9th July
O Captain, My Captain,
Spring has long past and we are now in the midst of Summer. Goatswood seems almost to be bursting with life and the cries of small babes and felines. An amazing part of nature to be sure, but one I find I want no part of, as charming as little Horus, Master Ethan and Miss Jacqueline may be. I find my heart rather warmed by the sight of all the felines darting about the town. It was almost a week ago now that I had the delight to stumble upon a small trade market set up near the Butter Cross. I count myself quite lucky to have found Miss Amber in the mood for reading the cards. I do so enjoy having my fortune told, fascinating the little tid-bits that seem to be pulled from the cards. I did my best to commit the event to memory, and have penned it below, for your perusal. The telling is slightly disturbing as it speaks of deception. The cards, or at least the interpretation points to a woman of mutual acquaintance, and one whom I would consider myself on friendly terms with, or at least the potential for a friendship. It is vexing, but I find myself too cautious to brazenly knock upon the Lady's door and demand the truth. Why, imagine if someone knocked upon our door, wanting to know the whys and ways of things. I cannot say I would be very pleased, welcoming or truthful if I was placed in her shoes. For now, I think it might be best to be polite and cordial given the whole situation. Perhaps given time all will be revealed, if not, well truth has a rather nasty way of boiling up to the surface one way or another.
Amongst other things there is a rumor going around about gateway and the new moon. I think it has something to do with Miss Amber and her Lamarchand's box. By the gods I would not mind adding that to my collection. Two configurations are far better than one, in my humble opinion. It seems I am not the only one to take notice of such a dark bit of treasure. If memory serves correct the Lady E and Doctor C are also most interested in the device.
It was regrettable that you were unable to come to Lady Wormwood's tantric lecture at the Villa. It was most insightful.Lady Wormwood demonstrated the technique upon James. I do believe that Doctor Cantis took away a great deal of information. I am again reminded that we have such diverse and unique talents among us.
Achingly Yours,
Angeline~
Angeline's Reading 7 July
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff waves farewell to the Major, before turning to Angeline, blushing at Lauren's words, she shuffles them, all the while her eyes are locked on Mrs. Blackrain, "Now I'm goin' t' ask ya t' think 'ard on yer question, then cu' th' deck" she hands the shuffled deck to the woman
[Angeline] kept rolling the cigarette holder between her palms, as she focused upon her question, forming it in her mind. Once the question had come to her stopped rolling the cigarette holder and took a long drag before reaching out to cut the deck with her left hand.
Tarot: whispers: Two of Pentacles [Reversed]: Difficulty with handling problems, expect a discouraging message
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff (amber.palowakski): takes the cards from Angeline, and lays them out in the venerable Celtic Cross spread, "Th' firs' car' be th' central issue car', it tells the basic issue at 'and... " she frowns, "Well, th' two o' pen'acles...tha' car' tells us, tha' b'fer ya can 'andle yer problem, ya will 'ave t' learn t' 'andle problems..." she gives her a serious, but compassionate look, and says as kindly as possible, in almost a whisper, "Sometimes ya 'ave t' face yer problems sober, m'lady..."
[Angeline] leaned forward, intent of hearing what the cards would reveal. " I see. All things in moderation, I will be the first to admit I over indulge in my habits."
Tarot: whispers: King of Wands [Reversed]: Severe, unyielding, strict, intolerance, prejudice, quarrels
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff turns over the second card, "Ahhh, this 'xplains things, i' can drive me t' drink too" she grins at Angeline, "One o' th' bigges' forces workin' agains' ya is societal norms, wha' our British cilture deman's o' us in our be'aviour, ya know, stiff upper lip an' all tha'...though I suspec' there is a deeper meanin' 'ere too, so I mus' delve on..."
[Angeline] nods her eyes bright as she watches Miss Amber turn another card.
Tarot: whispers: Queen of Pentacles: Intelligence, thoughtfulness, a creative person, talents are used well, melancholy
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff nods, as she turns the nex' car', she looks up to Angeline, "See, 'ere is th' roo' ma''er, m'lady, yer intelligen', an' 'ave a grasp o' things deeper than mos'....ya fin' yerself buckin' agains' this rigid socie'y, whenever ya see th' fooolishness o' i'...in frustration tha's why ya turn t' drink an' smike..."
[Angeline] blinked and looked on with a touch of surprise. "You know they do say ignorance is bliss. Still, I'd rather know what lies beyond, than go about with pretty blinders."
Tarot: whispers: Knight of Cups [Reversed]: Trickery, fraud, sensuality, idleness, an untruthful person
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff nods to Angeline, "Aye, tha' be true.." she turns over the nex' card, "Now this be th' immedia'e pas', jes' very recen'ly ya were decieve' bu someone ya 'ad trus'ed, ya migh' no' know this yet...bu' this 'appened less than a week ago..."
[Angeline] suddenly goes quite still. When she spoke it was in a careful even tone. " Who dares. Who in their right mind would try to device me.." She took a deep breath, not knowing the matter or extent of the deception.
Tarot: whispers: Two of Cups [Reversed]: A loss of balance in a relationship, a violent passion, love turning bad, a misunderstanding
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff nods, lips tight, she felt there was something deep in this reading, as she turns the next card, her face darkens, "Th' person 'o is decievin' ya, when ya fin' ou' th' deception, it will affec' yer relationship wit' them, whether ya patch i' up or no', is 'ard t' say, bu' at th' time, i' will be 'ard on ya..."
[Angeline] tried to maintain a calm composure as she listened to the reading. Her mind raced, trying to put together a list of her friends and acquaintances running through each name trying to ferret out the deceiver amongst them. The Captain was ruled out immediately, for she knew despite all, she could count on him always.
Tarot: whispers: Nine of Wands: Preparedness, eventual victory, good health, strength in reserve, tendency to obstinacy
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff smiles...while she felt there was something here she should be seeing for herself, this reading was nowhere near as dark as Arielle's was; she gives Angeline a knowing look, "Bu' ye are string, i' don' matter iffn ya like yer drink an' smoke, ya 'ave an inner strength, ya are rea'y to 'andle an' deal wit' this, an' any problem"
[Angeline] let out a small sound of surprise as she recalls the event at the Mill Fields. The memory creeping up though her scattered thoughts
Tarot: whispers: King of Pentacles [Reversed]: Materialistic, slow to anger, 'head is on the ground', bribes
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff smiles softly, "This car' is 'ow ya see yerself, ya like th' things o' this worl', th' creature comforts, ye' ya feel yer a sensible person"
[Angeline] nods along in agreement. " All one anyone can ever take with them is memories. I would look back on times of enjoyment and comfort, not of wanting and need."
Tarot: whispers: III - The Empress [Reversed]: Vacillation, inaction, lack on concentration, indecision, anxiety, infidelity
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff nods, flips the next card, "Yet there are those that see your indulgences in drink an' smoke as an inability t' concentrate in things aroun' ya, people think i' detrac's from your talen's..."
[Angeline] shrugs, " To each his own. I find that what works for me may not work so well for others."
Tarot: whispers: King of Cups [Reversed]: A powerful man but a double-dealer, crafty, violent, scandal
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff gasps, her eyes grow wide, she sees the connection..."Good gods!" she mutters, she bites her lower lip, "I know the deceivers..." she glances at James, finally putting together what he had been doing...Montwyte's spell, which she knew he cast...her pendan't's reaction to Ellori's spell, she turns to Angeline and cryptically says, "Your 'usban' knows 'o is decievin' you both, 'e foun' out th' answer today...'
Angeline rolled the cigarette holder between her fingers. " Ah-hmm. Yes.' she clicked her cigarette holder against her teeth as an idea was beginning to take hold. She took a drag off her cigarette, as she began to collect her thoughts
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff at that particular moment was too intent on the reading she didn't see Lin's wave, her right thumb on the upside down Empress...clearly a pregnant woman,...but reversed...and her right index finger on the King of Cup...reversed, "G'dammi'" she mutters...
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff her lips tighten as she turns the final card, "Th' unitiated will read a Page as a young boy, bu' tha' ain' so...ya 'ave the king an' Queen as a match...an' th' knigh' an' page as a match...male an' female....this card 'ere represents a woman...fakin' ill 'ealth..."
[Angeline] clamped down on her cigarette holder with a dark smouldering look in her eyes. "I see." She saw, or at least thought she saw the pattern laid out by the cards. " By the dreaming dark, my question has been answered. Give your gods their due for your gift O sibyl." With that Angeline laid out two stacks of coin
Amberlyssa Marie Bauerhoff takes the stack of coins, her face is solemn, "When th' moon is new, my gods shall receive th benefi' o' this gif', Lady Blackrain" she closes her eyes, and looks down the lane, at the house where an innocent newborn lies sleeping
[Angeline] stood , fluffing out her skirts. "I need to meet up with the Captain...and discuss some matters.'
Friday, July 19, 2013
Journal No 21
5th May
O Captain, My Captain,
A few weeks have passed since my last letter. I shall try my best to explain, but I find it difficult to put into words.
The Lady E was kind enough to set herself to the task of preparing a tincture and perfume for my personal studies. The mind is a vast place, each one with depths and caverns unknown, not unlike the ocean. I wanted to travel the uncharted waters of the mind, to push against the boundaries until making contact with another. The tincture I requested was to aid me in this...personal challenge. I was warned of the dangers of using the various plants, knowing of their properties. What I had failed to take into account was the fact that most of these plant substances are used in various shamanic rituals for vision questing and the facing of one's self. I had thought that by not belonging to those faiths, that using these entheogenic plants I would somehow be able to skip that process in order to reach out and touch the mental waters of another. I was wrong. I had no intention of going through such an ordeal and found myself unprepared for such a task. When a dark mirror is held up to one's very being and everything is laid exposed, do you look or turn away? It is a question one must answer for oneself. I, being who I am, looked.
They say the Egyptian gods have a ritual after one is dead. Anubis weighs one's heart against the feather of Ma'at. If the heart is heavier than the feather then it is devoured by a crocodile headed goddess, cursing one's soul to eternal restlessness. Finding myself trapped in a strange state of being, there was no one to judge my actions except myself and I could imagine no harsher judge. Good, evil...dark light.. is all just a matter of perspective. I am not a Jain, nor would I ever aspire to be one. I am the sum of my actions and experiences and would have it no other way. To want to change for someone else's values is to give up ones own, I feel.
So, I would like to say that the tincture is a success, but I feel that each participant will have to face some sort of personal intense introspection before being able to attempt mental contact with another.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain,
A few weeks have passed since my last letter. I shall try my best to explain, but I find it difficult to put into words.
The Lady E was kind enough to set herself to the task of preparing a tincture and perfume for my personal studies. The mind is a vast place, each one with depths and caverns unknown, not unlike the ocean. I wanted to travel the uncharted waters of the mind, to push against the boundaries until making contact with another. The tincture I requested was to aid me in this...personal challenge. I was warned of the dangers of using the various plants, knowing of their properties. What I had failed to take into account was the fact that most of these plant substances are used in various shamanic rituals for vision questing and the facing of one's self. I had thought that by not belonging to those faiths, that using these entheogenic plants I would somehow be able to skip that process in order to reach out and touch the mental waters of another. I was wrong. I had no intention of going through such an ordeal and found myself unprepared for such a task. When a dark mirror is held up to one's very being and everything is laid exposed, do you look or turn away? It is a question one must answer for oneself. I, being who I am, looked.
They say the Egyptian gods have a ritual after one is dead. Anubis weighs one's heart against the feather of Ma'at. If the heart is heavier than the feather then it is devoured by a crocodile headed goddess, cursing one's soul to eternal restlessness. Finding myself trapped in a strange state of being, there was no one to judge my actions except myself and I could imagine no harsher judge. Good, evil...dark light.. is all just a matter of perspective. I am not a Jain, nor would I ever aspire to be one. I am the sum of my actions and experiences and would have it no other way. To want to change for someone else's values is to give up ones own, I feel.
So, I would like to say that the tincture is a success, but I feel that each participant will have to face some sort of personal intense introspection before being able to attempt mental contact with another.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 20
>13th April
O Captain, My Captain,
I lay restless at night. Dreams are fleeting and hard to decipher. Washes of colour and strange harmonics are all that linger when I awake, leaving me in a slight state of confusion...distracting me from my studies. True rest escapes me while I toss and turn. I swear I sleep no more than an hour before the dreaming wakes me. My face has begun to show the signs of my poor sleep habits. Dark circles have formed under my eyes and I find myself trying to fall asleep in the middle of the day, my body telling me of it's exhaustion. I have tried my best to avoid others at this time lest they think I have taken on some spring ailment. I feel so...halfway. Half here in this world while part of me is adrift...elsewhere. Little fears creep along my psyche, whispering to me that this way leads to madness. I have no choice, I must continue on. To do otherwise...I knew when I started this journey there was no turning back. All knowledge is worth having.
I shall do my best to eat a few more meals, it just will not do to start wasting away for lack of a restful sleep. I think perhaps a heavy dose of opium will give me a solid night's rest...if not I think there are a few in town who would be able to craft a sleeping draught that may do the trick.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain,
I lay restless at night. Dreams are fleeting and hard to decipher. Washes of colour and strange harmonics are all that linger when I awake, leaving me in a slight state of confusion...distracting me from my studies. True rest escapes me while I toss and turn. I swear I sleep no more than an hour before the dreaming wakes me. My face has begun to show the signs of my poor sleep habits. Dark circles have formed under my eyes and I find myself trying to fall asleep in the middle of the day, my body telling me of it's exhaustion. I have tried my best to avoid others at this time lest they think I have taken on some spring ailment. I feel so...halfway. Half here in this world while part of me is adrift...elsewhere. Little fears creep along my psyche, whispering to me that this way leads to madness. I have no choice, I must continue on. To do otherwise...I knew when I started this journey there was no turning back. All knowledge is worth having.
I shall do my best to eat a few more meals, it just will not do to start wasting away for lack of a restful sleep. I think perhaps a heavy dose of opium will give me a solid night's rest...if not I think there are a few in town who would be able to craft a sleeping draught that may do the trick.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 19
4th April
O Captain, My Captain~
Spring has finally arrived and I notice it not. I find myself more than a little withdrawn from society, and people in general these days. I watch them from my windows as they pass below and I have to wonder. Are most even aware? Do they go about their lives in some hum drum fashion, point A leading to point B without sparring a thought that there might be more if they only choose to look deeper. Do they only care about feeding the body machine and not the soul? If they already go about like an automaton, would they take notice if one tried to tap into that essence of unused soul? Perhaps I choose my words poorly. I say soul, but a better term might be the potential. Imagine, siphoning off this under used part of man and applying it...elsewhere. An energy source if you will. It is an interesting thought, if nothing else.
