five | he’s probably just staring at squirrels
... Hopefully.

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@edgeofannwn
five | he’s probably just staring at squirrels
... Hopefully.
four | unmarried women
What’s between a promise and a threat? A contract.
Not a comic update, but here’s some Faerie Bullshit™ that happened to me recently—
I couldn’t get to sleep until a little past 7 Sunday night/Monday morning… Not that unusual, my insomnia isn’t as bad as it used to be but I still have it.
At some point close to just before I finally drifted off I vaguely sorta-remember having some kind of idea or maybe jotting down a couple pretty phrases that occurred to me, but whatever the idea was I couldn’t remember it the next day. Figured oh well, I forget writing ideas all the time.
Today I found a full poem in the notes on my phone.
My Lord’s locked up in the castle; My Lord, he watches sea; My Lord looks out to the ocean, And calls, “Bring here our Lady to me.”
My Lord stands across from a window, Stands with keen eyes and with even hands; Righteous ears preside over our quarrels, But my Lord’s heart is in other lands.
A lord’s first love they say is his castle; The stone peeress who champions the yard. But if my Lord’s love is a champion, She’s cavalry of a vanguard.
For my Lady is a lady that’s wild; My Lady says she has been freed. My Lady, she won’t be the rampart, For there’s no kind of stone that can bleed.
She said, “Make me not limestone nor marble, Left by mason and grown up with vine; Let me not rest! Make me stormy, With the vigor to waste not my time.”
If a lady’s first love is her garden, Well, my Lady’s, it spans the wide globe. She plants life across every island; My Lady’s garb is a voyager’s robe.
My Lord and my Lady are fair folk, Understand that however you please; But their fate is I think an unjust one: He’s the stillness and she is the breeze.
My Lady and Lord mind our people; Lord and Lady both grow our great trees. The Lady and Lord tend to floods and to cries, In the good land they call the Storm’s Lee.
Again: I don’t really remember writing this.
I have absolutely no idea who (what) these people are, just apparently the wee hours of Monday morning it was time to write about them.
three | speak friend
Don’t look too closely into it.
two | sídhe
We love it there.
one | preamble
You don’t see the Good Folk at first.