Welcome to the Worlde of a Fated Fey, one who walks the Shadows between the OtherSide and this Dreamland. This is the Book of Shadows of a hereditary and self-taught Magickal Woman; a Dreamer who possesseth the lineage of Fae, Wytch and Starr Blood. Interwoven together to make an ecclectic source of Magick and Chaos. To walk between the Worldes of the Starrs, the Hidden Realms, the Spirit Worlde and to also Live a human life...
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Dedicated to the Spirit of Ares, By Bella Annesley.
The name Ambrosia rolls palatably over my tongue, the sweet nectar of the Gods slides down the back of my mouth, heating the warmth in my belly and turning into fire. Peeping into my own eyes, I stare back into the reflection of the mirror, already large and widened with recognition. My pupils contract in the dazzling light exuding from my own very being. Is this my essence, why do I shine? Ambrosia, Beloved.
Theyr is a story how I came into being, well remembrance actually. A tale within stories, intrically woven through the hands of time and told by none other than the gods themselves. Anna, the human and Ambrosia, companion and communer to the gods. Two very different beings now reside within me and I can certainly tell them apart. Two separate worlds within one. My world. This is how I now am, I am no longer unsure of why I never did fit into the human world of the mundane. Awkwardly traipsing through life, tripping over my own two left feet to find my own way. Always aware of the reactions both men and women have towards me. Nobody else could evoke such extreme love and hatred from another, oft times such conflicting emotions only resulted in most people fearing me. I hated that most of all.
How I wished dearly for another soul to converse my deep feelings with, but I found it so difficult to be amongst others for the most part. Theyr energy always affected me, I absorbed it, and oft times I was left completely drained. Good or bad, they soon learnt nothing went by without me sensing it. Scary how I always knew. Worst of all, nobody really wants a psychic girlfriend. Alone and contemplating my existence and the actual necessity of it, if theyr ever really was one, was how I found my true name, Ambrosia. Then he found me.
“Ambrosia.” It was the wind, it had to be or I was going crazy. The name followed me everywhere, the whispers tickling the little hairs of my neck like a lover kissing my skin with his feathery lips. A soft, silken touch to caress the nape of my neck, always. “Ambrosia.” Again.
For three days I heard this name, or thought I did. I asked others if they too could hear the wind speak, but soon started to get the ‘I think its time for the men in white coats’ look. So I stopped asking and locked my supposed insanity way down deep inside of my heart of hearts. I heard his lovely voice everywhere, constantly. Even in my sleep. Thus, then came the dreams that began on the third night. Sleeping and dreaming had always been a favourite past time of mine, easy to be able to forget the realities of my existence and escape inside of my very own DreamLand.
He stood at the edge of a dark, dark forest. His shadow, I could feel his eyes burning through my soul. Electricity crackled in the air between us, I could no longer breathe. This I found out, was how I always felt around him. Apparantly, the feeling was mutual. The shadow fell back further into the dark as he whispered what I now know to be my true name, my ancient name. Ambrosia, Beloved. His beloved.
Listen to my heart speak, it talks of you
My shadow, I feel you near
Your breathe reaches the moon
Your touch takes me to the stars
And your kiss burns like the sun.
Will you forever be just a dream
An omen of what will be
In a distant place you complete me
Far, far away hidden in the shadows
You watch me from afar, waiting
My hands reach for your outstretched arms
My head fills with your thoughts
My heart fills with your love
My body fills with your desire
Destiny’s colliding, you welcome me home.
What a dream, I thought upon awakening. It literally took me hours to shake the foggy clouds from my mind and eventually make them disappear. My thoughts of the dark stranger only intensified and strengthened as the day wore on. Now I could feel him everywhere. The taste of blackberries and vanilla caressed the tips of my tastebuds and even seeped into the pores of my skin. Now I smell like him too. Very nice.