Still, I find my mood rather dark and disconnected. I may ever go so far as to say jaded. I almost feel paper thin, ready to fly off with the slightest breeze. I cannot puzzle out why. Perhaps it is the strain of my studies, perhaps my dreams...if I could recall them. I think it for the best that I try to keep myself at a remove. Those who know of my habits will be able to find me if they are in need.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
Spring has finally arrived and I notice it not. I find myself more than a little withdrawn from society, and people in general these days. I watch them from my windows as they pass below and I have to wonder. Are most even aware? Do they go about their lives in some hum drum fashion, point A leading to point B without sparring a thought that there might be more if they only choose to look deeper. Do they only care about feeding the body machine and not the soul? If they already go about like an automaton, would they take notice if one tried to tap into that essence of unused soul? Perhaps I choose my words poorly. I say soul, but a better term might be the potential. Imagine, siphoning off this under used part of man and applying it...elsewhere. An energy source if you will. It is an interesting thought, if nothing else.
Still, I find my mood rather dark and disconnected. I may ever go so far as to say jaded. I almost feel paper thin, ready to fly off with the slightest breeze. I cannot puzzle out why. Perhaps it is the strain of my studies, perhaps my dreams...if I could recall them. I think it for the best that I try to keep myself at a remove. Those who know of my habits will be able to find me if they are in need.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 18
20 March
O Captain, My Captain~
I devote too much time to my studies. I keep going over theory after theory in the hopes that I may achieve the results I so desire. It is taxing at times, for I find myself thinking of little else. I obsess on it, worrying at it like a dog with a bone. If I can just work out a few more details, I am sure to succeed. I need to push myself just a little father, a little harder. I must find the key that will open up the mental channels of communication. The drugs do help. The intoxication I find allows more mental freedoms than one would expect. It allows me to examine things from angle's that was unable to see from the dreaded state of sobriety.
When I do steal a few hours of rest, my mind is plagued with strange dreams that I cannot recall upon awakening. They leave me feeling panicked, along with a sense that something is missing....unnamed, unknown but a void still felt none the less. Perhaps it is the comet Pandora on the horizon that disturbs me, perhaps. If I were not so wrapped in applying my theory I would like to study the astronomical event. It is not every day a comet comes my way.
It pains me to let you know that Psychopomp, the song bird is no longer with us. She was a rare and unusual bird. I found that I did not have the...personality to keep it contained, bound to me if you will. Birds are small, and the bones so delicate. It took far less energy than I had imagined would be needed to break her tiny neck. In any case, what was contained is now free, to do as it will. I have no doubt the smoke elemental will seek me out when she....it requires my service in turn..
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I devote too much time to my studies. I keep going over theory after theory in the hopes that I may achieve the results I so desire. It is taxing at times, for I find myself thinking of little else. I obsess on it, worrying at it like a dog with a bone. If I can just work out a few more details, I am sure to succeed. I need to push myself just a little father, a little harder. I must find the key that will open up the mental channels of communication. The drugs do help. The intoxication I find allows more mental freedoms than one would expect. It allows me to examine things from angle's that was unable to see from the dreaded state of sobriety.
When I do steal a few hours of rest, my mind is plagued with strange dreams that I cannot recall upon awakening. They leave me feeling panicked, along with a sense that something is missing....unnamed, unknown but a void still felt none the less. Perhaps it is the comet Pandora on the horizon that disturbs me, perhaps. If I were not so wrapped in applying my theory I would like to study the astronomical event. It is not every day a comet comes my way.
It pains me to let you know that Psychopomp, the song bird is no longer with us. She was a rare and unusual bird. I found that I did not have the...personality to keep it contained, bound to me if you will. Birds are small, and the bones so delicate. It took far less energy than I had imagined would be needed to break her tiny neck. In any case, what was contained is now free, to do as it will. I have no doubt the smoke elemental will seek me out when she....it requires my service in turn..
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 17
10th March
O Captain, My Captain~
Time moves on, as it does without regard for mere mortals. I find myself settling into a state of contentment as I continue on with my studies. Never before have I felt so free in my learning process. It is as if the cosmos above pulls me along my chosen path. I find it to be almost eerie how eager I am to adapt, to mutate, and meld my...associations with voodoo to such strange and cosmic heights.
I suppose I lied earlier when I spoke of contentment. It is more that I am driven in my need to know. It's like trying to grab something that is almost beyond one's reach. Straining every muscle and tendon, trying to gain those few extra inches because you know you've almost got it.
When the village is silent in the dead of night, I climb the manor tower. It is here I rest, that I find solace from the problems of the day. A place where I try to ease my mind and free it from mental obstacles...roadblocks if you will.
From the parapet I can almost see forever. I lose myself in the vast expanse before me forgetting everything. For a moment, I realize that I too am nothing more than stardust, shining out some dark light. It makes me wonder, thousands of years from now, will my dark light still shine? Like the dead stars winking in the night, will I too leave a mark of my passing?
The other night Miss Amber and I spoke of matters of a healing sort. It was during this conversation that I was struck by how compassionate her skills are. I think it must speak to her kind nature. I wonder if she will be able to keep that benevolence as time passes. Time and experience can scour away so much. It erodes at one, much like a piece of sea glass caught in the tumble of the surf. It is still glass, but it is nothing like the glass it started out as. In my time I have seen many become jaded. It is rare the one that can stand against such outside forces, and not be changed.
It is not that I consider myself a malignant force, or that I seek to actively harm others. Perhaps I have a cruel streak, but it is more that I am self serving. I shall always put my needs and interests above all others, saving yourself. I am aware of myself enough to acknowledge that fact and make no apologies for it. It is part of who I am, and a leopard does not change it's spots. If that marks me as tainted or dark to some, then so be it. I will not be other than what I am.
I do still insist that one may have a dark nature and still have a strange sort of kindness. One cannot have light without the dark as they say. Some just feel more at ease in the shadows than they do by the glaring light. Even the Hermit shields his eyes away from the light if one looks close enough at a tarot card.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
Time moves on, as it does without regard for mere mortals. I find myself settling into a state of contentment as I continue on with my studies. Never before have I felt so free in my learning process. It is as if the cosmos above pulls me along my chosen path. I find it to be almost eerie how eager I am to adapt, to mutate, and meld my...associations with voodoo to such strange and cosmic heights.
I suppose I lied earlier when I spoke of contentment. It is more that I am driven in my need to know. It's like trying to grab something that is almost beyond one's reach. Straining every muscle and tendon, trying to gain those few extra inches because you know you've almost got it.
When the village is silent in the dead of night, I climb the manor tower. It is here I rest, that I find solace from the problems of the day. A place where I try to ease my mind and free it from mental obstacles...roadblocks if you will.
From the parapet I can almost see forever. I lose myself in the vast expanse before me forgetting everything. For a moment, I realize that I too am nothing more than stardust, shining out some dark light. It makes me wonder, thousands of years from now, will my dark light still shine? Like the dead stars winking in the night, will I too leave a mark of my passing?
The other night Miss Amber and I spoke of matters of a healing sort. It was during this conversation that I was struck by how compassionate her skills are. I think it must speak to her kind nature. I wonder if she will be able to keep that benevolence as time passes. Time and experience can scour away so much. It erodes at one, much like a piece of sea glass caught in the tumble of the surf. It is still glass, but it is nothing like the glass it started out as. In my time I have seen many become jaded. It is rare the one that can stand against such outside forces, and not be changed.
It is not that I consider myself a malignant force, or that I seek to actively harm others. Perhaps I have a cruel streak, but it is more that I am self serving. I shall always put my needs and interests above all others, saving yourself. I am aware of myself enough to acknowledge that fact and make no apologies for it. It is part of who I am, and a leopard does not change it's spots. If that marks me as tainted or dark to some, then so be it. I will not be other than what I am.
I do still insist that one may have a dark nature and still have a strange sort of kindness. One cannot have light without the dark as they say. Some just feel more at ease in the shadows than they do by the glaring light. Even the Hermit shields his eyes away from the light if one looks close enough at a tarot card.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 16
5th March
O Captain, My Captain~
I must say the beginning change in seasons seems to be drawing people away from their hearths and hot water bottles and out in the streets. I've seen a few horse and riders about and I have been quite pleased with how social the Butter Cross has become. Why the other evening there was a gypsy fellow playing on the violin. Played a few tunes, that made for a pleasant addition to the conversation. Seems like March holds a few events in store for us. The Witchshire Adventure Society is hosting another wonderful tales from the Orient. Lady Wormwood's tales are not to be missed. There is also a Saint Patrick's dance and art show hosted by the Romantic. If I recall correctly The Vintners will be putting their art on display.
I did make inquiries towards the Roebuck's policies of shoes in the pub, and Masterson did his best to reinforce his position that only people of quality frequented his establishment. Although when pressed as to what or who deemed a person to be of quality he apologized for offending my sense of charity. What sets someone apart from the rest, what elevates them in my eyes is perhaps different than the societal norms. We humans are a judgmental lot. I have yet to meet one that wasn't.
Speaking of the Roebuck, Miss Amber seems to have had a bit of bad luck with Black Jack's ghost. The poor young woman was covered in pinch marks. The Roebuck would do well to post a sign warning it's lady clients to be wary of spectral grabs.
Lady Isabella Locheart (although later I heard her say her father's name was Fenwitch, perhaps she is traveling under her mother's name?) has newly arrived to the area and I think she is beginning to settle herself into life in the village. She seems a brave soul and did not appear to be too terrified at the prospect of staying at the Roebuck. I was very pleased to learn that she has found accommodations here at the manor.
I must say am I excited over the...study group that we have developed. I am eager to find other minds of unusual nature and talent who might find... such pursuits...inciting to say the least.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I must say the beginning change in seasons seems to be drawing people away from their hearths and hot water bottles and out in the streets. I've seen a few horse and riders about and I have been quite pleased with how social the Butter Cross has become. Why the other evening there was a gypsy fellow playing on the violin. Played a few tunes, that made for a pleasant addition to the conversation. Seems like March holds a few events in store for us. The Witchshire Adventure Society is hosting another wonderful tales from the Orient. Lady Wormwood's tales are not to be missed. There is also a Saint Patrick's dance and art show hosted by the Romantic. If I recall correctly The Vintners will be putting their art on display.
I did make inquiries towards the Roebuck's policies of shoes in the pub, and Masterson did his best to reinforce his position that only people of quality frequented his establishment. Although when pressed as to what or who deemed a person to be of quality he apologized for offending my sense of charity. What sets someone apart from the rest, what elevates them in my eyes is perhaps different than the societal norms. We humans are a judgmental lot. I have yet to meet one that wasn't.
Speaking of the Roebuck, Miss Amber seems to have had a bit of bad luck with Black Jack's ghost. The poor young woman was covered in pinch marks. The Roebuck would do well to post a sign warning it's lady clients to be wary of spectral grabs.
Lady Isabella Locheart (although later I heard her say her father's name was Fenwitch, perhaps she is traveling under her mother's name?) has newly arrived to the area and I think she is beginning to settle herself into life in the village. She seems a brave soul and did not appear to be too terrified at the prospect of staying at the Roebuck. I was very pleased to learn that she has found accommodations here at the manor.
I must say am I excited over the...study group that we have developed. I am eager to find other minds of unusual nature and talent who might find... such pursuits...inciting to say the least.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 15
24th Feb
O Captain, My Captain~
I do so enjoy writing you these letters. I don't think I fully express how much pleasure I get out of putting my thoughts down on paper. I like to think of it as a sort of mental exercise, stretching the grey-matter. At any rate this week was... eventful.
You were witness to the...altercations on the Velvet Green. I think it was sparked by the balmy weather. Everyone was out and about after being cramped indoors for much of the winter.
I hear cabin fever does give rise to tempers. I know mine certainly flared. I cannot say I have a..a hatred for Mister Bastard, but I do get a sense of enjoyment watching the man squirm uncomfortably. If I can add to his discomfort, more the better. I do feel for his fiance, Miss Rose. I am not sure the woman knows what she is getting into. Why just the other day I heard the Bastard offering to help a lady out of her pants. I fear their union...will not be as enjoyable as ours. I did lose my temper after hearing from Miss Amber how Bastard likes to treat some of the women in town. Informed of his rather crude and barbaric behavior towards Lady E.D. I am not at all sorry to have hit him with Fever Dreams. It is much to my regret that the good Doctor was exposed to the concoction.
I was most surprised to witness Miss Lauren go after Anna, but I caught mention of a tooth. It appears as if Miss Lauren is after an artifact of sorts. First Masterson with Black Jack's hand and now a tooth. I think perhaps this tooth is the same mentioned a few months back in association with the Deep Pit mining troubles. I would pay a pretty penny to have you examine and study these objects'd arcane.... I do tend to wander in my thoughts, back to the Velvet Green and Miss Lauren. I hope with her attack on the good doctor, others will have not noticed or forgotten of my involvement with the Bastard and the accidental dosing of Anna. If the townsfolk are willing to believe it was all to blame on Miss Lauren, I shall not sway their opinions.
Moving onto other subjects, I am pleased that I have had the opportunity to lease the bottom floor of the tenant house in the village. I think I have rearranged most, if not all of the alchemical lab as I have expanded our....magick lab ( the word is stuck out out and replaced with workroom). If you cannot find certain ingredients, I may have stored them in one of the cabinets. I must thank you for handing me your lab texts. I have placed then in the Books of Shadows for posterity...and quick reference if needed. The book should not be hard to find if one looks around enough. I do like a bit of a cluttered chaos around my work station.
Lady Amelia's tea at the Folly was a delightful event. The drinks were of quality and the food, delicious. I was most, most impressed with Miss Bebel's topic of conversation. Such a progressive thinker, she will be missed as she works abroad in London. The question globe was interesting and I enjoyed watching others squirm as they were put on the spot. It can be quite the thing, to stand before a group of strangers and have to answer about oneself. Intimidating and more than a little thrilling.
I ran into Miss Amber after the tea and she made mention of Ulthar and a case of mistaken feline identity. It appears that she found a little black cat that looked almost exactly like Ulthar. As I was told, Amber gave the feline a sleeping mixture Imagine her surprise upon finding out the hell-beast belonged to Miss Lauren. I was present for the.. discovery that Lauren's cat was not Ulthar, Miss Amber assures me of this, but I found myself included with a..confusion hex meant to try and befuddle the cat. Her words have a ring of truth to them and it does explain why I was standing outside the lab....workroom as a hellbeast feline launched itself at me. The door facing the street looks a little worse for wear, but I promise you those claw marks are not from our beloved Ulthar.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I do so enjoy writing you these letters. I don't think I fully express how much pleasure I get out of putting my thoughts down on paper. I like to think of it as a sort of mental exercise, stretching the grey-matter. At any rate this week was... eventful.
You were witness to the...altercations on the Velvet Green. I think it was sparked by the balmy weather. Everyone was out and about after being cramped indoors for much of the winter.
