wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
There was a full moon this morning, but also a Tammy Baldwin town hall meeting (more about that later, here or on FB), so I put off this post until after getting home and eating. I am once again offering to draw cards with the hope of sending some good energy out into the world, to spark both hope and creativity. You can ask about real life, of course, or about a creative project. For instance, I can draw a card for you to meditate on, to represent the Guide you need right now, or to get you unstuck. Alternatively, I can draw a card for a character or can draw a card or cards for you to use as writing or art prompts.

There is a Torn World Muse Fusion coming up later this month; if you want a taste of that world and if you tip, you can ask for an in-character reading in that world for yourself or for a Torn World character. These readings take me more time and energy, which is why I don't offer them for free.

Daylight Savings time "sprung back" overnight, so it isn't getting dark quite so early, always a welcome thing. My "green room" has little pots, some with seedlings and some without. My work space is currently cluttered with acrylic paints, brushes, and canvasses that hold some very incomplete paintings. But come in, be welcome, whether you've visited before or not. I won't try to resist showing off my in-progress work, which includes the very start of a painting inspired (but not required) by the last two readings. The frog has a sore foot, and I envision adding at least Ffaff the Ffooter, examining the frog. Or perhaps the frog is a statue, and Ffaff is doing something else here...I'm not sure.



If I get at least $50 in this drawing, I'll do a separate painting for this drawing, as I said. If not, the readings here might be used to expand my vision of the Frogg & Ffaff painting.

But it's time to put the paintings aside for a bit, pay bills, and if you drop by, do some readings.

Until Wednesday, for free one card readings, you can pick from the Brian Froud's Faeries Oracle, my combined Susan Seddon Boulet Animal Spirits and Goddesses cards, or the Shapeshifter Tarot. You can ask a question, ask for a Guide, ask for inspiration, or you can just ask for a card. I don't need to know what your question is, but you are welcome to share it with me if you like.

If I get $50 in tips, I'll use the cards I draw to inspire a painting, and I'll post progress drawings here for you all to see. So far I've received $17.50 of $50 for this drawing.

The first card is free (though tips are always appreciated). Tips also let you ask me to use any of my other decks, to request a private reading, or to draw a clarifying card. If you want a longer reading, send a direct message so we can agree on the type of reading and rate.

Please consider dropping something in the guitar case below. Readings take time and energy, and there are still squirrels that think my house is their home tree. I will soon need to pay someone to undo the winter's damage.

Signal boosts are very much appreciated, and also earn you the right to ask for a clarifying card.

I understand all too well that when people don't have cash or spoons that is generally when they most need inspiration! Don't be afraid to ask for a card if you can't tip.

If you tip, it's helpful to me for you to mention it here so I can connect your paypal information with your request. Tips should be at least $1 (Paypal charges fees). If that doesn't work for you, drop me a message and we'll work something else out.

I've written before about why I do readings and some of the decks I use here, feel free to hop over and check me out. I'll wait.

I will reply to all requests. In the highly unlikely event that the number of requests nears my limits, I'll close this card draw by adding a clear note at the top of the post rather than risk leaving anyone without a response.

Thank you, and Blessed Be!

As always, these readings are for entertainment and inspiration only. See my "Dandelyon's Readings" page if you have questions.

wyld_dandelyon: (Polychrome Wizard)
This weekend is the Torn World Muse Fusion (if you are so inclined, we'd love to get your questions or topic suggestions, whether they are specific to Torn World or just inspiration in general).

To Ellen's prompt, Tidepool Memories, I wrote this piece. They live in the arctic of a world that includes sea monsters and other dangers. Ivara is featured in a number of other stories over at www.tornworld.net.

Torn World is crowdfunded; this story is my freebie glimpse at the world for this weekend's Muse Fusion.

Tidepool Memories

Ruvardu sat by the ocean, listening to the waves. Her toes rested in a pleasantly warm tidepool. She had a bowl of red beans in her lap, and her fingers worked clumsily at the once-easy task of separating the rich beans from the bitter husks. The stroke that had stolen the cleverness from her fingers had not taken her ability to enjoy the sun and water on her skin. She looked up to see Ivara hang a gutted fish onto the smoking rack and set her knife down to stand and stretch.

For just a moment, Ivara looked stiff, like an old lady, like Ruvardu herself, but then she twirled and did a few dance steps, her long hair sailing around her like a shawl. She looked so young, dancing with Reqem on the big drum, their feet pounding out the rhythms of young lust. Ruvardu danced too, but not on the drum, she was more interested in flirting with Firl and drinking beer. The combination made her giggle, and the firelight shimmered like the ocean, and her toes were wet with spilled beer. “Oh, that was a night!” She opened her eyes, and saw a tiny fish in the tidepool nibbling at her toes. She could barely feel the soft fish lips against her skin. “You and Reqem were so beautiful dancing on the drum.” Her words were blurred, but she knew Ivara would understand.

Ivara danced over and bent to make sure Ruvardu’s shawl was tucked close around her. “You and Firl were beautiful too.”

Ruvardu laughed. “We were silly and drunk. To hear you talk, all new-adults are beautiful. Just like all babies are beautiful.”

“Well, they are.” Ivara smiled, and sank gracefully to the sand, picking up her knife again. She reached for a fish, humming an old tune. A pregnant young woman came by with a basket of new-caught fish and poured them into the basket next to Ivara. “Who was that Itakith woman?”

Ivara didn’t answer; she sat there with one hand on her swollen belly, then reached for Ruvardu’s hand to place it there. Inside, the baby-to-be was moving, and Ruvardu caught her breath. Her own pregnancy wasn’t as far along. So far, all she could feel was a tickle, a sensation in her gut like beer felt on her tongue, tingly and intoxicating.

The woman from Itakith leaned forward, her brown hair falling over her shoulders. “Can I see too?”

Ivara pulled her shirt up, and they all saw the shape of a foot pressing out, to one side of her distended belly button. The woman reached out her hand, hesitantly.

“Of course.” Ivara nodded.

The other woman put her hand on Ivara’s belly and then laughed. “The baby is so—so alive!” She reached back to lift up her own shirt and bare her own brown belly, which was only starting to swell. “Will I see my baby’s foot like that?”

“Probably.” The old mother-tender set a bowl of fresh fruit and greens in front of her charges. “But every baby is different. Some move a lot, while others seem content to sleep all through a pregnancy.” She smiled, her wrinkles moving on her face like grass in the wind. Ruvardu wanted to thank her, but her mind was as stiff as her old fingers.

“I can’t remember their names.” Ruvardu looked down at her belly, finding it old and flat and full of a bowl of red beans. She had forgotten the beans again, and so she reached into the bowl to pick up another, squeezing it to split the hull and free the beans.

