Like Christopher, I was born in music, particularly the songs by a pop band our scribbler enjoyed. I was a little playful, a little mischievous, and had an eye for a pretty youth right from the beginning. I laughed, mocked, and teased the world, never wasting my time in rage the way Damian did. My initial concept was as an actor playing the part of one of the scribbler’s favorite vampires in a surreal fanfic. I’ve collected quirks over the years like wearing velvet doublets, owning a knock-off bust, being dumped by an eccentric spirtualist and club-hopper in search of monsters, to name a few. Some of this has made its way into Tales of the Navel. I’ve flourished at the Navel, languishing in the shadow of Damian, getting very attached to Christopher and ‘Brie. I’ve taken some twists and turns since I decide to help Christopher to return to the Shadow Forest. I’ve found out I’m up to many things, in bed with some people (literally) which caught me with my pants down (again literally) No, I’m no longer me at the end of this journey (again literally) if it ever ends. No matter what, I do my best to enjoy the road and what company I find along it.
We came with Tarot imagery into the scribbler’s imagination. We were always there, the world that her characters struggled against each other within. The idea that we might be the world itself, the voice and soul of the world bubbled to the surface of the scribbler’s imagination during this very Blogging From AZ April Project, the first time she took part in it.
Thus Ouroborous, the World Serpent was born. Thus World of Ouroborous along with us were born.
We are what Nevalyn yearns to be, the Dragon a clerical order formed to worship. Our followers strive to keep the light from withering the world, even as we stop ourselves from swallowing it, plunging it into darkness. We are the Unicorn’s temptation, that which she’d rather trample and gore than accept and embrace. We were the reason she could not stay pure. We are what she blames for the impurity in others.
All of these ideas simmered in the scribbler’s imagination for years. They came to a boil here during the Blogging From AZ April Project. We’ve been here for ages, yet we were born here. It’s a paradox we’re well aware of and amused by. Paradoxes too often amuse us.
Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!
It’s also time for Rainbow Snippets, six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction posted on our blogs. After considering what to share, I decided to continue with A Symposium in Space. After all, Agathea’s orb is sort of like an Easter egg. Sort of. 🙂
A sly tone laced with humor emitted from the mechanical device.
I wondered if Agathea had given it her voice. What projected from the orb was such a caressing, sensual tone. It rivaled Pausania’s own for the levels of malice it could deliver, wrapped in a disguise of courtesy. I wasn’t used to this level of complexity in a simple communicator, but I was behind the times. Or so Pausania kept telling me.
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I came into creation with Kyra, appearing in a fantasy setting the scribbler wrote about as a young girl. I was an all-powerful ancestor, a conquering force within this fantasy land no one could stop.
Over time I became a serpent, a dragon, the Great Serpent. My conception swelled for years within the scribbler’s imagination, swallowing other ideas, becoming even greater. I grew within Kyra’s mind, becoming more and more a part of her. The role I played in Stefan’s life came out of a need to define the nature of Prince Stephen Jasior’s curse, to put him in danger.
Danger, ah, what a petty coward our scribbler reveals herself to be. She fears my greatness. She has infected my children with her fear. This fear grows every time I rear my head during a Blogging From AZ April Challenge. My intentions are not nearly as sinister as the revered Imperatix’s in A Suitor’s Challenge.
Serena Jasior, Imperatrix, does my Xian think she can hide behind such titles? Like myself, her truths have been exposed during these Blogging From AZ April Challenge blogs. Her treacherous heart, a hunger for power that rivals my own have been exposed as well. So much of our story has come into sharp focus during these blogs. They wait to continue to be fleshed out in A Suitor’s Challenge. Perhaps in Trouble at Caerac Keep as well.
I wait, coiled and ready for our scribbler’s attention to return to me. I am something beyond her petty existence, still I must be prepared to thank her properly for the lack of regard she’s shown for my existence, my part in her story, which in truth is my story. I must be ready to thank everyone, for I’m getting hungrier. Hungrier and more impatient to strike.