I hear cabin fever does give rise to tempers. I know mine certainly flared. I cannot say I have a..a hatred for Mister Bastard, but I do get a sense of enjoyment watching the man squirm uncomfortably. If I can add to his discomfort, more the better. I do feel for his fiance, Miss Rose. I am not sure the woman knows what she is getting into. Why just the other day I heard the Bastard offering to help a lady out of her pants. I fear their union...will not be as enjoyable as ours. I did lose my temper after hearing from Miss Amber how Bastard likes to treat some of the women in town. Informed of his rather crude and barbaric behavior towards Lady E.D. I am not at all sorry to have hit him with Fever Dreams. It is much to my regret that the good Doctor was exposed to the concoction.
I was most surprised to witness Miss Lauren go after Anna, but I caught mention of a tooth. It appears as if Miss Lauren is after an artifact of sorts. First Masterson with Black Jack's hand and now a tooth. I think perhaps this tooth is the same mentioned a few months back in association with the Deep Pit mining troubles. I would pay a pretty penny to have you examine and study these objects'd arcane.... I do tend to wander in my thoughts, back to the Velvet Green and Miss Lauren. I hope with her attack on the good doctor, others will have not noticed or forgotten of my involvement with the Bastard and the accidental dosing of Anna. If the townsfolk are willing to believe it was all to blame on Miss Lauren, I shall not sway their opinions.
Moving onto other subjects, I am pleased that I have had the opportunity to lease the bottom floor of the tenant house in the village. I think I have rearranged most, if not all of the alchemical lab as I have expanded our....magick lab ( the word is stuck out out and replaced with workroom). If you cannot find certain ingredients, I may have stored them in one of the cabinets. I must thank you for handing me your lab texts. I have placed then in the Books of Shadows for posterity...and quick reference if needed. The book should not be hard to find if one looks around enough. I do like a bit of a cluttered chaos around my work station.
Lady Amelia's tea at the Folly was a delightful event. The drinks were of quality and the food, delicious. I was most, most impressed with Miss Bebel's topic of conversation. Such a progressive thinker, she will be missed as she works abroad in London. The question globe was interesting and I enjoyed watching others squirm as they were put on the spot. It can be quite the thing, to stand before a group of strangers and have to answer about oneself. Intimidating and more than a little thrilling.
I ran into Miss Amber after the tea and she made mention of Ulthar and a case of mistaken feline identity. It appears that she found a little black cat that looked almost exactly like Ulthar. As I was told, Amber gave the feline a sleeping mixture Imagine her surprise upon finding out the hell-beast belonged to Miss Lauren. I was present for the.. discovery that Lauren's cat was not Ulthar, Miss Amber assures me of this, but I found myself included with a..confusion hex meant to try and befuddle the cat. Her words have a ring of truth to them and it does explain why I was standing outside the lab....workroom as a hellbeast feline launched itself at me. The door facing the street looks a little worse for wear, but I promise you those claw marks are not from our beloved Ulthar.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
Journal No 14
15 Feb
O Captain My Captain,
My apologies for this late missive. It seems I was stricken by a high fever. If I did not know better I would have sworn that I dosed myself with my concoction of Fever Dreams. I dreamt of odd of things, flickerings of madness. I tremble to try to put them to words, as if in doing so I might lead them to our reality. Trying to sleep through the bone wracking chills, I tossed and turned, often waking myself from a fitful rest. It was during these waking moments that I found it hard to distinguish dreams from reality. The very shadows seemed to come alive as they crept and writhed across the walls of our chambers.
It was during one of these bouts of half-lucidity that I heard a commotion out on the balcony. I stepped out and found Ulthar standing over a small dark object. She growled, offering a hiss as I scooped her way from her prey. I knelt down to see that Ulthar was in the process of catching a small song bird. It's dark wings beat feebly against the ground, it's eyes wide with terror. I am not a cruel person by nature, but I do take opportunities when they come my way. I picked up the small bird. It's heartbeat fluttering about in a wild manner. Sick as I was, I managed to get myself dressed and make my way to the workroom in the village. My recent studies needed some application...and the songbird at death's door was the perfect medium. I do not know if it was the bird's desire to live, but live it now does. I have written up the complete process on what was done to the songbird in my...work notes should you have the time and interest to read them.
The bird still sings, which pleases me to no end. Ulthar does not seem very interested in eating the little thing these days. She will sit and stare at it for hours though. Sometimes when the light is just right the bird's eyes glow a strange shade of green. So, now we have the cat Ulthar and a songbird, which as you know must have a Name. After some consideration I have decided to call it Psychopomp, much to my dark amusement. Psychopomp has taken a liking to me and will now sit upon my shoulder as I go about my day. I have no doubt that once I am well we shall enjoy taking strolls about the village together.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain My Captain,
My apologies for this late missive. It seems I was stricken by a high fever. If I did not know better I would have sworn that I dosed myself with my concoction of Fever Dreams. I dreamt of odd of things, flickerings of madness. I tremble to try to put them to words, as if in doing so I might lead them to our reality. Trying to sleep through the bone wracking chills, I tossed and turned, often waking myself from a fitful rest. It was during these waking moments that I found it hard to distinguish dreams from reality. The very shadows seemed to come alive as they crept and writhed across the walls of our chambers.
It was during one of these bouts of half-lucidity that I heard a commotion out on the balcony. I stepped out and found Ulthar standing over a small dark object. She growled, offering a hiss as I scooped her way from her prey. I knelt down to see that Ulthar was in the process of catching a small song bird. It's dark wings beat feebly against the ground, it's eyes wide with terror. I am not a cruel person by nature, but I do take opportunities when they come my way. I picked up the small bird. It's heartbeat fluttering about in a wild manner. Sick as I was, I managed to get myself dressed and make my way to the workroom in the village. My recent studies needed some application...and the songbird at death's door was the perfect medium. I do not know if it was the bird's desire to live, but live it now does. I have written up the complete process on what was done to the songbird in my...work notes should you have the time and interest to read them.
The bird still sings, which pleases me to no end. Ulthar does not seem very interested in eating the little thing these days. She will sit and stare at it for hours though. Sometimes when the light is just right the bird's eyes glow a strange shade of green. So, now we have the cat Ulthar and a songbird, which as you know must have a Name. After some consideration I have decided to call it Psychopomp, much to my dark amusement. Psychopomp has taken a liking to me and will now sit upon my shoulder as I go about my day. I have no doubt that once I am well we shall enjoy taking strolls about the village together.
Achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 13
6 Feb
O Captain, My Captain~
I trust the past week has treated you well. I have been absorbed in my studies so much that I fear I have fallen behind in my social duties. I should make mention that there are some social events planned for the near future. I saw a flier for a Chinese New year celebration and a Mardi Gras event. I know I would enjoy attending. I must remind myself to check my calendar to see if we might make an appearance.
I did get a chance to try my hand at the scavenger hunt. I must say it was most enjoyable and was quite the sport trying to find all the mushrooms and herbs. I have saved what I collected in case you might have use for such things.
I was very, very sorry to have missed young Miss Amber do the blessings for Imbolc. I did sneak away from my studies long enough to stand at the edge of Phoebe's Wheel and catching sight of the dancers about the Bonfire. I kept to myself, as is my way at times. Content to watch while keeping myself at a remove. Introvert with a curse of curiosity. I may be a little on the dramatic side. I find it to be not such a curse at all. I do so enjoy knowing what is going on, if not always taking part.
As of this moment I have sequestered myself in the Manor Library. I swear I shall not leave until I have devoted some time to my writing. It is remiss of me to be a few days behind in my letters. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl...as a twist on the saying goes. I normally lock myself away in our chambers when I write, but the smell of old paper, ink and leather bindings just does something for my senses. Let us say that it remains at the very least inspiring...
A slight side note, I am always careful with smoking in the library, it wont do to leave smudges of ash between the pages. Gods will quake if some foolish maid tosses a smoldering ash into the waste bin and start a fire. I am a responsible smoker, and dispose of my rubbish in the proper manner .I dare say one will know where I have been if they follow the smoky scent of cloves, opium and cannabis.
My current studies have given me much to think upon. Proper application of such knowledge is of the utmost importance. I think it would be beneficial if I could speak to you on such things when time allows. Compare notes, shall we say? The undertaking of such a...a test of chaotic will is not a matter of jest or frivolity. Chaotic Will, almost a paradox, but not quite. I promise I do not speak in riddles on purpose, I just have the strangest way of seeing things. In my moments of vanity I tend to think it is one of my more charming qualities.
As always, achingly Yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I trust the past week has treated you well. I have been absorbed in my studies so much that I fear I have fallen behind in my social duties. I should make mention that there are some social events planned for the near future. I saw a flier for a Chinese New year celebration and a Mardi Gras event. I know I would enjoy attending. I must remind myself to check my calendar to see if we might make an appearance.
I did get a chance to try my hand at the scavenger hunt. I must say it was most enjoyable and was quite the sport trying to find all the mushrooms and herbs. I have saved what I collected in case you might have use for such things.
I was very, very sorry to have missed young Miss Amber do the blessings for Imbolc. I did sneak away from my studies long enough to stand at the edge of Phoebe's Wheel and catching sight of the dancers about the Bonfire. I kept to myself, as is my way at times. Content to watch while keeping myself at a remove. Introvert with a curse of curiosity. I may be a little on the dramatic side. I find it to be not such a curse at all. I do so enjoy knowing what is going on, if not always taking part.
As of this moment I have sequestered myself in the Manor Library. I swear I shall not leave until I have devoted some time to my writing. It is remiss of me to be a few days behind in my letters. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl...as a twist on the saying goes. I normally lock myself away in our chambers when I write, but the smell of old paper, ink and leather bindings just does something for my senses. Let us say that it remains at the very least inspiring...
A slight side note, I am always careful with smoking in the library, it wont do to leave smudges of ash between the pages. Gods will quake if some foolish maid tosses a smoldering ash into the waste bin and start a fire. I am a responsible smoker, and dispose of my rubbish in the proper manner .I dare say one will know where I have been if they follow the smoky scent of cloves, opium and cannabis.
My current studies have given me much to think upon. Proper application of such knowledge is of the utmost importance. I think it would be beneficial if I could speak to you on such things when time allows. Compare notes, shall we say? The undertaking of such a...a test of chaotic will is not a matter of jest or frivolity. Chaotic Will, almost a paradox, but not quite. I promise I do not speak in riddles on purpose, I just have the strangest way of seeing things. In my moments of vanity I tend to think it is one of my more charming qualities.
As always, achingly Yours, Angeline~
Journal No 12
28th Jan
O Captain, My Captain,
Another week has come and gone. Time is such a funny thing, some sort of strange self imposed curse upon us humans.
Another Written Word Challenge is behind us, and many a fine tale were told. I have enclosed a card archiving the tales. Looking back, I think there was some commotion over Miss Lauren's pet crow, a slingshot, and a flying cake. Seeing as how my attention was diverted, my recollection is fuzzy at best, unreliable at its worst.
I do regret not being able to fill in more details on the events of the past week. I have applied myself to my studies and the...strain has taken a bit of a toll on my person. I find myself tiring rather easily. I nod off at the strangest of hours with the oddest of dreams.
The dreams are varied and many, shifting from one to another so quickly you only have the whisper of a memory swirled into a sea of moving colours. I found a sense of self clinging to that coloured wave, flowing along following where it would lead. Colours shifted into form. The dream essence around me coalesced into a strange kind of energy; lightly electric but tinged with something..more. I found I was able to focus my gaze upon the form. Shifting forms of colour became a crowd... no a sea of people. Never have I seen so many gathered in one place. The air still held that electric intensity. I would swear that it roiled and moved like something alive. I drifted along that feeling, and found myself hearing music that reached the depths of my soul. I followed the ocean of bodies towards a huge stage a washed in strange fabrics, coloured organic lighting that bubbled across the.. bards that performed. I found myself a part of the ocean, swaying to the tune not unlike the movements of the tide. The words stayed with me upon waking from the ethereal and fantastic. As is the way of dreams, it burned away as I awoke to the here and now, leaving that place neither here nor there but somewhere in between. Before the words to the music were stolen from me I penned them down and now share them with you....
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion's den.
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
That's how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold
I know O Captain, My Captain, that you will find echoes of truth in the bard's song. I want nothing without risk, and nothing common place, heaves forbid, nothing mundane. I set the bar rather high. Only you have managed to knock it down.
Achingly Yours Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain,
Another week has come and gone. Time is such a funny thing, some sort of strange self imposed curse upon us humans.
Another Written Word Challenge is behind us, and many a fine tale were told. I have enclosed a card archiving the tales. Looking back, I think there was some commotion over Miss Lauren's pet crow, a slingshot, and a flying cake. Seeing as how my attention was diverted, my recollection is fuzzy at best, unreliable at its worst.
I do regret not being able to fill in more details on the events of the past week. I have applied myself to my studies and the...strain has taken a bit of a toll on my person. I find myself tiring rather easily. I nod off at the strangest of hours with the oddest of dreams.
The dreams are varied and many, shifting from one to another so quickly you only have the whisper of a memory swirled into a sea of moving colours. I found a sense of self clinging to that coloured wave, flowing along following where it would lead. Colours shifted into form. The dream essence around me coalesced into a strange kind of energy; lightly electric but tinged with something..more. I found I was able to focus my gaze upon the form. Shifting forms of colour became a crowd... no a sea of people. Never have I seen so many gathered in one place. The air still held that electric intensity. I would swear that it roiled and moved like something alive. I drifted along that feeling, and found myself hearing music that reached the depths of my soul. I followed the ocean of bodies towards a huge stage a washed in strange fabrics, coloured organic lighting that bubbled across the.. bards that performed. I found myself a part of the ocean, swaying to the tune not unlike the movements of the tide. The words stayed with me upon waking from the ethereal and fantastic. As is the way of dreams, it burned away as I awoke to the here and now, leaving that place neither here nor there but somewhere in between. Before the words to the music were stolen from me I penned them down and now share them with you....
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion's den.
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
That's how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold
I know O Captain, My Captain, that you will find echoes of truth in the bard's song. I want nothing without risk, and nothing common place, heaves forbid, nothing mundane. I set the bar rather high. Only you have managed to knock it down.
Achingly Yours Angeline~
Journal No 11
20 Jan
O Captain, My Captain~
I fear I must have spent much of this past week in a drug induced haze. I was either lost to chasing the dragon or lost in my continued research into matters of arcane and occult nature. I have to say the inherent properties of the village and surrounding areas leaves me very curious as to how such ...energy came to be collected here, of all places. Some say it is the age of the land amongst others things. I swear I shall not rest until I have discover all of Goatswood's secrets. But, enough of my strange rambles, although I do hope they please you, odd as they are.