“That’s nothing to worry about.” Ivara sounded sad. Ivara so rarely sounded sad, but there were times. There had been so much blood, the day the whalebear surprised her little son, Firuu, on the beach. She had screamed and threw rocks at it, and Ivara snatched up a fishing spear and charged the bear, snarling like a snowcat.

The bear clamped its jaws around the boy’s leg, and Ivara darted in, pushing her spear into the thing’s chest. Teeth still clammped, it roared, loud enough that Ruvardu couldn’t hear her own screams, and swiped at Ivara, who danced away and then back again, over and over. Finally, as Reqem ran up with a heavy hunting spear, Ivara sunk the fishing spear deep into the creature’s eye and it collapsed.

Reqem pried the bear’s jaws off of the boy, but it was too late. He was hanging limp from the monster’s jaw, and not breathing. Where he wasn’t covered in blood—his and the bear’s—his skin was too pale. Reqem laid the boy, blood and all, in Ruvardu’s arms. Tears fell silently from her eyes, her grief too strong for sound.

“Firuu—“ She choked it out, and was shocked, again, to hear how blurred and frail her voice was. She couldn’t even say the name of her firstborn properly any more, and that made her cry even harder.

Suddenly, Ivara was there, holding Ruvardu, humming a different tune now. They had made this tune together, when Ruvardu’s first grandchild was born. Varlii had wanted to travel to Itrelir, to be with the baby’s father for the birth, and Ivara and Ruvardu had accompanied her on the journey. They should have reached Itrelir a month before the birth, but the baby was impatient, and Varlii had gone into labor on the trail.

Ruvardu had been so scared for her daughter. They didn’t have a healer with them—what if something went wrong? But Ivara kept them telling stories and singing tunes until the baby came, such a perfect, tiny girl she was, all red and wrinkled and hungry. They camped by a small lake for a tenday, Ruvardu setting traps and Ivara tending them and gathering firewood. The lake was so beautiful, and so were her daughter and granddaughter. Ivara was right. New-adults and new babies were all beautiful.

Ruvardu tried to sing along with Ivara, but since the stroke, she couldn’t hold a tune. She smiled at Ivara. “You can sing for the baby.”

Ivara patted wetness from her cheeks, nodding. Ruvardu looked up—was it raining? The sky was clear, except for a few Others floating far above, out over the ocean. It must be just the surf. She asked Ivara, “Dance for me?”

Ivara looked sad, though she smiled at Ruvardu. “I will always dance for you.” She tucked the shawl tighter around her age-mate and stood to whirl and leap in the sand at the edge of the waves.
wyld_dandelyon: (Polychrome Wizard)
It's been a busy day so far. We ran around town doing errands, deciding to leave the last one for tomorrow because the snow was getting heavier and heavier. I also do want to write about Capricon, which was focused mostly on art and music for me, but first, it's the new moon, and I promised a One Card Draw.

Are you starting something new? Feeling stuck on a creative project? Want a reading for one of your characters? You can ask for something specific or just ask for a card.

I'll do a limited number of free readings, and an unlimited number of paid ones. I will leave the post open for free readings for at least a few hours; if free readings are closed, I'll edit that in here, so you don't have to guess. If you tip, it's helpful to mention that here and also to put your LJ name in the comments when you tip so it's easy for me to match the request and the tip.

I've written before about why I do readings and some of the decks I use here, feel free to hop over and check me out. I'll wait.

Today you can pick from the Shapeshifter Tarot, the Whimsical Tarot, or the Faeries' Oracle. You can ask a question or just ask for a card. If you tip, you can also ask for an additional card, or a card from any other deck I have. Not sure if I have a particular deck? You're welcome to ask.

Alternatively, I can draw you (or your character) a Guide for the season (or a project or some other period of time that you specify) from my combined deck of Susan Seddon Boulet art cards. You can ask for this as your free reading if you don't ask for a card from one of the decks listed above.

Finally, you could ask to have my Torn World character, Rai Kunabei, do a disk reading for you or for a torn world character of your choice. This will take the form of an imaginary visit to Torn World and will feature the divination disks I designed for that world. Feel free to include some details about yourself to help me portray you in this world.

Please consider dropping something in the case! Readings take time and energy, and I am currently funding home repairs. Signal boosts are also appreciated. If you are tipping, please include that in your reply here, so I'm not guessing when I sit down to do your reading.

I understand all too well that sometimes people don't have cash or spoons, and it is generally during those times when people most need inspiration! Don't be afraid to ask for a card if you can't tip.

Tips should be at least $1 (Paypal charges fees) or at least one Torn World credit. If neither of these work for you, drop me a message and we'll work something out.

You can get a private reading if you tip; I'll send the reading to the e-mail you use for tipping or you can send a private message to make other arrangements. I'm also open to doing longer paid readings, for instance Celtic Cross or Wheel of the Year; again, please send a private message if you're interested.

I will do readings promptly, but I have other work and commitments, so if I get a lot of requests or if I have internet problems, it may take a little time. I will reply to all requests. If the number of requests nears my limits, I'll close this One Card Draw rather than risk leaving anyone without a response.

Thank you!

As always, in accordance with federal law, these readings are for entertainment and inspiration only. See my "Dandelyon's Readings" page if you have questions.

wyld_dandelyon: (Rainbow Margay Mage)
This is Denel's reading, posted here for [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion. It's a little long to post as a comment in the card draw, so I'm giving it its own post.

Note: Torn World’s language does not use gendered pronouns, and their names are also not marked as one gender or another. As Rai-Kunabei arrives in Affamarg, she has not yet heard any detail that would let her know if Scientist Oranaan is male, female, or no-gender.

The Shaman and the Scientist

Rai-Kunabei looked out of the window as the train rumbled into Affamarg. The thing was noisy and smelly, but she had to admit it was more biddable than a goat. It also moved faster than she could walk, and saved her the trouble of carrying her bag of divination disks and her bulkier, but lighter bag of clothing. The attendant had also helped her improvise a way to secure her staff, with its dangling bells and wraith-scarred spinning balls, so that she didn’t have to hold it all day to prevent it from falling and hitting some poor citizen in the head.

The city was all straight lines and crisp 90 degree angles, and none of the buildings had a fringe of bells strung over the roof. It looked so strange to her mountain-bred eyes. Her people built homes in low, sheltered spots or on gentle hillocks that had good views of the surrounding mountains. Buildings might have four corners, like the ones here, or five or seven. But the biggest difference was the roads—mountain roads curved with the hills and valleys; these each ran straight from the rail line to the horizon. There must be many hundreds of people living in this lowland city, none of whom would understand her sacred role as priestess. Once again, and despite her long-standing desire to see the world, she wondered, what was she doing here?

