapin conspiracy.
Who was I kidding? It was both. I was on the verge of learning what the Illuminated Ones and other assorted villains were up to. Maybe I would even learn why I had been reincarnated as a time-traveler. Either that or fleeing, having given my enemies warning that I was sniffing around their doings. The dime could drop at any moment and my partner might or might not be there to escape with me.
I didn’t have long to wait before a man dressed in a Templar’s surcoat emerged, accompanied by Emily. You could tell his status at a glance; instead of the more common coarse cotton or wool cloth we had seen so far, his clothes were made of richly embroidered material trimmed with ermine. The surcoat was made of good quality silk. His hair was well-tended, oiled, and, I think, perfumed.
There was nothing of the dandy about him, though. The sword at his side would have taken both my arms to lift. However, his heavily muscled arms would have had no trouble with this task. Stern blue eyes stared out at me from a weathered face, tanned by the Palestinian sun.
“Brian de Bois-Guilbert,” Emily announced.
I bowed and, in a hoarse whisper, said, “My humble greeting, Sir Bois-Guilbert,” pointing to my throat. This was a man with whom I daren’t take risks. If he heard my French, I’m sure it would betray me.
“Sir William, it is good to see you alive. This is a most welcome miracle.” He replied. Then, in a sterner voice, he said, “Your ring.”
I held out Lot’s ring.
He pulled off a glove and compared the ring on his hand with the one on mine. Finding them #carbon-copies a smile broke out on his face. “This is indeed an unlooked-for pleasure. Welcome and enter. We must find you a stirrup cup to celebrate your arrival.”
I had passed the first hurdle.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 114 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 East #TimeTravelAuthors 06/27 Promo
The lights dimmed as the guards’ grim countenances replaced Georgina’s. There was no pleasure to be found there, but no knives appeared.
We had appeared in a spartan room, bare except for a bed and a carved cross hanging in a light patch on the wall, suggesting that an icon had been there not long before.
I beckoned toward the door, and the guards stood. They led the way out of the chamber, down wooden stairs, and into a common room filled with soldiers bearing coats of arms from various European houses. King Richard’s lion rampant and the Templar’s cross dominated, with the latter particularly prevalent.
The occupants stared, muttered, and exchanged hostile looks with our guides as we passed. Hands touched swords and daggers, but no one drew them. The day was still early, and even though the room reeked of wine, its inhabitants were moderately sober. I shuddered to think what might have happened later in the evening.
I left the building with a sigh of relief that nothing worse than a few insults being hurled at us and a smell like uncleaned stables.
The castle lay #east of the inn and was surprisingly modest. Until that moment, I had imagined a great Crusader fortress. Instead, a square, pale limestone Byzantine enceinte rose above the city, enclosing a central keep barely taller than the outer walls. White banners bearing red Templar crosses fluttered from the battlements while Frankish men-at-arms kept watch beside the gatehouse.
Our guides melted away into the crowd, leaving us to approach alone. At the gate, a sergeant and two soldiers greeted me in French. I muttered, “William de Lancaster, here from England for the conclave,” and showed them the ring.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 11: Post 114 1191, The Castle of Nicosia
#Wss366 East #TimeTravelAuthors 06/27 Promo
The lights dimmed as the guards’ grim countenances replaced Georgina’s. There was no pleasure to be found there, but no knives appeared.
We had appeared in a spartan room, bare except for a bed and a carved cross hanging in a light patch on the wall, suggesting that an icon had been there not long before.
I beckoned toward the door, and the guards stood. They led the way out of the chamber, down wooden stairs, and into a common room filled with soldiers bearing coats of arms from various European houses. King Richard’s lion rampant and the Templar’s cross dominated, with the latter particularly prevalent.
The occupants stared, muttered, and exchanged hostile looks with our guides as we passed. Hands touched swords and daggers, but no one drew them. The day was still early, and even though the room reeked of wine, its inhabitants were moderately sober. I shuddered to think what might have happened later in the evening.
I left the building with a sigh of relief that nothing worse than a few insults being hurled at us and a smell like uncleaned stables.
The castle lay #east of the inn and was surprisingly modest. Until that moment, I had imagined a great Crusader fortress. Instead, a square, pale limestone Byzantine enceinte rose above the city, enclosing a central keep barely taller than the outer walls. White banners bearing red Templar crosses fluttered from the battlements while Frankish men-at-arms kept watch beside the gatehouse.
Our guides melted away into the crowd, leaving us to approach alone. At the gate, a sergeant and two soldiers greeted me in French. I muttered, “William de Lancaster, here from England for the conclave,” and showed them the ring.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Sapphic
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 113 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 Paper #TimeTravelAuthors 06/25. Proud
In the morning, we met Georgina in the shrine’s courtyard. The sky above was the color of fine linen #paper, tinged with satiny pinks in the east. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad omen.
