Steadfast Love

A Dark Invitation

shadowwolf13 — Thu, 25 May 2017 02:19:09 GMT

Hilde pauses. Her hand is a whisper away from the velvet soft golden petals. She sits back on her heels and looks up at the displaced.

"This isn't the answer, is it?"

The displaced's mouth works, gaping like a fish, and a mournful call quietly escapes.

"This is the wrong location, isn't it?" Hilde looks to the oncewolves. "You herd people here, don't you? To this clearing."

The oncewolves all bow their heads, a couple whine

"And they naturally believe the pretty grove and the impossibly lush flower is the right one. But it's not, it's the wrong location, isn't it?"

Hilde's eyes widen and she claps her hands to her mouth. She hurriedly scoots back from the flower. Fear fills her eyes. She whispers to herself.

"What would have happened?"

She looks up at the displaced and repeats herself. Anger is taking over once again and the steel in her voice makes the displaced float backward a little. The displaced folds in on itself, seeming to crouch before Hilde. The withered lips move, as though trying to speak. A low moan comes out. Hilde leans forward, listening more intently. In the ghostly rush of air she can almost make out a word.

"Eaten? Are you saying that I would have been eaten?"

The displaced nods sadly. It reaches out, skeletal fingers catching a wisp of Hilde's golden hair; darker than Tiane's. It then points to the flower. Hilde puzzles this over for a moment, idly caressing the lock of hair the displaced had touched.

"The flower, it looks an awful lot like Tiane's hair. Do you mean that is Tiane?"

The displaced shakes its head and frustration furrows its brow. It tries to speak again. The voice is slightly stronger, clearer, but still hollow sounding.

"Gone, through."

"Look, there's no way she's gone through the flower. That's not how things work"

The displaced grimaces and motions to itself and the oncewolves arrayed around them. Hilde looks around, pondering.

"I guess you have a point. This place is not how things work and yet, here we are." She sighs. "Well, is there another place? Another flower perhaps?"

The displaced shrugs. Hilde chews on her lip.

"What about a place you don't go, or can't go." She looks to the oncewolves. "Is there somewhere that you always avoid?"

Her answer is in several whines and a couple of eyes hidden behind fuzzy paws. She looks up at the displaced who hesitates before nodding.

"Can you take me there? Please? It's my daughter, my only remaining child." A tear escapes and trails down Hilde's cheek. "Please?"

The lead oncewolf noses her hand. The displaced beckons to her. Hilde stands and follows. The displaced and the lead oncewolf lead her from the clearing, the rest of the pack following close behind. She is led on a long twisting path through the forest. After many twists and turns and what feels like hours, they finally enter another clearing. This clearing is dark and shadowy, the air almost feels oily against Hilde's skin.

"Very well done, you have outsmarted my creatures." The voice is omnipresent, coming from the very air around her. Hilde turns, looking for the source.

"Where's my child?"

"She's," the voice pauses, as though pondering, "elsewhere."

"Bring her back, we'll leave and you'll never see us again."

The voice chuckles and the hair on the back of Hilde's neck stands on end. The oncewolves press close to her.

"I have an... invitation for you. Here, accept this flower, a peace offering as it were."

A flower blooms in the air before Hilde. The petals are lush, a deep black that reminds her of the moonless night sky. Iridescent blues and purples gleam in the velvety black. Hilde reaches it for it unthinkingly. The displaced gently pulls her back, the thin fingers pressing against her arm. Hilde shakes her head, her eyes wide. How could she have almost? She nods at the displaced.

"What is the price of this?" She demands.

"Why, only that you join me, rule over the forest with me." The voice drops in timber, almost soothingly. "We could be quite the formidable team you know."

"I have no need for that, I only want my daughter back."

"Oh Hilde," the voice cajoles, "naturally you'd get your daughter back too."

Hidle's breath catches. How does it know her name? Fear skitters over her nerve endings and goosebumps prickle her skin. The displaced tugs on her arm again.

"Traap, musn't."

Hilde pauses. Is the displaced getting stronger? It was much easier to understand that time. And is the body filling out from the gaunt shell? Hilde shakes her head. 'No time for this' she thinks to herself.

"No deal. I want only my daughter."

"Woman! Do not think to displease me!" The flower before is shredded in a gust of wind, the petals whirling madly before dropping to the forest floor. "I"ll have what I want!"

"Not from me, you won't. Mark my words creature, I'll have my daughter back and we'll see the end of you." Hilde turns and strides from the clearing, brushing aside branches that attempt to block her path.

The displaced looks around nervously and then quickly follows Hilde. The oncewolves trail in their wake.

Closing The Distance Between

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 16 May 2017 03:50:43 GMT

Tiane studies the glowing orb in her lap. There's no writing, no marks, nothing to guide her. She wrinkles her nose as she thinks, almost wiggling it like a rabbit. She places both hands on the orb and closes her eyes in concentration. She sits quietly, focusing, for several moments. A smile sneaks onto her lips as she rotates her hands in opposite directions and slowly pulls them apart. The orb appears to be gelatinous and stretches until she is holding an orb and balancing another in her lap.

"How, how do you know all these things?" Bry asks quietly from beside her. Tiane shrugs.

"I don't know. I just, I think really hard about what people could use, what could help them, and then I know the right way to make it happen."

"Your first thoughts are for everybody else. What, I mean, where," Bry pauses in confusion as his words tumble over each other in his head."I guess I really mean why?"

Tiane hands the second orb off to one of the women waiting and watches as she places it in their slowly expanding perimeter.

"I guess it's a habit, it's really the only thing I've ever known. When Ma had all the littles we had to work together to get them all taken care of, to bring the crops in on time, and to keep the farm running as it should. If we work together then we get so much more done."

"Had the littles?"

"Yeah, I had two sisters and a brother, all younger. But the fever," Tiane bows her head, her hair falling to cover her face. "The fever took them. That's why I went into the forest. If I can't bring them back then maybe I can at least prevent another from the pain my mother suffered while watching them waste away." Tiane brushes a tear away and rubs the moisture into her pant leg.