It was an emotional response, of course, not a logical one. Logically, she knew that the lowland scientists had invited her to this far northern city to learn what she knew of the mysterious danger that haunted her world’s heights. She glanced away from the window to the letter she clutched, like a talisman, in her hand. It had been delivered to her home, high in the Affabreidalam mountains, in a fat envelope filled with special licenses.

The licenses were tucked into her pouch; this Oranaan had promised to meet her train, and she certainly hoped he would do so, or at least would send someone. She had no idea whatsoever how to find her way around that huge city without assistance—all the streets looked identical to her eyes, and she imagined herself wandering for months down the identical straight streets, wasting away into a wraith herself.

Kunabei laughed at her own fancy, drawing cautious looks from the people in the same train car. Logically, she knew she could ask for directions, and any Monitor would take a look at the letter and licenses, and help her on her way. You’d think she was a crochety great-grandmother, lost a bit in her age and incapable of dealing with the slightest challenge.

In reality, she was a young woman, but definitely old enough to be past letting nerves make her fanciful, except, she thought, that she was bored. For days, she’d been whizzed along, passing the countryside so fast she couldn’t examine the wildlife and plants, much less enjoy their beauty or see how they differed from the ones she was used to. And though there was plenty of time, not a single person had asked for a reading or requested more mundane advice.

She looked again at the letter and wondered who this Oranaan was, besides an important, brilliant, and, by people’s reactions, eccentric scientist. She imagined someone like her grandmother, vibrant despite age and experience, with a sassy sense of humor. Or maybe someone like her grandfather, who compensated for his wife’s fame as a priestess by dressing in the gaudy, bright-colored clothing and jewelry, and flirting with all the old people. She remembered the tales of Oraaan blowing up things and setting his workplace on fire, and decided the scientist must be more like her grandmother.

The train started to slow, and Kunabei checked to be sure her bags were tied securely shut. The people running the trains had little tolerance for people who weren’t ready to disembark promptly. Travel was a privilege and required special licenses, so travelers were expected to be prepared for the normal events of a train trip.

The train pulled into Affamarg Station and lurched to a stop. Kunabei stood and untied her staff from the wall of the train. She slung her clothes onto her back and lifted the divination disks. They made a satisfying weight for her hand. She followed the other passengers to the door and into a room where a Monitor checked licenses.

The Monitor, a tall, very pale man, read her personal and travel licenses carefully, glanced at her priestess license and stopped, looking up at her. “Rai?”

Kunabei nodded, using every bit of calm authority she had learned since killing the wraith. “It’s a traditional title.”

He started to leaf through the multiple pages dubiously.

Kunabei smiled, and offered her letter. “I was asked here to meet with Scientist Oranaan.”

“Oranaan, huh? What does the Scientist need with a--a Priestess?”

Rai Kunabei was pretty sure he had a different word in mind. “I do not believe he wants to consult me in that capacity. I believe he has questions about certain phenomena I witnessed in the mountains.”

The Monitor apparently found her answer dull, which didn’t disappoint Kunabei at all. He folded her licenses together and tucked them back in her pouch. “Here you go, Citizen.” He handed her the pouch and then a small booklet of local rules and regulations. “Be careful, Citizen. Oranaan had a fire in the laboratory again just last week. My sister’s kid said Oranaan was tasked with teaching safety in second form.”

She laughed at that. “Teaching is a good way to learn, actually.”

But the Monitor had already turned to the next person in line, so Kunabei strode toward the door.

At the far end of the waiting room, she saw two people in Indigo scientists’ robes. One was a demure-looking woman, and the other was a very young man with tousled hair. The man was waving his arms, talking animatedly, and barely missed knocking a hat off of a passing matron. Though she couldn’t hear them, from the look on her face it was clear that the woman started scolding him, and he dropped his hands to his sides, then she saw Kunabei and gestured, stepping past him to walk toward her.

Kunabei smiled with relief, and walked forward to greet the woman. “Scientist Oranaan. It is good to meet you and your assistant.”

The woman blushed and dimpled. “Rai Kunabei?“

Kunabei nodded.

“Welcome to Affamarg. I am Scientist Denel, and this,” she gestured to the young man, who was gaping at her, “is Scientist Oranaan. How was your trip?”

Up close, Oranaan looked a little less like a scatterbrained teenager, though it was clear he’d never been mistaken for his own assistant before.

“I’m sorry, Scientist Oranaan, no one ever told me what you look like.”

He suddenly grinned, an expression that didn’t exactly make him handsome, but was so very alive and genuine, Kunabei grinned back at him. He turned to the other scientist. “You see, Denel, you should have more faith in your ability to impress people. She thought you were me!” He turned back to Rai Kunabei. “Here, let me help you!” He reached forward and grabbed the bag of divination disks, just under where Kunabei held it, swinging it toward him before getting her permission.

Kunabei let go of the bag—he was a lowlander, after all, and didn’t know he was being disrespectful.

The bag swung into Oranaan’s shins. “Ow!” He gave Kunabei a measuring look. “What’s in here?”

Kunabei smiled, deciding that she liked this impulsive young man. Despite giving himself what would doubtless be substantial bruises, he had not dropped the bag. “Those are my divination disks.”

Denel laid her hand on Kunabei’s arm. “Are you hungry? There’s a restaurant near here that claims to serve Affabreidalam-style food, or we can go get some traditional Mojeveterk specialties if you prefer.”

Oranaan’s stomach rumbled. “Oh, yes! Can we get you some food?”

Kunabei nodded. “I’d like to try the local food, if that’s all right. I’ve never been further than Affabreidalam before.”

They guided her across the street and Oranaan was greeted by name at the restaurant. Soon, they had a good-sized table and Oranaan presented a chit and ordered a sampler plate.

When the server left, Oranaan started to untie the bag of disks.

Denel put her hand over his. “Oranaan, my boys know better than to open someone else’s luggage.”

He blushed. “Ah, I apologize, Rai Kunabei. It’s just I’ve never seen divination disks before.”

“I could do a reading for you, but our tradition is that the Rai should not do readings for the disrespectful. And as Rai, it is my job to uphold the traditions.”

Oranaan’s face fell. “But I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“That’s all right. You can ask again tomorrow.”

He looked woefully at the bag, and then back at her face. “Wait—Denel wasn’t disrespectful, was she?”

“That’s right.”

“Then you could do a reading for Denel!”

“I only do readings for people who ask for them.”

The server arrived with a large platter of food, and set it in the middle of the table, placing small plates in front of each of them. Oranaan turned to Denel, “You will ask for a reading, won’t you?”

Denel thanked the server and shifted the topic to the different foods on the sampler plate.