“Are you sure you don’t need an escort to the fortress?” our guide asked.
“I’m positive. Just tell me where it’s safe to appear. The Lord will take care of the rest,” I said.
“We have secured a room for you at Michael's Inn just outside the fortress gates. The guards you met yesterday await you there. I pray St. George and the Theotokos guard you.”
Kneeling, I let Georgina bless me. I wasn’t too #proud to accept any help that was offered. This included divine or supernatural aid. I had seen enough to believe in its existence.
“May the Lord and all the apostles protect you from the Evil One,” she finished.
Still on my knees, I asked, “When am I expected?”
“Before the sun reaches its zenith. That’s when the conclave begins.”
I nodded, took Emily’s hand, and wished, “Take me to the room at Michael’s Inn where the Coptic guards await me, an hour before noon.”
The ground grew soft under me, and the monks' faces blurred and then vanished.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 113 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 Paper #TimeTravelAuthors 06/25. Proud
In the morning, we met Georgina in the shrine’s courtyard. The sky above was the color of fine linen #paper, tinged with satiny pinks in the east. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad omen.
“Are you sure you don’t need an escort to the fortress?” our guide asked.
“I’m positive. Just tell me where it’s safe to appear. The Lord will take care of the rest,” I said.
“We have secured a room for you at Michael's Inn just outside the fortress gates. The guards you met yesterday await you there. I pray St. George and the Theotokos guard you.”
Kneeling, I let Georgina bless me. I wasn’t too #proud to accept any help that was offered. This included divine or supernatural aid. I had seen enough to believe in its existence.
“May the Lord and all the apostles protect you from the Evil One,” she finished.
Still on my knees, I asked, “When am I expected?”
“Before the sun reaches its zenith. That’s when the conclave begins.”
I nodded, took Emily’s hand, and wished, “Take me to the room at Michael’s Inn where the Coptic guards await me, an hour before noon.”
The ground grew soft under me, and the monks' faces blurred and then vanished.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 112 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 gelatinous #TimeTravelAuthors 06/23. Do any characters use certain words/phrases/speech styles?
Emily and I could have time-tripped to the castle immediately, but the conclave wasn’t until tomorrow. Besides, would they even let us in at night? We certainly shouldn’t trip right into the fortress.
In the meantime, one of the shrine’s servants used a #gelatinous substance made from ground walnut shells and herbs to dye my hair brown. She also stained my teeth so they wouldn't be a brilliant white. There was nothing she could do about their health, but at least I wouldn’t have a twenty-first-century smile. I found it all gross.
My partner, on the other hand, was in fine fettle, spouting thirties jargon. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You’ll look peachy when she’s finished.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “You’re funny. Not!” I retorted, being careful not to move my head.
“You’re a hoot when you get your Irish up.”
“Whatever,” I said, falling silent.
“You know I’m only pulling your leg.”
I laughed. It was a game we played. The maid was giving me an odd look, though, so I stopped. All she could see was me talking to thin air and making faces.
After my hair and teeth were finished and the servant left, my partner and I made plans for the following day, which mainly consisted of going over hand signals. That done, we turned to playing cards, poorly. The anticipation of the next day's adventure weighed on us, so our play was desultory and error-ridden.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 112 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 gelatinous #TimeTravelAuthors 06/23. Do any characters use certain words/phrases/speech styles?
Emily and I could have time-tripped to the castle immediately, but the conclave wasn’t until tomorrow. Besides, would they even let us in at night? We certainly shouldn’t trip right into the fortress.
In the meantime, one of the shrine’s servants used a #gelatinous substance made from ground walnut shells and herbs to dye my hair brown. She also stained my teeth so they wouldn't be a brilliant white. There was nothing she could do about their health, but at least I wouldn’t have a twenty-first-century smile. I found it all gross.
My partner, on the other hand, was in fine fettle, spouting thirties jargon. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You’ll look peachy when she’s finished.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “You’re funny. Not!” I retorted, being careful not to move my head.
“You’re a hoot when you get your Irish up.”
“Whatever,” I said, falling silent.
“You know I’m only pulling your leg.”
I laughed. It was a game we played. The maid was giving me an odd look, though, so I stopped. All she could see was me talking to thin air and making faces.
After my hair and teeth were finished and the servant left, my partner and I made plans for the following day, which mainly consisted of going over hand signals. That done, we turned to playing cards, poorly. The anticipation of the next day's adventure weighed on us, so our play was desultory and error-ridden.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 111 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 deliverance #TimeTravelAuthors 06/19. Do characters travel through space, or just time?
I reached and took the ring from Georgina. It tingled like a spider walking across my palm. The front featured an emblazoned ivory crest. What was engraved there gave me a chill: a comet or shooting star above a dragon rampant.