Changing topics, I had a engaging time during Saturday's festivities. The treasure hunt was quiet the challenge. I look forward to other scavenger types hunts, rewards be damned. I just love the feel of a mental puzzle. Brings about all kinds of excitement, as I hope you will agree. I did wager a fair bit of coin during the steeplechasing. I shall endeavor to remember to always wager on either the Baron's horse, Requiem, or Mister Masterson. I did lose a little more than was won, but such is the nature of gambling.
Speaking of Mister JT Masterson, the Highwayman's Ball had quiet the bit of entertainment as Mister Masterson appeared to have been over-taken ( shall we say) by the spirit of the long dead highwayman himself. The poor Lady Breezy was assaulted at gunpoint even. I was a might concerned, but had enough drink and drugs in my system to not over react. Perhaps this was a wise move as I later heard the good Baron speaking of his enjoyment to the re-enactment. Still it does make one pause, is the hand of Jack a fetter for the dead, will his spirit over taken the Innkeeper once more? Who knows. In any case I think I shall carry less coin on my person when I take a wander. Hate to be a target of the Highwayman, dead or undead , or any wishing to emulate him or his actions.
I must not forget that the Written Word is hosting another Story Challenge at the Roebuck, this Sunday the 27th. I have hope there will be a good attendance, I do so love a well spun tale.
Aching Yours~ Angeline
O Captain, My Captain~
I fear I must have spent much of this past week in a drug induced haze. I was either lost to chasing the dragon or lost in my continued research into matters of arcane and occult nature. I have to say the inherent properties of the village and surrounding areas leaves me very curious as to how such ...energy came to be collected here, of all places. Some say it is the age of the land amongst others things. I swear I shall not rest until I have discover all of Goatswood's secrets. But, enough of my strange rambles, although I do hope they please you, odd as they are.
Changing topics, I had a engaging time during Saturday's festivities. The treasure hunt was quiet the challenge. I look forward to other scavenger types hunts, rewards be damned. I just love the feel of a mental puzzle. Brings about all kinds of excitement, as I hope you will agree. I did wager a fair bit of coin during the steeplechasing. I shall endeavor to remember to always wager on either the Baron's horse, Requiem, or Mister Masterson. I did lose a little more than was won, but such is the nature of gambling.
Speaking of Mister JT Masterson, the Highwayman's Ball had quiet the bit of entertainment as Mister Masterson appeared to have been over-taken ( shall we say) by the spirit of the long dead highwayman himself. The poor Lady Breezy was assaulted at gunpoint even. I was a might concerned, but had enough drink and drugs in my system to not over react. Perhaps this was a wise move as I later heard the good Baron speaking of his enjoyment to the re-enactment. Still it does make one pause, is the hand of Jack a fetter for the dead, will his spirit over taken the Innkeeper once more? Who knows. In any case I think I shall carry less coin on my person when I take a wander. Hate to be a target of the Highwayman, dead or undead , or any wishing to emulate him or his actions.
I must not forget that the Written Word is hosting another Story Challenge at the Roebuck, this Sunday the 27th. I have hope there will be a good attendance, I do so love a well spun tale.
Aching Yours~ Angeline
Journal No 10
13th Jan
O Captain, My Captain~
The past week seemed to be bustling with activity around Goatswood.
I am happy to find we have our own journal, The Goatswood Observer. Perhaps there will be some entertaining letters to the Editor. I look forward to the coming issues.
The Goatswood Society of Steam took upon themselves to offer hot air balloons rides over the village and surrounding areas. They put out no less than two balloons, at I am sure great costs to themselves. I was fortunate enough to catch a ride with the lovely Dr. Anna. I was pleasantly surprised to find she could pilot such a unique craft. I do believe she learned the skill from Mister Hastings. I must say it was quite entertaining to get a bird's eye view. I did my best to point out areas of note and gave some information on the sites, for the education and entertainment of the other passengers. I'm glad you enjoyed the tour about the village as much as I did.
It was delightful to come across Miss Amber in such good health after that nasty kick from a horse. I find myself unable to put into proper words the...interesting effect of your most recent area of study. I think the three of us learned a bit more about the Raven Woods than was to be expected that evening.
The week ended with the unveiling of the Lord Crawley's archaeological find, Spurius Decimus Villa.
Lord Cromwell, Lady Nena and Mister Finn hosted a stunning affair that ended in a most sublime scene of debauchery. I, being a lady will not name names, but suffice it to say inhibitions were thrown to the wind for many as they aired the darker side of their souls.
I think the attendees found it to be liberating after the long confines of Winter. Dancing, Feasting, Portraits, Bathing. Such delights for the senses. There were showings upon the golden dragon, a lovely dais set up in one of the subterranean ante-chambers. Needless to say such displays of...passion and the over abundance of opium I was barely able to make it to my chambers without your steady hand to guide me.
As entertained as I was by the events, I prefer my pleasure to be kept a little more private...less chance for distractions wouldn't you say? I find myself more than a little aroused thinking back to it all... At any rate, it was delightfully wicked to sneak back to the Villa after most of the revelers had left for the evening. I thought I put on a rather nice showing, if I do say so myself. I fear I am still rather sore and tender after you put me through the dragon's paces. I do consider myself lucky to not have danced myself into a state of madness. Not unlike a Bacchante, moved from ecstasy to madness rendering flesh from bone, devouring those in her path.
Achingly Yours Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
The past week seemed to be bustling with activity around Goatswood.
I am happy to find we have our own journal, The Goatswood Observer. Perhaps there will be some entertaining letters to the Editor. I look forward to the coming issues.
The Goatswood Society of Steam took upon themselves to offer hot air balloons rides over the village and surrounding areas. They put out no less than two balloons, at I am sure great costs to themselves. I was fortunate enough to catch a ride with the lovely Dr. Anna. I was pleasantly surprised to find she could pilot such a unique craft. I do believe she learned the skill from Mister Hastings. I must say it was quite entertaining to get a bird's eye view. I did my best to point out areas of note and gave some information on the sites, for the education and entertainment of the other passengers. I'm glad you enjoyed the tour about the village as much as I did.
It was delightful to come across Miss Amber in such good health after that nasty kick from a horse. I find myself unable to put into proper words the...interesting effect of your most recent area of study. I think the three of us learned a bit more about the Raven Woods than was to be expected that evening.
The week ended with the unveiling of the Lord Crawley's archaeological find, Spurius Decimus Villa.
Lord Cromwell, Lady Nena and Mister Finn hosted a stunning affair that ended in a most sublime scene of debauchery. I, being a lady will not name names, but suffice it to say inhibitions were thrown to the wind for many as they aired the darker side of their souls.
I think the attendees found it to be liberating after the long confines of Winter. Dancing, Feasting, Portraits, Bathing. Such delights for the senses. There were showings upon the golden dragon, a lovely dais set up in one of the subterranean ante-chambers. Needless to say such displays of...passion and the over abundance of opium I was barely able to make it to my chambers without your steady hand to guide me.
As entertained as I was by the events, I prefer my pleasure to be kept a little more private...less chance for distractions wouldn't you say? I find myself more than a little aroused thinking back to it all... At any rate, it was delightfully wicked to sneak back to the Villa after most of the revelers had left for the evening. I thought I put on a rather nice showing, if I do say so myself. I fear I am still rather sore and tender after you put me through the dragon's paces. I do consider myself lucky to not have danced myself into a state of madness. Not unlike a Bacchante, moved from ecstasy to madness rendering flesh from bone, devouring those in her path.
Achingly Yours Angeline~
Journal No 9
6 January
O Captain, My Captain~
Another year has gone, new replaces the old. Time passes on and dreams age. Past memory brushes along my mind with gossamer threads. To try and force them to the surface renders them into nothing.
Memories need to percolate, to rise naturally to the forward thoughts. Sometimes memories take the place of dreams So I dream. Dark cities, dirty and wet. Strange colours glow, pulsing in the darkness. A white haired woman sits surrounded by books behind a dirty pane of glass. Dream time shifts, and the scene changes as is the nature of such things. I hear the sound of wings and the cawing of ravens and I find myself awake, blinking at the ceiling. Don't let me bore you with the phantoms of my mind. I will ramble on and on about the oddest of things.
The new year was brought in with style with free drinks from the Wild man, and a rounds of fisticuffs over at the Cockpit. Thank you kindly for escorting me to the fights. I enjoy gambling and my luck that night payed out more than I lost. Miss Amber even challenged Mister Hastings to a round, she gave a worthy effort, but Mister hastings came out the winner. All hope was not lost as Miss Rhona then challenged Hastings. If I were ever to give advice on who to bet upon, one would do well to wager their coin on Miss Rhona. The night ended with a a bit of a free for all as Miss Amber, Miss Adahila and Mister McCool went in for a grand tussle.
The Mines seem to have been reopened and the man responsible for the upset was taken into custody. Unfortunately Mister Porter escaped from the Mortchester prison. (I have enclosed the latest articles as a bit of interest). To make matters curiouser a man was found hanging from Magdalene's tower. Let me tell you, I have never seen so much interest in a corpse. I know we and another party had..interest in the body, but the Romantics seemed to keep the church well guarded. I tried in vain to lead a few away in search for my lost cat, Ulthar but to no avail. Later on I heard that a few gentlemen from the village removed the body and gave it a proper burial on church grounds. My only question on the matter is this: if Mister Porter committed suicide why was he buried in hallowed ground. If his death was not by his own hand, it seems rather hasty to inter a body without through investigation.
X~ Manor, personal chambers
In the still of the night I felt your fingers trail through my hair as you leaned down, tracing the line of flesh from shoulders to wrist, and then back again. Stating plainly that I had been wined, dinned, drugged, toured about and pampered. You spoke with such calmness when you asked if there was anything else I desired. Your palm open, fingers outstretched. The opening move to a complected dance. I smiled as I placed my fingers alongside yours stepping closer, allowing you to pull me in deeper and letting myself fall down that rabbit hole. You leaned towards me with a creepingly slow manner, your eyes focused on mine, catching every flicker, every flinch of excitement. As you stepped so close my sight began to blur as I felt your hands slip across my body, squeezing, teasing. My breath began to quicken and my pulse raced beneath my skin. I I pushed back, pressing the line of my body against yours. My flesh lighting up with a flood of sensation when your fingers touched. Suddenly clothing seemed to be too much fabric, too much cloth. Tugging feverishly at ties and laces until a pool of fabric puddled around my feet. My skin ached, I ached for your touch. I may have moaned against you, running my fingers lightly across your arm before trying to tug you towards the couch. I did not expect you to be quicker than me and was wickedly surprised when you grabbed my hips and pushed me against a hard eager cock. I heard you groan in pleasure as you bucked against me, encouraging me to ride you. Digging my nails into the cushions as I rocked my hips against the hard length of you. The force was enough to jostle and bounce my breasts with each thrust as I worked against you. Building my own need for release I gave another low moan of pleasure. You grabbed my bouncing breasts and played with them skillfully, using them to guide my thrusts Your pumps began to quicken and with such force that the couch made a creaking sound. You felt warm and energized as you sped up the furious wild fuck.
The minutes crested onward until I was flinging sweat drops from my body. Every time I shuddered with orgasm you would slow only to start ravaging me again I felt the stars explode from behind my eyes as I came. I panted, my legs feeling like water as I pushed myself off of you and towards the floor. The briefest of concern for the couch touched my mind before pushing the thought away.
My world swam in a hedonistic rush. Lowering my upper torso as I arched my pelvis towards you, encouragingly. You followed me onto floor with an eager and playful pursuit, first catching a thick lock of my hair and taking hold of my head firmly. Pulling back strongly as your other palm landed on my ass. Thrusting into my pulsing cunt. You pushed hard once to stabilize my pose and then began pounding me wildly and quickly enough that a wet smack could be overheard along with my panting. The effects working along my senses sparking me to a peak of drugged pleasure, barely coherent enough to be heard begging to be done harder. The sex mingled with my high, increasing my arousal You quickened your pace yet again pace with an already considerably thickened shaft. With variety and tempo change you slammed into me sometimes giving her hip twists and back dips to overload my already ringing muff. Seizing my hair again with the free hand while you rode my quivering body until it was literally stunned into still spells and quakes and my pleads melting into yelps and moans.
I collapsed hard against the floor as I came, colors flashing behind my eyes at the strength of it all. My body convulsed with what I would only describe as aftershocks from orgasm. I let out a small whimper as every nerve ending seemed to crackled from over stimulation. You waited until my breathing slowed a bit before picking up my limp frame, setting me gently on the couch. You eased on your pants and brought my glass pipe over ready for a fresh hit..placing it carefully in my cleavage. I sighed as I took the pipe, taking a long hit off the pipe and coughed, waving half heartedly at the smoke in front of me before passing completely out.
Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
Another year has gone, new replaces the old. Time passes on and dreams age. Past memory brushes along my mind with gossamer threads. To try and force them to the surface renders them into nothing.
Memories need to percolate, to rise naturally to the forward thoughts. Sometimes memories take the place of dreams So I dream. Dark cities, dirty and wet. Strange colours glow, pulsing in the darkness. A white haired woman sits surrounded by books behind a dirty pane of glass. Dream time shifts, and the scene changes as is the nature of such things. I hear the sound of wings and the cawing of ravens and I find myself awake, blinking at the ceiling. Don't let me bore you with the phantoms of my mind. I will ramble on and on about the oddest of things.
The new year was brought in with style with free drinks from the Wild man, and a rounds of fisticuffs over at the Cockpit. Thank you kindly for escorting me to the fights. I enjoy gambling and my luck that night payed out more than I lost. Miss Amber even challenged Mister Hastings to a round, she gave a worthy effort, but Mister hastings came out the winner. All hope was not lost as Miss Rhona then challenged Hastings. If I were ever to give advice on who to bet upon, one would do well to wager their coin on Miss Rhona. The night ended with a a bit of a free for all as Miss Amber, Miss Adahila and Mister McCool went in for a grand tussle.
The Mines seem to have been reopened and the man responsible for the upset was taken into custody. Unfortunately Mister Porter escaped from the Mortchester prison. (I have enclosed the latest articles as a bit of interest). To make matters curiouser a man was found hanging from Magdalene's tower. Let me tell you, I have never seen so much interest in a corpse. I know we and another party had..interest in the body, but the Romantics seemed to keep the church well guarded. I tried in vain to lead a few away in search for my lost cat, Ulthar but to no avail. Later on I heard that a few gentlemen from the village removed the body and gave it a proper burial on church grounds. My only question on the matter is this: if Mister Porter committed suicide why was he buried in hallowed ground. If his death was not by his own hand, it seems rather hasty to inter a body without through investigation.