Oranaan sighed, “Denel? Will you?”

Denel smiled at him fondly. “I might ask after lunch.” She pointedly turned to Kunabei and asked, “What would you like to try first?”

Lunch was pleasant, and most of the foods were very good, if a little sweeter than Kunabei was used to. Oranaan threw himself into the role of host with evident enjoyment of the food, but his eyes darted back to the leather bag holding the disks even while he related hilarious stories about his mostly-failed first attempts to cook the dishes she was tasting.

Kunabei started to wonder how much of Oranaan’s reputation for carelessness was really a reflection of his joy in being outrageous. Did this reputation let him achieve more leeway to do unconventional experiments than he would otherwise get away with?

The server brought out some after-meal pastries, which proved to be even sweeter than the lunch itself.

Finally, when the server had cleared away all the food and left them with hot drinks (Kunabei had managed to score an unsweetened tea, to her relief), Denel asked Kunabei about the divining disks.

“It would take too long, I think, to try to talk about all of them now. But I could give you a reading, if you like.”

Denel paused just long enough to see Oranaan biting his lower lip, and then responded, “Yes, please. I would like that.”

Rai Kunabei untied the bag. “Do you have a particular question?”

“I—do I need to?”

“No. But you can choose to.”

Denel thought for a minute, but then shook her head. “No particular question—no, wait—tell us about our research, if you can.”

Kunabei nodded. “All right then. The simplest reading is three disks. The first one shows you the nature of the situation the reading is about.” She started to reach in to the bag, then paused, glancing rom Denel to Oranaan. “You do have the right to privacy if you want it.”

Oranaan opened his mouth, holding up a hand.

Denel laughed. “No, no. It’s fine for Oranaan to watch.”

He sat back in his chair.

“That’s what I thought you wanted, but you can’t learn the traditions unless I share, since you did not grow up in the mountains.”

Denel nodded. “That makes sense.”

“All right, I shall begin.” Kunabei reached into the bag and pulled out a disk. It was big enough to cover her entire palm, and was made of soft, shiny bronze. She turned it over to show an enameled image of a hammer smashing some piece of wooden furniture.

“The nature of the problem is Destruction, the embodiment of human-made endings. Whatever you are studying, human actions have made the situation worse, or perhaps caused the situation, either recently or in the distant past.”

Oranaan held out his hand. “May I look at the disk, please?”

Kunabei let it slide gently from her own hand to his. Most people, faced with the image of destruction, didn’t want to touch it, but this young scientist was fearless. He turned it over and over, running his fingers over the metal and enameled sides of the disk.

Kunabei turned to Denel. “The second disk has to do with the tools that are involved in the situation, which, in this case could be either the tools that were or are used to bring about this situation, or it could be the tools you need to address the problem.”

Denel nodded her understanding.

Kunabei reached into the bag and drew out another disk. This one was gold, and showed an elder seated on the ground, a bag by her knee and holding scorched ball whistles in her hands. It was a tolerable likeness of Kunaei’s grandmother, though the artist who made it had never met the old priestess. “This is the Shaman, who is the embodiment of abstract knowledge. From this, I would say that physical tools are of limited use in addressing the problem you are studying. Human perception, intelligence and the knowledge handed down from our ancestors will be vital to understanding what is going on. That is interesting, because usually the knowledge and attitudes that shed light on the topic at hand shows up as the third disk.”

She passed the Shaman to Oranaan, then reached in a final time and brought out an iron disk. The image enameled on one side was a sheer cliff, with a tiny figure clinging precariously to the rock. “The Cliff, which is the dangerous aspect of borders.” Kunabei fell silent, considering the disk. “It might be that the knowledge you need has been passed down by people in very different parts of the world, so that the social divisions remaining from the old borders are a barrier to obtaining the information you need. Or perhaps this is more literal, and the old borders have something to do with the problem. Or maybe,” she looked over at Oranaan, “it could simply be a warning that pushing your licenses to their limits is perilous in and of itself, and the chaos you cause could be threatening your effectiveness to obtain the information you need.”

Oranaan frowned at that. “You’ve heard stories about me. Is that all this is, stories?” He gestured at the disks.

Kunabei shrugged. “Stories are an effective way to teach, and to get people thinking about their problems in a new way. If you are asking me is there some science behind which disk is drawn when, all I can say is that if there is, I don’t know it. All I can offer is my personal observations that people who ask for readings do get some benefit from the experience.”

She placed the final disk into Oranaan’s hand, and unhooked her own scorched ball whistle from her staff, which was leaning in a corner. “It’s similar to this—I didn’t see what scorched this whistle, but something did. It’s not very satisfactory that I cannot tell you what a wraith looks like or why it attacks people in the highlands, but I take comfort from knowing that the whistle protected me.”

Oranaan dropped the disks into Denel’s hands and reached for the ball. “This—this came into contact with an anomaly? And you were there? You survived? You’re not mad?” He stopped short of touching it. “May I hold it?”

Kunabei nodded. “I met a wraith in the mountains and survived. That is how I came to be the shaman for my people.” She put the ball into his hands. “Certainly you can look at it. But remember it is sacred to me. You may not subject it to explosions or laboratory fires or do anything else to it without letting me know exactly what you plan and getting my prior approval.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, but still, Kunabei watched him carefully as she took the disks from Denel and returned them to her bag. As she tied it up, the server walked up and bowed to the scientists. “If you are finished with your lunch, we would like to clean this area and get set up for the dinner crowd.”

“Oh, of course. I apologize, we didn’t realize how late it has gotten. Denel took the ball from Oranaan and handed it back to Kunabei, who tied it securely to her staff.

Oranaan smiled at the young woman and reached into a pocket, taking out a thin sliver of metal that shone with swirls of bright color, almost like the mystery disk in Kunabei’s bag.

Oranaan stood and pulled out a pen and signed the rectangular bit of metal, then handed it to the server. “I’m not much of an artist, but this is part of a plate that was damaged in the last laboratory fire. It is, if nothing else, unique.

The server’s eyes grew round, and he took the slip of metal. “Thank you, Scientist. You are welcome to return any time.”

They guided Kunabei back outside into the sunlight, and turned left. Denel started laughing as soon as the door closed behind them. “You turned your—your slag—into tip cards? Oranaan, you are incorrigible!”

Oranaan smiled, and offered his free arm to Kunabei. “Let us take you to the room we reserved for you, and then we can go find an Assistant to take notes while you tell us all about your encounter with the wraith.”

