The stories come as they do. Some of them are unexpected, some are what they are. Among all of them, sometimes, a story appears that is the result of a question posed to me, here on the Tale or elsewhere. Some of those questions are requests, some are thoughtful wonderings, and sometimes the question brings about a story that might not be the answer I thought it was going to be.
Answers
By TeraS
Like many worlds and civilizations, the Realm has its own Museum. It tells of the past and the present and holds the future as well, though that is something that only comes into existence for those for whom the future is, was, or will be, their past.
One might expect such a place to be some sort of monolithic structure, perhaps a stately, white, marble monstrosity dominating the space it occupies; a place where one speaks in whispers, if at all. Yet when visiting souls came upon the place, the first thing that caught their attention was that it was not known as a “Museum” in name or otherwise. Instead, the small plaque displayed by the main doors had but two words: The Answers.
Entering, there was no silence, no hushed tones to be found. There was laughter from over in some far corner; the sounds of passion from another direction; a giggle was followed by a gasp of surprise from yet another. It was, not at all, what a museum was expected to be. But then, those of the Realm were not what they were expected to be, either.
There was no place for a museum in which there was no life, no passion, no self-discovery in Tera’s Realm. The entire point of the Realm itself was for souls to find themselves, to peer within and see what they could not before. This was a place where life, the living, and the wonders therein came together, embraced each other, and explored what came from that moment.
One never knew who might pass through the doors of The Answers, then wander off in one direction or another. There wasn’t a schedule to follow. After all, being spontaneous wasn’t the worst of things to happen.
It was so very late one evening, moments after the moon had taken up its place in the sky and the sun had gone off to its slumber after the day had been. The halls were dimly lit, exhibits bathed in pools of directed light marking their places in the shadows of mystery which held sway until the morning’s light returned.
It was one soul’s time to visit and search for answers.
This soul had come to this place soon after it had opened so long ago. Over time, the modest beginnings had been added to, expanded to hold the history of the place called the Realm. But there was a space which would always be the oldest, hold the first item, retain that mystery of which none could explain.
Mirrors were something unique in the Realm, not just a means to gaze upon one’s reflection, as was expected throughout much of the universe. In the Realm, mirrors were looking glasses into the world of the Tails, means to see one’s other self, to try and come to terms with oneself, to ask questions, or, more often than not, discover something of oneself one had not before.
But with all things, there was the first to be created, brought to life or, in one particular case, come to be. The first mirror was an imposing thing, reflective of many things that existed at the time of its creation. Its function was as a simple mirror at first, having no other purpose nor needing to. This first mirror marked the time from that point onwards, marking within the space what the first had seen, the first had done and, in time, they had decided. The past would call to them, both in its delights and its terrors, the good and the bad, the joys and the fears. The mirror was a reminder of who they once were, of where everything had begun.
The shadows around the mirror, waiting in its place of honour, parted before her. She was older, somewhat wiser than she’d been. She was the First, but she was something more now. She wasn’t the ruler of this Realm. She was, however, delighted in what her kind had become, what her children had made of themselves.
But the mirror remained, echoes of the past appearing in the evening to peer out, their expression bothered and questioning. The red-tail who called herself Lil felt her past restlessness and sought an answer. She hadn’t found her answer, perhaps she never would, not quite fully. Goddess wasn’t of any help. The past didn’t give her any real comfort.
She looked into the mirror and saw her past, the fires of her darker thoughts given form within. It was difficult to see herself as she was, in all her glory and desires. Their eyes met for a time, words not passing between them until she had to look away. Instead of words there were moments of reflection, then she moved on to seek out another corner of history to remember, regret, or cherish. A thought would strike her, and she’s return her gaze to the mirror once more.
Her past self was waiting. She always was, as irritated as always: “What is it?”
“Are you lonely?”
The Lilith of the past seemed to take pause at the question before answering in an oddly familiar tone: “Are you?”
The elderly red-tailed knitter found her answer: “Not anymore.”
The past seemed relieved: “Then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?
“Our children are.”
The mirror shimmered, the past started to fade, leaving only silvered glass behind. As emerald-green eyes departed into the mists of time, Lil found herself touching the mirror, looking within its depths and seeing something she’d not before: a reflection of herself looking back to her.
Come the morning, the mirror would be found in its place, many a tail passing by and seeing themselves reflected within. The answers they sought would be found within themselves, if they would listen for themselves.
