Wednesday, November 27, 2019

#QueerBlogWed: The Threshold Part 5

On August 21, 2019, P.T. Wyant posted at ptwyant.com a Wednesday Words prompt involving a door in a hillside.

This prompted a huge Tale of the Navel: The Shadow Forest about a young Leiwell, involving a little of the backstory of Dyvian, Maggie, and himself.

This is the fourth part...

Magdalena gazed at him with angry eyes, full black pupils surrounded by rings which might once have been hazel. Right now they were golden-green, luminous in their fury and hope. 

Leiwell didn’t look away, he couldn’t look away. “Don’t blame anyone for your own regrets.”

Magdalena recoiled at this, gazing at that coin. “Well, well, Another acolyte steps forward, ready to whisper your words, Vampyre.”

“I’m no more a vampyre than you are, lady.” His master moved forward to lay a hand upon Leiwell’s shoulder. “This little shadow of Seraphix says nothing more than the truth as you well know.”
Magdalena glanced at Leiwell, at the smooth, checked tile under her feet, anywhere but at the coin. The floor became more real and solid the more she looked at it, as did the pillars in the background, the long cobwebs handing from the ceiling, hiding what might have once been a mural. 

“Assuming what you say is true.” Magdalena spoke to those tiles, lifting her head in a slow, cautious movement. “Can you bring my sister back to me?”

“She’ll be altered, not quite what you remember, but yes. I can bring her back to you.” His master took a sharp, hissing breath, sniffing the air. “If you take the talisman my Leiwell has offered you.” 

Magdalena cast a weary, reluctant gaze at the coin. She reached out for Leiwell’s hand. 

He felt warm, rough fingers brush his skin, very like Map’s, hardened with a lifetime of work, withdrawing the small, metal object which had manifested. 

This wasn’t all she was taking. His master had given this woman his name without asking. Leiwell wondered why he’d done such a thing. 

Magdalena backed up a step, away from the boy and his master, holding the coin. “How is this thing going to help me?”

“That thing can become a symbol of your contract with the God Seraphix.” His master smiled, showing teeth as white as bleached bone. “Wish and pray to Them. The stronger your faith is, the stronger They will become.” A single, pale hand, utterly uncallused gestured to the coin. “Strong enough to bring back your sister.” 

“The God Seraphix?” The woman backed up a step, making a warding gesture at her words. “I want nothing to do with that creature. It’s why my sister is dead!”

“Seraphix can be whatever you believe Them to be.” His master folded his hands and gazed back at Magdalena. “Whether They’re just a creature or your benefactor is up to you.”

“You’re saying if I offer Seraphix faith, it’ll be on my side?” Magdalena let out a sharp, derisive laugh, tossing her head. “I don’t believe it!”

“What you believe is up to you.” His master lifted a finger and wagged it in a slow, languid gesture. “The more faith you offer this godling, the more powerful a god it will grow up to.”

“Powerful enough to bring my sister back.” Magdalena let out a ragged, shuddering breath and gazed down at the metal disc in her palm. “Worship and prayer are the coin I offer in return for a miracle.”

“Exactly.” His master bowed his head and shut his eyes. “You are the one who decides if Seraphix is strong enough to bring back your sister or not.”

Magdalena examined the coin in her hand, turning it over, examining the round face on its surface. The pensive expression upon her lips and nose intensified the resemblance between the profile and herself. 

Leiwell felt a twinge of sympathy. What would he do, if he lost Danyel and Tayel? The very notion gave the air around them a crimson tinge as much as fear. 


He wiped his forehead, focusing on the sweat upon his brown. Such little details grounded him, kept him solid. 

Monday, November 25, 2019

Secondary Characters Speak Out: Quartz, Albert and Victor

It's cross-over time once more, with Quartz interviewing M.D. Neu's Victor (again) and Addison Albright's Albert (again)...check out their unique vampires stories The Calling and The Recruit and The Choice to meet them in their own universes!

As for Quartz, well, he's dead in Fairest, not happy about it, letting me know he's not dead, not only by hijacking this blog once a month, but by pushing me to write a story explaining what really happened to him called Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins. Ahem, let us return to this interview...

Quartz sits on the fourth wall a respectful distance from the two vampires, (particularly Victor) wearing a tunic with a high collar and a scarf wrapped several times around his neck. 

Quartz: “Gentlemen, thank’ee for meeting me.” (He’s avoiding Victor’s gaze.) “You’re vampires from two very different universes. You had a human life once, didn’t you? What was it like?”

A: “Thanks for inviting me back.” (Raises an eyebrow at Quartz and wonders what the little guy knows about Victor that maybe he should be aware of, too.) “Yes. In my world we live among, and in much the same way as humans do. We blend…that’s how we survive in the modern world. It’s been more than two thousand years since I actually was one, though. I have wonderful memories of my childhood and my loving parents. But memories of my time in the Roman army are not so good.” (Albert closes his eyes tightly and his face pinches. He sighs when he reopens his eyes.) “What I had to do to my best friend—otherwise I’d have received the same fate without actually saving him from his—will haunt me forever.” (Albert turns to Victor.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Last time I was invited to this wall I met Juliet, who I believe is from your world, is that right?”

V: Victor nods towards Albert. “An honor to meet you Albert. It is rare in my world for one to meet someone of your age. Of course, there is much about my world that I thought was true that has now been proven to be false.” He shrugs. “Ah, well.”” He grins. “Ah, Juliet, yes. She and I share the same world. It would be interesting to know what Juliet has said to you, but I guess, I shall be kept in the dark, as usual.”

Victor glances around seeing the little Fae on his wall, neck well covered and avoiding him. A smile tugs at Victor’s lips. “It’s delightful to be back.” He glanced to Quartz, “My human life was no different than that of any other mortal in the six century. I lived in what is now Spain. My family was neither rich nor poor and like many we were pleased when Raccared became Catholic.”  He chuckled. “My life didn’t becoming interesting until I was Called.” He narrowed his eyes on Quartz and bit at the air. 

Quartz: “Anything you miss now you’re a vampire?”

A: “Real food. It, ah…runs right through vampires in my world, which is an unpleasant experience. I’m used to not eating food now and am satisfied enjoying their smells. But I do miss my mother’s lentils with coriander. I never learned the recipe, not that it would matter now. And roasted wild boar. She used to wrap bacon around the roast. So good!”

V: “I’ve always wanted to try, and enjoy, pizza, it always looks interesting especially with all the toppings and different kinds of crusts….” He sighed. “It’s something even if washed down with a glass of blood, has no taste or flavor and I’ve felt it a waste.” 

Quartz: “You’re both immortal, right? Is there anything special you’ve gotten to experience because of your long life span you’re glad of?”

V: “The last century and half have been the most exciting, yes there were advancements before, but these last 150 years our world…well my world… has grown and changed a lot and I’m glad to have been witness to it.”

A: (Nods.) “I agree with Victor. The recent technological advances are amazing. And yes, vampires in my world can be killed, but we are immortal in the sense that we won’t continue to age beyond our human years and will never die of natural causes. We also heal rapidly. The older we are, the better we heal. As for the reason technological advances are of particular interest to me…well, I shouldn’t share details yet, but advances in space travel will likely be our salvation. With the world-wide trends toward DNA-centric identification, it’s only a matter of time before our existence will be forced into the open.”

Quartz: “Anything you’d rather have missed out on?”

A: “Every war humans have engaged in. In balance, I think the good things outweigh the bad. But perhaps that opinion’s coming from a place of privilege, because I was able to avoid an active role in those since becoming a vampire.”

V: Victor’s gaze lowered to the ground, his hands making their way into his pockets after several moments of quiet thought he raises his head and stares at Quartz. “That question. So, much. There is so much that has happened that…” he shook his head. “This list is long.”

Quartz: “Victor, you’re part of something called the Dark. What’s that exactly?”

V: Victor laughed. “I thought I knew, but as I said my world is changing, thanks in no small part to Chris and of course Kirtus. I’m so glad I kept him alive. I can’t say the same for some others.” He huffed and he felt himself want to shift with anger, but he maintained. “Regardless, the past, it would seem, is coming back into fashion, and I believe it will be for the best, if only I knew more about what was happening with the Light and what was causing all their strife.”

He shook his head. “More to your question, the Dark are vampires that tend to be less focused on others and instead focus all our energy on making our world more comfortable and better. We are independent and don’t believe in living our lives with restraints, of course we have rules that we follow, but we tend to be freer then the Light, in how we live.”  A grin pulled at lips. “Some would call us selfish, but I prefer to think of us as self-innovators.”  

Quartz: “Albert, do you have factions among vampires in your own universe, too?”

A: “Yes. We have factions broken up by geography rather than by philosophy. We have a single world council that oversees all, and coordinates information and innovations between factions. Each faction leader and each council member are considered equals at the top of the vampire hierarchy with equal weight in matters that come to a vote. There is no one leader. Our primary mission is to keep vampires safe, and living comfortable, fulfilled lives. We thoroughly enjoy the entertainment industry’s various takes on what they consider to be the vampire mythos, but our day-to-day lives are nothing like that.”

Quartz: You both drink blood. (really not looking at Victor) Got any victim preferences? (under his breath) Scribbler, did you have to have me ask this question?!

Me: (muttering in a distracted way) “For the blood is the life…”

Quartz: (in a half growl) “Writers. Especially with a headful of fandom…anyway, how much of a part does blood play in your life, or unlife?” 

A: “Life” (Albert narrows his eyes at Quartz.) “We consider ourselves to be alive. Our hearts beat. Yes, our blood is black rather than red, but that simply makes us differently alive.” (Takes a deep breath and brushes off the slight. The little guy didn’t know any better, and what with all the misinformation in movies, it’s only to be expected.) “Blood is necessary to our survival. But, fortunately, it doesn’t need to be fresh. In the old days we didn’t have any choice, but today, we’ve infiltrated blood banks and, more importantly, own many biohazard disposal services. We have access to blood that ages out and is marked for destruction. Although many blood types are frequently in short supply, the types that are not universal donors and aren’t the most common, age out. Blood that is rejected after testing due to infections is also perfectly acceptable for us.”

V: “Oh little Quartz, don’t fear me, I don’t dine on Fae, I have wondered what your blood may taste like, but for the most part I prefer human, plan simple, human. I have no real preference I follow my nose.” He taps his nose for emphasis. “For many of us it is the scent of blood that drives our taste. If one smells good, then their blood smells good.” Victor steps forward, “And you my little friend smell delicious.” He laughs.

“That said, I will echo what Albert has stated, technology has improved our diet and ease of access. We too have stakes in the blood industries including biohazard disposal. A fellow dark, Luka, from Russia has quite the blood trafficking industry. It is one of the few things he and I see eye-to-eye on.”

Quartz: “Is there anyone you’ve ever met you really wished to turn? A famous person or simply a potential companion?”

A: “Only once.” (Grins.) “And I did turn him.”

V: “Two many.” Victor shakes his head, “I shall leave my answer at that.

Quartz: “Is there anyone you feel immortality is wasted upon?”

A: “There are plenty whom it would be wasted on, but they don’t make it past our screening process. The bad apples that were among us before we became organized have been…shall we say…weeded out.”

V: “They are not immortal like us, however, I believe they will live on and that is the Kardashian’s they, sadly, will survive in our collective consciousness for far too long.” His eyes grow narrow and his fangs bite at his lips. “Then there are some, some of my very own, who have far outlived their welcome on my world.” He clears his throat. “Forgive me. That was inappropriate, however, I will say I am pleased to see some I know get the rewards they have long sense deserved.” 

Quartz: “Any long term plans for the future?”

A: “There’s that space project I hinted at earlier. We’ve infiltrated enough agencies that our immortality can be handled with regularly updating appearances and identities. For now. But the world is changing, and the day will come when we can no longer get away with that.”

V: “Many, but that is not for me to say.” He points to the sky. “My creator would not forgive me if I shared spoilers, however, I have given a great many clues away to what is to come. As I’ve said, my world is changing. We will not expose ourselves to humans of course, that would be suicide, but things will change, for good or for bad. Maybe both.” 

Quartz: “All right, as individuals who’ve watched the world change over the centuries, how has it surprised you? What do you expect to see in the future?”

A: “Nothing much surprises me anymore.” (Shrugs.) “And we make it our business to stay on top of trends, so we can predict which way policies around the world are moving. As I’ve mentioned, we predict an earth with populations that are more and more keyed into personal identification that’s DNA centric. We—vampires—don’t plan to stay around to actually see that happen.”

V: “My world, the world I occupy, is always changing and growing. We may see a rise in your kind, Quartz, but I doubt it, still it may happen. Humans will continue to be unaware of us, much like in Alberts world I assume, we have taken steps to ensure our secrecy even with the continued changes in technology. I suspect those like Elon Musk, Tim Cook, and others will push my world forward into areas of science and technology yet to be discovered…” He glanced around. “I do wonder what may happen if life from other world finds us, how would we, as vampires, react to such a thing. Or, we will do when humans become too clever and we become to sloppy.” 

Quartz: Thank’ee, both of you. (inching back a little more from Victor, muttering) Bloody scribbler. Why does she keep doing this to me…

V: “Always a pleasure, my little friend, perhaps one day, you will come to my world for a visit, there is much I think you would like to see.” He turns to Albert. “A pleasure to meet one as old as you. Your world sounds equally as interesting as mine.”

A: “Thank you for the invite, Quartz…and...” (Glances at the curious wall.) “uh…Scribbler? And Victor, I appreciate your kind words. It’s likewise a pleasure to meet you and learn more about your intriguing world.”

A red curtain appears and a voice comes from behind it. 

Nimmie Not: “So that’s what you’re up to, Quartz. Talking to these handsome immortals behind my back. I’m going to have to think of something to show you just how…distressing…I find this. 


Quartz: Gah! 


Wednesday, November 20, 2019

#QueerBlogWed: The Threshold Part 4

On August 21, 2019, P.T. Wyant posted at ptwyant.com a Wednesday Words prompt involving a door in a hillside.

This turned into a huge, multipart Tale of the Navel: The Shadow Forest about Leiwell. This is the final part...

He wiped his forehead, focusing on the sweat upon his brown. Such little details grounded him, kept him solid. 

He looked up to meet sharp, hazel eyes, assessing him, measuring him from the rounded cheeks, flushed face, and deceptively human countenance of the woman in front of him. All of this seemed like part of a mask, an illusion of reality as fragile as his own existence in the solid world. 

“You seem like a nice lad, whatever else you might be.” Magdalena nodded in a slow, thoughtful maner. “Take this as a friendly warming.” She pointed a chapped finger at his master. “Don’t trust that one. Everything from his appearance to the double meanings of his words is deceptive.” 

“My master never lies.” Leiwell refused to look away from that doubting, cynical gaze, nor to glance behind his shoulder at the man behind him. Either could be a betrayal of that man. “He always tells the truth, no matter how painful it might be.”

“Once again your master has attracted the unwavering devotion of the innocent.” Magdalena twitched her mouth into what might have been a smile, but looked more like a grimace. “You’ll find he has a way of twisting the truth to his advantage, even if it twists you as well.” She dropped her finger. “Mark this well. He’s presented himself to you as a master. No a friend, father figure or lover, but a master. This means what he requires is loyalty and obedience. Not love.”

These words struck him like scalding water, burning inside his chest and blistering on his hands. Perhaps they wouldn’t have hurt so much if they weren’t on the threshold of the Shadow Forest. 

Or perhaps it was simply she voiced his own doubts. 

He still struggled to stare straight into the face of this attack, to take the blow. “No, he doesn’t require my love.” He met those angry hazel eyes. “It’s a gift.”

His master’s fingers spasmed on his shoulders, even as they tightened. “Which I accept with all my heart.” 

The promise lingered in the air, clearing the discord.

“Do you now?” Magdalena gave his master and himself critical looks, but it didn’t matter. Her words no longer had power over Leiwell. “You’re quite gracious about accepting gifts. Here’s hoping no one regrets giving them.”

With that parting shot, she stepped back in the direction of the carved door, only to pause. “Oh, and little Leiwell?”

He tensed at the sound of his name, but the strange woman offered him a smile. “No need to look so scared. I no longer bite…much.” Her sharp gaze softened, relaxing her entire face into something more friendly. “The next time we meet, go ahead and call me Maggie.”

Such sudden smiles were unexpected, enough to make Leiwell recoil. “Are you offering me your nickname as a gift?”

“Or I’m asking you for a gift.” She chuckled. “I have a feeling your master’s life is going to be a lot more interesting with you around.”


After delivering this almost compliment, Magdalena…Maggie…stepped through the door, disappearing into the wood as if it was air. 

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

#QueerBlogWed: The Threshold Part 3

On August 21, P.T. Wyant posted at ptwyant.com a Wednesday Words prompt about a door in the hillside. This inspired a Tale of the Navel: The Shadow Forest about a young Leiwell, a very long tale. Here's the third part of that tale...

“You speak as if I held her captive.” His master spoke in a low, aggrieved tone, bowing his head. “I cannot help it if Megan is easily swayed by anyone who might satisfy her appetites.” The older man lifted his chin and meet the angry woman’s gaze. “Not even she knows what she truly hungers for.”

“What she truly hungers for?” The woman slapped a hand to her forehead. “You speak as if she were still alive and a far more complicated person than she ever was.”

“Did you ever bother to find out if she truly was complicated?” His master fixed eyes as chill and brilliant as ice upon the stranger. They reflected the redhaired woman’s flushed face back at her. “How petty and shallow you are, Magdalena. How preoccupied with only what you see on hollow surfaces.”

“I never would have spotted this Door in the hillside if I was only aware of what’s on the surface.” The stranger, Magdalena, crossed her arms and glowered at his master.

“True, but you never bother to look too deeply.” His master didn’t flinch, gazing down his nose at Magdalena with a severity Leiwell might have expected from Map when he’d misbehaved. “You’re too afraid to.”

“What’s wrong with a little caution?” Magdalena lifted her chin in defiance. “My sister died because she wasn’t frightened enough!”

“Your sister is not dead.” Words of hope lingered in the air, forming a purple haze around the woman’s head, the carved landscape of the door, bringing life and movement to its snakes and spiders. “Not if you don’t wish her to be.”

“Coward. You’re trying to hide behind giving me hope.” Magdalena took a step forward, balling callused fingers into a fist. “Do you dare to suggest that you didn’t kill her?”

The question turned the haze red, forming a halo around his master’s head, settling upon it like a wreath of flowers. 

No. Leiwell couldn’t allow this to continue. He reached out, waved his hand in the direction of the writhing wreath. 

It withered into nothing, dropping petals to the ground. 

The woman and his master both turned to him, the same surpise parting their lips and tugging at the corners of their eyes. 

“Don’t assume my master would kill anyone.” Leiwell shut his eyes, allowing his words to gain weight and substance as they only could on the threshold of a Door. He opened his palm, allowing whatever formed to fall into it. 

Something cool, hard, and metallic struck his skin. He opened his eyes. 

A coin lay in his palm, a coin with a woman’s head. The profile was handsome, a double chin rippling and softening what might have been arrogance, gentling her lips and nose. Her resemblance to Magdalena was striking, even as her dissimilarity was. 

Leiwell held out the coin to the woman who stood before him. 

Magdalena gazed at him with angry eyes, full black pupils surrounded by rings which might once have been hazel. Right now they were golden-green, luminous in their fury and hope. 

Leiwell didn’t look away, he couldn’t look away. “Don’t blame anyone for your own regrets.”

Magdalena recoiled at this, gazing at that coin. “Well, well, Another acolyte steps forward, ready to whisper your words, Vampyre.”

“I’m no more a vampyre than you are, lady.” His master moved forward to lay a hand upon Leiwell’s shoulder. “This little shadow of Seraphix says nothing more than the truth as you well know.”
Magdalena glanced at Leiwell, at the smooth, checked tile under her feet, anywhere but at the coin. The floor became more real and solid the more she looked at it, as did the pillars in the background, the long cobwebs handing from the ceiling, hiding what might have once been a mural. 

“Assuming what you say is true.” Magdalena spoke to those tiles, lifting her head in a slow, cautious movement. “Can you bring my sister back to me?”

“She’ll be altered, not quite what you remember, but yes. I can bring her back to you.” His master took a sharp, hissing breath, sniffing the air. “If you take the talisman my Leiwell has offered you.” 

Magdalena cast a weary, reluctant gaze at the coin. She reached out for Leiwell’s hand. 


He felt warm, rough fingers brush his skin, very like Map’s, hardened with a lifetime of work, withdrawing the small, metal object which had manifested. 

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

#QueerBlogWed: The Threshold Part 2

On August 21, 2019, P.T. Wyant posted at ptwyant.com a Wednesday Words prompt involving a door in a hillside.

This prompted a huge Tale of Omphalos: The Shadow Forest about Leiwell's youth, which I'm posting in segments on Wednesdays. Here is the second part...

The cackling was cut off, even as Leiwell’s feet found solid ground. He looked down to see black and white tiles, checked, stretching out beneath the pillars of what might be some sort of temple. The face of the man smiling down at him had the serene countenance and well-shaped, yet mournful features of a forgotten god, beardless and pale. He wore dark green robes, almost black, high-necked, hiding all of his body except for his face and his long, graceful white hands. 

“Master.” Leiwell allowed his lips to shape those words as he looked into luminous eyes filled with lavender, pink, sky blue, and gray light. “I feared you’d forgotten me.”

“Never.” The boy was pulled into a chill embrace, which grew warmer with his master’s proximity to his small form. “Leiwell, my Leiwell, I longed to find you once more, but you instead found me.” That deep, musical voice made the hairs on Leiwell’s arms and legs stand up and sway with every word, caressing the inner crevices of his ears. “What brings you to the threshold of my Door and into my arms at such a tender age?”

There was an implication that being here, allowing his master to hold him was too soon. Perhaps but Leiwell didn’t want to let his master go, to walk away from his soothing voice, especially after the raven’s harsh laughter. 

He took a step back when released, studying the beloved countenance of the one who’d coaxed him into existence. Pale hair fell over his master’s shoulders, full and loose. Within the prismic mixture of colour in his cool eyes were reflections of Leiwell, small, white-faced, and guilty. 

“Master.” He gazed at the silver leaves caught in his master’s moonlit locks. How different he seemed since Leiwell last saw him, yet he was not too changed. “The raven sent me, perhaps as a snack?”

Not that Leiwell cared if he was. Not if it meant being with his master again for a few moments. 

“Hush! You should not value your life or your safety so lightly, that you listen to so malicious a bird as Gryluxx.” His master stroked Leiwell’s cheek, touching the boy’s lips. “That bird means ill to anyone he can trick into walking into his traps.”

Leiwell shivered at those silky fingers’ caress. “Forgive me. I was curious. The symbol on your Door frightens me, yet it seems familar. I felt almost drawn to it.”

“We both are.” His master ran his fingers through Leiwell’s hair, seeming to savour the touch of it as much as Leiwell savoured being touched. “I hoped your time away with women who aren’t spiders or serpents would loosen their hold on you.” 

A thought of Map scowling, her face wrinkling with worry bloomed within Leiwell’s mind. She looked younger than she’d ever been, dressed in a green gown which seemed the very twin of the robes his master wore, studying the door while refusing to move too close to it. 

“Please.” Leiwell squirmed, unsure what he was asking for, but his master’s touch had turned uncomfortable, just as it was uncomfortable connecting Map to his master, or Map with the monsters carved on the door. “Don’t associate Map or yourself with those creatures on the Door.”

“Oh, my darling.” His master moved his fingers across his hair, touching his face, as if trying to imprint the totality of Leiwell beneath them. “You bring out the best in both of us, but don’t assume you know anything about what we associate with.”

The boy shuddered at the chill in his master’s touch, shuddered at the coldness of his face. The pale pink reflection of rage glittered in his irises, showing images of angry girls waving torches, their faces disorted in anger. 

A cool breeze seemed to bring the faintest sound of screams. “Freak! Halfling!”

“Freak.” A low, earthy voice, almost as gravelly as Map’s echoed the breeze’s sentiment. “Halfling.”

One of the carvings writhing in the wall moved. A foot, a leg stepped out of it, followed by a swishing skirt. For a terrified moment, Leiwell feared one of the angry girls had materialized in this room. She moved out of the door, which had to be a Door, a portal between worlds. Full, red hair tumbled over her shoulders and arms as the strange woman turned to regard them. 

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he realized this strange woman had only two arms. Not four, six, or worse of all, eight. 


“I’ve found you.” The strange woman narrowed sharp, hazel eyes at his master. “Release my sister.” She balled her callused hands into fists. “Give Megan back to me.”

To be continued...