X~ Manor, personal chambers
In the still of the night I felt your fingers trail through my hair as you leaned down, tracing the line of flesh from shoulders to wrist, and then back again. Stating plainly that I had been wined, dinned, drugged, toured about and pampered. You spoke with such calmness when you asked if there was anything else I desired. Your palm open, fingers outstretched. The opening move to a complected dance. I smiled as I placed my fingers alongside yours stepping closer, allowing you to pull me in deeper and letting myself fall down that rabbit hole. You leaned towards me with a creepingly slow manner, your eyes focused on mine, catching every flicker, every flinch of excitement. As you stepped so close my sight began to blur as I felt your hands slip across my body, squeezing, teasing. My breath began to quicken and my pulse raced beneath my skin. I I pushed back, pressing the line of my body against yours. My flesh lighting up with a flood of sensation when your fingers touched. Suddenly clothing seemed to be too much fabric, too much cloth. Tugging feverishly at ties and laces until a pool of fabric puddled around my feet. My skin ached, I ached for your touch. I may have moaned against you, running my fingers lightly across your arm before trying to tug you towards the couch. I did not expect you to be quicker than me and was wickedly surprised when you grabbed my hips and pushed me against a hard eager cock. I heard you groan in pleasure as you bucked against me, encouraging me to ride you. Digging my nails into the cushions as I rocked my hips against the hard length of you. The force was enough to jostle and bounce my breasts with each thrust as I worked against you. Building my own need for release I gave another low moan of pleasure. You grabbed my bouncing breasts and played with them skillfully, using them to guide my thrusts Your pumps began to quicken and with such force that the couch made a creaking sound. You felt warm and energized as you sped up the furious wild fuck.
The minutes crested onward until I was flinging sweat drops from my body. Every time I shuddered with orgasm you would slow only to start ravaging me again I felt the stars explode from behind my eyes as I came. I panted, my legs feeling like water as I pushed myself off of you and towards the floor. The briefest of concern for the couch touched my mind before pushing the thought away.
My world swam in a hedonistic rush. Lowering my upper torso as I arched my pelvis towards you, encouragingly. You followed me onto floor with an eager and playful pursuit, first catching a thick lock of my hair and taking hold of my head firmly. Pulling back strongly as your other palm landed on my ass. Thrusting into my pulsing cunt. You pushed hard once to stabilize my pose and then began pounding me wildly and quickly enough that a wet smack could be overheard along with my panting. The effects working along my senses sparking me to a peak of drugged pleasure, barely coherent enough to be heard begging to be done harder. The sex mingled with my high, increasing my arousal You quickened your pace yet again pace with an already considerably thickened shaft. With variety and tempo change you slammed into me sometimes giving her hip twists and back dips to overload my already ringing muff. Seizing my hair again with the free hand while you rode my quivering body until it was literally stunned into still spells and quakes and my pleads melting into yelps and moans.
I collapsed hard against the floor as I came, colors flashing behind my eyes at the strength of it all. My body convulsed with what I would only describe as aftershocks from orgasm. I let out a small whimper as every nerve ending seemed to crackled from over stimulation. You waited until my breathing slowed a bit before picking up my limp frame, setting me gently on the couch. You eased on your pants and brought my glass pipe over ready for a fresh hit..placing it carefully in my cleavage. I sighed as I took the pipe, taking a long hit off the pipe and coughed, waving half heartedly at the smoke in front of me before passing completely out.
Angeline~
Journal No 8
30 December
O Captain My Captain~
The holidays are here, I am glad to have spent them in a drugged, hedonistic haze. Time and energy very well spent. As such, I am afraid I have not made many ventures outside of the Manor, other than to check on my studio. Perhaps a few trips to the Wild Man were thrown in for good measure. I cannot recall for certain. Although I do recall dancing with the gypsies. They danced in honor of the full moon, while was moved by the heavy beat of the drums
Reaching too deeply in my personal quest for...knowledge has left it's mark upon me. The strain has taken its toll..odd phrases roll about in dreams, inspiring me on.. I awoke to find several locks of hair had turned white overnight. I find my vanity is well pleased with the look and it serves as a reminder to not ..overtax myself.... I trust you are having better luck with your own studies.
In an attempt to make up for lack of local gossips about the protest over the harvesting of the Raven Woods (of which I stand firmly against, for personal reasons) I have enclosed a few clippings from the Mortchester Times about the most terrible ill luck that has attached itself to the mining operations.
Now, as it pleases you, I have a tale to share. Not a holiday tale, but a small gift of the season. While it was meant to be told aloud, I fear it would be a bit much to have to say.
Crossroads
The storyteller watched those assembled with cool grey-green eyes. Inclining her head to the darkened room she began to speak in a soft melodic voice. Subtly adjusting the various tones and pitch trying to draw in and mesmerize the audience. "Have you heard tell of the crossroads? Seems there's a legend or fable about crossroads, in almost every corner of the world.Crossroads are funny places. Neither here, nor there and to some betwixt and between. Thinny places. Pathways for the dead, a place for demonic deals, or so it has been told. I have one such tale to share. It happened not so long ago and not too far away.... "
"A traveler had a chance to visit Mortchester before making their way to Goatswood proper. It had been raining steadily throughout the day and it wasn't long before they found themselves weary and in need of a bit of refreshment. Spying an Inn nearby they stopped at the front stoop and did their best to kick the mud from their boots before taking a seat near the fire. After a mug of cider and a bit of roasted vegetables the traveler felt rather drained and soon fell into slumber where they sat."
" It was some time later when the traveler awoke as more logs were put upon the hearth. The common room had thinned out leaving only a few customers. Our traveler had just begun to gather their things when the door to the inn banged open in a gust of wind. A chill swept through the room and those unfortunate to be near the door were pelted in a stinging rain"
" Before any could shutter the door there was a crack of lighting outlining a misshapen bundle of a figure. Everyone seemed to be frozen, rooted into place as the figure knocked a heavy walking stick against the ground.
More than a few mugs of ale sloshed in surprise when the man spoke, his voice gravel-rough
" Who will help a weary peddler across the threshold?" The barmaid made a strange gesture with her hands and pointed at the hunched figure.
"Peddlers and tinkers stay in the barn tonight. Rooms are full." The traveler looked at the maid rather curiously, knowing the Inn still had rooms, but having seen such prejudice before.
The travelers made their way to the threshold, staring at the man. Water dripped steadily from the hem of his too short, threadbare cloak. The man looked to be soaked to the bone. The traveler was more than a little fed up with the local superstitions at the expense of a fellow human and before they knew it had thrust out their hand to help the peddler-man inside. The strength of the man's grip surprised our traveler as his hand latched onto their forearm. The traveler pulled back instinctively, and in doing so pulled the peddler across the threshold.
The cane rang a hollow note with each step he took into the room. The man with all his bundles began to twitch like some great grey beast shaking off the damp. He shrugged off the damp goods, pans clanking as the sacks thudded against the ground. All eyes watched as he limped towards the fire warming himself.
It was quite the scene, the old man hunched by the fire, steam rising off his sodden clothes. Our traveler felt a touch of sympathy as they too watched the man. It took the traveler several tries to catch the barmaid's attention. Poor thing was white as a sheet as she refilled the empty mug.
The traveler approached the man with mug outstretched, offering it to the peddler.
" For your troubles on such a rainy night." The peddler turned to study our traveler with odd green eyes that held such intensity,they gleamed by the light of the fire. The gravel rough sound of his voice crept across one's skin as he spoke,
" Much thanks to you. Strangers are not often inclined towards understanding on nights as these." He drank deeply and to the traveler's surprise, had drained the mug. The peddler turned to look at the barmaid who let out a gasp as she dropped the plate in her hands. He laughed, a disturbing sound given the nature of his voice.
The Peddler warmed his hands by the fire as he continued "Stuck in a ditch a ways back, carried what I could. Was hoping to hire some help getting my cart pulled free. Payment when the job is done." He shook a good sized pouch, the sounds of coins falling against each other echoed around the room. the sound alone was enough to get one man's interest.
The traveler watched as a lanky fellow in stained clothes amble towards the peddler. The rather oily man bent down and hefted one of the bundles to his back. "Ain't got nothing better to do. Might as well earn a bit of coin, name's Kip" The old peddler picked up the other sack and clapped Kip on his back bidding him thanks. Wanting to be of some help our traveler gathered their things and set out with them.
The rain has passed, leaving the damp quiet and pale fog in it's wake.
It was quite a long walk, and they made idle conversation to pass the time. The peddler seemed to ignore the traveler's presence as they walked, limping along in no apparent hurry as Kip rambled . The peddler spoke in his gravely voice as he studied Kip. " Say again, where you were headed young Kip?"
Kip shifted the peddler's bag as he spoke, " I mean to make my way to Goatswood, ply my trade there."
The peddler gave a short nod and mentioned he knew which path held the shortest route to the village.
Well now this certainly was a surprise for our traveler as they too had plans to visit the village saying as much to the two of them. The peddler looked over at the traveler with that same intense stare. Our traveler shuddered as if a cat had walked over their grave. Saying nothing as he and Kip moved along. The traveler lost track of how far they trekked that night, but sure enough as they came upon the crossroads a small cart was spilled over into runoff by the road.
The three of them tugged and pulled at the cart until they had finally freed it from the muck and weeds. The peddler gave a satisfied nod as the job was done. As he reached inside the cloak for payment, Kip brandished a dagger at the old man. The peddler stood by while Kip made his demands of gold. He handed the pouch over, just as calm as could be while our traveler stood by in silent outrage over the whole situation.
Kip had gotten rather shouty as he demanded to know the path towards Goatswood, a mad light behind his eyes. The peddler ground his cane into the dirt as he pointed towards the fog. The wind must have shifted as the fog began to thin into wispy tendrils that curled down a winding path half eclipsed by shadows. Kip, who it seemed was as oily as he appeared began to head down the dark path. The traveler watched as the peddler limped to the center of the crossroads and brought the cane down with a mighty crack.
The fog churned and roiled across the path, blocking sight of Kip. The only sound was a series of sickening wet cracks before the fog cleared. The path, and Kip were gone. The Peddler laughed in his gravely way as he leaned down to retrieve the pouch. Plucking a coin from the pouch he tossed it to our traveler who caught the coin on reflex. The coin burned with a cold fire that the traveler felt through their glove seeping through to the bone.
The traveler looked up feeling that strange gaze focused on them. Unable to put thoughts to words the traveler knew what the peddler was. He raised his walking stick and pointed back the way they came. " Take the train." The traveler finding themselves at a loss for words. Turning the traveler began the first steps of the long walk back towards Mortchester. Our traveler kept counsel with their thoughts as they walked. A voice inside their mind warning, don't look back. That, is just what the traveler did. Just a short glance was enough to see that the peddler, cart and were gone. The traveler heard that gravel rough voice speak their name and it sounded almost pleased. The traveler gave an involuntary shudder before hurrying back to Mortchester. The peddler's coin and advice well in hand. Arriving back in town a little after dawn and the traveler made their way towards the train station and requested a ticket to Goatswood.
Angeline, the storyteller danced a heavy coin across the back of one hand and then the other. The coin glinted strangely catching the light. "Now, I can't tell you what to believe or disbelieve but I always believed that you can always feel the truth of a tale in the way that sticks in your head and swirls around. At any rate it is up to you, the listener to decipher fact from fable.
I almost forgot. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with the weather this time of year but I have noticed an influx of ravens about the village. I think I shall leave offerings for them. I am fond of the corvus species and find them to be rather clever. I am sure I saw a reference somewhere that mentioned the birds can recognize their attackers.
I have kept you reading for far too long, my apologies.
Achingly yours,
Angeline~
Journal No 7
23 December
O Captain My Captain
It seems the holidays are almost upon us, I've many a seasonal tune as I've passed through town. We've been so lost in our studies that the time seems to have flown by.
It was during one of my wanderings that i came across a rather strange situation outside the Wild Man. Miss Amber, and as I have heard them called, members of the White Clan seemed to have become involved in some sort of..altercation. Miss White warned Miss Amber to not put her into another trance. Interesting little bit of gossip there I must say. I should stop by the gypsy encampment one of these days and see the truth in Miss White's words. I think there was also mention of the gypsy delusion over gods that are feared. Intriguing notion. Anyways, Amber took a few steps back and waved a piece fennel about and spoke in that old tongue of hers. I heard her later explain to Sir Cromwell that she worked a circle of protection. This intrigues me greatly, and is a subject that bears more research. Of course if it comes to blows between them I think they have enough sense to meet at the Cockpit so others will at least have a chance to wager on the outcome.
There seems to be some crisis dealing with the coal situation. Some blame the village's population growth as the source of the problems. The townsfolk have strong feelings weather or not to chop-down some of the Raven Woods to provide fuel for the winter. I have to admit my knee-jerk reaction is to tell them all to bundle up. While I can understand the need for warmth, I am not sure how I feel about..desecrating the Wood. There was a news clipping I saw the other day that mentioned The Deep Pit mine had an explosion. I am fear this will not bode well for the coal prices in the near future. I have enclosed a few news clippings on the matter My writings seem to drift to speak of Miss Amber. Perhaps it is because I spend too much time at The Wild Man. It was during one of these visits that Miss Ambers seemed to utter a bit of Prophecy. I hope I have penned her words correctly...
"That cold bright night of Blodmonath, whilst the full moon bathed my naked body, linden tree staff to guide my way... "Oh Goatswood, beware! Upon you, O people shall come sore trial. for see, it is upon you that the battle of Light and Darkness shall soon descend. For you, o Goatswood, are the nexus, you are the center of all ley lines. And what shall happen here, shall effect the whole world. The battle lines are drawn. And upon what side shall you sit"
Interesting. I rather enjoyed the bit about Goatswood being a sort of nexus. As for where the battle lines are drawn, well I have to say mine own interests come first and foremost. A consequence of being all too human.
Had the pleasure of meeting up with Colonel Amberton at the Manor lounge. The conversation, i am sure was delightful, although I find myself unable to recall the details. As always I blame the over indulgence of smoke.
Speaking of smoke, where there is smoke there is often fire. I think the situation between the White clan and select members of The Wild Man has grown..tense. Miss Lauren making mention of cursing the local cider, Innkeep Ada and Miss Rhona doing their best to keep a professional demeanor in light of what some would claim is superstitious nonsense. Still if the cream goes sour, or the cider flat folks might go looking in Miss Lauren's direction
Let's see...that brings us to the Written Words Storytelling competition over at the Wild man. As far as I am concerned the event was a success! Everyone seemed to be enjoying the tales and such tales that were told. I shall have to add the rough copies that I made so as to not forget such talent. The votes showed Miss Amber to have taken first place with her tale and Miss Rhona placing second. I think, the next time the Written Word holds an event that perhaps it would be wise to start earlier in the day. If memory serves with all the tales told it lasted almost three hours.
O Captain My Captain
It seems the holidays are almost upon us, I've many a seasonal tune as I've passed through town. We've been so lost in our studies that the time seems to have flown by.