_____________________

As usual, this is posted prior to Canon-Board review, so it may be edited for coninuity. There are other stories about Rai-Kunabei, Denel, and Oranaan over at www.TornWorld.net
wyld_dandelyon: (Magical Moth Artist by Djinni)
And, of course, other stuff. I try to clear out other errands to leave open time for sketchfest and muse fusion, but it rarely works out the way I want. This weekend, not only do we have both Sketchfest and Muse Fusion, but tomorrow is the only Sunday this month that the others in our writers' group could get together, so I have to review the stuff we're critiquing and head out do do that instead of staying in my own little creative cocoon.

Part of me is yelling, Make room! Make room! Clearly, I need to get better at making room time-wise as well as space-wise. Ah, well, I'll get better at it. I am determined.

But in the meantime, I have a couple of things to share:

Gryphon Nebula for Sketchfest January 2015

Both of these are on 12x12 canvasses, though I like the closeup picture of the Gryphon Nebula better than the other pictures I took--I took a bunch, but the others look less in focus. Maybe I can get a better pic in daylight? Mostly, the cell phone camera is great, but every once in a while, it's ornery. But life is like that in general, isn't it?

Sunset Showoff

You're welcome, still, to stop by Sketchfest or the Muse Fusion, check out what other people are doing, and if you want, leave some prompts.
wyld_dandelyon: (Rainbow Margay Mage)
It's been a while since I did a one (or more) card draw, so in honor of the new moon, the new year, and Torn World's fifth anniversary, I'm running one now. I'll do a limited number of free readings, and an unlimited number of paid ones. I will leave the post open for free readings for at least a few hours; if free readings are closed, I'll edit that in here, so you won't have to guess. The free reading window is closed! I am still open to do readings if you tip.

I've written before about why I do readings and some of the decks I use here, feel free to hop over and check me out. I'll wait.

Today, for free one card readings, you can pick from either the Shapeshifter Tarot or the Fantasy Showcase Tarot. You can ask a question or just ask for a card. If you tip, you can also ask for an additional card, or a card from another deck. Not sure if I have a particular deck? You're welcome to ask.

I am also offering to draw you a Guide for the year (or a project or some other period of time that you specify) from my combined deck of Susan Seddon Boulet art cards. You can ask for this as your free reading if you don't ask for a card from one of the tarot decks.

Finally, in honor of Torn World's anniversary, I'm offering to have my character, Rai Kunabei, do a disk reading for you or for a torn world character of your choice. This will take the form of an imaginary visit to Torn World and will feature the divination disks I designed for that world. Feel free to include some details about yourself to help me portray you in this world. The Torn World readings are a lot of fun to write, but do take correspondingly higher amount of time or energy. If you want a virtual visit to Torn World, please tip, and if you want a reading for a character, please tip at least $10. Readings for characters are most likely to be non-canon, but if I can place the characters together in a way that might be approved as canon, I'm willing to try.

You are welcome to ask about your creative endeavors as well as posing more traditional questions. This might be asking for a card or Guide for one of your own characters, advice about fixing a plot problem, getting past writer's block, or whatever it is that you need.

Please consider dropping something in the case! Readings take time and energy, and I am currently funding repairs for bathrooms and my furnace. Signal boosts are also appreciated. If you are tipping, please include that in your reply here, so I'm not guessing when I sit down to do your reading.

I understand all too well that sometimes people don't have cash or spoons, and it is generally during those times when people most need inspiration! Don't be afraid to ask for a card if you can't tip.

Tips should be at least $1 (Paypal charges fees) or at least one Torn World credit. If neither of these work for you, drop me a message and we'll work something out.

You can get a private reading if you tip; I'll send the reading to the e-mail you use for tipping or you can send a private message to make other arrangements. I'm also open to doing longer paid readings, for instance Celtic Cross or Wheel of the Year; again, please send a private message if you're interested.

I will do readings promptly, but I have other work and commitments, so if I get a lot of requests or if I have internet problems, it may take a little time. I will reply to all requests. If the number of requests nears my limits, I'll close this One Card Draw rather than risk leaving anyone without a response.

Thank you!

As always, these readings are for entertainment and inspiration only. See my "Dandelyon's Readings" page if you have questions.

wyld_dandelyon: (cat is ready)
It's Muse Fusion time, despite overtime and the TV breaking for no reason and other things that trouble my ability to tune out the real world and concentrate on creating an imaginary one. But still, I got something done and will now retire to dream up the next story! You're welcome to stop by and leave a silly prompt or three http://torn-world.livejournal.com/149893.html (or, I suppose, some serious prompts, if you want).  In the meantime, here's the first draft of my Muse Fusion freebie this month:


Ties
A Torn World poem by Deirdre Murphy


The night had been clear, stars sparkled overhead.
Akaalekirth and Lereterli hung hammocks outside
To watch the moons and the stars wheel overhead
And to tell each other outrageous stories
Without waking the baby.

They fell asleep, breathing sweet air
Scented by rainforest flowers and fruits.
Suddenly, the earth shook the huge hometrees
Fuchsia Tribe’s houses creaked, waking parents
to comfort wailing children.

Akaalekirth felt her hammock quiver around her
She could hear human and animal sounds of alarm
“What’s happening?” Her voice shook.
“Earthquake” Lerleterli answered.
“Tie your hammock closed.”

Akaalekirth reached for the ties, paused
“Shouldn’t we head to the ground?”
Rreisali poked her head out the window
“Orlano is going to look at the ocean—
You girls stay put!”

It took a long time to knot the thick fibers
But Akaalekirth obediently tied rope after rope
Suddenly, she laughed—when had she stopped rebelling?
Of course, she mused, this family offered her
Respect and welcome.

“What’s so funny?” Lereterli sounded annoyed.
“I didn’t even ask why, I just tied myself in.”
Akaalekirth laughed again. “I wasn’t like that before.”
Lereterli hissed, “Hush—do you hear that?”
It was just surf—but too loud!

“When it comes, hold your breath!”
Akaalekirth breathed in to ask for an explanation
Then the water was there, filling the air
Their home tree shook and bent,
She had no time to scream.

The water pulled Akaalekirth against the knots
And then back again, trying to drag her to sea
In the surge, one of the strong new ropes broke
The water rushed back out of the rainforest.
It left her hanging upside down.

She was soaked, with rope burns all over.
The house was ruined, half of it gone to sea.
“Lereterli?” Akaalekirth twisted to find the other hammock—
Had her new sister survived the flood?
And Rreisali and the baby?

Then she heard the baby coughing
She started to swing and turn in the hammock
The motion made her stomach feel sick
But it let her see her sister, her family, safe
Except Lereterli’s father.

Lereterli was curled like a lizard in her hammock.
Rreisali was tied to the trunk of the hometree
Her beautiful hair tangled like a mask over her face.
She stroked the baby’s face through the netting
That held him to her.