"I guess, thinking of her, knowing how she raised me, and doing for others makes me feel like the distance between us is less. I mean, I have no idea how far apart we are but helping makes me feel like she's here beside me, you know?"

Bry nods thoughtfully.

"I think I do. You're lucky to have that kind of family. Not many do."

"Then it's even more important to share." Tiane takes a moment to create another orb clone. "We should see if there's some way to build shelters."

"But, there's no weather to shelter from here," Bry furrows his brows as he thinks it through.

"Perhaps, but it'll remind us of home, of what we're searching for." Tiane smiles and hands him the newest orb. "We have to close that distance so we can return home."

Bry nods and smiles. "That we do."

A Mother's Faith

shadowwolf13 — Mon, 08 May 2017 01:52:33 GMT

Hilde pauses before the arch. She raises her hand and presses her palm to the stone. She bows her head. Her lips move; whispered words slipping from them like raindrops in a storm.

She raises her head, wiping tears from her eyes. Unconsciously she wipes her damp fingers on the cold stone. She steps through and into the dim forest.

Unlike any who have come before her, Hilde does not sneak or rush. She simply presses forward, one step at a time.

There is a crashing through the underbrush and a oncewolf leaps onto the path before her. He growls, his eyes narrow. His legs tense as he prepares to leap at Hilde.

She gives him a stern glare.

"No, sit," she commands.

The oncewolf falters, confusing showing in his shifting body language. His ears perk while a snarl also raises his lip.

"Sit."

The oncewolf whines but he sits. Hilde approaches him, her hand out, palm down. The oncewolf's nose twitches and he snuffles at her. A small whine escapes him.

"That's right, you're a good boy, aren't you?" Hilde scratches behind his ears. "That's right, you don't want to attack, you just want to be friends."

Hilde stands back up and looks around.

"I"m sure you have more friends around here. If we come across them they can join too. Come along." She motions for the oncewolf to join her. He falls in behind her, occasionally growling softly and then looking guilty.

By the time Hilde finds her way to the center of the forest the whole pack of wolves is following her, tamer, calmer. Hilde gasps as she catches sight of the golden flower in the center of the clearing. The golden honey petals are an exact match for Tiane's hair. After years of raising Tiane, brushing her hair, watching the light bounce off it, Hilde can mistake it for nothing else. She begins to step into the clearing.

Across from her a displaced appears. With a ghostly trill, it rushes toward her. As one, the pack behind her reacts, growling and leaping forward to stand between her and the displaced.

"Stop!" Hilde's voice is clear and ringing. The oncewolves and the displaced stop and look at her, almost quizzically.

"Nevermind this rivalry or what have you. I'm not here for that nor am I interested in it." She looks to the oncewolves. "You don't really want to fight the displaced."

The wolves cock their heads, a few looking down to the ground.

"And you don't really want to fight the oncewolves." She addresses the displaced. "I'd be willing to bet that you just want to go back to who you were, before all this."

The displaced seems to deflate. A shadow of sadness passes over it's features.

"Right, then let's see if we can fix the situation for all of us then."

Hilde nudges her way through the pack of oncewolves and strides to the flower. The displaced and the oncewolves gather around her in a circle.

Hilde reaches for the flower.

Enough to Spare

shadowwolf13 — Thu, 27 Apr 2017 19:45:12 GMT

Tiane stares at the glowing rock before her for what has to have been hours. Finally, she can no longer stand the silence.

“So, have you guys tried to move this rock, or break it apart to spread out the light?”

Everybody around her looks at each other in confusion. Eyebrows are raised quizzically and they confer in murmurs too low for her to make out. At last Bry speaks up.

“Why would we do that? There’s nothing here. Grag wandered forever before he found the light. And each of us wandered through the dark before we were drawn here.”

Tiane stares at him. Suddenly the realization strikes her like a thunderclap. Her eyes widen in shock.

“Are you saying that you’ve just been sitting here? Doing nothing? All this time?!” She stands as her voice raises at the end. She sweeps her arms around her.

“Why haven’t you tried to find a way back home?”

Bry looks at her like she’s perhaps a little slow.

“Because there’s nothing in the dark. It’s just dark. Wasn’t that made perfectly clear to you as you were being drawn to the light?”

“You were brave enough, or curious enough, or desperate enough to venture into the forest in the hope of changing everything in your life and when you get here you just sit down and wait for somebody else to do something?”

“It’s like I told you, Grag wondered forever. He found nothing. As each new person joins us we share what we know of this place and what’s happened where we came from. There’s nothing but dark here. There’s nothing to explore.”

Tiane narrows her eyes and glares at Bry.

“Fine then, if you won’t do something then I will.”

She leans forward, her hand stretching out to the glowing beacon before her. The light is neither hot nor cold.

“Tiane! No!” Bry lunges at her, reaching for her hand but stopping short as her palm lands on the beacon.

“But,” he stutters.

“It’s fine. In fact,” she reaches forward with her other hand and picks the beacon up, “it’s lighter than it looks.” She hefts it experimentally as she rises. It really is deceptive in looks and weights very little. The weight almost reminds her of the other kids, when they were babies, newly born and tiny.

“Look!” A voice in the crowd exclaims. Tiane and Bry both look down. The crowd around them murmurs excitedly.

The ground where the beacon was sitting is now growing a rich, lush moss. Tiane kneels down, balancing the beacon on her hip, and brushes her fingers over the moss. It’s slightly cool to the touch and springy. She pulls some up and it’s instantly regrown. Tiane laughs and puts the beacon down by her feet. She pulls more and more; the moss regrows each time. Finally, she has enough to fashion a smallish pallet of soft moss to rest on. She looks up and scans the crowd before speaking.

“This should go to Grag, he’s been here the longest.”

“No child, you should have it, you found it. You didn’t give up like we did.” Grag answers.

“Nonsense. It doesn’t matter who finds the answer, as long as it is shared freely with all who share the problem. There’s plenty of moss, and hope, to go around.”

Quietly, humbled, the group begins to work together, gathering moss and making pallets for each other.

Patchwork Repairs

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 19 Apr 2017 01:21:16 GMT

"Tiane! Why aren't you up yet?"

Hilde knocks at Tiane's door; the door creeks open under her knuckles.

Tiane's bed is perfectly made. The room is empty. Hilde checks the hook by the door but Tiane's bag is gone. She goes to the front porch and calls to Lars out in the field.

Lars looks up as his wife's voice reaches him. With a swipe of his sleeve to his face he drops the hoe and heads over to her. Concern creases Hilde's face.

"Have you seen Tiane this morning? Is she in the field with you?"

"No, come to think of it I haven't seen her all morning."

Hilde's fingers clutch at her dress coller.

"Go check the barn." Call it mother's intuition or call it a gut feeling but it's plain that Hilde knows something is amis on their small farm. She spins around and heads back to Tiane's room. No, no, no tattoos a beat in her brain.

She bursts into the room. Her eyes wildly bounce from corner to corner, hoping against hope that she somehow overlooked Tiane. But no, there, on the desk, is a book. They aren't good with words but the book is a family prize. Hilde's breath catches as she sees it's open to the map of the area. Tiane's favorite ring is sitting where the forest is.

Hilde squawks a cry, before the sound is cut off by the fear choking her. Tears overfill her eyes and her hand trembles as she reaches for the ring. She can't bear to pick it up. Her fingers barely brush it.

Lars arrives in the doorway. The sight of his wife so distraught alarms him and he rushes to her side.

"Hilde!"

As he pulls her close she sees the book and the ring. His arms tighten around Hilde reflexively. She leans into him before stiffening and pulling away. She beats at his chest with her fists.

"This is your fault!! You and those fool stories you insisted on telling her!"

"Now Hilde,"

"Don't now Hilde me!!" She punches harder, surprising him. He takes a step back.

Hilde covers her eyes with her hands for a second. She squares her shoulders and brushes past him. Confused Lars follows her to their room where she grabs her own traveling bag and begins shoving things into it.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to save our daughter."

"Hilde, please, I'll go,"

"No, you've done enough. Just, take care of the crops and animals while I'm gone."

A tear slips from her eye. She sets her jaw and dashes it away before turning her back on Lars. Her heart trembles as she strides away from their home. It hadn't always been like this. But after the loss of three other children, her poor heart just couldn’t take the idea of losing Tiane. There was no patch big enough to fix her heart if that happened.

LJ 18th anniversary

shadowwolf13 — Sun, 16 Apr 2017 00:06:27 GMT

Huh ... wonder if that counts all the comments made by journals deleted since the comments were left.

#mylivejournal #lj18 #happybirthday

Hope in the Dark

shadowwolf13 — Mon, 10 Apr 2017 23:33:41 GMT

Tiane can feel the wind rushing past her so despite the pitch black she can tell that she is falling. It’s interminable with no sense of time. She starts to stretch out her hands and feet, to feel if there is anything around her. Then she realizes that if there is something she is likely to break something given the apparent speed of the breeze through her hair. She opens and closs her eyes; no difference. Finally, she curls into as compact of a ball as she could manage.

Many, many breaths later she comes to rest on a surface. She lands gently, as though somebody is placing her. The wind is gone but the dark remains. She turns and turns but can tell no difference from one direction versus any other.

“Hello!” Tiane calls out. There is no echo. The sound of her voice has no weight.

Am I dead? Is this the afterlife? She muses to herself.

With a shrug, she randomly picks a direction and begins walking. She has no way of verifying that she is moving, other than her legs moving. The darkness is all encompassing. There is an absence of feeling though, no fear, no predatory eyes, no hope.

Along with seeing nothing, Tiane feels nothing other than the surface under her feet. Hunger nor thirst gnaws at her and fatigue does not appear to be affecting her as she walks. She begans counting her steps, simply to have something to hold on to. She is well over five thousand when she sees it.

It is a pinpoint of light, solid, non-flickering. She names it hope and begins jogging toward it.

She begins her count again but keeps losing track and guessing at where she’d left off. It is several hundred steps before she can see any appreciable increase in size. Tiane considers slowing to a walk but her breathing still comes easy. Whatever this place is it is not expending any of her resourses.

Eventually, after what feels like eons, she can make out more of the beacon. There are shapes around it, some even move. Tiane slows and carefully draws closer. The shapes are not giant rocks or predators as she first thought. They are humans, all gathered around the beacon. The ground under the beacon is black.

“Hello?” Tiane tentatively questions.

Several of the people turn toward her. One stands and approaches her. He is about her age but his clothing is quite old, nothing she can remember seeing in her time. He smiles and waves her toward the light.

“Hello, come closer to the light, no sense in staying there in the black.”

Tiane approaches and takes a seat between two who shuffle aside to make room for her. The light does not flicker nor give off heat. It simply lights the area around it, about 5 feet out in all directions. There the darkness takes over again.

“What is this place?”

The guy shrugs. “It’s the Nothing. Nothing happens, nothing changes, other than the occasional new person who failed to gain hope above.”

“So, you’ve all,” Tiane looks around her at the many faces now lit by the beacon. She swallows hard. “You’ve all tried to pick the flower at the center of Abandoned Hope?”

“Is that the name of the forest now? It’s had so many names through the years. I’m Bry by the way. And yes, we’ve all entered the forest trying to reach the flower. And we’ve all failed.” Bry sighs and settles back down next to the light.

“I’m Tiane. If nothing happens then do we just sit here?”

“No reason to explore out from the light. It’s the only thing in this whole accursed place. They say, no, never mind.”

“What? Please tell me.”

“Nothing, just a campfire tale. Nothing’ll ever come of it.”

“Please?”

Bry sighs and then shrugs.

“There’s a myth that one day somebody will actually manage to evade the oncewolves and displaced and pluck the flower from the center of the forest. It goes that then we’ll all be restored to the living world. It’ll never happen though, those that do manage to make it to the flower end up fighting. Once blood is shed in the forest it’s a lost cause.”

“You’ve given up hope then.”

“You will too, eventually. Grag over there is the oldest of us, been here the longest. It was summer of year 5 when he tried. Hundreds of years had passed before I tried, and hundreds more have passed since.”

“No, I won’t give up hope. Without hope life is pointless.”

“This is not life,” Bry replies emphatically.

“I will still hold hope close,” Tiane resolves.

Super Fast Headband

shadowwolf13 — Fri, 31 Mar 2017 14:28:58 GMT

One of my fighting guys requested a headband. Well ... it took me far longer than I'd like to admit to sit down and knit it but the knitting took only a handful of tv episodes.

The pattern is super simple. I start with one stitch and increase every other row until I have 5-7 stitches, knit it to length, decrease every other row. Also I slip the first stitch of the row to make the sides neater.

Project page: Ravelry.

WIP Wednesday: The Blanket Grows

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 29 Mar 2017 11:30:03 GMT

Knitting:
The blanket has grown a bit, the sections aren't feeling impossible yet but I can tell the difference. Now if I could just remember consistently when I'm supposed to do the yarn over row. I always catch it about 2-4 sections in. Luckily it's an easy fix.

Sewing:
The plan is to start cutting the fabric for an altered version of this overdress. I'd like to have it done by this Saturday since we have an event and I'd like pretty, plus my current overdress is in need of alterations and repairs.

Thought, because I want a new overdress I need a new rank device. And now that we have an embroidery machine I have a better chance of creating what we want So .. I designed a thing!! It needs a little cleaning up of threads but I'm still pretty stoked about it.

Reading:

The Last Paradise by Antonio Garrido. I only just started it yesterday so I'm not very far but it's interesting and based in a time period I enjoy reading about.

However! I just finished Nora and Kettle by Lauren Nicolle Taylor and ... wow! It's a broken girl and broken boy story, and at times it feels a touch slow moving. But the story was just so compelling and wonderful that I didn't care. I felt that I had plenty of time to learn each of the main characters before they meet each other and then we're shown how they both grow brave. I loved the writing and the story itself. I'd certainly recommend this to pretty much anybody

Hidden Hope

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 28 Mar 2017 19:28:21 GMT

Tiane’s legs pump furiously under her like pistons. The cold, dark forest closes around her like a dark presence. She can almost taste the malevolence in her gasping breaths. Her chest is tight, aching with strain as she struggles to draw in more air to feed her starving muscles.

She pivots around a tree. Her foot lands in a pile of leaves and skids out from beneath her. She hits the ground hard, all her weight on her hip. She grimaces in pain, clamping her teeth down to stifle the cry that is almost wrenched from her. She opens her eyes to begin righting herself. Poised above her, glistening with wet and poison are the screaming thorns. They hang scarcely a breath from her skin. The sap they secrete bubbles on the tips.

A oncewolf howls in the forest, the pack has not given up their pursuit. Fresh meat is always a priority for these twisted creatures and Tiane has certainly had their attention since she passed below the heavy stone arch hours ago. She involuntarily jerks at the reminder of the pack.

Carefully she edges out from under the screaming thorns. She hears her father telling her about them, about the crippling pain they cause if even a drop of the poison gets into her mouth or eyes. Deities forfend the thorns actually piercing her skin. The oncewolves tearing and rending her apart while her screams filled the air would be a much better fate than the days of blinding pain of that thorn prick.

She snorts to herself as she eases away and rises, limping on the aching hip. She should have listened to her father more, should have stayed away from Abandoned Hope Forest. She was crazy to have ever thought she was the one that could succeed where so many had failed. She brushes her golden hair back from her eyes and looks for the path.

A warbling call rises up from somewhere, close. It is answered by the howl of a oncewolf. Tiane’s eyes grow wide as she realizes that the oncewolves have been joined by the displaced. Well, not joined, they never work together, but they’re both tracking her. She will be their chew toy, caught in the middle, if they find her. She lurches into a hobbled run, careful to avoid the screaming thorns.

This was a mistake. She knows this now. She’s just another failure and her mother will cry bitter tears over the loss of her child. Tears well in the corners of her eyes, mingling with her sweat as it runs down her cheek. She stumbles a bit as she corners on another tree, a huge loon flower blooming behind it. The petals are heavy with the thick powder coating them. A sniff of this powder will give you visions and hallucinations for hours. It was once a highly-valued trade item, but the forest has claimed them and made it too dangerous to harvest. This one could easily provide hours of escape for her whole village.

But there, just past it, she can see the clearing. The green of the grass is a brilliant emerald green; a sharp contract to the dark trees towering around it. The rich red flower grows in the center, it’s petals the ruby of fresh blood. The air is almost crystalline around it, shimmery and sparkly with hope.

Tiane turns her head away from the loon flower and takes a deep breath. She carefully edges past the powder heavy flora blocking most of the path. The oncewolves howls grow closer, the trilling of the displaced bouncing off them. Tiane struggles to hold her breath and not disturb the powder. Time is certainly not her friend here but she doesn’t dare to make a mistake this close to her goal. Finally past it, she rushes to the clearing.

Across the clearing a displaced bursts from the trees and orientates on her. Its skin has lost its color, soaking up the hate and sorrow of the forest. It is ashen and yellow in turns. Its eyes are sunken in, haunted by what it used to be, the life it once had. The limbs are gaunt, barely bones held together by tendons stretched tight. The trill it releases at seeing its prey sends icy fingers tip tapping down Tiane’s spine.

Tiane sprints forward, toward this hellish creature that she’ll become should it close on her. She must get to the flower before then. Behind her the lead oncewolf crashes though the forest, closing in on her fast. The three speed toward the center at a speed that promises a spectacular crash. Tiane drops to her knees and slides. Her hand is stretching out, reaching for the flower and the hope it promises. Her fingers brush the petals, soft as crushed velvet. The oncewolf snaps his jaws shut on her ankle and yanks her back.

“Noooooo!” A sob is ripped from her throat as she is pulled from her goal. She kicks, once, twice, finally landing a solid kick on the oncewolf’s muzzle. It yelps as it releases her. She crawls forward, once more in reach. Her hand closes on the stem. Agonizing pain sears through her scalp as the displaced rakes its fingers through her hair, dragging her toward itself for the killing blow.

The flower is sucked through her hand and into the ground. The green of the clearing is following it, like water through a funnel. Ignoring the displaced Tiane lurches forward, blood from multiple cuts streams down her face, as she tries to dig up the flower. Blood patters around her hands as she loses chunks of hair to the claws of the displaced. The green is gone and the dark of the forest is quickly following.

So close, she was so close.

Sobbing and bleeding she collapses, her fist pounding the ground. She is sucked into the whirlpool too, face first so the crying is quickly cut off. The displaced and the oncewolf back off, each eyeing the other warily. As they warily creep backward a green tendril sprouts where the ruby flower grew. The flower quickly grows and blooms, its petals a rich honey color, golden with promise. A deep chuckle rumbles through the forest.

There is hope deep in this forest but none have managed to avoid the forest’s minions to free it. They have only managed to feed the forest and strengthen it with their blood and tears.

WIP Wednesday: Unending Yarn

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 22 Mar 2017 11:30:58 GMT

Knitting:
I'm hard at work on 2 blankets. The sock blanket is progressing at work because it's small and I haven't gotten around to finding a bag for the baby blanket. I just keep putting up on the shelf at night so Hestia kitteh can't get to it. She's been quite a pain getting up to my alpacas and pulling those down as it is. But! There's progress on the baby blanket, a lot!

While the blanket itself is not all that interesting, not a ton of color and not a difficult or changing pattern .. I'm interested in the yarn. That little squiggle of yarn to the side is the last of the first ball of yarn. For several times around now I keep telling myself it'll run out soon. Yet I keep getting another round and another round. I suspect this is neverending yarn. The waiting ball will be the second. I have 4 or 5 others waiting. This blanket just might end up epic.

Reading:

Diary of the Displaced Books 1-3 by Glynn James. An interdimensinal traveller chasing after an evil monster but with the small problem of having lost a lot of his memory. I'm nearly done with book 3 and I've quite enjoyed it. If this doesn't tell me how the evil is defeated I'll have to be on the lookout for more of the story because I really want to know.

Angry and Sweaty

shadowwolf13 — Fri, 17 Mar 2017 20:17:54 GMT

He walked on to the field like he knew everything there was to know about our game. It was his first time playing. We’d explained the rules, just like we do with everybody else. If you get hit in the arm or leg it’s no longer useable, two limbs gone and you’re dead. A hit to the chest or back is instant death. A projectile follows the same rules, with the addition of being allowed to aim for your head, also instant death.

But he was special. Without ever throwing a shot he knew he was the very best on the field and he was going to school us all.

He wore a black, armored, motorcycle shirt. His stringy hair hung limp in the 90 plus degree heat. He smirked at his friend as they lined up with everybody. They were clearly the best around. What did these weirdos in their medieval period clothing know anyway?

The herald called lay on and I pulled my arrow back. I grinned to myself, this was simply too perfect. I aimed and released the arrow. I watched as it flew almost perfectly across the field and landed squarely on his mouth. His eyes flashed with anger and he made to charge at me. The herald laughed a bit.

“Dude, you’re dead, shot to the face. Go sit down.”

He complied but I knew it was only a matter of time. Sure enough, two fights later he came charging around the field to come in behind me. I turned into his teammates so they’d kill me instead of him. He still made a wild leap, his sword swinging even as I called dead. It landed hard against my skull and I shook the stars from my eyes. I sat out for a few rounds, electing to take pictures while I calmed down.

“We’re good, right?” He seemed almost worried as he asked.

“It’s not me you have to worry about, it’s them.” I waved back at the rest of the group fighting.

The new guy hadn’t taken any hits, unless you swung nearly as hard as you could. That’s not the point of our game. Our game is honor. If I hit you, you take it. If you don’t take it then you’re not playing fair. I’m not down with hitting hard because I can’t generate that much force. I prefer to fight those who are honorable.

Later he sparred one on one with a few of the guys, including my husband. He would get hit, say ow, and attempt to keep using that limb or not take his death. So, he got hit harder. The only way to get them to stop hitting so hard is to take the hits and stop pretending to be invincible.

Normally I’d try to retain people, have them come back so we have more people to fight. I’m not sorry he hasn’t been back though. Some people just can’t be helped.

He left that day salty in more ways than one.

Tiny Baby Set

shadowwolf13 — Fri, 17 Mar 2017 16:18:39 GMT

When I heard that a friend was expecting a baby I instantly thought of the baby yarn sitting in my stash and knew I could make a few things from it. Gifts for friends + using up the stash = double win!

First up was a tiny hat:

This knit up so fast and cute that I had to do another one, naturally.

i love the colorwork and the corrugated ribbing, even if it's not a stretchy as normal ribbing. It's freaking adorable. But at this point I had a whole lot of yarn left over and I was about done with hats. No matter how cute they are.

So I found a tiny shirt.

This was an absolute delight to knit and it happened so fast! It's so tiny and cute.

And yet ... I still had yarn left over. Not a lot though. Tiny feetses! Those need covering too! So booties it was!

Finally! The set was complete and all the yarn was gone! I think it's such a cute little collection of baby things, either together or on their own.

Patterns: 2 Hearts Newborn Hat by Kelly Forster, BQ Baby Tee by Sabra Morse, Seamless Baby Booties by Becky Rudella
Yarn: Vanna's Choice in Beige and Pink
Project Pages: Hat, Hat, Shirt, Booties

WIP Wednesday: Baby Blanket

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 15 Mar 2017 11:30:04 GMT

Knitting:
I still have my stripy socks, and the sock blanket, and the color work gloves ... however a friend is expecting a baby in August so naturally I had to drop (nearly) everything to do up a baby blanket for them. I'm using some of the yarn from Talesia's stash that I found in her boxes. I still miss her dearly .. but passing along something she loved in a way to wrap another in love feels fitting.

I don't feel like getting out the posterboard and turning on all the lights so you get a phone pic from my lap. That's also why there's no pictures of the progress on other pictures. I'm curled up under a fuzzy blanket and don't wanna move.

Reading:

Diary of the Displaced: Books 1-3 by Glynn James. I've blazed through book 1 and started book 2. It's an interesting story, though not one I think I'd pursue had I not had the chance to get the first 3. Again, I'm in a weird headspace so no idea.

As a reminder I'm offering charting work as well as my standard sewing and knitting commissions, as per my post yesterday.

Confessional Box

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 14 Mar 2017 17:18:24 GMT

Sometimes we need the chance to get things off our chest while knowing that we won't be judged. Sometimes we need to talk to somebody just to get things straight in our own head. Sometimes we just want to share a thought with somebody.

Here's your chance.

Comments are screened and anonymous posting is allowed. Tell the box anything you need to get off your chest or out of your head. If it's something you want to discuss further, leave a way of contacting you.

Secrets come here to die. What's posted here is simply between you and I. I won't even contact you about it unless you ask me to.

The Confessional Box is now open.

Service Offered: Charting Patterns

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 14 Mar 2017 15:21:07 GMT

I know we all can read or chart our own patterns. However, if you don't have the time or simply don't wish to be bothered with it, let me know!

Free patterns only, unless you want to purchase a pattern for my use, in addition to the cost of charting. I'd absolutely hate for any designer feel that I was getting their paid patterns for free.

Here's an example of my most recent work:

Format will be Microsoft excel so easy to open with Google docs or Open Office. Benefits for colorwork include seeing the stitches laid out before you, in knitting reading order, all repeats listed, with increasing and decreasing notes, plus the ability to hide completed rows. I have not yet done lacework in color, but that is likely the next thing for me to figure out. Though I can do a chart of the symbols, if that's needed.

2 colors: $5; 3 colors: $8

More than that and we can work it out. And of course I'm always willing to knit on commission, particularly small things. Anything I can do to earn a bit more at the moment is up for discussion.

Last Year's Finishes

shadowwolf13 — Fri, 10 Mar 2017 19:23:45 GMT

There were a couple things I finished last year but didn't share here because they were waiting for gifting. Mid January our friends got together for our gift exchange.

One of my friends gifted me this gorgeous purple and green yarn to see if I could do anything with it. I happened to come across a picture of this exact colorway in The Age of Brass and Steam shawl and knew it was perfect.

I had so much yarn left over when I bound off that I did a bit of math. I picked out the bind off and added in another half section of the first part and all of the second part before binding off again. I absolutely love how the stripes work beautifully with this pattern. Plus it's super soft and snuggly.

Pattern: Age of Brass and Steam
Yarn: Red heart Unforgettable in Dragonfly
Project: Ravelry

In one of my stash rummmages I turned up this lovely alpaca yarn in a cream color that I knew I wanted to work with but it's not particularly a color that I wear often. However ... I have a another friend that looks amazing in this shade. So after finding out that she would like either a hat or gloves equally I decided on a hat so I could use up as much of the yarn as possible.

it worked out fantastically as it's a great use of the yarn, it's warm and cozy, and she loves it. Also, it's stunning on her. She'll be getting a lot more knit gifts as I have lots of odds in colors that aren't my style but are perfect for her.

Pattern: Latu
Yarn: Unknown natural Alpaca (the cat stole the ball band)
Project: Ravelry

Blue Peace

shadowwolf13 — Thu, 09 Mar 2017 21:18:30 GMT

The blue hour crept in while we relaxed after a full day of fighting. We were taking turns at the showers and lounging in camp chairs around the fire.

The battlefield that day had been hectic with hundreds of fighters doing all they could to win for their side. My world had narrowed to grabbing the next arrow and lining up my target. I had ducked and dodged behind friendly fighters as enemy archers targeted me. Several shield men protected spears and glaives as they tried to break the shield wall in front of the castle. They also protected archers as they could.

But now the fighting was done for the day. Adjacent camps were raucous at times but within our own walls, peace reigned. Some of our compatriots were dressing for the fancy dress ball that was to be held that night. Jon and I walked up the hill to find food for the evening. We also poked through vendor stalls, admiring and wishing, assuring each other of “someday”. There was no shortage of shinies and pretties that we could have frittered our money away on but we were good and only spent it on food, mostly.

The blue blush of the fading sun was losing ground to the deep night, the lush darkness slowly pushing out the twilight. By the time we regrouped with our friends the blue was barely an echo. It slowly slipped away as we walked around the lake and explored the many paths winding through the woods and other camps. There were circles of cacophony: dancing, drinking, and drumming, illuminated with flickering flames

But we were drawn elsewhere. There were pocket of silence so deep you could feel it pressing into your skin, beckoning you deeper into the natural embrace of the trees surrounding you. The sky was filled with stars, like diamonds scattered across soft linen.

This is where I return when I can’t anymore. When day to day life is overwhelming and I need a break. I’m back in the woods, my husband’s hand in mine. The dark is complete, the trees too dense to allow the moonlight to filter through. Fireflies are flitting to and fro around us in a dance known only to them. It’s a magical moment, heralded by the setting of the sun. It’s my oasis of calm in the bedlam of the normal world.

In only 99 days I'll be able to return.

WIP Wednesday: Gloves and Socks

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 08 Mar 2017 12:30:53 GMT

Knitting:
I'm kinda creating again. Mostly I'm starting things and losing steam or finishing things and not being happy with them. I don't know that I'm getting past the grief or coping any better .. maybe I'm just hiding behind a giant mask, it's hard to tell. Anyhow, I am actually a bit happy with the gloves I'm working on. Specially since I charted out the pattern in excel with notes for when the thumb begins and when the hand is done. The chart doesn't match up from side a to side b so the number were quickly going to be off. Plus with it being in excel I can hide the rows I've already done.

I've also started new stripy socks, which means the previous socks are finished. Though I didn't do enough of the leg and not only do I have a ton of yarn left over, they're shorter than I'd like. Plus I went down a size for ribbing and forgot to go back up a size to bind off, so they're a tad too tight. I'll pull it out and redo the binding.

I thought about re-connecting the yarn and making the socks longer .. .but then I'm not sure the stripes would line up just so and apparently that bothers me more than I expected it too. It makes sense after all, that's why I'm so careful to start the exactly in the same spot. Just means I have more to add to the blanket.

Gaming:

I've been spending a lot of time in Borderlands, mostly on the hunter, he's finally up to level 21. I wanted to punch things so I started a bezerker the other night and he's level 7 or 8 now. Though I know sniper will always be my favorite of any character.

Reading:

The Night Bird by Brian Freeman. I've been reading a bit more, it's easier to insert myself into a different world. I've liked this one, the way the author strings the words together and the pictures he paints with them.

Hike the Grief Away

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 01 Mar 2017 17:59:49 GMT

In some ways it looks like I’m all better, no grief pain, all smiles.

Sure, if you want to pick select moments.

Truth of the matter though … it’s a pain that lingers. It crops up in unexpected ways. It blindsides me, even when I expect it.

The night of the super bowl, a mere handful of days after the fresh wound of loss, I found myself in the middle of Bucky’s crying over a chocolate covered strawberry. I don’t cry in public. But these were my Mother’s Day gift from Miss Kid over the years because they were my favorite. I saw her, standing in front of me, that smile of pure joy as she handed me the plastic container. I heard her voice as she chirped Happy Mother’s Day Shadow! I remembered all the times she proudly told any who’d listen that I was her step mother and I was the very best step mother ever. My husband held me as I cried in the middle of Bucky’s. And then he bought me a chocolate covered strawberry.

Two nights ago, I was at Miss Kid’s father’s, helping him go through boxes, clean out some of my stuff, and go through her things. He slid a purple box over to me and I just looked at him. We both knew what was in it. I took a deep breath and braced myself before opening the box to reveal her toys. That deep breath wooshed out in a sob as I remembered her playing with them, spread out on the living room floor. It’s not fair!

But those are just the moments when I’m overwhelmed with it. The pain is always within, always pricking at my heart with it’s sharp barbs.

A couple weeks ago I went out camping with 5 friends. It was beautiful, quiet, full of laughter, and comradery. You’d think so far removed from home it wouldn’t hurt. As I looked out over this amazing vista I couldn’t help but think about how Miss Kid would have loved the rocks below and climbing all over them, peeking in on the tiny creatures that call it home.

I felt the breeze teasing my hair and remembered how it always made her laugh to see the wind playing with my long hair. I saw the kids leaping and crawling over the falls and remembered how much she loved to climb, how fearless she was.

That night, at the campfire, I shed a few quiet tears as I thought of how she’d not be able to sit around a campfire with friends anymore, telling stories, and eating smores.

The next day at the falls I determined that I’d do more of this, more living, more experiencing, because Miss Kid no longer could. I would store up these memories and laughter and send them to her through the ether. I would live where she could not and hopefully she will receive these thought bombs of happiness and beauty to ease her.

Take a hike? Yes, I will.

Confessional Box

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 14 Feb 2017 16:01:10 GMT

Silence in the Dark

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 07 Feb 2017 21:36:25 GMT

It’s too much. My brain can’t handle it.

That’s the only explanation that I can come up with. My brain keeps shutting down, blanking out. Either somebody will direct something toward me or something deep in the recesses of my darkened thought paths will spark and I realize I was stalled.

There’s just too much.

There’s the current political climate and all the fear that goes along with that, particularly when I see people who hate all that their office stands for being put in positions of leadership. There’s fear of being a woman in this world. There’s fear of what happens when all the good laws are being dismantled and trashed.

There’s the lack of money to do anything to better my situation. I can’t get interviews so I can’t get a job that pays more. I can’t take less because … I really don’t know how the hell we’re paying bills as it is. I can’t function in our 290ish square feet of home. I’m drowning in things and stuff. I have plans to make things from the supplies I have (and thus get it out of our space) but there’s so much stuff just … there. Which, if I say something then there’s hurt feelings. Yes, you cleaned a shelf and that’s helpful. But it doesn’t change that there’s still laundry to put away and a pile of dirty clothing plus a pile of fabric and two cubbies of stuff that needs to be sorted through so it will stop oozing thready goodness onto the floor for the cat to roll in. It doesn’t change that I don’t have a bathtub to soak away my pain in. It doesn’t help that I don’t have a kitchen to create in. I'm still stuck with a shower stall and a crockpot / microwave combo … and no room to add anything else.

There’s grief, so much damn grief. I don’t dare allow myself to feel the grief. I’ll never stop crying. Two beloved animals and two family members gone in eight months. Two of those lives I could see the end of, it was expected that eventually after a long life it would happen. Two of those were lives cut tragically short. I’m going to work to keep my mind busy during the day, to give me ways to clamp down the urge to cry. But it’s exhausting. By the time I get home I’m wrung out and limp. I look around at the clutter and the sheer amount of plans … and my brain goes dark. I sink into it.

The dark is so comforting. There’s nothingness. There’s quiet. Sometimes there’s Borderlands or hours of digital shows streaming. There’s nothing to require me to think, to feel, to process.

I nudge myself. There’s twitter, which is all political, on purpose. There’s facebook, a mix of politics, silly, friends, and family. I poke at both, trying to muster up the energy to care, to be active, to do something. It’s too much, overwhelming in the amount of feelings and fear. So I turn back to Instagram, my stream of yarn, delicious looking deserts, and rainbow hair pictures. It was my happy place. Now it’s just my this hurts less place. I close my mouth, no comments uttered.

I’ll come up out of these dark depths at some point. But right now it’s taking everything I have just to keep my head above water. If I open my mouth I just might drown.

*This is not intended as a cry for attention or help. I'm just a writer with a prompt working through some stuff, as you do.*

In Memory of Talesia

shadowwolf13 — Fri, 03 Feb 2017 21:57:40 GMT

I met her when she was five.

I accidently messed up her 7th birthday party when her father and I were driving back to Houston and ended up getting rear ended.

The road to us being friends was not an easy one. I was the new person in her father's life and rules were changing. But over time we bridged that gap.

I remember the nights of painting her nails, teaching her about makeup, talking about books. I remember her sitting beside me to play Star Wars The Old Republic, I moved the character but she made all the speech choices. She got frustrated with not being great at moving so this was how we managed. I just wanted to see the story line and she loved making the choices.

I remember her being so concerned that she drop the petels just so when she was flower girl when I wed her father.

I remember taking her to plays and concerts at Miller Outdoor Theater. She thought it was silly, until the band would start. She loved the cover band that performed Pink Floyd and asked to hear more like that. She loved The Beatles alongside Tiao Cruz. She would play I Love Rock and Roll on Guitar Hero over and over and when Dynamite came on in the car it was an instant dance party.

She begged me over and over at our first anime convention to go play the sword fighting game. I refused on the grounds that I was the only parent type figure there and if she accidently got hurt I'd absolutely never hear the end of it. Thankfully her father was finally able to join us. She was dressed as a fairy so I sent her out there minus the wings, shoes, and tiara. She was an instant favorite as the crowd cheered for her to destroy her father. A year later a boy came out of the comic store and was simply beside himself because he recognized her from that night. He couldn't stop talking about how awesome she was in the ring. Naturally we took her to the park so she could fight more.

She had no fear.

When I started working conventions and was in charge of the volunteers she was one of the first to sign up. Naturally I gave her things to do that others thought she couldn't really do. It quickly became clear that if she had something to tell you it was from me because she could run through the hotel far faster than I could. Also, she had confidence to spare. There was an incident where we had to evacuate the vendor room. She was stationed at the door to make sure only vendors were allowed back in once we were given the all clear. A large biker looking type tried to enter. She told him he couldn't. He started to walk past her and she grabbed his arm. "HEY!! I SAID you couldn't enter yet!" She had no clue there was a security guard that had just walked up behind her but she was certainly ready to try and stop him.

She was creative and curious. We loved going to the museums. She read books by the ton and wrote incredible stories. She wanted to learn how to knit because I did it. She was also a fantastic knit model. She joined the writing contest that I'd been participating in for several years and I was so proud that everything was simply her. I did no editing, she stood on her own, and made a good showing. All of her work is still public, lee_hawk. She made jewelry and drew. She had so many interests and so many choices.

This was the last picture I took of her as a knit model.

She was sad but accepting when I divorced her father and later moved out. She was very happy that I found Jon. I was thrilled that she came to my wedding last July.

There was so much I didn't know, so much I missed because we didn't talk as much. This beautiful, creative, brilliant girl is gone, her life ended by her own hand. I am so lost. There were plans, once we had our own place, for her to spend a night or two. That never happened. So much lost because she couldn't see a way past her own pain. I do not blame her. I can only mourn the loss of opportunities, the moments we can't have.

I know that right now though she is no longer in pain. I'm sure she's surrounded by all the kittens and puppies and rabbits. Every animal was her favorite and I'm certain they are all there with her, comforting her and welcoming her.

I will miss her until I see her again.

In loving memory of Talesia Lee Vaughan Byrd.
Born 3-27-2001, Died 2-1-2017.
Always loved. Never to be forgotten.

WIP Wednesday: Lacy Arm Warmers

shadowwolf13 — Wed, 01 Feb 2017 12:30:51 GMT

Knitting:
I feel like this week has been about stepping back. I started the heels on my socks but I need to pull them out and begain again as it's not as clean as it could be. This wrist warmer had about 20 rows pulled out last night as I'd gone wrong somewhere with the counting. It's much better now. There's still a bit of laddering between the needles, no matter how much I try to fix it. So .. I've decided it's just going to be a design element.

Reading:

Princeps' Fury by Jim Butcher. I can't leave this world and while I want to rocket to the end and see how everything settles ... I also want it to last quite a bit longer.

Past and Present

shadowwolf13 — Tue, 31 Jan 2017 02:33:22 GMT

I always knew I was different.

The other kids had mothers and fathers, or one of the two. I had my great granparents.

I knew they loved me. But I knew others didn't think I should be there. I knew family members thought my great grandparents shouldn't take me on as a responsibility. It was then I didn't feel that I belonged.

My first serious boyfriend capitalized on that. He told me how much I didn't fit in. He made sure I knew I didn't belong. He slowly seperated me from those I called friend. And then he took from me the hope of ever having a family of my own, a family where I belonged.

My first husband had family but they fought, if they bothered to talk at all. His sister showed up at our house in the dead of night and demanded my wedding rings because we were a month behind on the loan. He knew we were more than a month behind on the house note because he handled all the money. He shrugged and told me to hand them over to her. I cried for a month and the hate for him slowly seeped deeper into my soul. I didn't belong here either.

My second husband had a family but his ex wife talked to them more than he did. When his mother passed I realized I was seen as the interloper. I couldn't be his wife, she was still his wife in their eyes, even though she'd asked for the divorce. I didn't even bother fighting. I insulated myself from the hurt and did all I could to keep the hurt contained. Eventually I left there too, hoping that some day the little girl I'd spent 5 years helping to raise wouldn't forget me. I don't really hear from her much these days though.

My Jon, my current and last husband, has a family. They are very much a family, there for each other. We live with several of them until we can get our own things sorted out. Earlier this month his grandmother passed away. I stepped back, feeling that I didn't belong. I supported him but I did all I could to give them their last moments with her rather than taking that time for myself. When I went down to the waiting room to tell his mother that she should be in there more than I should be she enfolded me in a hug. Later, as they cleaned out her room they offered me some of her fabric and sewing supplies. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I didn't deserve that. But they assured me that they'd already taken what they wanted and I was welcome to it as I'd use it.

I'm not the same faith they are but they don't treat me as an outcast. Some of my family is on facebook but we don't talk much. I chat with my sister. I occasionally miss the closeness I thought we shared back when my great grandparents were alive. But I also realize that Jon's family completely accepts me as I am, non-conformist, purple haired, pagan worshiper, and slightly crazy girl that I am. I'm thankful that we had our wedding when we did and so much of his family was able to make it.

This is not the world I came from. This, however, is the world I'm accepted in.