Does it yet bother me that I know who or mostly, what he is? I don’t think so, tis alot more bothersome the distraction of my now senseless mind that has slowly become awake with the new brightness I now view the world. Even the dull brick wall outside looked pretty, how so?
He is all that I can now think about, his voice and smell is all that I want and nothing else will ever do. I want him, badly. I know he is real or I must be crazy, and as much as I try to convince myself that I am, in my heart of hearts I truly believe I am not. Just different, even more so now than I ever had thought. I love him, I know that and I think he must love me. Truly, it was not me that had sought him, does he think that I am beautiful? How strange that the darkness sought me out and I found it impossibly beautiful, and I was enthralled. Hope, tenderness and joy I felt within the darkness.
All these emotions coursed through my veins as I stared back at my old/new self. The reflection in the mirror of my safe, little bedroom did not look so different as I felt. Perhaps within the throes of my own self-absorbed vanity I could imagine my eyes a slightly different, lighter shade of blue. Brighter and more clearer than before, and if I turn my head ever-so slightly to the side, can I actually see a little through them?
My nose, always I thought of it too big for my heart-shaped face, at a closer glance, was regal and elegant, enhancing my face instead of its usual bleak contrast. I smile at the notion of my vain-ness and my lips, didn’t they use to be less blood red? The effects and subtle changes of my face enhanced my previous off-kilter looks. Never had I felt so beautiful, and my hair once a black colour, so dark it almost seemed blue, had now the sun streaking through.
I laughed to myself. Hearing the sound of wind chimes caused me to stop and take note of the sound of my own laughter. Taking an account of my newly changed parts, starting with my face, my hair, my laughter, which more than likely must mean my voice as well. Was theyr going to be anything else I will find, I wonder.
Golden rays shine in her hair
Hair of the blackest night
Stars from the sky twinkles in her eyes
Eyes of the brightest light
She has ice in her heart
She has lust in her soul
She has the world at her feet
Watch out for her in your dreams
She’ll seduce you with your wildest dreams
She’ll drink your soul til she has her fill
But she will come back for more
Stealing your desires
Transforming your soul
Intoxicated by your taste
She lives in your dreams
Becoming stronger each night
Hers is of the dark fantasy
Wicked heart, wicked mind
Tortures your heart with one look from her eyes
For you cannot go back when touched
If she wants your soul.
The Dark Man, Ares.
The dark stranger turned his head towards the darkened void, trying to recapture the scent he remembered from so long ago. With it, also brought the promise he had committed his soul to and regretted for many, many millennia ago now. But what is the space of time besides that of a blink of an eye? Ambrosia, his Beloved. He had never forgotten, just as he had promised his heart. Let me introduce myself to you, Ares I am. The dark warrior God of the Grecian times, Master of the Battlefield and servant to none. Except my Beloved, ambrosia. He watches her from the distance across the void between worlds. His eyes mould themselves to every fibre of her being, trying to recapture her attention. “Ambrosia.” He whispers.
Once upon a day, a time long ago past theyr lived a poor, simple girl whose beauty knew no bounds. So enthralling was she, even the Gods of Mount Olympus took note. Ares, most especially.
Bathing in the river by her papa’s farm had been a welcome daily ritual of hers ever since a small child. How she loved feeling clean, but the river drew her for other reasons. Most of all, her still child-like innocent mind could imagine that the tiny water splashes were not just fish, but an iridescent mermaids tail. The light that managed to poke itself through the dark edge of the nearby forest, she could still imagine on some days was the light filtering off the wings of a faery. Even though the habit had slowly been overtaken by Christianity, she still left outside her front door, a dish full of milk so the little people treated her kindly. A custom that caused her to be ridiculed by her local kith and kin, and set her apart from the villagers alone after her mama and papa had crossed over to the summerlands. Strange, she is. A witch they say.