“The mark of the Ancient Serpent,” our host said.
In my hand was a ring of power that would draw its bearer into the service of a greater malevolence.
I muttered in English so only Emily understood, “In the darkness to bind them.” I would have to repeat the whole rhyme and explain it to her later.
My fingers closed around the artifact. I didn’t know what evil I faced, but something had surely restored me to existence to combat it. As for Emily, I knew where she stood. She had never been one to shy away from danger.
I looked at Georgina and said, “I am your servant. Tell me what to do.”
She gave a grave nod while my partner threw me a thumbs-up, a gesture I had taught her.
“You’re William de Lancaster,” our host said, “in the service of the Prior of Aymer and have recently escaped from the infidels. We’ll provide you with priest robes and a hood, so you can play the part. Walnut dye so your hair shines not so bright. William was a youth, so your smooth face and voice should not be an issue. Still, keep your countenance hidden and speak as little as possible.”
I nodded, memorizing the information.
“The ring will allow you to enter the castle and attend the conclave. Reaching the fortress is our main challenge, as the people despise the Frankish priests and may waylay us.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I said. “I can travel to any place or time you direct. My concern is not being observed when I appear.”
She nodded and resumed. “Tell them you carry the concerns of certain English bishops. Your presence requires no further explanation. Brian de Bois-Guilbert may question you, since there were reports of your capture and death at Acre. Reply that you were indeed captured but owe your #deliverance from the infidels to the grace of God. If he presses you further, say you escaped Salah ad-Din’s massacre of prisoners due to a miracle. Otherwise, remain silent; your French won’t pass as William’s.”
I nodded again.
“I can’t help you with what you will find in the castle, but your silence and the ring should carry you through. When you leave, I will have an escort waiting for you.”
“No need,” I said. “I’ll appear in this shrine’s courtyard in a week’s time.”
“Then rest well tonight, for tomorrow you enter the Evil One’s lair. May God and the Theotokos be with you.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 111 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 deliverance #TimeTravelAuthors 06/19. Do characters travel through space, or just time?
I reached and took the ring from Georgina. It tingled like a spider walking across my palm. The front featured an emblazoned ivory crest. What was engraved there gave me a chill: a comet or shooting star above a dragon rampant.
“The mark of the Ancient Serpent,” our host said.
In my hand was a ring of power that would draw its bearer into the service of a greater malevolence.
I muttered in English so only Emily understood, “In the darkness to bind them.” I would have to repeat the whole rhyme and explain it to her later.
My fingers closed around the artifact. I didn’t know what the evil I faced was, but something had surely restored me to existence to combat it. As for Emily, I knew where she stood. She had never been one to shy away from danger.
I looked at Georgina and said, “I am your servant. Tell me what to do.”
She gave a grave nod while my partner threw me a thumbs-up, a gesture I had taught her.
“You’re William de Lancaster,” our host said, “in the service of the Prior of Aymer and have recently escaped from the infidels. We’ll provide you with priest robes, so you can play the part. Walnut dye so your hair shines not so bright. William was a youth, so your smooth face and voice should not be an issue. Still, keep your countenance hidden and speak as little as possible.”
I nodded, memorizing the information.
“The ring will allow you to enter the castle and attend the conclave. Reaching the fortress is our main challenge, as the people despise the Frankish priests and may waylay us.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I said. “I can travel to any place or time you direct. My concern is not being observed when I appear.”
She nodded and resumed. “Tell them you carry the concerns of certain English bishops. Your presence requires no further explanation. Brian de Bois-Guilbert may question you, since there were reports of your capture and death at Acre. Reply that you were indeed captured but owe your #deliverance from the infidels to the grace of God. If he presses you further, say you escaped Salah ad-Din’s massacre of prisoners due to a miracle. Otherwise, remain silent; your French won’t pass as William’s.”
I nodded again.
“I can’t help you with what you will find in the castle, but your silence and the ring should carry you through. When you leave, I will have an escort waiting for you.”
“No need,” I said. “I’ll appear in this shrine’s courtyard in a week’s time.”
“Then rest well tonight, for tomorrow you enter the Evil One’s lair. May God and the Theotokos be with you.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 110 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 perch #TimeTravelAuthors 06/17. glimmer/shine)Everyone at the table fell silent as Georgina continued in French, “The others here are aware of what is needful for them to know. They only require your answer to our request. From time immemorial, the Illuminated Ones have held conclaves with the earthly forces of the Tempter. With a net of lies, they draw them in, seeking the downfall of mankind and the spread of their unholy domination.”
“Tomorrow, the vultures will leave their #perch to meet with the Frankish devils to form a compact. I would seek knowledge of their council, but the Evil One guards them too well. As light repels dark, so darkness negates the light. But you, a follower of the holy man of India, dwell not in the dark, even though you have not embraced the light of the true faith. You who are neither mortal nor divine, are a torch by which we may illuminate their den of iniquity. The Lord has answered my prayers and sent you.”