You might say I’m a fusion of different characters. Mel of the Sisters of Seraphis who first appeared in a roleplaying game and was later transferred to the Keep. ‘Lyssa, the villain from another roleplaying game is the forbidden ideal I was to be. Mel is the person I’m usually stuck being, but she’s better than Melyssa Ashelocke.
Yes, that’s my true self, the fusion of these characters. Melyssa Ashelocke, disappointing daughter to Duessa Ashelocke. In a way I’m the opposite of my cousin, Damian. He’s everything my mother desires, but he’s a boy blossoming who must be plucked and savored before he can become a man. Being overfond of him was one of the reasons she let him slip away. Was fondness why she let me slip away, too? Doubt it. I wasn’t much of an arachnocrat. Never had a Marriage Feast, for I hungered far more for the ladies waiting for the blossoms to ripen than for the blossoms themselves. I belonged more at the Temple of Seraphix with my Sisters and my master than I ever did in the Gardens of Arachne.
Yes, that’s the Mel part of me carrying on as a Sister. Devoted in a dopey way to her master, only she betrayed me. Actually I betrayed her first. We betrayed each other and I was destroyed as a result, only to be reborn beyond the Door, finding my way to Omphalos. Finding my way to a new family again which I don’t fit in with at all. I think my new mother just wanted a daughter. I’m not sure why I’m with my father or brother. We can’t stand each other. I’m finding my Sisters again in this place. I may even have found my master. Best of all, I’ve found Seraphix. By becoming a Follower of Seraphix, I can truly become one with my god in a way I’ve never been. I can finally express the part of myself I’ve hidden from the world.
All of this is being explored in Tales of the Navel. I’m trying hard to change, to become the me I’ve always wanted to be. Somehow I can’t get away from Melyssa Ashelocke. She’s always waiting for me along with her mother. Freeing myself from her expectations, her disappointments is a challenge I find hard to face. Only I somehow can’t discard my name. Not completely.
I’ve always been the dark seductress for idealistic girls willing to let me inspire them and drain them. I was this in Amberwyne’s past when I first emerged from the scribbler’s imagination into a roleplaying game.
Fidessa supplanted me in this. First at The Keep where she took Amberwyne from me. ‘Dessa decided to keep her in The Players Are the Thing, as if she could. Not even I could keep Amber, but she’s welcome to try. I’ll be laughing at her whenever I catch a glimpse of her in whatever magic mirror peers beyond the fourth wall of whatever tower she’s brooding and obsessing over Amber within.
No. I’ve found far more willing prey within Tales of the Navel. Myself.
Does that shock you? Surely preying upon one’s self is less reprehensible than preying upon others. It’s not as if Melyssa Ashelocke isn’t willing. She summoned me forth when she bound herself to Seraphix, leaving behind her mother and the arachnocrats. I was born from her own wish, her desire to drain and feast upon not the tender blossoms of the Gardens of Arachne, but the predatory ladies feeding upon them.
Surely that’s not reprehensible either. It’s simply part of a monstrous food chain, not that Melyssa needs any justication for her hunger. Nor for nursing me within her heart.
Not when she’s with me. Never when she’s me. I’m part of her she wishes to be, even if she fears me. Or feels ashamed of me. I simply must overcome that fear and shame so we can become one with Seraphix. So we can become ourselves.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of in such a desire.
My name is an homage to a character played by the very first pop singer the scribbler ever loved, spelled differently. Our scribbler being our scribbler took this early version of me, threw me in a fantasy setting with a bunch of other revised characters from TV shows or movies she loved, reinventing them so they became something completely different. Originally it was fanfic. The characters they’d been died in their worlds, only to remember who really were in the fantasy world. Eventually the fanfic elements, the notions of death and re-awakening were dropped since she wanted to get away from material which didn’t belong to her. Our vague fantasy setting eventually became the World of Ouroborous. I eventually became me. There were two noble houses warring against each other; the Jasior and the Izior. I was Izior, but didn’t realize it. I fell in love with a Jasior prince who was cursed. I had to free him from his curse.
Some of these elements stayed. I am trying to save a Jasior prince who’s an old friend I was separated from as a child. He saved me from the Serpent, the powerful entity that took residence in my head and heart by inviting Her into his. We’re born descended from Nevalyn, the Serpent. People in our world call us the Serpent-Born. They fear us, try to enslave us, chain us up, and use us. Only Stefan was adopted by Serena Jasior, Imperatrix of the United Lands, becoming a prince and her heir. He’s challenging all of his suitors to magical duels, not leaving anything left of them if they use.
I’m certain this is behavior is because of Nevalyn inside him. He’s feeding his victims to the Serpent. I want to stop him, yet save him. The only way I can get close to him is by becoming a suitor to the prince myself.
This is where my story, A Suitor’s Challenge, comes into play.
Hello, my dears! How nice to see you all, would you like a cup of tea? It’s so relaxing, just ask my husband, tee hee! He’s not half so restless as when he started drinking this, letting his eyes and hands wander, the naughty man. My tea makes the naughty quite docile, tee hee! Yes, you wouldn’t think so. I seem quite the simple old woman, don’t I? Things are never what they see, my dears. Why, it took our scribbler a while to realize this, the silly thing. She created me for Stealing Myself From Shadows, not realizing I was much older than her story. She actually called me June at first, can you imagine that? Tee hee! When she fixed my name, you might say I snapped into focus for her at last. The slow dear realized I had quite the collection of legends around my identity, legends she could use to inform her own tale with a little cleverness. Once my name changed, I acquired my sulky husband and my depressed daughter. Oh, yes, I’m speaking of Jupitre and Hebe, tee hee! I didn’t get to keep either long. Neither was happy with life in Omphalos. Why for that matter, neither was I. I suppose that’s why we get into trouble in Stealing Myself From Shadows and A Godling for Your Thoughts? Oh, but I wouldn’t want to give you any spoilers about that, no, no! You’ll just have to wait and read about it yourselves. Do tell that silly scribbler there are people waiting to read more about us, would you? There’s a dear! You take care of yourself now and be certain to honor your marriage bonds, please. I take such matters seriously. I get very cross when people don’t and you wouldn’t want to make me cross, would you?
I’ve had many conceptions. I’ve been a troll artist for a roleplaying game. Much of my genesis came from the scibbler when reading about Michelangelo; his affinity with stone, his efforts to free the art he saw trapped in the stone. Some of this concept went to Quartz. Some of it stayed with me. Working with stone, feeling Fidessa’s victims trapped within the rock gave me an idea of what she was up in The Players Are the Thing.
I thought this was our story. Mine and Amberwyne’s. Only it turns out to be just a game a group of lonely, bored girls are playing. Why would anyone play our lives? Why would anyone play with our lives? What sort of monster is capable of such a thing? Except I sometimes catch glimpses of my creatrix. She’s no monster. She’s a frustrated woman trying to express things she cannot. I’m that expression. I’m her creativity given life and voice. I cannot say I’m unhappy with the life and voice I have, for all the danger I encounter.
I’m not sure if she is, which is a waste. She should stop and enjoy life more. Enjoy me more. Here’s hoping she listens when I try to tell her or show here. Here’s hoping the scribbler doesn’t forget The Players Are the Thing. We’ve come too far for her to forget.
Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!
Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction. It can be your own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.
To sample various LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…
For my own, Pausania will continue in her dismissive snark toward the orb she showed last Sunday in A Symposium in Space…
Pausania waved her free hand in languid dismissal. “You’re all about the latest trends. You never touch anything that questions or casts them in an unflattering light.”
“Ah, but would I be inviting Sokrat if that were true?” A sly tone laced with humor emitted from the mechanical device.
I wondered if Agathea had given it her voice.
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