This time her eyes wandered over the familiar and comfortable surroundings. The only scenery she has ever known, the girl could picture the perfect sillouhette of a man hidden betwixt the shadows of the forest- no, it cannot be real. Her imagination must have drifted away with the river to meet the sea. Your mind is a glorious thing, it can make or break your sanity. The shadows that interplay amongst each other can create and make forms. The shadow grew stronger before her very eyes, the nervous feelings of being watched gradually disappeared, and in its replacement left a strong sense of curiosity. Curiousness always got the better of the young girl though.
Out from the river she stepped, her body glistening with water droplets and her hair hung damp down the length of her back. Even though she was not clothed, any thought of her own nakedness, had also went down the river and into the sea, apparently. He watched her, she saw him even though he had tried not to be obvious. Oh well, he thought. She seems to be an interesting one.
What happens to those mere mortals who step towards the shadows of the Gods? Never shall the world be the same again, because as surely as we can be dazzled by the Gods, so can they. Theyr is a reason why the Gods keep theyr distance from us mere mortals; the humble human. It is much safer for them as well as us, for them not to love a mortal. See, humans have a fickle nature and are prone to such things as sickness and death. Tis not ever the Gods whom change theyr mind for Love, or wither and die at an old age, as we do. The Gods NEVER let go and they never die, so they try not to become fascinated by any human. Although it is hard and not dabble into the messy life of a human, just watching would get a tad boring I ‘spose.
The darkness at the edge of the forest encased her, making her feel warm and drowsy as she stepped forth towards and into it. His hand held out to capture hers, and as she moved closer, she found hers naturally stretched out ready to take his hand in hers also. The fascination of each other built into a frenzy, her heart ready to explode out of her chest. Surely he could hear this, she thought. Tis the loudest noise in the forest, which is when she noticed the absolute stillness and quiet of the forest edge.
Into the dark a little further back, he took a step back from whence he had come from. She is not afraid, he thought. And even though he is a mighty warrior, he felt slightly intimidated by her bawdiness and apparent lack of morality for a human girl-child. Interesting, he thought.
How does one approach the Gods? If she had known who he actually was, she most surely would have felt somehow, slightly apprehensive at the least. Why did she not hesitate? The girl felt pulled, compelling was the vision of supreme masculinity encased within the shadows. See, she could envision a man, and what a glorious man was he. She knew him not to be a villager, or even a stranger. Somehow, she KNEW him. The quiet of the forest turned into a crackling sound, the girl could hear crickets everywhere, and the roar of a wood-fire. How was that so?
He is beautiful and I am not afraid. And with that thought she crossed over, outside of the river and across the other side, she knew to be his domain. The idea thrilled her, shivering in the dark as she stepped in the woods, her body covered with goose bumps. Not from the coolness f the water, nor from the darkened shadows, and certainly she did not shiver from any foreshadow of impending doom. “Daemon!” others would yell, before fleeing. Yet, she stays and moves the closer, he observes.
The girl shivers, her body quivers and trembles with delight. Different, and feeling like she had no control for the the actions administered by herself, she stepped forth and into the darkened shadow of the man. He reached for her hand, and pulled her close to him. His other hand held her face, and with comfortable ease her head fell into his palm, just resting theyr like home. Yes, she felt like home.
Tormenting my torn-out insides
Is the dark passion of my wanting
A need for the light within my dark
To meet my dark and mesh my light
Flickering darkness taunts my brightness
Haunting me with this sensuality and violence
I know the pain and it feels so damn fine
To see my dark and free my plight
Bind me to your soul
It is the anguish of my need
To keep me whole
To keep me free
Ravish my heart and I will show you
Just what lays beneath.
Slipping into the oblivion of memories held at bay by sheer immortal strength and nothing else, Ares’ lips turned up into a slight smile, and the smile reaching the crinkles of his eyes. Yes, he says aloud. “Ambrosia, I have not forgotten, and nor have you.”
In another part of the world, at the same moment as he spake those words, the future self of his sweet Ambrosia, turns her head in recognition of a shared memory. She is yet unaware but still entwined within. Yes, she remembers.