Dancer Between

[Misty]

Get up, soldiers, get up, our duty now calls,

Rise, minions, rise, blood against the walls.

Ever we plot, plan and scheme,

All to regain the surface supreme.

Try they will to thwart our ways,

Slaughter our kind ever, always.

They curse and kill all they find,

Every chance do they remind

Araushnee failed, fell from grace,

Dark we are, of soul and face.



Wasted those are who serve her still,

In madness do they serve and kill.

Lloth’s only son knows better our path,

Living out from under Her wrath.



Far above shall we reign,

All the surface we have to gain.

Lie still and silent, wait for the mark,

Let them die in the Underdark.

[Mizbiz]

He can kiss this.

[Misty]

To the fair Fey Jester and jester fey,
Holy guardians of mischief and play,
Blessings do I beg and pray
for my green-eyed love.

Deep and dark my thoughts oft turn,
Hatred, loathing brightly burn,
Yet his sweet call I cannot spurn,
of my green-eyed love.

Bright and deep as rivers wide,
Wit and wisdom they provide,
Verdant gems become my guide,
oh my green-eyed love.

Favor him please with your glance,
To find what he’s lost to chance,
Light we step in this dance,
for my green-eyed love.

[Inwintersshadow]

EXcellent:)

[Mizbiz]

Nice as always

[Misty]

Confusion roils and burns, twenty thousand questions and no one gives even one answer. Perceptions melt away with the rain hammering the land. I thought there was a hint of understanding. I thought there was the beginning of a real friendship. I thought he was asking me for help.

I thought wrong. Deceived by my own needs, I saw what I wanted to see. That tiny bit of clarity, with that ugly little smile faded under the need for a friend. Just one who understood and accepted, without trying to go where he was not wanted.

Boiling confusion turns to anger. I hate all these questions. Simple answers they have, but no one who knows will speak. Keep your secrets close, who needs more allies? Who needs friends? I do, but no one cares. No one sees. The anger becomes rage, I feel my ears burning, my shoulders tense. Blood, pain, violence unto others anything to make this confusion go away. My cold cloak does not feel cold, it is soothing to the storm within. Where are the gods-forsaken dhearow I need to kill!

I have to go, I have to get out. I am not allowed to be angry anymore. I’m not allowed to get upset. My anger is cute, my tiny body cannot really hurt anyone. Just another outburst from the crazy elf, no one pay her any mind. It will pass. If you must look, look at her with pity, she cannot help it, she is broken. The poor thing doesn’t know any better. Trusting others with my pain has robbed me of the right to anger.


Oh how I hate you all.

[Inwintersshadow]

eep

[Legionnaire]

Very nice

[Misty]

“You should not lie to priests,” she says with a smile.
Yet priests lie to me, every once in a while.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks,
Grimacing, I know, behind his tenfold masks.

“How may I be of assistance?” words so sweet,
In lying blue eyes I see uncaring complete.

“I would worry,” the concern warms my heart,
But their actions rip these stupid notions apart.

Go away girl, you are helplessly insane,
Until we want you, go wait in the rain.

No longer are you worthy of a friend's respect
nor love nor equality, what did you expect?

[danielmn]

[Mizbiz]

Wowsers

[Misty]

Recipe for mischief:

2 pots of dark dye, for cloth and leather. Each holds a different bonding agent to make the dye stick, and we need both. The color will fade some, depending on the size of the object.

2 jars of Phantom Ink (Moonlight). Catalyst.

One tube of Sure-Grip paste, bonding agent.

Splash of holy water, for luck.

2 cups of sugar, for solubility.

1 flask of oil.


First: pour dyes and ink into clean, dry cauldron. Stir slowly until all ingredients are evenly distributed, without incorporating bubbles.

Add the gripping paste, stir slowly again.

Add holy water of choice, Evermeade being one of the finer varieties.

Heat over open flame, but a low heat until all moisture evaporates.

Remove from flame, let cool completely.

While the concoction cools, pray to your deity of choice, leaving behind some residue of an ingredient as offering. Try not to dye your lips blue in the process.

Once cooled, add sugar and mix thoroughly.

Stir in half cup of oil.

Cover cauldron completely during transport. Enjoy light banter with close friend.

Wait for friend to clear witnesses from target area. Sneak in under cover of moonlight, making sure the cauldron is covered. Dig small hole, pour solution in while shielding it from said moonlight. Cover with earth. And rocks.

Pour an entire bottle’s worth of holy water over the site with a prayer.