It was during one of my wanderings that i came across a rather strange situation outside the Wild Man. Miss Amber, and as I have heard them called, members of the White Clan seemed to have become involved in some sort of..altercation. Miss White warned Miss Amber to not put her into another trance. Interesting little bit of gossip there I must say. I should stop by the gypsy encampment one of these days and see the truth in Miss White's words. I think there was also mention of the gypsy delusion over gods that are feared. Intriguing notion. Anyways, Amber took a few steps back and waved a piece fennel about and spoke in that old tongue of hers. I heard her later explain to Sir Cromwell that she worked a circle of protection. This intrigues me greatly, and is a subject that bears more research. Of course if it comes to blows between them I think they have enough sense to meet at the Cockpit so others will at least have a chance to wager on the outcome.
There seems to be some crisis dealing with the coal situation. Some blame the village's population growth as the source of the problems. The townsfolk have strong feelings weather or not to chop-down some of the Raven Woods to provide fuel for the winter. I have to admit my knee-jerk reaction is to tell them all to bundle up. While I can understand the need for warmth, I am not sure how I feel about..desecrating the Wood. There was a news clipping I saw the other day that mentioned The Deep Pit mine had an explosion. I am fear this will not bode well for the coal prices in the near future. I have enclosed a few news clippings on the matter My writings seem to drift to speak of Miss Amber. Perhaps it is because I spend too much time at The Wild Man. It was during one of these visits that Miss Ambers seemed to utter a bit of Prophecy. I hope I have penned her words correctly...
"That cold bright night of Blodmonath, whilst the full moon bathed my naked body, linden tree staff to guide my way... "Oh Goatswood, beware! Upon you, O people shall come sore trial. for see, it is upon you that the battle of Light and Darkness shall soon descend. For you, o Goatswood, are the nexus, you are the center of all ley lines. And what shall happen here, shall effect the whole world. The battle lines are drawn. And upon what side shall you sit"
Interesting. I rather enjoyed the bit about Goatswood being a sort of nexus. As for where the battle lines are drawn, well I have to say mine own interests come first and foremost. A consequence of being all too human.
Had the pleasure of meeting up with Colonel Amberton at the Manor lounge. The conversation, i am sure was delightful, although I find myself unable to recall the details. As always I blame the over indulgence of smoke.
Speaking of smoke, where there is smoke there is often fire. I think the situation between the White clan and select members of The Wild Man has grown..tense. Miss Lauren making mention of cursing the local cider, Innkeep Ada and Miss Rhona doing their best to keep a professional demeanor in light of what some would claim is superstitious nonsense. Still if the cream goes sour, or the cider flat folks might go looking in Miss Lauren's direction
Let's see...that brings us to the Written Words Storytelling competition over at the Wild man. As far as I am concerned the event was a success! Everyone seemed to be enjoying the tales and such tales that were told. I shall have to add the rough copies that I made so as to not forget such talent. The votes showed Miss Amber to have taken first place with her tale and Miss Rhona placing second. I think, the next time the Written Word holds an event that perhaps it would be wise to start earlier in the day. If memory serves with all the tales told it lasted almost three hours.
Journal No 6
16 December
O Captain, My Captain~
I cannot believe how quickly this past week seems to have flown. Winter, I gather is a busy Season for the village. As always I shall do my utmost to put down the events as I recall them.
The Romantics held an art showing and a dance last weekend. The art was lovely in an almost sad way. I think my favorite one was of a little cottage by the edge of a pond, or creek. I can't quite seem to recall the details, but the brush strokes looked quite soft. I am generally more fond of bold uses of colour. The Lady Breezy is to be commended for all of her efforts in hosting. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
As luck would have it, Miss Amber was celebrating her natal day. Although she seemed a little unaware of the day, something along the lines of her Mama and Papa having thirteen children and not wanting to keep track of the days. I shall have to ask when next I see her if she is the thirteenth child.
Lady Gwendoline found herself in a bit of a faint. Luckily there were several on hand to offer assistance. A young woman who I believe was called Molly and the rather unusual countryman of mine, Finn McCool. Mister McCool seemed to handle the situation well and helped the young woman with the corset stays. One should never underestimate the powers of a penknife and a little ingenuity.
The good Doctor Anna was in attendance as well as Miss Kiki and a male companion, whose name I did not catch. I also spotted Lady E D'Rais, and Lord Redlaw. Lady Cellestia, Lady Kylie, I even caught sight of the Wildman's own Rhona admiring the art. There was some sort of automatic champagne dispenser on display, which drew quite a crowd with all it's gadgetry. Can you just imagine, glass after glass of cold champagne. Without all the fuss over how to open the damned bottle no less.
The gypsies made an appearance, as I made mention earlier. Miss Phoebe, Miss Amber, and a Miss Sab. I watched them admire a few of the paintings as they made some mention of finding fairy roads and purple paths. I went and examined the paintings in question and I am sorry to say, I did not see what the young ladies were making a fuss about. It was not long before the gypsies had worked up a thirst and moved towards the drinks. Hearing that Miss Amber had never tried Absinthe before I did try to encourage her to try new things. After some consideration Miss Phoebe helped her to a glass, (without sugar if I may point out) which lead to a disaster in appreciating the green fairy. The pack quickly moved along to the next dispense which I have already praised the merits of. After the bitter episode with the absinthe, Miss Amber was very pleased with the champagne. it only took a little encouragement on my part to get the rest of the gypsy girls to join in the fun, as it were. A little nudge here, slight pressure there. It is amazing how quickly people will take to new experience if you phrase things just so. The young ladies had gotten themselves a little tipsy with all the champagne.. I was about to encourage them to try a little more when then began to speak of the faeries again. Only this time they talked of leaving them offerings. I watched with my own eyes as they poured out good champagne for some phantom balls of biting lights. I know I sound a little harsh, but you have to understand I have never seen a fairy. It is just not the same as leaving offerings for the hungry dead, at least in my opinion. I shall make time one of these days to corner Miss Phoebe or Miss Amber and have them tell me more of such things.
The following Sunday brought about Tales from the Orient hosted by the Lady Wormwood and the Witchshire Adventure Society. There was quite a crowd gathered to her hear tales of Sita and the Ram. It was a long tale and I found myself rather drawn in by the tale. I was most vexed when Lady Wormwood announced we would have to wait an entire week for the next installment. Still it was a rather clever way to ensure that I visited the Folly if I wanted to hear the tale end.
Later on I stopped in at The Wildman After seeing Dr.Anna have her fortune told I knew I had to have Miss Rhona read the cards for me. it was just a three card spread, nothing fancy. I just wanted to hear what the cards had to say. I shall try to put down what Rhona told me.
"Six of coins, or pentacles. Yer past for the most part has been beneficial either to ye, or others. This can be anythin' from money to perhaps emotional support." Her gaze flickered upwards to Lady Blackrain, having a feeling she knew which of these 'boons' she benefited from most. "Yer present..." she murmurs, flipping it over. "King of Pentacles. Your fortunate boons have led you to a place of high stature to be sure. For this, ye perhaps stand on a precipice of good feelings. The card, however, also cautions ye in yer grand state to take stock of all that you are, what you own, and what you may do with her life. But yer present, currently, is one of a high fulfillment many would envy. Most importantly,the King would also tell you to enjoy simpler...sensual pleasures in life..." The blond emitted a chuckle "And be sure to 'ave a few good rolls in the hay as it were.." The scotswoman chortled, flipping over the third card. "A full spread of coin cards, m'lady Blackrain, all positive. The third one, the seven of coins, dictates your future, should you choose to pursue it's guidelines, emphasizes what the King of Coins card spoke: enjoy what you 'ave reaped thus far. What ye 'ave invested in, either with money, time or others matters, enjoy the fruits of these labors."
All in all a rather good read, I thought. I should make my rounds amongst the card throwers around the village and see what each has to say.
Later in the week brought us to the re-enactment of the WildHunt, held at Phoebe's Wheel. I hardly recognized the standing stones, decorated as they were with hides and chunks for fresh meat laid out around the circle and upon the alters. I was a little concerned when the dancers pulled and tore at Miss Amber's clothes and lead her down the path towards the woods as a sacrifice. My imagination ran wild shall we say, as she was in no real danger at the time. Now if I followed the conversation correctly it looked as if Miss Amber and Miss Silvia were debating the aspects of their Woden god. Whether it's him as the carrier of the dead, versus Woden as a loving god, leading the dead to feasting and joy. Each woman feeling quite strongly on their beliefs. After the ritual was concluded I did get a chance to buy a philter of love and a sort of protective amulet to keep Woden and the Fae at bay.
Saturday brought about the opening of the Fairy Faire. Such a sight! There was a stage set with all sorts of drums. Various tents dotted along the Velvet Green. The Wildman even had a huge keg of their cider on the field. Fortunes were to told and the lucky could purchase a poppet or two. ( as an aside I am reminded that I did indeed purchase a poppet from Miss Amber earlier in the week. I have safely secured with other items of similar intent) As the Fairy fair held a costumed Yule Ball, the revelers showed up in various mystical costumes. There was no end of fauns, satyrs, greenmen, fairies and elves. I was a little disappointed that no one thought to ask about our costumes, but perhaps portraying a pair of Basilisks was a bit Unseelie at the time. Krampus made a few showings and mock terrorized the guests. They drank late into the evening and were so intoxicated they cared not when we began to smoke opium around them . I heard tell the cider had some special ingredients, I judged the rumor to be true at the over intoxicated state of the guest . I made sure to fill a few flasks for personal use behind closed doors.
Today brought us another installment of Lady Wormwood's stories. We all tucked ourselves into the Folly and settled in to hear the tales. Perhaps we over indulged in a bit of smoke, but the tale was so vibrant that it was easy to watch the scene unfold before our eyes. Miss Phoebe insisted there were pixies flitting about, May and.. Autumn? Oh, I'm not sure of the names but I think one wore a berry,.Miss Silvia made mention of squishing and Miss Phoebe was understandably distrait. No faeries were squished as it turned out. Lauren, (I think that is her name, I purchased the philter from her earlier in the week) enacted some strange custom across the threshold leaving a bit of debris behind. I was a bit too high to get a good look but Lady Wormwood seemed to take care of the matter. Her story has not yet ended and I look forward to next Sunday.
You must forgive me, I have rambled on far too long. I fear I have left you a version of War and Peace.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I cannot believe how quickly this past week seems to have flown. Winter, I gather is a busy Season for the village. As always I shall do my utmost to put down the events as I recall them.
The Romantics held an art showing and a dance last weekend. The art was lovely in an almost sad way. I think my favorite one was of a little cottage by the edge of a pond, or creek. I can't quite seem to recall the details, but the brush strokes looked quite soft. I am generally more fond of bold uses of colour. The Lady Breezy is to be commended for all of her efforts in hosting. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
As luck would have it, Miss Amber was celebrating her natal day. Although she seemed a little unaware of the day, something along the lines of her Mama and Papa having thirteen children and not wanting to keep track of the days. I shall have to ask when next I see her if she is the thirteenth child.
Lady Gwendoline found herself in a bit of a faint. Luckily there were several on hand to offer assistance. A young woman who I believe was called Molly and the rather unusual countryman of mine, Finn McCool. Mister McCool seemed to handle the situation well and helped the young woman with the corset stays. One should never underestimate the powers of a penknife and a little ingenuity.
The good Doctor Anna was in attendance as well as Miss Kiki and a male companion, whose name I did not catch. I also spotted Lady E D'Rais, and Lord Redlaw. Lady Cellestia, Lady Kylie, I even caught sight of the Wildman's own Rhona admiring the art. There was some sort of automatic champagne dispenser on display, which drew quite a crowd with all it's gadgetry. Can you just imagine, glass after glass of cold champagne. Without all the fuss over how to open the damned bottle no less.
The gypsies made an appearance, as I made mention earlier. Miss Phoebe, Miss Amber, and a Miss Sab. I watched them admire a few of the paintings as they made some mention of finding fairy roads and purple paths. I went and examined the paintings in question and I am sorry to say, I did not see what the young ladies were making a fuss about. It was not long before the gypsies had worked up a thirst and moved towards the drinks. Hearing that Miss Amber had never tried Absinthe before I did try to encourage her to try new things. After some consideration Miss Phoebe helped her to a glass, (without sugar if I may point out) which lead to a disaster in appreciating the green fairy. The pack quickly moved along to the next dispense which I have already praised the merits of. After the bitter episode with the absinthe, Miss Amber was very pleased with the champagne. it only took a little encouragement on my part to get the rest of the gypsy girls to join in the fun, as it were. A little nudge here, slight pressure there. It is amazing how quickly people will take to new experience if you phrase things just so. The young ladies had gotten themselves a little tipsy with all the champagne.. I was about to encourage them to try a little more when then began to speak of the faeries again. Only this time they talked of leaving them offerings. I watched with my own eyes as they poured out good champagne for some phantom balls of biting lights. I know I sound a little harsh, but you have to understand I have never seen a fairy. It is just not the same as leaving offerings for the hungry dead, at least in my opinion. I shall make time one of these days to corner Miss Phoebe or Miss Amber and have them tell me more of such things.
The following Sunday brought about Tales from the Orient hosted by the Lady Wormwood and the Witchshire Adventure Society. There was quite a crowd gathered to her hear tales of Sita and the Ram. It was a long tale and I found myself rather drawn in by the tale. I was most vexed when Lady Wormwood announced we would have to wait an entire week for the next installment. Still it was a rather clever way to ensure that I visited the Folly if I wanted to hear the tale end.
Later on I stopped in at The Wildman After seeing Dr.Anna have her fortune told I knew I had to have Miss Rhona read the cards for me. it was just a three card spread, nothing fancy. I just wanted to hear what the cards had to say. I shall try to put down what Rhona told me.
"Six of coins, or pentacles. Yer past for the most part has been beneficial either to ye, or others. This can be anythin' from money to perhaps emotional support." Her gaze flickered upwards to Lady Blackrain, having a feeling she knew which of these 'boons' she benefited from most. "Yer present..." she murmurs, flipping it over. "King of Pentacles. Your fortunate boons have led you to a place of high stature to be sure. For this, ye perhaps stand on a precipice of good feelings. The card, however, also cautions ye in yer grand state to take stock of all that you are, what you own, and what you may do with her life. But yer present, currently, is one of a high fulfillment many would envy. Most importantly,the King would also tell you to enjoy simpler...sensual pleasures in life..." The blond emitted a chuckle "And be sure to 'ave a few good rolls in the hay as it were.." The scotswoman chortled, flipping over the third card. "A full spread of coin cards, m'lady Blackrain, all positive. The third one, the seven of coins, dictates your future, should you choose to pursue it's guidelines, emphasizes what the King of Coins card spoke: enjoy what you 'ave reaped thus far. What ye 'ave invested in, either with money, time or others matters, enjoy the fruits of these labors."