It’s someone’s birthday this week, so I understand … As it is my Dearest Brother’s, I suppose I should write something that’s … apt. Remember, as much as I love him, he deserves every …
Pillow Smack
By TeraS
It is well known that the Realm has quite a varied arsenal of weaponry for the ebon-maned, red-tailed Queen of the Realm to choose from.
There is, of course, her cherished silver pitchfork which makes an appearance from time to time. Mainly a ceremonial item, it is the symbol of the Queen of the Realm, though she has been known to use it on those rare occasions when someone doesn’t quite get the point and there is a need to drive it home. Repeatedly.
Then there is her sword: perhaps not as often seen, but that really isn’t a bad thing, considering the times in Realm history it has appeared. Silver in hue, licks of green flame dance along its ornate blade when she holds the hilt in her hand. It is a weapon of last resort, a point at which discussion and reason have been spent and what remains is that which she finds the most distasteful: conflict.
There are other weapons, of course, from leashes and collars to bindings and other means: things to be used to bring a soul to heel, to obey the Queen’s will; items for which there is a singular purpose, desired by some, which can be used in pleasure … or anger … depending on what may be. That is, after all, the choice of the soul on which these implements are to be used.
While there are all of these, there are other options, perhaps not as pointed as a pitchfork, but they have their uses and purposes. There is one particular item which offers the Queen of the Realm a singular choice to give physical form to many of her thoughts and emotions–perhaps to drive a point home, express something of a dislike. It might be used to advise the recipient of their error in judgement, whether in taste or choice of opinion. A two-handed approach is required to wield the item. One must be sure to put one’s full effort into the attack.
The best approach, discovered over many uses, is to approach the target in question and pummel said target repeatedly. Now, considering the target is one who tends to hurt walls with one’s head, this does present a problem. The instrument does tend to come apart at the seams, of course. There is a moment when the outer casing tears and the inner contents explode into the space between the one being smacked and the one doing the smacking. But this is intentional, you see.
The target claims that the pillows do not hurt him, but they do confuse him on occasion. This allows the red-tailed attacker a moment to toss the consumed item to the side and collect a new one from the infinite pile waiting nearby.
As the inner stuffing of feathers floats around him, the attack continues with a new pillow, and once more the target’s confused expression makes Tera so very bemused. Still, he brought this upon himself; he can only blame himself for these attacks. He started this; she’s going to finish it, no matter how many pillows it takes.
That is, of course, if he remembers to stop talking about poutine. Somehow his red-tailed sister doubts that will ever happen, and so the pillows will continue to fly. Because, of course one must smack one’s brother from time to time to remind him how wrong he is, remind him of the error of his ways, and …
The first Succubi Image of the Week for 2022 is a bit of a moody piece of art. There’s something about the use of light, colour and tone which lend themselves to creating something quite striking…
Succubus by lovetina0726
This work is by the artist lovetina0726 on DeviantArt and you can find the original page here.
There’s something about this work that has a Dungeons & Dragons vibe which I rather enjoy. Her statuesque form and the shadows around her work really well to express something of her power. Interesting choice of tail, her wings not having holes in them I think adds a lot to her seeming like a Lady of Darkness, which is an interesting thought.
Quite powerful an image overall, and it leads towards some thoughts about her place in whatever setting she is found. More so, what her past might be and what her own desires drive her towards…
* New Year’s Day, a very popular one anyway, but not the only one throughout the year.
* Festival of Janus (Ancient Roman)
* Circumcision of Christ Day (Catholic) Yes there is at least one church that claims to have the item in question.
* O-Shogatsu (Japan) Along with O-Bon this is one of Japan’s most important ceremonies where bad fortune of the past year is eliminated.
* Fortuna’s Day (Ancient Roman) Fortuna was the Roman Goddess of Luck
* Zeus & Hera’s Day (Ancient Greece)
* Jupiter & Juno’s Day (Ancient Roman)
* Kwanzaa ends.
* Euro Day (Europe) Guess England will have to set this one out. * National Bloody Mary Day
* Apple Gifting Day
* Z Day (?) No, it doesn’t have anything to do with zombies, it’s a day all for people and places with names that start with Z and usually end up at the end of every list.
* Independence Day (Haiti) Heck of a lot of holidays to be piled up on a day when so many people have hangovers.