“Then you don’t know their goals?” I asked.
“Nay. Just that they seek the downfall of the Race of Adam and a return of a great evil: the people of the Ancient Serpent.”
“How are we supposed to get in if she can’t?” Emily asked me. “We’d be mugs if we tried time-traveling in?”
While it was possible to do that, as Emily indicated, the risk of discovery was extreme. So far, I had arrived in places with a passable identity, but no one had been trying to detect intruders. This time, however, we’d be arriving among fellow time-trippers: hostile ones, at that. Even if they didn’t discover us outright, our ignorance of the situation would surely trip us up.
I repeated my partner’s question in French.
“We will supply you with robes and a passkey.” With these words, Georgina removed a packet from her sash. Greek writing and sacred Christian symbols adorned the wrapping. Without touching the contents, she unwrapped it, revealing a gold signet ring. Just as the Lance of Longinus back at the British Museum had given a holy radiance, so did the ring, only it #glimmered with malevolence.
The priest grimaced, shielding his face as he leaned away, but the guards failed to react. Clearly, not everyone was “privileged” to know its nature.
Georgina held it out to me and said, “This contains a fragment of salt from Lot’s wife. It is unusable by me. It was taken from a young chaplain who perished in Palestine. With this, you may gain entry into their council.”
She paused and asked, “Will you take it and aid us, daughter of the Indian Sage?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 110 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 perch #TimeTravelAuthors 06/17. glimmer/shine)Everyone at the table fell silent as Georgina continued in French, “The others here are aware of what is needful for them to know. They only require your answer to our request. From time immemorial, the Illuminated Ones have held conclaves with the earthly forces of the Tempter. With a net of lies, they draw them in, seeking the downfall of mankind and the spread of their unholy domination.”
“Tomorrow, the vultures will leave their #perch to meet with the Frankish devils to form a compact. I would seek knowledge of their council, but the Evil One guards them too well. As light repels dark, so darkness negates the light. But you, a follower of the holy man of India, dwell not in the dark, even though you have not embraced the light of the true faith. You who are neither mortal nor divine, are a torch by which we may illuminate their den of iniquity. The Lord has answered my prayers and sent you.”
“Then you don’t know their goals?” I asked.
“Nay. Just that they seek the downfall of the Race of Adam and a return of a great evil: the people of the Ancient Serpent.”
“How are we supposed to get in if she can’t?” Emily asked me. “We’d be mugs if we tried time-traveling in?”
While it was possible to do that, as Emily indicated, the risk of discovery was extreme. So far, I had arrived in places with a passable identity, but no one had been trying to detect intruders. This time, however, we’d be arriving among fellow time-trippers: hostile ones, at that. Even if they didn’t discover us outright, our ignorance of the situation would surely trip us up.
I repeated my partner’s question in French.
“We will supply you with robes and a passkey.” With these words, Georgina removed a packet from her sash. Greek writing and sacred Christian symbols adorned the wrapping. Without touching the contents, she unwrapped it, revealing a gold signet ring. Just as the Lance of Longinus back at the British Museum had given a holy radiance, so did the ring, only it #glimmered with malevolence.
The priest grimaced, shielding his face as he leaned away, but the guards failed to react. Clearly, not everyone was “privileged” to know its nature.
Georgina held it out to me and said, “This contains a fragment of salt from Lot’s wife. It is unusable by me. It was taken from a young chaplain who perished in Palestine. With this, you may gain entry into their council.”
She paused and asked, “Will you take it and aid us, daughter of the Indian Sage?”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 109 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 liquid #TimeTravelAuthors 06/13. rich/poor)
I bowed to the Copts assembled around the table. “It is my honor. I am Henrietta Bijou, and you have my humble apology if I have desecrated your robes.”
Georgina conferred with the others in what sounded like Greek, then returned to French to speak with me. “We understand your need. Please sit and break bread with us. Tell your companion she may join us if she is able.”
“She can’t,” I said, sitting down on a rough stool.
The priest broke off pieces of a loaf of coarse brown bread and handed them around. Set within easy reach was a dish of olive oil and another of salt to accompany the bread. He then poured a heavy red #liquid into our cups, and we all sipped the contents: a Greek wine laced with resin that was not to my taste. The fare was #poor, as the prior dinner had been #rich, but the meal was no less hospitable.
Emily took a small piece of bread and a sip of my drink. “A token of my friendship,” she said.
When I translated, Georgina nodded and spoke to the wide-eyed guards. The priest protested, and I made out just enough to tell he was saying something about magic.