Akaalekirth realized the sun was rising.
The light glinted off of fish stranded in the treetops
And several trees over, a tentacled monster thrashed,
Breaking tree limbs and shattering a bridge
As it bled to death.

While Akaalekirth hung upside down
Lereterli untied her hammock and then her mother
Orlano returned with more of the tribe.
He had many cuts and his left arm was splinted,
But at least he was alive.

“Good thing you all stayed in the tree,” Orlano smiled,
“If you were down there, you could have been drowned
Or swept to sea.” She asked, “Does this happen often?”
“No. Maybe once in a generation,” he said, then frowned.
“But it happened last year.”

Akaalekirth was very glad when they got her free,
The fresh fish and drowned goose feast cheered her too.
But not even the prospect of monster for dinner
Could please her as much as being sure
Her chosen family was safe.



If you want to read more stories about these two girls, look here: http://www.tornworld.net/fiction.php?id=26
wyld_dandelyon: (Guitar Angel)
I journeyed for far too long through far too much snow and traffic, leaving early to arrive late at Capricon, where I was scheduled to guide whoever showed up at my table in the Midwinter Faire through the mysteries of acrylic painting.

Well, people not scheduled to be doing things at the con mostly stayed home, but I acquired a companion and we painted wet things. I got one painting done (or almost done) and another started.

The next day I was scheduled pretty solidly with panels and readings, but Saturday I got to two different art workshops, Intuitive Watercolor (the first time I've been pleased with the results of me playing with watercolors) and The Eraser Is Your Friend.

So, art:

Guy from Capricon-001
Look! )
I haven't decided whether I will add to the watercolor, so I haven't removed the tape yet, and the others may be edited a bit still (the rockscape is definitely not done yet, and the sea monster probably needs edits to be Torn World accurate), but this is as far as I got on these at the con.

Oh, yeah, the invitation:  We have a new contest at Torn World with the theme "travel". http://www.tornworld.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1127  Entries can be poetry, fiction, metafiction (or for that matter other cool things like songs) paired with art.  Entries can be from one creator or from more than one creator collaborating.  Would anyone like to collaborate with me?  I'm willing to work with you on canon details, or if one of these (or the blue bird I did last Sketchfest) inspires you, but the results aren't canon, they can still be shared on the site.  Alternatively, if you're an artist, I could work on some writing to go with a piece.  You can, of course, also do something without me--I'd love the competition!

I should note here that right now automated registration for the forums on the Torn World site has been disabled due to persistent hacking attacks.  However, a real person can contact [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion directly and become a registered member of the forums by administrative fiat.  Questions left on the forums (about the contest or world-details or whatever)  get friendly answers.
wyld_dandelyon: (joyouscat by Djinni)
[livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith wrote a poem about Dini and Lalya!  It's wonderful, and you can read it:

Ribbons for Her Beard

Thank you, Elizabeth, I am honored.

This poem was, in part, in response to this weekend's Muse Fusion poem which I wrote about them:

A Day On The Beach
Having ventured Affanumuur, the nude beach seemed tame
The newlyweds watched the sun rise hand in hand
Lalya draped a silvery lace shawl over her broad shoulders
Dini bought them flavored ices and grape jellies on a stick
Once they saw a great thunder whale in the distance
Or at least, that’s what the no-gender seafood seller claimed
It felt odd to be somewhere that no one knew either of them
It was both strange and pleasant to have no one stare
When the small pretty man called his tall, bearded lover, ”wife”
After the sunset, they watched the moons rise together



I also have some new stories pending canon board approval over at Torn World.  I'll keep you posted.
wyld_dandelyon: (joyouscat by Djinni)
I got home and opened up the computer to spend a couple of minutes looking at my email, playing silly games and de-stressing before turning to the Muse Fusion and starting to write. To my delight, in my email was a notice of a comment on one of my stories over at Torn World. It doesn't matter how many comments I get, it always cheers my day to get a new one.

That was a great present to get just as the Muse Fusion is starting.That was, of course, a while ago. And now I have a new story about Lalya, clothes, and a torn world holiday known as Acorn Day. There's a snippet from the story over at the Muse Fusion site. [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion has also shared a snippet of a story and a whole poem she wrote to one of my prompts! [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith has written some poetry too.

I hope you'll stop by and leave some prompts to inspire us at http://torn-world.livejournal.com/131706.html

Scan-001.BMP
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
I did some writing and some submitting this year, though not as much as I hoped.

Like last year, I had some months where I exceeded my goal of 10 submissions per month; some months where I made some submissions, but not 10; and a few months where life got away from me and the stories that needed submitting sat on my computer, waiting for me to have some time and energy to send them out.

I have a vision for the future, some time when I no longer need a day job, that each working day will include some office hours — time to answer emails, make submissions, proofread completed work, even things like learning to convert files to mobi and other epub formats. But it's clear I need that now, maybe not every day, but every week.

I did not get as much writing done in 2012 as I had hoped — nowhere near as much as I had dreamed, certainly, but also not as much as I thought was a realistic goal. Admittedly, I did have some unplanned health crises that took up quite a bit of my time and energy, starting with My Angel falling in February, and nearly bleeding to death.

But back to office hours, the question is "When?"  I need some de-stressing and refocusing time after work, even when work and health issues don't leave me really too tired for anything else. And weekends, well, weekends are all different. Catching up on sleep, catching up on errands, catching up on laundry, sometimes going to parties or conventions or housefilks — scheduling office hours for weekends seems doomed. But I've got to figure out something.

I suppose that's got to be the first goal for 2013: Figure out some non-doomed time for office hours.

I'm going to renew my 2012 goal of at least 10 submissions per month. I think if I can set up office hours that will be doable. At least I hope so.

And writing. I want to do more writing. I wrote some short stories and poems, and started even more.  I both started and finished the Wild Snowy Chase prequel this year, and added many words to Wild Snowy Chase itself, and the end of that story is in sight. If I hadn't got sick this month, I think I'd have finished it already. Next, of course, is getting Dini and Lalya married off properly. This weekend's Muse Fusion got me too short stories, and one poem closer to that goal already. I also have several things I'm working on that aren't set in Torn World.  I'd like to finish Clockwork Dragon and my shifter mystery.

I think Camp NaNoWriMo is scheduled to happen in March this year, which, if I don't get sick, is a much more likely month for me to make 50,000 words than November. I've always said November is terrible, though even so I managed to win one year. I have solid hopes for March.  I'd like to think of myself as totally self-sufficient, but I do find having companions of this writing journey, and truth be told, having people to compete with (no matter how nominal the competition) has helped keep me focused and writing.

