“Of course I can conquer the Hells.”

“No one can take over the Hells. No one. No one but the gods — and even they’re afraid of the Hells!”

I refused the premise of the basis of simply being untrue. “Of course I can conquer the Hells — and rule them, too. The gods are not afraid. They merely do not care.”

“I don’t care who you think you are — the Hells will destroy you,” he mocked. He mocked. Does he not know who I am? That I am not delusional — I am Mystral Sola? Does he not know the power that resides in me, the woman before him that he so gleefully prods out of jest? That he insults the wife of the very god who gives him magic each morn?

“No,” I contested, “The Hells are merely a place for me to practice my arts. If I chose, I could conquer them. The devils; the demons. Those who were fortunate enough to escape me last time I made their world my playground? They still wake in the nights, screaming, from dreams of my return. I am the terror they wish they could inflict.”

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“It’s Been a Month…”

**TRIGGER WARNING: Contains the loss of a lover and a child.**

My Love,

Onan, it’s been a month since sweet Ryne told me that your candle had been extinguished. You’ve been gone for a month – longer still if I include the time between then and when you left for those accursed ruins. I still pour over your letters. Each mention of Nadira brings me to tears. Part of me is glad of the fact that you’re gone, that you passed before she was taken from us. No parent should have to lay their child to rest among the lilies. Your vile wife saw to it that I suffered for my transgressions, though.

She always knew about the two of us, she said, but that I was no threat to her. She killed you and our daughter and I can only imagine what she’s putting your sweet Ryne and curious Mystral. If I knew I was of any competition to Brencis, that she wouldn’t kill me, too, upon first seeing me, I would try to save your innocent children from her wretched clutches. Alas, I am weak in all senses in relation to the wealth and power afforded to her. I will, however, do my best to pass on as much of my knowledge of you to the two of them without risking death.

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“I Fell For You Like Autumn Leaves.”

There’s something classically romantic about autumn. When I started planning my wedding, I knew I wanted a wedding that was set in the fall – the changing leaves, the crisp air, the shortening days, the on-coming holidays – it’s my favorite time of the year. I gave my dragon, Chris, a number of options for dates. Mad Hatter Day. International Skeptics Day. National Teacher’s Day. And of course, Halloween.

Given the fact that our birthday is November 1st (we have the same birthday, separated by exactly two years), we ruled out Halloween. He started pondering the other dates I’d listed and gave his reasoning for why we shouldn’t get married on Mad Hatter Day (he hates Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter villain in the Batman comics) and National Teacher’s Day (he teaches math and didn’t want his wedding associated with his students). After a bit of discussion, we decided on International Skeptics Day. It was symbolic in a number of ways – both personally due to my family’s history with marriages and as couple.

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“Eyes make their peace in difficulties with wounded lips and salted cheeks.”

Listening to: Dead in the Water by Ellie Goulding

I’ve been gone for a while. I’m sorry. I just haven’t had the strength to blog, given all that’s been happening in my life outside of SecondLife and Plurk. I try to be as upbeat as possible, but I’m currently floundering, struggling to keep my head up. My next post will likely be the 10th of October and will feature an avatar with my real body type as well as a wedding theme, since my real life wedding is on the 13th. Anyway, onto the pictures. Enjoy!

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Jack’s Got Nothin’ On Me

Dear Father,

I know you worry about me, and that the news of  the Whitechapel murders has reached you. However, I promise I’m not going out late at night. I am always aware of the company around me, and I am sure to lock all my doors. I’ve also created a weapon with a man calling himself Mr. N. Tesla. We’ve combined the blade of a sword with self-generating, contained lightning! I understand if you doubt me – it truly is miraculous! I bring it with me whenever I leave home.

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“Stay here.”

He thrust the grip of his spare sword into my hands while tugging on his armor. “Keep this with you at all times. No matter who walks in,” he grunted with the effort of lifting his breastplate, “you swing. Got it?”

“Yes,” I frowned, “But why do you have to go? There are plenty of other men out there.” I hoped my words would convince the man who had just asked me to be his wife moments earlier to stay and celebrate with me. It was, of course, in vain. I knew that above all things, Onan was a protector and he would lay down his life for any of the good people in this hellish plane.

He glanced at me, as if he couldn’t believe I’d even think such a thing, let alone ask it. I sighed and hung my head, kneeling to secure his freshly polished knee-cops and greaves. Seconds later, I felt his hand stroking my hair and I looked up. He must have seen the tears hiding in the corners of my eyes because he smiled reassuringly, “Ari, stand. Please.”

I obliged, trying to avoid his gaze – it was hypnotizing and it would, without doubt, melt me and my resolve.

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She Called Herself Mab

As I sat alone in the forrest just outside of Greywood, lyre in my hand, I stumbled upon a frantic fairy. Her hair was wild and her adornments strange – like nothing I’d ever seen from a smith. It intertwined with her tresses and went up into a tall, web-like cone. Her only cover was a dress of leaves held together by a minuscule belt of leather.

“Mab is my name,” she chirped. Singing, she flew in spirals and loops around me and continued, “A queen am I, a trespasser are you!”

I shook my head frantically, stumbling over the words trying to form themselves at the tip of my tongue.

“Speak! What do you call yourself, oaf?” Mab shrieked, earning a startled jump from me. How could she be so loud while being so small?

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You Will Fear Me

I am the Keeper of Secrets, the Holder of Keys, the Whisperer of Titans. I am nightmare incarnate, unholy and restless – untamed and wild as the magic flowing through us. I am moonlight and macabre. A delicate balance of ethereal stoicism and symphonic horror.

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Training

“I know you can hit the target. You’re my sister,” he smirked, teasing me as he was wont to do.

I rolled my eyes, “I might be your sister, but my specialty is the art of healing. I hardly know how to nock an arrow, let alone shoot one.”

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Introduction Post

Salvete omnes!

I’m Auguste “Bunny” Finistair, and this is my blog. I hope to be posting new blog entries each Friday, but that may change once classes and work start back up for the fall. I’ll be blogging a wide variety of stuff from SecondLife, though most of my outfits will likely be fantasy, gothic, or grunge in nature. Despite that, I do occasionally have vintage or casual stints. I’ll also be writing a bit about my life or posting quotes or making up short stories to go with the posts – it depends on the post and what inspired it. I might also share bits and pieces of my novel-in-progress on here if the post is themed around one of the characters, so be aware of that.

This blog will not always be safe for the workplace or viewing around children, so I’ll make sure to notate the posts that are NSFW with that acronym in both the posts’ tags as well as the titles.

Hopefully you all enjoy the blog and I hope to hear from you all soon!
-Bunny