When they were done, our guide said to me, “He thinks you’re a sorceress, but I’ve assured him you’re not. He’ll be guided by me. I hope you will as well, for what I need to speak of is grave. The true sorcerers and spawn of Satan hold a conclave on the morrow, and we must know what devilry they plan. The Holy Spirit has sent you to us to be our ears. Do not fail us.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 109 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 liquid #TimeTravelAuthors 06/13. rich/poor)
I bowed to the Copts assembled around the table. “It is my honor. I am Henrietta Bijou, and you have my humble apology if I have desecrated your robes.”
Georgina conferred with the others in what sounded like Greek, then returned to French to speak with me. “We understand your need. Please sit and break bread with us. Tell your companion she may join us if she is able.”
“She can’t,” I said, sitting down on a rough stool.
The priest broke off pieces of a loaf of coarse brown bread and handed them around. Set within easy reach was a dish of olive oil and another of salt to accompany the bread. He then poured a heavy red #liquid into our cups, and we all sipped the contents: a Greek wine laced with resin that was not to my taste. The fare was #poor, as the prior dinner had been #rich, but the meal was no less hospitable.
Emily took a small piece of bread and a sip of my drink. “A token of my friendship,” she said.
When I translated, Georgina nodded and spoke to the wide-eyed guards. The priest protested, and I made out just enough to tell he was saying something about magic.
When they were done, our guide said to me, “He thinks you’re a sorceress, but I’ve assured him you’re not. He’ll be guided by me. I hope you will as well, for what I need to speak of is grave. The true sorcerers and spawn of Satan hold a conclave on the morrow, and we must know what devilry they plan. The Holy Spirit has sent you to us to be our ears. Do not fail us.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
The Fairy Flower War
#Fanfic WanderingWitch
#Wss366 NewThe young woman continued on her way, a sour look on her pretty face. She brushed resentfully at the honeysuckle that got into her long, ashen hair, the grasses that clung to her black robes, and branches that threatened to knock her pointy hat off her head. Not even the sight of the star-shaped brooch, marking her as a witch, lifted her mood.
“Stupid nobles.”
“Arrogant, self-serving pea-brains!”
“She’s too pretty to wake up!”
She grumbled as she walked along.
She was so preoccupied with her recent meeting with "Prince Charming" that she no longer appreciated the flowers growing alongside the path. The brilliant red of the Indian paintbrush reminded her of courtiers’ rouged lips, the monkshood of their poisonous speech, and the heavy scent of lilacs of their cloying perfume. She longed for the common scents of coffee and bread, #newly from the oven.
It was in this state that she came upon an open rill. Shallow banks covered with marshmallow, bog iris, and other damp-loving plants ran down to the water. She might have passed the stunning vista unseeing if it hadn’t been for the shrill sound of horns.
The sound brought her up, and she gazed over the scene before her. On the far bank, perched on rocks thick with moss, stood a squad of fairies, crimson columbine trumpets held to their mouths. It is from these that the sounds she’d heard issued: a distinct melody like a dozen warblers.
To their right and left stood diminutive clerics, shaking tinkling bluebells. Behind them ranged ranks of warriors mounted on squirrels, with their flanks held by fast-moving shrews. Above them, lances gleamed like a hedge of knitting needles.
A cry rang out: “For Queen Mauve! Down with the Usurper!”
The troops echoed the cry. “For Queen Mauve! Long live the Queen!”
“Let his insults be answered!” came the next cry.
“Death to the impostor! Long live the true queen,” the troops answered back.
The grass rustled, and the force moved off, leaving the woman open-mouthed.
“Stupid aristocrats and their wars,” she announced to the now empty field. Then, with a shrug, she moved on.
Who was this unhappy lady?
It was me—Elaina, the Ashen Witch, of course.
-
The Fairy Flower War
#Fanfic WanderingWitch
#Wss366 NewThe young woman continued on her way, a sour look on her pretty face. She brushed resentfully at the honeysuckle that got into her long, ashen hair, the grasses that clung to her black robes, and branches that threatened to knock her pointy hat off her head. Not even the sight of the star-shaped brooch, marking her as a witch, lifted her mood.
“Stupid nobles.”
“Arrogant, self-serving pea-brains!”
“She’s too pretty to wake up!”
She grumbled as she walked along.
She was so preoccupied with her recent meeting with "Prince Charming" that she no longer appreciated the flowers growing alongside the path. The brilliant red of the Indian paintbrush reminded her of courtiers’ rouged lips, the monkshood of their poisonous speech, and the heavy scent of lilacs of their cloying perfume. She longed for the common scents of coffee and bread, #newly from the oven.
It was in this state that she came upon an open rill. Shallow banks covered with marshmallow, bog iris, and other damp-loving plants ran down to the water. She might have passed the stunning vista unseeing if it hadn’t been for the shrill sound of horns.