I have other goals too, of course. I'd like to do a few sketches for every Sketch Fest. That's really making a difference in my drawing skill. And I want to do more music. (I won't be doing the coffeehouse talent contest this year, as once again the finals conflict with Capricon.) I'd also like to get the house in better shape. Sadly, all of these things take time, and I don't have any way to squeeze more hours into the day. I guess in the new year, I just have to keep on doing as much as I can, keep dreaming big, and living up to as many of my dreams as possible.

I also started exercising more days than not in 2012, which has made my knees stronger and happier, and even started my weight creeping downward very slowly.  That's something I need to continue. 

Overall, 2012 wasn't bad.  I kept the day job, paid bills, started exercising, dealt with disasters big and small, and didn't stop writing, drawing, singing, and living.  If I didn't do everything I'd hoped to do, well, I always dream big and plan optimistically.  I figure I may never meet all my goals that way, but I'm sure I get more done than if I planned small.  So, here's to 2012 and to 2013.

I hope we all have a safe, wonderful, creative, and happy New Year.

2012-11-27_11-54-13_874
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
The first Muse fusion to span the liminal time between one year and the next is still ongoing. I've left two snippets from my new work there, and one whole poem. We could use a few more prompters, and if we get a new prompter, I'll make one of the short stories I already wrote a second freebie.

Come check it out! http://torn-world.livejournal.com/130007.html

Soon I'll head out to a New Year's Eve party, and to pick up my medicine (and some milk) at the 24-hour Walgreens. But I'll be back!  I hope to see you around.

2012-09-08_13-59-12_40
wyld_dandelyon: (Guitar Angel)
I finished a story last night, just need to read it over and tweak it a bit, and submit it. It's a novelette, 8,000 words before tweaking, and a prequel to Wild Snowy Chase. Jrilii just doesn't want her tale to be short!  I'd call her greedy, except she really isn't, except when it comes to wanting her people's snow-unicorns to survive and thrive. 

Wild Snowy Chase, which is being serialized over at Torn World, is getting SO close to finished too. I loaded all the bits into one file, so I can read it over now that I know what happened before--it's over 30,000 words, well into the Novella category by SFWstandards, and already a YA novel-length. That kind of snuck up on me!

And to think when I first encountered Jrilii, I thought I was writing a quick short story, something interesting to show what it's like for the people who oversummer in the villages instead of traveling to the summer gathers.

If you want to see the gorgeous picture Ellen drew of Jrilii, or read what I originally thought was the beginning of Jrilii's story, you can find it over here: http://www.tornworld.net/fiction.php?id=17

If not, well, check out a yummy cheese.  Safe Deirdre food, and wonderful with organic grapes:

2012-06-27_14-34-07_312

Wictory!

Nov. 1st, 2012 12:14 am
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
Well, a minor victory anyway. I got November's bills scheduled and my NaNoWriMo page set up and saved just at the stroke of Midnight. But hey, progress is progress.

Now I'm going to write a very few words, just enough so I can say I started, and drop into bed. The day job starts early.

But anyway, if you're doing NaNo, feel free to be one of my buddies for the month -- or just check it out! I'll doubtless put together a better mock-cover later, and add an excerpt, and...

But time is wasting. Onward! Time to start counting words
wyld_dandelyon: (outpost picnic)
The Muse Fusion has started! It’s over [Poll #1862289]

It’s easy to sponsor the story—just link to the Muse Fusion (http://torn-world.livejournal.com/116759.html) in your blog, your facebook, your twitter or other appropriate public internet space, and then stop back here to give me a link to your link. I reserve the right to count linkbacks I find out about in some other way, but I won’t be out looking for them. I’ll be getting ready for Worldcon and writing/drawing.

And probably visiting the hospice again. I have a friend who I’ve always really liked, but our schedules never meshed. Still, I always thought that someday…well, there won’t be a someday. She was very recently discovered to have stage four lung cancer, and I just heard about it this week.

I know nobody can do everything they want to do. There’s always more friends to see, more stories to write, more songs to sing, more of everything worth doing than there is time to do those things in. This lady has always been one of the most alive people I know—I believe she lived her life well and fully. But still, she should have many years left to be the wonderful, vital person she’s always been, instead of a just few more days or hours to be with her friends and family. The news hit me hard.

So, I forgot all about posting a poll, thinking instead about roads not taken, and remembering that you never know how short life will prove to be.
wyld_dandelyon: (Torn World)
Next weekend is Torn World's monthly creative jam, when our online storytellers create new fiction, poetry, and art to share with each other, our friends and our readers.  To help  us get in the mood, I thought I'd share this new bit of writing:

Story Time in Torn World
By Deirdre M. Murphy

In the far, cold, North:

Ashari wiggled on her blanket, looking up at the Itakith furshirt. "Tell us a story!"

Tarl rubbed his round belly. "I want a bread story."

Ashari giggled. Tarl always wanted a bread story, because then they got to eat the illustrations.

"How about the tale of Avoku and the moons?" Tarl smiled fondly--it took a lot of bread to illustrate that story properly.

"I'd rather have a teaching story." Ikaluu smiled up at the furshirt. "Tell us about the Others!"

Alainya tied a small ball of blue yarn to the end of her knitting. This bit was a lighter blue than the last one, which made her smile. Her
sky-colors blanket needed to be longer to cover her growing legs. "Yes, tell us about Others. They're pretty."

The furshirt gave her a stern look. "Others are dangerous."

Ikaluu grinned fiercely, and returned to scraping hairs off the hide she wanted to turn into a map. She was going to get
her teaching story.


In a busy Empire city:

"Daddy! Daddy!" Kivegei ran up to Jerumal and hugged his knees. "I don't want to go to bed."

Amanel joined his brother, hugging Jerumal's thighs with one arm and his brother's shoulders with the other. “Let’s play!”

Denel smiled at her family. “Play time’s over. It’s time for bed.”

“But—” Amanel looked at his parent’s implacable faces. “All right, but first a story!”

“A story in bed!” Denel countered.

“One now and one in bed?”

Jerumal laughed. Already his son was learning to negotiate. That should be rewarded. “All right,” he started, but catching the look on his wife’s face, he added, “two stories. But both in bed.”

There were protests, but it really wasn’t hard getting the kids washed up and into bed after promising two stories. Once they were there, Jerumal sat in the bedside chair. “Now, what story should I tell?”

“I want a story about—” Kivegei scrunched up his face and said it slowly, carefully, “anomalies.”

Denel bit her lip, but Jerumal nodded. “I even have a new story for you, in that case. Up in the mountains, near the City of Lights—”

“But it’s not, any more—a City I mean.” Amanel commented.

“That’s right. It’s a restricted zone now.” Jerumal said, sadly.

“It’s a ruin!” Kivegei said, enthusiastically. “The ana-anomalies ruined it.”

