Summoner Parts Four and Five

warrior girl

Source.

“I expect it will hurt,” Atrocious said. “And for no reason at all.”

“No reason at all?” Ariadne knitted one, then purled one. “You unleashed a horde of unnatural beings upon my village. I think that calls for some form of response, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“You summoned them. They were your responsibility. And you will be punished for the damage they wrought. Crops have been trampled. Homes have been damaged. Others in this community have been inconvenienced by your temper induced fit. It is not the first time, but it will be the last.”

Part Four

Part Five

An Argument Against Spanking

Atrocious obediently ate. As she did, two small black ants crawled across the table and made a beeline for a lone flake of pie. She watched as they began to tug it away.

“What are you so fixated on?” Ariadne paused in her knitting, seeing Atrocious staring at the table as if it were speaking to her.

“I wonder if they’re happy,” Atrocious said.

“What do you mean?”

Read more…

In the grip of the high witch…

winter tree

Food or thrashing? Atrocious chose neither. As the tears ran down her face she could hear the chattering. They were coming back. They would put paid to Ariadne and her nasty cane. They would free her to fly again.

“LET ME GO!” Atrocious yelled at the top of her lungs.

Ariadne did not bat an eyelid, but Atrocious didn’t care. It wasn’t about getting Ariadne to do what she wanted, it was about bringing those mages back so Ariadne had no choice but to do what Atrocious wanted.

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Who Watches Ther Witches?

As the whooping horde approached the house at the end of Lesbia, the great doors of the venerable building flew open. A harsh gale blew out from the interior of the house, a gale that seemed to be emitting from the small, slight form of Ariadne. The high witch stood at the threshold of her home, her eyes seeming to glow through the thick black band slashing the length of her face.

The gusting wings were strong enough to knock the rampaging mages off their feet and send them tumbling across the village. One by one they popped out of existence under Ariadne’s glare, all the while chattering and hollering in protest.

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The Likes Of You

I changed my pen name. I realize this will not at all matter to most people, but I figure it is nice to mention it at the very least.

“The likes of me?”

Atrocious stopped dead. Her anger faded away in an instant, replaced by something much quieter, much more dangerous.

“The likes of me,” she said, repeating the words to herself softly.

“I do not say that to be cruel,” Ayla said, turning away to caution the other young lady. “Rogette, I would appreciate you speaking more kindly.”

“The likes of me,” Atrocious murmured yet again. She was looking at the floor, her eyes flicking around the edges of the room. “The likes of me.” Her shoulders slumped as she murmured the words, then turned and made her way toward the stairs.

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FOUND: A Name

I did it! I found my new name. It is a lot like the old one, which I think will be good for continuity. It also drops the Norse God theme, which I was never fully comfortable with in the first place.

Ther Renard

This name is neat I think. It rolls off the tongue, climbs up into the rafters and peers down at you. Then it flicks the light switches on and off for a few minutes for its own amusement and eventually curls up and goes to sleep in a sun beam. It is unique without having to be spelled yoonikke and it challenges heteronormative expectations, of, uh, things.

I made this cover, so we can all appreciate what it might look like on a cover. Why, just like a real name!

lesbias talking trees

Search For A Name

Hello everyone. I have an announcement to make. Well, sort of an announcement, sort of a random fumbling about.

The time has come for me to chrysalis and butterfly. Or something. Which is to say, I am ditching my pen name.

I have several reasons for this. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, being one of them. It’s something  I feel I should do now, for reasons I won’t elaborate on publicly, but will make murky reference to (<- like that.) And it’s something a third thing because things like this come in threes – or fours. To strive, to seek, to find a restaurant where they don’t sit you in the naughty corner under the kitchen window. (Seriously – why even put a table there? It’s like you wanted a place to punish people.)

This already makes limited sense.

I know this could be sort of weird. I always have trouble catching up when people change things like their hairstyles or their noses, let alone their names. 

Also I’m having trouble coming up with a new pen name. It’s difficult. Some of the ones I’ve tried up so far bring up mugshots of burly, angry looking men, which isn’t quite the vibe I’m going for. Also, as I think more on it, things get more ridiculous. So far on my list of possible pen names:

Viola Durmbledrang.

Panther McGee

Nivea Forkitties.

Quoka Quola.

I’ll keep you updated as events warrant. Or maybe even as they don’t.

The Elf Witch’s Heart

Anybody who reads Lesbia and continues down into the comments will be familiar with Sparrow’s poetic talents. For most every post I make, she creates a unique poem – rather like a poetic Cliffs Notes  This poem (which is based on this post) is particularly beautiful and insightful, so I want to share it in its very own post. Thank you, Sparrow, for all you do and all you share.

Love is Not Commanded
by Sparrow

Once two hearts burned, by love ignited
When two were one, in bliss united
Now but in memories reside
Bittersweet, mist damps the eye
Millennia will pass away
The memories abide, to stay,
Presenting new love with a wall,
A barrier, wide, deep and tall.

Though there is stirring love anew
From something that she sees in you,
Evokes a smile, sets off a spark,
Passes diversion, more than a lark
And in that heart a space she makes,
Do not presume this love you take
To be considered less than honor.
It does not mean that you now own her

Once filled by a love so profound,
Though ages pass, it’s still around.
How long to take ere you discover,
That you are blessed to be her lover,
And know you’ll not own in her heart,
That space, forever set apart,
Where she will always be the host
To her departed lover’s ghost.

Within her heart to win your place
You need be generous and face
Your power as a duty to the others.
Be not jealous of her other lovers
For in the end your mortal life is fleeting
You’ll be long gone while her heart goes on beating
So get beyond just thinking of yourself
And earn the gift of love from the witch elf.