The sound brought her up, and she gazed over the scene before her. On the far bank, perched on rocks thick with moss, stood a squad of fairies, crimson columbine trumpets held to their mouths. It is from these that the sounds she’d heard issued: a distinct melody like a dozen warblers.
To their right and left stood diminutive clerics, shaking tinkling bluebells. Behind them ranged ranks of warriors mounted on squirrels, with their flanks held by fast-moving shrews. Above them, lances gleamed like a hedge of knitting needles.
A cry rang out: “For Queen Mauve! Down with the Usurper!”
The troops echoed the cry. “For Queen Mauve! Long live the Queen!”
“Let his insults be answered!” came the next cry.
“Death to the impostor! Long live the true queen,” the troops answered back.
The grass rustled, and the force moved off, leaving the woman open-mouthed.
“Stupid aristocrats and their wars,” she announced to the now empty field. Then, with a shrug, she moved on.
Who was this unhappy lady?
It was me—Elaina, the Ashen Witch, of course.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 108 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 skate #TimeTravelAuthors 06/5. A relationship you love in your story
I followed Emily’s gaze across the shrine’s courtyard to the priest who was now approaching. I dematerialized the mask. The Coptic robes were going to be problematic enough without the mask adding complications. I might have #skated by fooling Byzantine Christians, but these were real Copts.
The man stopped a few paces away and examined me. Then, in barbarous French, he said, “Come, she awaits you.”
“Who is ‘she?’” Emily asked.
I didn’t answer, of course. Not only didn’t I know, but the priest was too close not to have noticed me speaking.
He led me to a room off to the side of the courtyard. At a glance, I could tell it wasn’t the main shrine. Instead of an altar, icons decorated the bare walls. Their lamps shed a faint light over the chamber, scenting the air. Cowled figures rose from where they sat around a table.
I recognized the bodyguards who had accompanied us earlier. Their scowls remained unchanged. To them, I was still an outsider. There were two other people present: a priest in finer vestments and our original guide. Her (And I do mean her) cowl was thrown back, revealing the face of an Egyptian woman with dark hair and darker eyes.
“Two can play at that game,” Emily said. “But she does a better job.”
As much as I like Emily, it wasn’t the place for that. Had she forgotten that our guide could see and probably hear her?
“I bid you welcome, travelers. I am Georgina of Alexandria,” the woman said. “Will you sit and refresh yourselves? You are safe here, and we have much to discuss. The Illuminated Ones are meeting tomorrow, so we have little time.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 108 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 skate #TimeTravelAuthors 06/5. A relationship you love in your story
I followed Emily’s gaze across the shrine’s courtyard to the priest who was now approaching. I dematerialized the mask. The Coptic robes were going to be problematic enough without the mask adding complications. I might have #skated by fooling Byzantine Christians, but these were real Copts.
The man stopped a few paces away and examined me. Then, in barbarous French, he said, “Come, she awaits you.”
“Who is ‘she?’” Emily asked.
I didn’t answer, of course. Not only didn’t I know, but the priest was too close not to have noticed me speaking.
He led me to a room off to the side of the courtyard. At a glance, I could tell it wasn’t the main shrine. Instead of an altar, icons decorated the bare walls. Their lamps shed a faint light over the chamber, scenting the air. Cowled figures rose from where they sat around a table.
I recognized the bodyguards who had accompanied us earlier. Their scowls remained unchanged. To them, I was still an outsider. There were two other people present: a priest in finer vestments and our original guide. Her (And I do mean her) cowl was thrown back, revealing the face of an Egyptian woman with dark hair and darker eyes.
“Two can play at that game,” Emily said. “But she does a better job.”
As much as I like Emily, it wasn’t the place for that. Had she forgotten that our guide could see and probably hear her?
“I bid you welcome, travelers. I am Georgina of Alexandria,” the woman said. “Will you sit and refresh yourselves? You are safe here, and we have much to discuss. The Illuminated Ones are meeting tomorrow, so we have little time.”
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 107 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 stake #TimeTravelAuthors 06/3 raise/rise)
The evening had cooled, and the streets were nearly empty. Mosquitoes had replaced the daytime flies. The stench was unchanged.
The servant hurried us along. His glances around him revealed his nervousness.
Emily scouted ahead. This was an occupied city, temporarily ruled by the iron-fisted Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon. We had yet to learn what their link was with the Lapin Cabal, though it seemed clear one existed. Why else would the Templars be hunting us?
The Shrine of Saint George was nearby, and we soon arrived there unharmed. The servant took his leave as we entered a torch-lit courtyard.
Emily and I stopped just inside the arched opening and stood in the shadows to talk. A priest across the yard glanced my way but made no move to investigate.
“What occurred back there?” my partner asked. “Did you really create a relic?”
“Yeah, I think so. Don’t ask me how. When I tried manifesting one a second earlier, I couldn’t, but when I broke off that piece of the crown, it was magical. I didn’t ask for that; it just happened.”