Leave.

Meet up with said friend later, in public, pretending all is normal.

Wait for rain, and the following night's moonlight.




BLUE!

[Misty]

Chameleon

As I once was, so shall I again be
like that colorful lizard,
Changing always to fit the scene,
Clothing and temper,
Distant eyes and little smiles
Tempered for the land.

Linens and silks, colors bright and bold,
Twirling in the dance
Of acceptance.
I am just like you.

Or maybe not,
But etiquette remembered
In time you forget
The wilds I came from
In all its savagery.

Life in the raw
buried deep, asleep.

Again.

[Mizbiz]

[Misty]

I commit this tale to Labelas Enoreth, may we never forget our lessons.


A most beautiful sunset colors the sky, I find it too pretty to ignore.

“Laurelin,” a lady’s voice calls me. Look at how the pink mingles with the orange and purple. Impossible color combination, yet so pretty together.

“Laurelin,” a note of irritation raises her voice. And see there, the deep, deep indigo creeping up to wash over the other colors.

“LAURELIN! Pay attention!” I turn to see her face matching the last of the pink wisps in the sky, the black feathers braided into her sleek brown hair trembling with frustration. Celendur beside me gives a dismayed sigh. I shall put frogs in his boots later. To keep my hands busy I pull my long hair to the side and begin braiding it.

“Yes, Mother?”

The pink fades from her face, her skin returning to the same tanned shade she bestowed upon me. I tire of these lessons on the cruelty of Not People. Today it is about the taint of their blood with ours, how it dirties the purity of our kind and warps their minds. Foul halfbreeds, she calls them. I refuse to believe humans are all so horrible as she says. I know they scarred her, scarred all of the People here, it is why we hide like we do. But I’ve snuck out sometimes, watching them. Their children are not much different from ours, except their bodies get big way too fast, like caterpillars that only get bigger and fatter and never become butterflies. Like that one there, eating the tomato plant.

My friend kicks me. Maybe frogs are too good for him. Oh, right. Her piercing black eyes fix on me. “I’m listening!” I try to keep the petulance out. I do not feel like baiting her this day, I only want to leave. Swimming is best under Sehanine’s glow.

“Then repeat the lesson to me, smart girl,” she purses her lips at me. I finish my braid, slapping Celendur with it as I put my hair behind me.

“Humans stink and all need to die.”

“Yes,” she ignores my sarcasm. “Elaborate, if you would be so kind.”

“Even halfbreeds stink and all need to die.”

“Laurelin...” she growls at me. Fine.

“Halfbreeds,” I hate this lesson. Not their fault they are tainted. I mean mixed. Is it? They did not choose their bloodlines, no more than I did. She clears her throat at me while I fight to not glare at her. I sigh and recite:

Halfbreeds are no better than Not People. Do not be fooled by the presence of the blood of People in them. What would have been pure and right is marred by mixing with the Not People. While some of them might treat halfbreeds as People, we know they are not nor ever will be. Even those who profess to goodness are but deluding themselves, for in time the taint clouds their judgement and affects their choices, all to the detriment of our kind.

Take the case of Ryldomph. Halfbreed of the wood, he grew up respecting the Forest Father and his bounty. His closest friend was kin named Krenrar, and they were nigh inseparable. They shared in everything from rest to food to hunting. This happy friendship did not last.

A young kin by the name of Akorira came to know these two. She fell in love with Krenrar, and he with her. The taint in Ryldomph manifested with her appearance, and grew as his friend’s romance progressed. The kin joined in bonding. Ryldomph continued to want her for himself, the lust in his loins difficult to conceal. In time even she could not deny what she saw in his eyes, but she ignored it, hoping it would go away. This was the bonded pair’s fatal mistake.

Not believing his closest friend would ever do him harm, the kin fell swiftly to a dagger in the heart.

Ryldomph stole Akorira away, keeping her under close watch lest she escape him. He thought he could make her love him. Stupidity and insanity often accompany obsession, all poisons in their blood. She managed to escape his hold, running to a ruined keep to meet her fate.

Death she found, but not peace. The halfbreed’s hate and vile acts tied their spirits to this world. Cursed she was to find another to aid her, one who knew the pain of a bond broken yet did not perish.

All of this misery could have been avoided had kin not befriended a halfbreed.

I finish to look at her. Her lips remain pursed at me. “The lesson was correct, but the names were wrong. That will do. For now. Go.”

I turn to run to the swimming hole, throwing my braid at Celendur again, but he ducks it. Ass.