“Do you want to hear a story or not?” Jerumal asked.

“Yes, yes, a story!” Both boys bounced in their beds.

“Then settle down.”

They laid down and pulled the covers up obediently.

“There was a day last summer, a particularly fine day. The wind was blowing, and the sun was shining, and Oranaan was working in his laboratory when two of his school friends came to see him.”

“But Science Master Oranaan is a man, not a school boy!” Amanel protested.

“Or a teacher,” Kivegei added.

Jerumal glared theatrically, and the boys pulled the covers up over their mouths.

Yes, Science Master Oranaan is a man, but he used to be a boy, and when he was a boy in school he had school friends.
Two of those friends, now scientists, came to talk to him about cllimbing a tree


In the far, warm South:

Megruu was sitting in one of his mother’s unlikely-looking driftwood-and-monster-bone chairs, showing off his new prostheses to a very young cousin, Druula. A young scientist had developed a method of heat-treating the tough fin-membrane of a deathfin or thunder whale, bending it to form a springy angular “foot”. The things were expensive, and only lasted about half a year, but they were worth it.

Two families of tourists walked by, and the children ran right to Megruu. “Were you a war-sailor?”

Druuli drew herself up as tall as she could. “Megruu is a war-sailor! You should have seen him saving people from a tooth typhoon on Rejoining Day!”

“A what?” A tall boy lifted up a partially-carved shark from Megruu’s table.

“On those things?” A girl pointed at the prostheses with a dark-skinned hand.

Megruu took the carving gently from the boy. “Now, there were a lot of people fighting the monsters that day—including my mother!”

“Really?” The girl gasped, looking at Neteilyu with something like awe.

“Tell
the story, Megruu!” Druula urged.

“Yes, tell us the story!” The tall, skinny mainland boy plopped down in the sand in front of Megruu’s chair.

“A story! A story!” The younger children all pushed forward.

“All right then,” Megruu smiled, “If you’ll all sit down.”

The children cheered and settled, and Megruu picked up a small carving chisel and set to work detailing the shark’s teeth as he began. “It was the morning of Rejoining Day, and my stomach was grumbling. There was plenty of food—but just sundered times stuff, at that hour, and so I was saving room for the good food that wouldn’t be set out until lunchtime…”
________________________________________________________________________________________________


The links above are to  the Torn World stories and poetry I wrote that the characters are referring to.

I look forward to seeing many of you at the Muse Fusion.  Feel free to ask for the kinds of stories, poems, and art you'd like to see.  I also plan to offer one of my subscriber-only stories to be made public as follows:  Once the Fusion opens, for every linkback you tell me about and for every new prompter, I'll make 100 words of one story public in my journal for at least a week, and if the whole story is revealed, I'll leave it public here and have it made public on the Torn World site as well.

I'll run a poll in a few days, including all of my stories and poems that are suggested here, so you can vote which story should be the link-back story.  Here are three to start with:

An Afternoon of Stories
Madness
A Monstrous Feast

Let me know if I should add any others before setting up the poll!







Small print:  As always, this brand-new draft has not been approved by the Canon Board.  The final version that appears on Torn World may be different!
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
Our front porch has a second floor. I don't go out there much--the bedside table makes it hard for my not-so-young self to get in and out of the window, and I'm not that fond of heights. But despite the drought, people were setting off plenty of firecrackers in the neighborhood, and there was a breeze out there too. So I went out and sat on the porch, with a box full of long-ignored PS2 games as a table, and wrote.

It was pleasant, even if our youngest cat came out onto the porch to stare at me in astonishment. The porch, you see, is a cat place, not a human place, in her experience.  And a squirrel place:

2012-06-20 19.57.10

This lovely fellow (or lady) is not a pet.  Somehow it got the ring from the lid to a gallon of milk around its neck.  I'd feel more sorry for it if it hadn't come in the window in the TV room that we have open for the cats (so they can jump over to the porch) and stolen some of my expensive honey-roasted nuts, leaving quite a mess in the windowsill in the process.  That said, by this time of year, squirrels are full-grown, so while he likely has this fashion accessory for life, it doesn't seem to be bothering him any either.

However, the squirrel wasn't there this evening, just me, a bottle of water that too-quickly stopped being cold, cats, and Jrilii's quest to save snow-unicorns.

It was pleasant until my not-so-young behind started hurting, sitting on the hard surface of the porch.  But then (I console myself) even in my youth, I liked pillows or at least a rug underneath me if I was sitting on a hard floor  for any length of time.

Now I'm back inside, enjoying being wide awake at this hour courtesy of having slept for hours this afternoon while it was 102 degrees out.  It's still hot, but not nearly so bad as it was this afternoon.  Tomorrow is expected to be even hotter, but as I have to go to work, I'll be in air conditioning for the worst of it.

See you all later!  Stay cool, write fantastically, and dream sweet dreams.
wyld_dandelyon: (Torn World)
Rowyn is doing Tarot Card Stories and is looking for questions/situations/characters to help inspire them.

The Torn World Muse Fusion is this weekend.  I'd love some questions/prompts relating to things that are unique to Torn World -- time crystals, the Upheaval, Others, the Sundered Times, etc.

Now I should put the rest of the milk away and get writing!
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
The Hues of His Days
a Torn World poem
by Deirdre M. Murphy


Deep blue skies, delicate green seedlings
Crops pushing upward through brown dirt
Tended by golden bees and orange butterflies

Rijorl remembers tendays rowing
Between endless grey skies and gray water
The intense dark of night was a relief
The silvery flash of a serpent-monster
Was more color than they prayed for then

The fields around him now
Offer a wealth of colors
Compared to the sea

Rijorl composes verse for the sky blue snakes
For squatty geese with their clash-colored feathers
Bold bright songbirds and dazzling lizards
He sings for the flowers that hid his scant hair
During the birds’—and humans’—nesting season

After the rainbow rainforest
The Empire’s verdant fields
Seem very nearly monochrome

If you enjoyed this, please consider voting for us at Top WebFiction.


wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
I know I've talked about the Muse Fusion, invited you all to stop by and leave prompts, or perhaps join in, write along with us. And, admittedly, the Muse Fusion comes to mind in part because it's this weekend.

But I thought I'd do something different today, and try to give you a little insight as to what a Muse Fusion is like for me.

It's magic.

Not the flashy magic you see in so many fantasy books, but magic just the same. I take a rested me (or as rested as I can manage, anyway, given that life happens), and a blank computer screen, and set myself free to play with the toys you send me.

Now I find myself yawning, so I'd better head to bed. But feel free to ask questions!

Profile

wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
wyld_dandelyon

June 2017

S M T W T F S
    123
4567 8910
11121314151617
181920 21222324
252627282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags