A sleek, dark-skinned woman with dusky broze curls brushing her bare shoulders plants her feet into the ground, centering herself. Her leather tunic covers her thighs as she squats, moving her hands in a rippling circle around herself.
The landscape ripples as well with the movement of her hands.
A series of open air temples appear behind her. Statue after statue stands in front of each temple; always a woman.
Sometimes the woman in dressed in armour, or a flowing dress. Each stone countenance is wistful and watchful, sightless eyes trained upon the living female in their presence.
Each statue reminds Christopher of what remains of a Marriage Feast in the Gardens of Arachne; a youth locked in stone within his bride’s courtyard after his special night. Eternally beautiful. Eternally still.
It is a fate Christopher himself managed to slip away from, although he’s not sure how or why.
The sky grows overcast as he steps out of the shadows into this woman’s world.
She blinks, focusing hazel eyes with ruby flecks upon him. When she does, the landscape ripples again.
The statue vanishes. The temple behind the woman changes into a great marble structure with a dome, topped by a silver unicorn.
Christopher recognizes the dome and the unicorn. He looked down upon it from a tower at Rhodry Nevalyn’s side. The gardens and paths into silent nooks are very like the one he found himself facing Faith within.
This woman, a girl of Faith’s age, gazes at him, eyes widening.
Christopher stares at her with equal wonder.
Christopher and the Strange Girl: (at the exact same moment) Who are you?
They pause, surprised at their symmetry.
The girl stares at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and begins to laugh.
Christopher laughs as well, realizing she’s going to be a lot easier to talk to than Faith.
The Strange Girl: Unicorn tits, if you’re the Vampire Corwyth, I’m liking you a lot more than I thought I would!
Christopher: (still smiling) Would I be able to get this close to a Unicorn temple if I was?
He’s honestly curious what she’s going to say.
The Strange Girl: (shrugging) I don’t know. If vampires can creep into this temple at night, take one of Faith’s sisters and feed upon the other, the power of the Unicorn may be exaggerated.
Christopher: It appears to be day time. (He looks up at an overcast sky with weak sunlight shining through.) We’re on holy ground, but it’s a different holy ground that where we were a moment ago, isn’t it?
The Strange Girl: You saw that? I was visualizing my home, my mother and the other twelve who guard it.
Christopher: The statues?
The Strange Girl: Yes, they are eternal, immortal, and watchful, only coming to life when danger threatens Aethyria…or their daughters need them. (She extends a hand.) I’m Ariadne.
Christopher: Ah, you’re Alyx’s sister. Rhodry mentioned you.
Ariadne: (relaxing a bit) You know Rhodry? I might have guessed. You’re as beautiful as he is. You’re a boy, too, aren’t you?
Christopher: For now.
Ariadne: (winks) I’ll have to catch you when you’re a girl or during a Marriage Moon.
Christopher: Marriage Moon? (He smiles a little.) First the statues and now you speak of Marriage Moons. You’re reminding me of the Gardens of Arachne, only our statues are usually former Marriage Feasts.
Ariadne: Marriage Feasts? That sounds rather sinister, like something a vampire might have.
Christopher: Rhodry said something similiar. I suppose it is, but we grew up with this custom under the sun, anticipating the night we’d give ourselves up to our brides in return for eternal beauty.
Ariadne: We?
Christopher: (his smile fades) Damian and I.
Ariadne: Damian? Is he your love partner?
Christopher: (blushing) I’m not sure what you’d call Damian and I.
Ariadne: (offering him a sideways grin) I’ve had a few those.
Christopher: Under a Marriage Moon?
Ariadne: Oh, Marriage Moon is that rare time under a full moon when Aethyrians give themselves up to the howl of lust with Graecans. Our love partners are always women unless we want to leave Aethyria.
Christopher: I think Rhodry mentioned Aethyria and Graeca. They were twin princesses or twin princes, weren’t they?
Ariadne: Princesses. Graeca threw herself into the River Selene and emerged a man. He followed the piping of satyrs and whoops of men away from his sister. Thirteen of the mightiest of maidens came to Aethyria’s side to comfort and protect her after her sister abandoned her.
Christopher: Are they any relation to the statues in front of the temples I saw?
Ariadne: Yes, the Circle of the Thirteen. Our leaders, guardians, and wise women.
Christopher: You mentioned your mother was among them.
Ariadne: Theanna, the youngest of the Circle. She took the place of Xylanthe, the Ancient Spider.
Christopher: What happened to Xylanthe?
Ariadne: She sucked the life’s blood, the heart, the vitality out of Graeca in the groves of his land, right under the noses of the fauns and satyrs surrounding him. After which, she turned her attentions to Princess Aethyria.
Christopher: What happened?
Ariadne: Xylanthe sucked the life out of Aethyria, just as she had Graeca. The former twins turned to stone, unable to respond.
Christopher: This sounds a lot like what happens to a Marriage Feast.
Ariadne: The other twelve guardians drove her from Aethyria, becoming statues themselves so their princess wouldn’t be lonely. They cursed Xylanthe to mortality and death, but the Spider found she could stay young and beautiful, if she kept sucking the vitality of other people, stealing their lives.
Christopher: Where is she now?
Ariadne: Legend places her at the heart of the Dark Circle in this cold land of Rowenda where we stand now, south of Caerac Keep. Theanna taught me to be wary of legends, yet not to disregard them.
Christopher: (looking around) This is within Caerac Keep’s walls, isn’t it?
Ariadne: Yes. (She shivers.) It has a certain barbaric beauty, but I miss my home. I miss my mother. I miss my sister.
Christopher: Is your mother, ah, a statue?
Ariadne: (smiling) Sometimes. She comes to live for periods of time. To talk. To hold me. To offer her wisdom. She returns to stone eventually, but as long as I’m within Aethyria’s borders, I feel her presence, her strength.
Christopher: You’re fortunate. I’m unsure if our statues ever awaken to speak with us.
Even as the words leave his lips, he recalls Dyvian. The statue which may have found new life in the Shadow Forest, even as Christopher has.
Ariadne: I wish my mother could speak to me now. (Her smile turns wisful.) I wish she could reach out to Alyx, wherever she is, and comfort her. I have a bad feeling she needs comfort.
Christopher: Your sister was taken, wasn’t she?
Ariadne: It’s why I’m here at Caerac Keep. (She gestures to the temple and the grounds around her.) To find her.
Christopher: Rhodry mentioned connecting to her in his dreams.
Ariadne: Alyx told me about those dreams. Meeting him gave me hope. (She eyes Christopher.) The way you entered my vision of home and shattered it made me wonder if you aren’t something similar to him.
Christopher: Serpent-Born? Hardly. I’m not from this world. Which was why I was surprised to see you change the landscape as if you were in the Shadow Forest, but we are in the Cauldron. Not everyone I meet is aware of their ability to alter their setting.
Ariadne: I didn’t alter anything. I just pictured home, prayed to my mother and the Thirteen for help and guidance in finding Alyx.
Christopher: We can change the setting at will, if we wish. Forgive me for distracting you and disturbing your magic by appearing.
Ariadne: It was just a vision. Just memories, not magic.
Christopher: Memories are magic, at least to me. They nourish and sustain me.
Ariadne: Now you’re talking like a vampire again, not that I’m sure I believe in vampires. Corwyth may be nothing than more than a boy like you.
Christopher: What do you believe in?
Ariadne: Monstrous emotions or impulses which when acted upon transform people into monsters. Just as Xylanthe draining Aethyria and Graeca of their lives forced her to keep draining, again and again.
Christopher: Was Xylanthe a vampire?
Ariadne: I think of her as a spider woman, the Ancient Spider. Vampires are supposed to be undead. The undead may exist. There’s been enough stories of ghosts become wraiths, skeletal armies, and ghouls crawling from their graves. Faith insists they’re true. She’s afraid of the undead, like everyone in this Keep.
Christopher: And you aren’t?
Ariadne: I’m afraid of fear. Fear clouds my judgment, but I can’t help being afraid. I’m afraid of losing my sister forever. I’m afraid of this Keep filled with fearful people. I’m afraid of things I don’t understand.
Christopher: Not understanding can be wonderful. It can be a journey towards understanding.
Ariadne: (smiling) Now you sound like Alyx or Rhodry.
Christopher: Thank you. Coming from you, I have a feeling that’s a compliment.
Ariadne: You’re welcome, although you still haven’t told me your name…or what to call you.
Christopher: Where are my manners? I’m Christopher.
Ariadne: A pleasure, Christopher, although I’m not sure why you’re here.
Christopher: I think I’m here to talk to you. To help you think, to clear your mind of whatever is worrying you.
Ariadne: How charitable. Charity is supposed to be one of the Unicorn’s virtues. It’s the name of one of Faith’s sisters. (She glances back at the temple.) I’m not sure if believe in the Unicorn or her virtues, yet here I am.
Christopher: Is it because of Faith?
Ariadne: Insufferable, isn’t she? It doesn’t help that she’s maddeningly attractive.
Christopher: I’d agree about the insufferable. I’m not sure about the maddeningly attractive.
Ariadne: How can you look into those lustrous dark eyes and not be sure? They’re as dark and deep as a moonless night? Her skin, her lips; all of her evokes the urge to kiss her, until she opens her mouth and starts ranting about holiness, heresy, and the Unicorn. My urge to kiss her turns into a desire to slap her.
Christopher: I see.
Ariadne: I envy Rhodry. I’d love to know what she’s thinking and feeling underneath it all.
Christopher: I’m sure he’d love to pass his link with Faith on to you, if he could.
Ariadne: What a waste. To have such intimate knowledge of someone you want nothing to do with.
Christopher: Perhaps that’s why.
Ariadne: What do you mean?
Christopher: Perhaps Rhodry and Faith are linked so they’ll come to understand each other. They might dislike each other less if they did.
Ariadne: Enforced sympathy via nonconsensual empathy, eh? A bit ruthless, yet effective.
Christopher: It’s my guess. (Mist curls around his feet, rising up his calves.) It looks like you’ve said what you needed to say.
Ariadne: And now you’re leaving. (She watches as the mist crawls up his thighs to his chest with interest.) Is this some sort of compulsion? You come to people when they need to talk and leave when their need is satisfied?
Christopher: Yes. You’ll have to ask the scribbler if you want to know more about it. (The mist is up to his neck.)
Ariadne: The Scribbler? Is that some sort of god?
Christopher is swallowed by the mists which vanish. Only his voice lingers.
Christopher: Don’t let her hear you calling her a god. She’ll definitely get a swelled head.
Ariadne is left in front of the Unicorn temple while I’m left staring at this screen after I finish typing up this blog, feeling a little miffed.
I’m not used to this level of snarkiness from Christopher. He’s definitely picking up bad habits from Quartz.
…
inspirationcauldron 