All in all a rather good read, I thought. I should make my rounds amongst the card throwers around the village and see what each has to say.
Later in the week brought us to the re-enactment of the WildHunt, held at Phoebe's Wheel. I hardly recognized the standing stones, decorated as they were with hides and chunks for fresh meat laid out around the circle and upon the alters. I was a little concerned when the dancers pulled and tore at Miss Amber's clothes and lead her down the path towards the woods as a sacrifice. My imagination ran wild shall we say, as she was in no real danger at the time. Now if I followed the conversation correctly it looked as if Miss Amber and Miss Silvia were debating the aspects of their Woden god. Whether it's him as the carrier of the dead, versus Woden as a loving god, leading the dead to feasting and joy. Each woman feeling quite strongly on their beliefs. After the ritual was concluded I did get a chance to buy a philter of love and a sort of protective amulet to keep Woden and the Fae at bay.
Saturday brought about the opening of the Fairy Faire. Such a sight! There was a stage set with all sorts of drums. Various tents dotted along the Velvet Green. The Wildman even had a huge keg of their cider on the field. Fortunes were to told and the lucky could purchase a poppet or two. ( as an aside I am reminded that I did indeed purchase a poppet from Miss Amber earlier in the week. I have safely secured with other items of similar intent) As the Fairy fair held a costumed Yule Ball, the revelers showed up in various mystical costumes. There was no end of fauns, satyrs, greenmen, fairies and elves. I was a little disappointed that no one thought to ask about our costumes, but perhaps portraying a pair of Basilisks was a bit Unseelie at the time. Krampus made a few showings and mock terrorized the guests. They drank late into the evening and were so intoxicated they cared not when we began to smoke opium around them . I heard tell the cider had some special ingredients, I judged the rumor to be true at the over intoxicated state of the guest . I made sure to fill a few flasks for personal use behind closed doors.
Today brought us another installment of Lady Wormwood's stories. We all tucked ourselves into the Folly and settled in to hear the tales. Perhaps we over indulged in a bit of smoke, but the tale was so vibrant that it was easy to watch the scene unfold before our eyes. Miss Phoebe insisted there were pixies flitting about, May and.. Autumn? Oh, I'm not sure of the names but I think one wore a berry,.Miss Silvia made mention of squishing and Miss Phoebe was understandably distrait. No faeries were squished as it turned out. Lauren, (I think that is her name, I purchased the philter from her earlier in the week) enacted some strange custom across the threshold leaving a bit of debris behind. I was a bit too high to get a good look but Lady Wormwood seemed to take care of the matter. Her story has not yet ended and I look forward to next Sunday.
You must forgive me, I have rambled on far too long. I fear I have left you a version of War and Peace.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
Journal No 5
9 December
O Captain, My Captain~
Darling, I had a delightful and most enjoyable week. I hope I can recall most of the events, but my memory is not as sharp as I would like it to be. Perhaps I should begin to take notes, as a sort of preventive for my memory lapses. I came across Miss Amber the other day as I was walking along Main Street. She and I had stopped for a bit of idle chatter before she had to tend to her duties at The Wildman. Finding myself with no pressing matters at hand I decided to stop by for a spell. The Roebuck has a more upscale feel to it, but The Wildman has better entertainment and draws a larger crowd currently. At any rate I found myself enjoying a mug of cider while Miss Amber began to play. She has this knack of sometimes telling a tale while she plays. I was lucky enough that it seemed to be one of those times. I settled in against the bar as she began to draw the bow against the rebec. A soft tune began to slowly fill the space inside the tavern. She began to weave her tale as she played. The notes and her emotions seem to flow along with the mood of the tale. I have done my best to copy down her story of the Fae.
" This was back in the days when Men and the Fae were still friends, and at night, the Fae would come and visit the fires of the camps of men, and men would at times visit the courts of the Elven queen Titania...
See, the light of the full moon is necessary to open the veils between the world of the Fae, and the world of men. In those days, the Fae, being the Elder race, taught men many things, secrets of the stars, and the herbs, and many such useful things.And there was always light in the world, whether it be the sun by day, or the full moon by night...
But then, a terrible thing happened, the Jotun..the giants, who lived in the far north, heard the music and joy of the men and elves. So they came down from their ice-frozen wastes, to see what this was. Now the Jotun are ugly, and the Fae turned their faces from them. This angered the Giants, so they sought to corrupt men...
Now in those days, men were innocent, and they knew not what evil was...they lived in their camps, by their fires, and hunted and gathered. They knew not that the Jotun would deceive them...first the giants taught men how to build cities, and how to cut down the trees...they taught men greed, and how to rape the land, and sow the fields for their own uses, how to make slaves of the animals...
then the Jotun taught men how to make spears, and bows, to make swords, and they taught men how to kill each other. When the Fae realized what the Jotun had done, they sorrowed to see the Younger Race, men, so corrupted. They tried to speak to the Elders of the clans of men, but their envoys were scoffed, humiliated, beaten, and sent back to Titania...
Titania called forth a council of the Sidhe, "How so shall we deal with men? See how they have turned on us!" The Fae wept in sorrow, but also in anger against the Jotun. So first they sent forth their armies against the giants, drove them from the earth, to Jotunhame. But still, they had to deal with the savages man had become. so they held another great council. Many things were said that long night, the night of Yule, so long ago...
Some said to hide the moon by the sun forever, so that it's light could no longer shine in the night, and man be cut off forever from the Fae. But a wise one said, 'No, there are still some good men...if we cut them off, then all good shall die upon the earth, they will kill all the trees, and plants, and animals, and finally they will die...the earth will die, and then we shall die...' all the other Fae saw this to be true...
Finally, Titania arose in all her beauty, glory, and terror, 'This is my decree' she proclaimed, 'from hence forth, the moon shall move faster than the sun, so that only one night a month, may it's full light shine upon the veil, that these men who are wise, kind, and compassionate, shall know how to turn the key, and enter our realms...thus we shall still keep light in the world, and some men may learn to fight the Darkness, and keep the world still in some light.' her decree was obeyed, and to this day, the moon has phases. And thus, the Fae taught some men, such as the gypsies, and we help to shine the light of the Fae upon the world!"
An interesting tale. Miss Amber seems to know quite a few of them. A lovely end to an entertaining evening.
I do thank you for the Alchemical ingredients you brought back from your last trip. It can be more than tricky to get some of the more unusual items especially so far from the larger ports of trade. I have noticed with the Church of Mary Magdalene nearby there is an abundance of grave dirt, and hopefully grave moss. I have not had the chance to poke around without attracting too much attention. I have not figured out what I shall say if caught wandering amongst the graves.
It was really no surprise that we were pulled from away from disusing various components hearing Miss Amber's fiddle drifting up from the tavern. It was nice a nice diversion to stop in and listen to the music, although I am very fond of the cider. It was nice to come across the young Miss Hastings. If I recall correctly she is visiting the village with her Aunt. Charming young woman, if a little nervous. I must have been standing around with my thoughts because when I next looked you had taken your leave.
Gathering my things I slipped out the back door. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the layered shadows after the tavern's brightness. Taking a few careful steps I made my way towards the Velvet Green, stopping near the Maypole with it's ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze. Standing still, I tried to pierce the darkness, knowing you were there just out of sight. My heart was in my throat when you spoke, letting my know you could see me standing in a spot of moonlight. Darting my gaze n the direction of your voice I squinted, picking out your outline from the shadows. I watched as you raised your hand and crooked a finger at me. Tearing my eyes away I looked quickly making sure the Green was empty before making my way towards the shadow of the building with a wry smile. Hearing you speak of how well behaved we were in public I knew something... tawdry was afoot. My eyes must have shown I was up for the game because I suddenly found myself pushed against the stone column. A flash of desire swept over me as I heard you loosen your belt. The flash was nothing compared to the sensation of liquid heat that began to build as my cunt was massaged by head of your cock before plunging deep inside me. It was suddenly one of those terribly wonderful moments where you find yourself wondering if you have enough time to find release before someone rounds the corner. I arched my back against the rough stone, grateful the nap of the velvet provided enough friction to help prevent me from slipping down the post. Propping a boot against your thigh I hiked my skirts up further, exposing an indecent amount of stocking leg a with sly look upon my face. I was glad for the stone support as your hands began to knead along my buttocks, pulling me tight against settling into a rhythmic fuck. I thought my heart would stop when I heard you whisper, the heat of your breath played across my skin. I laced my arms around your neck for balance, rocking my hips against you, rising to meet each thrust. I moaned, not caring if anyone heard I was so lost in the feeling of it all. We panted and bucked against each other with a wild need until we both climaxed with a silent explosion. The intensity of the act seeming to raise primal energy, building magickal power. My skin broke out in goose flesh as the rush of energy rippled through me. I remember shuddering as you helped ease me back to solid ground.
My goodness I have rambled on and on. I had not realized it would be such a long winded entry.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
Darling, I had a delightful and most enjoyable week. I hope I can recall most of the events, but my memory is not as sharp as I would like it to be. Perhaps I should begin to take notes, as a sort of preventive for my memory lapses. I came across Miss Amber the other day as I was walking along Main Street. She and I had stopped for a bit of idle chatter before she had to tend to her duties at The Wildman. Finding myself with no pressing matters at hand I decided to stop by for a spell. The Roebuck has a more upscale feel to it, but The Wildman has better entertainment and draws a larger crowd currently. At any rate I found myself enjoying a mug of cider while Miss Amber began to play. She has this knack of sometimes telling a tale while she plays. I was lucky enough that it seemed to be one of those times. I settled in against the bar as she began to draw the bow against the rebec. A soft tune began to slowly fill the space inside the tavern. She began to weave her tale as she played. The notes and her emotions seem to flow along with the mood of the tale. I have done my best to copy down her story of the Fae.
" This was back in the days when Men and the Fae were still friends, and at night, the Fae would come and visit the fires of the camps of men, and men would at times visit the courts of the Elven queen Titania...
See, the light of the full moon is necessary to open the veils between the world of the Fae, and the world of men. In those days, the Fae, being the Elder race, taught men many things, secrets of the stars, and the herbs, and many such useful things.And there was always light in the world, whether it be the sun by day, or the full moon by night...
But then, a terrible thing happened, the Jotun..the giants, who lived in the far north, heard the music and joy of the men and elves. So they came down from their ice-frozen wastes, to see what this was. Now the Jotun are ugly, and the Fae turned their faces from them. This angered the Giants, so they sought to corrupt men...
Now in those days, men were innocent, and they knew not what evil was...they lived in their camps, by their fires, and hunted and gathered. They knew not that the Jotun would deceive them...first the giants taught men how to build cities, and how to cut down the trees...they taught men greed, and how to rape the land, and sow the fields for their own uses, how to make slaves of the animals...
then the Jotun taught men how to make spears, and bows, to make swords, and they taught men how to kill each other. When the Fae realized what the Jotun had done, they sorrowed to see the Younger Race, men, so corrupted. They tried to speak to the Elders of the clans of men, but their envoys were scoffed, humiliated, beaten, and sent back to Titania...
Titania called forth a council of the Sidhe, "How so shall we deal with men? See how they have turned on us!" The Fae wept in sorrow, but also in anger against the Jotun. So first they sent forth their armies against the giants, drove them from the earth, to Jotunhame. But still, they had to deal with the savages man had become. so they held another great council. Many things were said that long night, the night of Yule, so long ago...
Some said to hide the moon by the sun forever, so that it's light could no longer shine in the night, and man be cut off forever from the Fae. But a wise one said, 'No, there are still some good men...if we cut them off, then all good shall die upon the earth, they will kill all the trees, and plants, and animals, and finally they will die...the earth will die, and then we shall die...' all the other Fae saw this to be true...
Finally, Titania arose in all her beauty, glory, and terror, 'This is my decree' she proclaimed, 'from hence forth, the moon shall move faster than the sun, so that only one night a month, may it's full light shine upon the veil, that these men who are wise, kind, and compassionate, shall know how to turn the key, and enter our realms...thus we shall still keep light in the world, and some men may learn to fight the Darkness, and keep the world still in some light.' her decree was obeyed, and to this day, the moon has phases. And thus, the Fae taught some men, such as the gypsies, and we help to shine the light of the Fae upon the world!"
An interesting tale. Miss Amber seems to know quite a few of them. A lovely end to an entertaining evening.
I do thank you for the Alchemical ingredients you brought back from your last trip. It can be more than tricky to get some of the more unusual items especially so far from the larger ports of trade. I have noticed with the Church of Mary Magdalene nearby there is an abundance of grave dirt, and hopefully grave moss. I have not had the chance to poke around without attracting too much attention. I have not figured out what I shall say if caught wandering amongst the graves.
It was really no surprise that we were pulled from away from disusing various components hearing Miss Amber's fiddle drifting up from the tavern. It was nice a nice diversion to stop in and listen to the music, although I am very fond of the cider. It was nice to come across the young Miss Hastings. If I recall correctly she is visiting the village with her Aunt. Charming young woman, if a little nervous. I must have been standing around with my thoughts because when I next looked you had taken your leave.
Gathering my things I slipped out the back door. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the layered shadows after the tavern's brightness. Taking a few careful steps I made my way towards the Velvet Green, stopping near the Maypole with it's ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze. Standing still, I tried to pierce the darkness, knowing you were there just out of sight. My heart was in my throat when you spoke, letting my know you could see me standing in a spot of moonlight. Darting my gaze n the direction of your voice I squinted, picking out your outline from the shadows. I watched as you raised your hand and crooked a finger at me. Tearing my eyes away I looked quickly making sure the Green was empty before making my way towards the shadow of the building with a wry smile. Hearing you speak of how well behaved we were in public I knew something... tawdry was afoot. My eyes must have shown I was up for the game because I suddenly found myself pushed against the stone column. A flash of desire swept over me as I heard you loosen your belt. The flash was nothing compared to the sensation of liquid heat that began to build as my cunt was massaged by head of your cock before plunging deep inside me. It was suddenly one of those terribly wonderful moments where you find yourself wondering if you have enough time to find release before someone rounds the corner. I arched my back against the rough stone, grateful the nap of the velvet provided enough friction to help prevent me from slipping down the post. Propping a boot against your thigh I hiked my skirts up further, exposing an indecent amount of stocking leg a with sly look upon my face. I was glad for the stone support as your hands began to knead along my buttocks, pulling me tight against settling into a rhythmic fuck. I thought my heart would stop when I heard you whisper, the heat of your breath played across my skin. I laced my arms around your neck for balance, rocking my hips against you, rising to meet each thrust. I moaned, not caring if anyone heard I was so lost in the feeling of it all. We panted and bucked against each other with a wild need until we both climaxed with a silent explosion. The intensity of the act seeming to raise primal energy, building magickal power. My skin broke out in goose flesh as the rush of energy rippled through me. I remember shuddering as you helped ease me back to solid ground.