“I lost my faith a long time ago, but I have to ask: Are you a saint? You’re not like any ghost I’ve ever heard of.”
“Absolutely not! I’m not even a Christian. That whole idea makes me very uncomfortable.”
“What if the priest were right?”
“I wouldn’t #stake my ‘life’ on it.”
“Ha ha. A holly #stake, no doubt.”
“I’m #rising in the world,” I thought. “My bad jokes are getting a response.”
“Furthermore, I would ask, which priest and about what? You just saw a Buddhist impersonating a Copt perform a miracle: a fraud, a flagrant liar, and most would say an unredeemable heretic. How does that fit into any conventional theological framework?”
She nodded.
“Regardless, it means something, but what? Why could I manifest a relic?”
She nodded again and turned toward the sound of footsteps crossing the courtyard.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 107 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 stake #TimeTravelAuthors 06/3 raise/rise)
The evening had cooled, and the streets were nearly empty. Mosquitoes had replaced the daytime flies. The stench was unchanged.
The servant hurried us along. His glances around him revealed his nervousness.
Emily scouted ahead. This was an occupied city, temporarily ruled by the iron-fisted Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon. We had yet to learn what their link was with the Lapin Cabal, though it seemed clear one existed. Why else would the Templars be hunting us?
The Shrine of Saint George was nearby, and we soon arrived there unharmed. The servant took his leave as we entered a torch-lit courtyard.
Emily and I stopped just inside the arched opening and stood in the shadows to talk. A priest across the yard glanced my way but made no move to investigate.
“What occurred back there?” my partner asked. “Did you really create a relic?”
“Yeah, I think so. Don’t ask me how. When I tried manifesting one a second earlier, I couldn’t, but when I broke off that piece of the crown, it was magical. I didn’t ask for that; it just happened.”
“I lost my faith a long time ago, but I have to ask: Are you a saint? You’re not like any ghost I’ve ever heard of.”
“Absolutely not! I’m not even a Christian. That whole idea makes me very uncomfortable.”
“What if the priest were right?”
“I wouldn’t #stake my ‘life’ on it.”
“Ha ha. A holly #stake, no doubt.”
“I’m #rising in the world,” I thought. “My bad jokes are getting a response.”
“Furthermore, I would ask, which priest and about what? You just saw a Buddhist impersonating a Copt perform a miracle: a fraud, a flagrant liar, and most would say an unredeemable heretic. How does that fit into any conventional theological framework?”
She nodded.
“Regardless, it means something, but what? Why could I manifest a relic?”
She nodded again and turned toward the sound of footsteps crossing the courtyard.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 106 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 buzz #TimeTravelAuthors Whatever)
The meal was excellent, and I resisted the urge to overindulge in the roast lamb, fragrant with garlic and rosemary. Communal loaves of bread accompanied the dinner. I was surprised to find that it was white, though still coarser than what I was accustomed to. There were greens as well, and lentils stewed with onions and cumin. The Delphinas had plainly spared little in welcoming me. It almost made me feel guilty for deceiving them.
Cool, watered wine, faintly scented with bitter orange, accompanied the food. Emily didn’t need to remind me to drink sparingly. Heavy drinking was inappropriate for the role I played, as well as socially gauche and dangerous.
At the end of the dinner came honey cakes and dried fruit. Despite my attempt to eat sparingly, I was stuffed. Honestly, it was the best meal I could remember having. While the meals on the Hindenburg and Titanic were superbly prepared, they were pretentious. The food here was cooked with love and impressed one by its own merits rather than fancy ingredients.
When the meal was done, I murmured a prayer blessing the family, and then I gave my excuses for needing to leave for the shrine. I was sure the tutor was relieved to hear that, even if Zoé’s face fell when he interpreted what I said.
The master of the house provided me with a servant to light my way.
At the door, the wife pressed upon me small loaves of bread, wrapped in cloth. The scholar translated, “For the road, holy pilgrim.”
The daughter rushed forward, pressing a bundle of honey cakes into my hand. In turn, I attempted to manifest a fragment of St. Catherine’s Wheel to present to her, but was horrified when it failed to appear. I was unsure why. Manifestations had always succeeded as long as they were period-appropriate. Had I overreached? Perhaps what I’d asked for was a holy relic like the lance we had seen in the British Museum, and if so, why didn’t I get a substituted sliver of ordinary wood similar to how I had manifested rough natural chalk in the coral pyramid?
I still wanted to give the child something and to show my appreciation for the hospitality I had received, so I reached up and broke off a small fragment of the carved crown of thorns decorating my mask. When I held it out, the wood gave off a faint glow.
The mother gasped, and everyone signed themselves. From somewhere came the #buzz of amazed servants. Personally, the miracle shocked me speechless. Most surprising of all, the tutor fell to his knees and begged, “Forgive me, holy one.”
Finding my voice again, I said, “You don’t need my forgiveness. Your faithfulness to your master suits you well. May the Lord bless you for it.”
With that, I left the stunned family behind.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 106 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 buzz #TimeTravelAuthors Whatever)
The meal was excellent, and I resisted the urge to overindulge in the roast lamb, fragrant with garlic and rosemary. Communal loaves of bread accompanied the dinner. I was surprised to find that it was white, though still coarser than what I was accustomed to. There were greens as well, and lentils stewed with onions and cumin. The Delphinas had plainly spared little in welcoming me. It almost made me feel guilty for deceiving them.
Cool, watered wine, faintly scented with bitter orange, accompanied the food. Emily didn’t need to remind me to drink sparingly. Heavy drinking was inappropriate for the role I played, as well as socially gauche and dangerous.
At the end of the dinner came honey cakes and dried fruit. Despite my attempt to eat sparingly, I was stuffed. Honestly, it was the best meal I could remember having. While the meals on the Hindenburg and Titanic were superbly prepared, they were pretentious. The food here was cooked with love and impressed one by its own merits rather than fancy ingredients.
When the meal was done, I murmured a prayer blessing the family, and then I gave my excuses for needing to leave for the shrine. I was sure the tutor was relieved to hear that, even if Zoé’s face fell when he interpreted what I said.
The master of the house provided me with a servant to light my way.
At the door, the wife pressed upon me small loaves of bread, wrapped in cloth. The scholar translated, “For the road, holy pilgrim.”
The daughter rushed forward, pressing a bundle of honey cakes into my hand. In turn, I attempted to manifest a fragment of St. Catherine’s Wheel to present to her, but was horrified when it failed to appear. I was unsure why. Manifestations had always succeeded as long as they were period-appropriate. Had I overreached? Perhaps what I’d asked for was a holy relic like the lance we had seen in the British Museum, and if so, why didn’t I get a substituted sliver of ordinary wood similar to how I had manifested rough natural chalk in the coral pyramid?
I still wanted to give the child something and to show my appreciation for the hospitality I had received, so I reached up and broke off a small fragment of the carved crown of thorns decorating my mask. When I held it out, the wood gave off a faint glow.
The mother gasped, and everyone signed themselves. From somewhere came the #buzz of amazed servants. Personally, the miracle shocked me speechless. Most surprising of all, the tutor fell to his knees and begged, “Forgive me, holy one.”
Finding my voice again, I said, “You don’t need my forgiveness. Your faithfulness to your master suits you well. May the Lord bless you for it.”
With that, I left the stunned family behind.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri
-
That is a different take. I took it as am I satified writing it, rather than I am satisfied with the genre itself.
#PennedPossibilities 1031 — Are you satisfied with the genre(s) that you write?
As for #yuri I wish there was less "but we are both girls" crap; jealousy as love; fixation on secondary and high schoolers. Fortunately, there is lots that doesn't do one of those.
And #mythpunk. There isn't enough of it to be dissatisfied with anything about it except it rareity.
-
That is a different take. I took it as am I satified writing it, rather than I am satisfied with the genre itself.
#PennedPossibilities 1031 — Are you satisfied with the genre(s) that you write?
As for #yuri I wish there was less "but we are both girls" crap; jealousy as love; fixation on secondary and high schoolers. Fortunately, there is lots that doesn't do one of those.
And #mythpunk. There isn't enough of it to be dissatisfied with anything about it except it rareity.
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 105 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus
#Wss366 spar #TimeTravelAuthors 06/1. break)
The tutor translated my request, which was met with approval and caused Zoé to beam.
Emily shook her head and said, “You’re quite the masher. Look at her; she has totally fallen for you.”
Indeed, the girl in question was directing doe eyes at me. The sobriety of prayer was nowhere to be found in them. If I were staying, both the scholar and I would have had to worry about her virtue.
After that, dinner was surprisingly uneventful. My hosts and I didn’t share a common language, so I was not obliged to talk with them. The tutor refrained from religious #sparring, though he started a conversation. Whether it was to trip me up or he was genuinely seeking information, I never knew. He began by asking, “What news have the Marseille Copts received of the Crusades?”
“That Salah ad-Din had retaken the Jerusalem, but that a vast host of English and Frankish soldiers are poised to retake it at any moment,” I said. “We hadn’t learned that Cyprus had been seized, or that Richard had sold it to the Templars.”
“And what do you think of the holy war?”
Rather than answering the more fraught question of my personal opinion, I chose to answer the question: “What did my community think?”
“Many hope to see the lands in Christian hands, and others are just glad to be rid of those whose violence spills into the streets of our cities.”
My host said something to the tutor, who fell silent, giving me a #break from the questioning.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri