Writing 2014-04-05

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Ahornbaumädchen slips through the barrier between the mortal world and the Fae Queen’s true lands.  The humans call it several things, of which Elfland is one of the least inaccurate.  Most humans, most mortals, in fact, never see the Queen’s realm directly.  Some see it in dreams or visions, but most can’t go there directly.  If they are taken there, they often lose their sanity, either when the encounter the variability of the realm, or when they realize the rigidity of their own world.

The dryad isn’t bothered by this at all.  The Queen’s realm is perceived differently by each entity, let all those interpretations are true.  Symbols have more concrete meaning, and cause and effect has less.

Ahornbaumädchen steps out of her tree, leaving any trace of her damaged physical body behind for now.  When she returns she is likely to have forgotten she is hurt, so will not be.

She stands in a lush spirit-forest.  The impressions of towering, majestic trees surround her, huge and towering despite having no details and not existing except as concepts.  The air is warmed with never changing sunlight which streams sourcelessly from a dark and starry sky.

Navigating easily by intent, not specific direction, Ahornbaumädchen passes through familiar forests she has never seen before and will never see again.  She is untroubled by this and unsurprised to reach Aykuhbowmedchen’s tree.

Aykuh’s tree looks like an ordinary tree here, albiet a giant and majestic oak.  It has the feeling of the inn about it, warmth from the harsh elements, food cooking, safety and security.  Ahornbaumädchen knows the unassuming dryad could only do this if she were very old and powerful indeed.  When she finds Aykuh, she bows respectfully and waits politely for the other dryad’s attention.  She can wait as long as needed, be that days or seasons.

Aykuh is sitting against the base of her tree, holding Larrikan in her lap, rocking him like a sleeping child, and telling him all the things around them.  As Aykuh describes them to Larrikan, Ahornbaumädchen overhears, and can see them too.  The more viewers, the more concrete those ideas become.

It is only a lot of minutes, or a small number of hours, not seasons or even days before Aykuh looks up at Ahornbaumädchen and says, her voice full of anguish, “How can these fragile, brief people be so special and mean so much?”

Ahornbaumädchen sits next to her and says, “I don’t know.  I have seen six generations come through the University, and keep expecting them to be the same as their parents and grandparents.  They never are.”

Aykuh nods, understanding.  The two dryads sit together for a timeless interval.  Later, Aykuh says, “He is still dying.  I can’t help him enough, even here.”

Ahornbaumädchen tells her, “The Queen can fix him.”

Aykuh says, “Of course, but she won’t help a mortal.  And someone would owe her for it.  He hasn’t got enough time to pay her back.”


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