My goodness I have rambled on and on. I had not realized it would be such a long winded entry.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
Journal No 4
4 December
O Captain, My Captain~
It gladdens my heart to no end seeing you arrive safely in the village. I trust you will find the town, interesting to say the least. I do hope you enjoy it as much as I have come to. I cannot break this habit of putting down my thoughts. I find myself flipping through days past, grateful for the little reminders.
I was remiss about updating my journal and I find myself a few days behind. At any rate the first of December brought about Bacchus Thiasus's first event at the Cockpit, The Minerva Challenge. I lost some coin due to a horrible misconception that a male held the upper hand when fighting against the fairer sex. Seeing that Sullivan, the butler was walloped by the extremely buxom Rhona, a bartender over at The WildMan. I quickly adjusted my wagers accordingly and recouped my losses as Rhona, who looked very much the Amazon beat the next contestant. A gentleman by the name of Sampson if memory serves. Unfortunately I had a bit too much to smoke and wandered outside to watch the evening sky and missed who became the night's champion. If I was inclined to gamble I would put my coin on that Amazon. Gods favor the poor brute who gets tossed out of the tavern by her hand.
With all the socials popping up around town, I was inspired to try and gather others who find the written words as well, enchanting as I do. The Goatswood Society for the Written Word, will be hosting a story-telling event with The Wildman later this month. I am hopeful that in such a creative village some brave souls will step up and compete. Not as exciting as a pugilist match, but entertaining none the less.
O Captain, My Captain~
It gladdens my heart to no end seeing you arrive safely in the village. I trust you will find the town, interesting to say the least. I do hope you enjoy it as much as I have come to. I cannot break this habit of putting down my thoughts. I find myself flipping through days past, grateful for the little reminders.
I was remiss about updating my journal and I find myself a few days behind. At any rate the first of December brought about Bacchus Thiasus's first event at the Cockpit, The Minerva Challenge. I lost some coin due to a horrible misconception that a male held the upper hand when fighting against the fairer sex. Seeing that Sullivan, the butler was walloped by the extremely buxom Rhona, a bartender over at The WildMan. I quickly adjusted my wagers accordingly and recouped my losses as Rhona, who looked very much the Amazon beat the next contestant. A gentleman by the name of Sampson if memory serves. Unfortunately I had a bit too much to smoke and wandered outside to watch the evening sky and missed who became the night's champion. If I was inclined to gamble I would put my coin on that Amazon. Gods favor the poor brute who gets tossed out of the tavern by her hand.
With all the socials popping up around town, I was inspired to try and gather others who find the written words as well, enchanting as I do. The Goatswood Society for the Written Word, will be hosting a story-telling event with The Wildman later this month. I am hopeful that in such a creative village some brave souls will step up and compete. Not as exciting as a pugilist match, but entertaining none the less.
Journal No 2
25 November
O Captain, My Captain~
I am sorry you are not here. This village moves at a pace that seems to be set apart from the rest of the world. It is unique, and I find it pulls me, not unlike iron fillings to a magnet.
The Goatswood Steam Society had a type of inventor faire set up around the Velvet Green this past week. All sorts of gears and gadgets displayed. Doctor Anna made a showing of her Auto Doctor. Ingenious device that appears to be a type of medical assistant,. I was more than a little nervous as a volunteer, but there is no progress without risk. At any rate no harm was done. The auto doctor did spark discussion of auto husbands and auto-wives. The conversation was a little..colored to say the least and perhaps not fit for mixed company. I found it very amusing. I also recall a camera obscura on display.. I should have stayed a bit longer and asked how it worked. There were a few other gadgets, a printing machine, some sort of automatic floor cleaner ( rather charming as it looked at first to be a toy of sorts) A weight machine, which surprised me. I had thought myself a bit on the short side. By far the item that caused the most reactions was one Mister Julius Hastings and his Flying Air-Pig, Faustus. While I thought the pig looked rather excited to be flying about over our heads, there were quite a few who thought otherwise. All sorts off accusations were flung about, ranging from piglet abuse to the advancement to science. Why one young lady ( Miss Amber, I believe) was desperate enough to break the remaining piglet free of their pen. The poor thing only managed to slice her hand open in the process. While I had suggested that they try and use Dr. Anna's device, the woman attending to her insisted on using some herbal mixture to help with the injury. Some are a bit resistant to change.
The Lady R. and I were able to spend a bit of the evening with Lady G. She has gotten rather upset over a situation with a book and needed to calm her nerves. Now I cannot really attest to what happened with the book, as I had helped myself rather generously to the Manor's opium supply. I might have been swept up in waking dreams. In any case a book belonging to Lady G crashed to the ground. Lady R suggested a drink and I promptly handed her a scotch with a bit of laudanum added in. The drink appears to sooth her, so another drink really seemed to be in order. Her next drink had a touch of tarry opium muddled in with the laudanum and liquor. She seemed to have become giddy and flushed from the effects of her drink. Just when I though she might loose the more interesting articles of clothing the darling passed out on the chaise, in a drugged slumber. She did not recall much of the nights events when questioned the following day. When I asked her what she learned she replied, to not over indulge in drink or poppy. I was a touch disappointed as I had hoped she would discovered that she enjoyed the effects. I shall try again another time, hopefully with better results.
Had a delightful dinner with Lord Cromwell, Lady Cromwell, Lady Cavendash, and the Lady Bathory. I know in your travels you may have heard a touch of scandal surrounding the Bathory name. I gave the matter little thought, for in all honesty I would rather keep company with the scandalous than those of a more reputable nature.
Lady Cromwell made mention of preparing the Cockpit in order to host fighting matches. A lady, who should remain nameless, was tasteless enough to name the fights cockfighting. We spent enough time in the south to know such fights make for good gambling. I look forward to the first match. I think I shall wear little more than stockings and feathers in honour of the event.
Achingly yours Angeline~
O Captain, My Captain~
I am sorry you are not here. This village moves at a pace that seems to be set apart from the rest of the world. It is unique, and I find it pulls me, not unlike iron fillings to a magnet.
The Goatswood Steam Society had a type of inventor faire set up around the Velvet Green this past week. All sorts of gears and gadgets displayed. Doctor Anna made a showing of her Auto Doctor. Ingenious device that appears to be a type of medical assistant,. I was more than a little nervous as a volunteer, but there is no progress without risk. At any rate no harm was done. The auto doctor did spark discussion of auto husbands and auto-wives. The conversation was a little..colored to say the least and perhaps not fit for mixed company. I found it very amusing. I also recall a camera obscura on display.. I should have stayed a bit longer and asked how it worked. There were a few other gadgets, a printing machine, some sort of automatic floor cleaner ( rather charming as it looked at first to be a toy of sorts) A weight machine, which surprised me. I had thought myself a bit on the short side. By far the item that caused the most reactions was one Mister Julius Hastings and his Flying Air-Pig, Faustus. While I thought the pig looked rather excited to be flying about over our heads, there were quite a few who thought otherwise. All sorts off accusations were flung about, ranging from piglet abuse to the advancement to science. Why one young lady ( Miss Amber, I believe) was desperate enough to break the remaining piglet free of their pen. The poor thing only managed to slice her hand open in the process. While I had suggested that they try and use Dr. Anna's device, the woman attending to her insisted on using some herbal mixture to help with the injury. Some are a bit resistant to change.
The Lady R. and I were able to spend a bit of the evening with Lady G. She has gotten rather upset over a situation with a book and needed to calm her nerves. Now I cannot really attest to what happened with the book, as I had helped myself rather generously to the Manor's opium supply. I might have been swept up in waking dreams. In any case a book belonging to Lady G crashed to the ground. Lady R suggested a drink and I promptly handed her a scotch with a bit of laudanum added in. The drink appears to sooth her, so another drink really seemed to be in order. Her next drink had a touch of tarry opium muddled in with the laudanum and liquor. She seemed to have become giddy and flushed from the effects of her drink. Just when I though she might loose the more interesting articles of clothing the darling passed out on the chaise, in a drugged slumber. She did not recall much of the nights events when questioned the following day. When I asked her what she learned she replied, to not over indulge in drink or poppy. I was a touch disappointed as I had hoped she would discovered that she enjoyed the effects. I shall try again another time, hopefully with better results.
Had a delightful dinner with Lord Cromwell, Lady Cromwell, Lady Cavendash, and the Lady Bathory. I know in your travels you may have heard a touch of scandal surrounding the Bathory name. I gave the matter little thought, for in all honesty I would rather keep company with the scandalous than those of a more reputable nature.
Lady Cromwell made mention of preparing the Cockpit in order to host fighting matches. A lady, who should remain nameless, was tasteless enough to name the fights cockfighting. We spent enough time in the south to know such fights make for good gambling. I look forward to the first match. I think I shall wear little more than stockings and feathers in honour of the event.
Achingly yours Angeline~
Journal No 1
18 November
O Captain, My Captain~ It seems I am getting myself settled into the Manor and I am learning my way about town. I still find the woods rather tricky and often find myself turning about in circles trying to find my way out of the brush. I am afraid I am a bit lacking when it comes to a sense of direction. In any case the I find Goatswood to be teeming with all sorts of people. One could almost say it a charisma of its own, drawing us in.
In my wanderings I came upon a small group of Industrialists supping at The Wildman. One Mister Nathanial Darcy, and the sisters Ellie and Annie. It was a great surprise to discover that Anna happens to be a medical doctor and Ellie seems to be working on a novel of sorts. Seeing how much Miss Ellie enjoyed the brandy I ordered another round, unfortunately most of us were called away before we could enjoy the drinks. I left Ellie firm instructions to waste not, want not, as she was obliged to finished the remaining drinks. I came across the good doctor while strolling through the village and had a moment to stop and enjoy an impromptu picnic with her and a villager called Dusk. We shared a delightful cup of chocolate, but I fear I had to add several drops of laudanum to my serving. The light through the trees bothered my eyes.
This morning I found myself strolling through the village and came across the Lady Svevya. A charming young woman who was handing out baked goods. It seems I was too late to try any of the mushroom bread. I have heard rumors surrounding the local mushrooms and the side effects when consumed. I am most interested in trying such a thing for myself. She enjoys baking even though it vexed her family something awful for her to perform such a manual labors. I, of course, felt it my duty to help reinforce the idea that one does not always have to listen to their parents. It is good to stretch your wings and learn from experience.
Now as if to balance out my delightful morning I had a rather unpleasant experience with new help about the Manor. So many servants seem to come and go throughout the day with so many guests of the estate that they are bound to be a few bad apples. While I was speaking with the Lady Cromwell the insolent serving woman had the audacity to ask me if I knew where her serving platter was. Rest assured I quickly reminded her it was not my place to keep up with the servants tools. The thing was crude enough to stick out her tongue and go off about being some lordling's bastard get. I warned her if she continued with such rudeness I would be forced to pierce the offending tongue. I am quite sure the kitchen keeps trussing needles that would do the job nicely. Thankfully the Lady Cromwell suggested the Lord Cassius was quite adept at training the help. I did not expect to get so cross. I think I needed another dose or two to help with my nerves.
Attended Mass this afternoon. Service was presided by the Reverend Natty, as it seems he is called. I recall a pair of maids near the Butter Cross give a warning if the Rev was to escort one home. I can only assume they were speaking of the Reverend Natty. The Mass had a good sized turn out. I can not recall the the sermon as I found the echoes caused me enough discomfort that I was forced to take a very strong dose of laudanum during the service. I found it very curious that the air seemed to have a faint order of a woman's musk.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
Post Script: It has been a long time since I participated in church services. It appears to me that the Reverend may be false. More than likely some disturbed soul who felt the need to wear a smock and preach random ideas to the masses, as I think the church's meager presence here in Goatswood is for tax purposes
O Captain, My Captain~ It seems I am getting myself settled into the Manor and I am learning my way about town. I still find the woods rather tricky and often find myself turning about in circles trying to find my way out of the brush. I am afraid I am a bit lacking when it comes to a sense of direction. In any case the I find Goatswood to be teeming with all sorts of people. One could almost say it a charisma of its own, drawing us in.
In my wanderings I came upon a small group of Industrialists supping at The Wildman. One Mister Nathanial Darcy, and the sisters Ellie and Annie. It was a great surprise to discover that Anna happens to be a medical doctor and Ellie seems to be working on a novel of sorts. Seeing how much Miss Ellie enjoyed the brandy I ordered another round, unfortunately most of us were called away before we could enjoy the drinks. I left Ellie firm instructions to waste not, want not, as she was obliged to finished the remaining drinks. I came across the good doctor while strolling through the village and had a moment to stop and enjoy an impromptu picnic with her and a villager called Dusk. We shared a delightful cup of chocolate, but I fear I had to add several drops of laudanum to my serving. The light through the trees bothered my eyes.
This morning I found myself strolling through the village and came across the Lady Svevya. A charming young woman who was handing out baked goods. It seems I was too late to try any of the mushroom bread. I have heard rumors surrounding the local mushrooms and the side effects when consumed. I am most interested in trying such a thing for myself. She enjoys baking even though it vexed her family something awful for her to perform such a manual labors. I, of course, felt it my duty to help reinforce the idea that one does not always have to listen to their parents. It is good to stretch your wings and learn from experience.
Now as if to balance out my delightful morning I had a rather unpleasant experience with new help about the Manor. So many servants seem to come and go throughout the day with so many guests of the estate that they are bound to be a few bad apples. While I was speaking with the Lady Cromwell the insolent serving woman had the audacity to ask me if I knew where her serving platter was. Rest assured I quickly reminded her it was not my place to keep up with the servants tools. The thing was crude enough to stick out her tongue and go off about being some lordling's bastard get. I warned her if she continued with such rudeness I would be forced to pierce the offending tongue. I am quite sure the kitchen keeps trussing needles that would do the job nicely. Thankfully the Lady Cromwell suggested the Lord Cassius was quite adept at training the help. I did not expect to get so cross. I think I needed another dose or two to help with my nerves.
Attended Mass this afternoon. Service was presided by the Reverend Natty, as it seems he is called. I recall a pair of maids near the Butter Cross give a warning if the Rev was to escort one home. I can only assume they were speaking of the Reverend Natty. The Mass had a good sized turn out. I can not recall the the sermon as I found the echoes caused me enough discomfort that I was forced to take a very strong dose of laudanum during the service. I found it very curious that the air seemed to have a faint order of a woman's musk.
Achingly yours, Angeline~
Post Script: It has been a long time since I participated in church services. It appears to me that the Reverend may be false. More than likely some disturbed soul who felt the need to wear a smock and preach random ideas to the masses, as I think the church's meager presence here in Goatswood is for tax purposes
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