* Namahage (Japan). In the evening groups of Namahage men dressed as devils make door to door visits asking “Any good for nothing fellows here about?” The object is to give sluggards a chance to reform.
* Siddhartha Buddha Day (Tibetan Buddhism) Day Tibetan Buddhists meditate on the Buddha’s teachings and strive to fulfill the Precepts.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I'd like to take this time to thank each and every visitor to this blog. Your enthusiasm and encouragement keeps me going and I love reading your comments, thoughts and suggestions. A special thanks go out to the Patrons, who truly go the extra mile in supporting this ongoing project - we wouldn't be getting close to twelve years if it wasn't for you! I hope everyone reading this is spending the holiday with the people you love and that the coming year is filled of peace, health and happiness.
Still not feeling the best. Been that way for far too long, I know … That said, a possible answer has been found and I hope that will lead towards me feeling better than I have been. I can see Regina tapping her foot, waiting for me to continue, as well. Still, among all of this, there’s a story not told about an encounter …
Over Tea
By TeraS
They hadn’t talked much for a long time. The needs of the Realm, more than anything else, had kept them connected, but, beyond the minutia that existed and the events that had to be dealt with, they hadn’t spoken.
It hadn’t always been like that. Events, however, changed things between them. It seemed less important, overall, to chat than it was to keep things together, to be sure that the ebon-maned young soul that found herself in a place she didn’t want to be was given time. She needed the time to think, to sort out not just herself but what would come next.
They’d both decided, in their own ways, that managing the Realm, keeping the wheels of state working without troubling the young red-tail, was for the best. Perhaps it was selfish to think that. She’d surprised both of them long before the throne was hers: a question asked that barely hinted at wisdom, a statement noting when something wasn’t right and troubled her, the expression when she knew that they’d not told her quite everything. She was, after all, their sister’s daughter.
Still, time moves onward, things change, regrets come into one’s thoughts. It’s said with age comes some sort of wisdom. Perhaps that wisdom comes in realizing that it’s never too late to try.
“William.”
“Simone.”
He hadn’t been expecting visitors that evening. The snows were piling up on the shrubs outside, winter’s latest dusting making things a bit too uncertain for him to venture out; his cane wouldn’t keep him from a fall. The knock on the door, the sight of her bundled against the cold when he opened it, seemed so very out of place.
“You look well.”
“Managing well enough.”
The door frame marked the space between them, a physical representation of the barriers they’d found between themselves after so much time. There it was again, all that time lost between them.
“Am I intruding?”
“Come in. Just making some tea.”
The kitchen was as she remembered it, so very small and unassuming. When he’d moved in, she’d joked that he’d have to go outside to change his mind. The table, just barely large enough for two, was that same red-topped one with silver aluminum legs he’d come into possession of a handful of days later. His placing of her tea took her from the memories. “Thank you.”
“There’s some biscuits in the tin, if you want any.”
She took hold of the cup, looking across the table to him. She saw the elderly red-tailed uncle with the whitest hair their niece had ever seen. He’d managed to fold himself into his own chair, looking towards the fabled Receptionist before him. “How long has it been since we’ve talked?”
“Too long, Simone. We both know that.” There it was: not an accusation exactly, just a statement of fact that they both were so very aware of. The tea took her attention, she sipped at it, gathering her thoughts, but his came out first: “I understand that our niece has been seeing her auntie of late.”
“I wonder how that came to be.”
“I’m sure it was meant to happen.”
“Of course.”
He felt like he was in the middle of a minefield with her. In the past, one word between them would be enough for things to devolve into a sharp tone and then bring everything to a close. “Any plans for the winter?”
“Sort of. Depends.”
“Oh?”
The tea cup was set down as her eyes found his across the table. “I’m hoping that you might want to talk … again.”
The chuckle was familiar and had been missed for so long. “Door’s always open.”
“I can say the same.”
The truth comes out in time. Words are spoken that can’t be taken back. For good or less so, choices made bring us to where we are. We are beholden to our choices, they shape who we are. We also can find that inertia keeps us from changing course. It also can bring us to express thoughts only a very few can understand. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” Perhaps the words seem to be less than they are. The meaning of them really only understood between two souls reaching out across the years once more. A connection never lost, just placed to the side waiting for a moment to gather thoughts, share, and something more.
Perhaps a red-tailed niece discovering her auntie and uncle would be that something more …
