"Hacca, my grandson, your mother would not like to see you brood so. Gladhys of the silvery laughter was merry unto the last."
The young elf looked up from his book and stared for a moment, his black eyes unfocused. "It was no earthly sickness, Papa Macar, to take an elf so swiftly. I swear it was a curse. My magicks are too weak at this time to make further headway in discovering the nature and the source. But one day I will root the truth out, and purge such darkness from the land."
Macar absent-mindedly rubbed the pommel of his famed emerald blade, and looked at the tall, willowy form of his descendent, now folded on a reading mat on the floor. "I fear the curse, if such it was, is a shadow on your heart already. Do not let it consume you, but let your soul resonate with the songs of your father Sir Quentro, who faced death in battle with a bold refrain on his lips! And let not the laughter of Gladhys fade either from your soul."
The first trace of a smile in months teased at the corner of Hacca's mouth, and he brushed a strand of his fine copper hair from his face, weaving back into his ponytail. "It is ever in my ears, Grandfather. One day I will Rule this land as she foretold, and with my enchantments shall drive all evil from the land, that laughter shall be heard everywhere."
Hacca felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He turned swiftly. The gilt mahogany carriage was still there, it's red silk curtains drawn but for a narrow slit. A pale hand emerged, its beringed finger beckoning. A mellifluent yet imperious voice commanded, "Approach, Hacca".
Startled, the would-be mage found himself obeying despite himself. The carriage door opened, pushed by its occupant, which revealed itself to be a middle-aged human woman clothed in a red velvet dress with gold filigree. Her features were sharp but handsome, framed by jet black ringlets shot with silver strands.
"It is not wholly safe for an elf to walk the town alone. But your father saved the life of mine, in a goblin battle, and he has bidden me to guide your steps here."
Hacca's brow furrowed. "I see. You know my name, but I know not how my mysterious benefactor is called."
The newcomer regarded him coolly. "I am Lady Aberlin Vermilion. And if you do as I tell you, you might have a small chance to make something of yourself."
The elf thought of a retort, but a sudden feeling that the hand of Fate was upon him stayed his tongue. Instead he bowed. "As you wish."
The Beauty of Lady Fluke
The elves of old could spin sunlight into threads of finest gold,
So the ancient tales have told,
And thy hair doth make me think it could be true.
The dwarves in days of yore wrought sapphire rings from the very sky,
If my grandad's stories do not lie,
And to see your eyes, I cannot think they do.
Monks on hidden mountaintops mold pearly clouds into porcelain cups and plates,
If traveller's legends don't exaggerate,
And by your lustrous skin this seems likely, too.
For all the treasures of the world,
With beauty to steal the breath from kings themselves,
Has come to live once more in the face of you.
Hole In Meh Bucket Burlesque Competition
My friends, I made an epic fools of myself. But what do we live for but to be a source of mirth? If the sight of my new leather boots getting drenched by water streaming from a useless bucket is a height of comedy then let them laugh. Or maybe it was the ridiculous sunflower yellow toga and laurel of daisies I was made to wear. I am sure the day shall come when I laugh at my good neighbors for some folly. Now excuse me while I empty my boots!.
I noticed her each day as I walked to my accustomed desk at the library, always at a table poring over some tome on natural science. She was dressed in simple gray wool and her features looked as if she spent time laboring in the sun, which are aroused my curiosity as such seemed incompatible with the halls of learning. We spoke, and I was surprised to learn that she was young for. A human but indeed spent her days farming, but her evenings feeding her voracious intellectual curiosity. I was entranced, and it struck me that her deep blue eyes held an enticing keenness, and when her face was animated in discussion of astronomy, it radiated a beauty to rival any in the land.
Reflections On Your Mother
Gladhys, queenly elf of the silvery laugh. Through her wisdom she raised me to have an open, forgiving, and mirthful heart. She showed me her mastery of magery and set me on a path to rulership. She was strong when my father was slain, and kept me from despairing. So when the fey darkness took her, I was able to be strong as well. Long shall our people sing of the life of Gladhys!.
House of Sorrows
The primary teaching of my mother, Gladhys of the Silvery Laughter, is that Life is Connection. There is an essence that flows from the sun and stars through every living thing on this world, bringing energy and life, and stirring love between sapient beings which binds our society together. But the peoples of the world are putting industriousness and individuality ahead of connection, leaving people feeling isolated and depressed. Some people who operate on a different plane than the norm, whether due to the Autismark or being born Anxius, are sequestered from society when once they may have been given an honored place in it. Jean has created an alternate reality where we work together by telling our own stories, and talk and listen to each other in a mature manner. In this way, he helps to resolve his own isolation and those who venture into his world.